Authors: Christopher Greyson
Thick, gray clouds swirled overhead. Even though the sun had risen, it was still dark and gloomy. Jack walked out to the parking lot, carrying the duffel bag filled with his gear. He set it down on the gravel and gave it one last check. As he pretended to look into the bag, he reached with his other hand under the bumper until he felt the square box he hoped was still there.
I’ll have to thank Matty again.
Jack zipped the bag and set it in the back seat. He took the long way around to the pond. Replacement put in a Dwight Yoakam tape, and he rocked along to “Little Sister” as he flew down the road. He wanted to warm himself as much as possible. He turned the heat up and zipped his jacket. By the time he pulled into the little gravel parking lot, he was sweating.
He jogged the short distance to the pond with the heavy pack across his back. Jack climbed onto the rocks that looked like breasts and laid everything out.
He picked up the seven-inch jackknife and tied one end of the thick fishing line onto it. A weight hung suspended, and he tested it to make sure it would move along the line.
Toss the knife out and use the weight to follow the line to where it lands. It should work.
Jack stood up and prepared to throw the knife as far as he could but stopped.
He killed Steven. He stabbed him multiple times. It was a rage killing. Was his hate satisfied?
He tossed the knife underhand like he was throwing away a piece of garbage. The knife splashed into the water, and the fishing line continued to play out until it finally slowed and stopped.
Jack hurriedly stripped down to his underwear. He’d gotten his dive certification awhile ago, but he was not that experienced. He forced himself to dress quickly. Once he was done, he taped all of the seams of the suit. He couldn’t tell about the hood seam, but it would have to do.
He poured the two thermoses of hot water inside and grabbed his tank and mask. As he sat on the edge of the rock, he checked his regulator, compass, light, and the small metal detector in his left hand.
Jack bowed his head. “God, please,” he whispered, and then slid into the water.
Not bad. Crystal-clear.
He followed the line. The pond was deep, and the sides dropped completely off. The light filtered down, and he could see the silty bottom. This part of the pond was like a tall cup that ended in a round base. The knife he had tossed landed almost directly in the center of the pond. Jack was surprised how small it was. The faint ping from the metal detector would occasionally get louder, but Jack was sure from all the years of fishing he’d get lots of false leads. His search grid slowly began to expand outward and then he felt the cold water on his back.
Damn.
He checked his watch. Eleven minutes. He was on borrowed time now. He kept slowly moving and working the grid that he had laid out in his head. At the end of a line, he’d switch ninety degrees and keep moving forward.
Sixteen minutes. At this depth, his chest was now starting to hurt from the cold. Jack knew his motor skills would be slowing soon, but he pushed on, forcing himself to move carefully.
Twenty-two minutes. He was past the mark he had set for himself. His hands trembled, and his breathing was getting ragged.
You gotta go, Jack. One more pass.
The debate he’d been having with himself continued. He was nearing the edges of the deep section of the pond, but he was rushing now.
Damn.
He looked back. He skipped a section. As he checked his watch, he noticed his whole arm was vibrating. Twenty-five minutes.
BEEP.
He had just pushed off when he heard the loud ping. He frantically turned himself around. Dirt and silt blocked his vision where he’d stirred up the bottom.
Idiot!
He swept the metal detector around until the beep was solid once more. His hand closed around a long solid object. The silt swirled and settled. As it vanished and his hand appeared, he knew he held the weapon used to murder his father.
Jack pushed off again and headed up for the rocks. His chest tightened, and he had to work to breathe. The water was brutally cold and, as he thought about it, the cold became so intense it almost felt as if he were being burned.
He scrambled onto the rocks and tore at his wetsuit. With trembling fingers, he stripped naked and dried himself off. His clothes offered no warmth as his hands fumbled with the buttons and zippers.
He looked down at the rusted knife on the rock. It was a jackknife and was covered in rust. Even so, he could see that the tip had been broken off.
The jackknife!
He zipped his jacket, grabbed an evidence bag, and placed the knife inside it. Shivering, he thrust his hands into his pockets and turned around to look at the pond. The water was completely still, and the silt had already settled. There was nothing to prove he’d just been there.
Jack heard footsteps behind him and slowly turned around. Chief Dennis stepped up onto the rock.
“Morning, Jack.” He wasn’t smiling. “Find anything?”
Jack took the bag out of his pocket and held it up.
“I found the jackknife. The tip is busted off. I’m sure it will match.”
“Nice work. You got anything else?”
Dennis stayed at the edge of the rock as Jack shivered and stuck his hands back into his jacket.
“I got a tip. Jogger. Guy out running the night my father was killed.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he saw police lights out here.”
Dennis scoffed. “That ain’t new, son. Police, ambulance—hell, even the fire department came out here that night.”
“Yeah. But they didn’t come out twice. The jogger saw the police out here when he started his run. An hour later, when he was coming back, he saw them again.”
Dennis exhaled and looked down at his feet.
“You got a name for this jogger?”
Jack continued, “There was nothing in the police report about a cruiser being out here.”
“I know.” Dennis looked up at Jack, and his lower lip trembled. “I’m sorry, son. I’ve always… Damn…I didn’t think he could have but…my father. Everyone thought he was such a good man but…I knew better. He was sick. He did things—”
“Shut up, Dennis.” Jack’s voice was a low growl. “You need some acting lessons before you try that BS story.”
“No, really…I…” Dennis’s hands turned to fists.
“Save it. Your father was at the opening of a new steakhouse in Pinkerton with your mother. That left you home with his old Crown Vic. You still have the bubble light you put on the car that night. You showed it to me. It was your dad’s.”
Dennis’s face morphed into a scowl. “You think you have it all figured out?” he spat.
“Most of it.”
Dennis looked over at Jack’s holster on the ground, and his hand went to rest on his gun.
“Why don’t you tell me what you have then, smart guy?”
Jack shifted his weight.
Dennis drew his gun. “Don’t even think of moving, kid. You’re not that fast. Put your hands up. Get on your knees.”
“Fine.” Jack lowered himself to the rock and held his hands out. “I need to know something first.”
“I thought you figured it all out?” Dennis sneered.
“Like I said, most of it.”
“Ask away. It’ll be our secret.”
“I know you drove Steven here to meet Patty. Terri’s brothers jumped him, but you drove up and scared them off. I got an idea, but I don’t know for sure why you killed him.”
“You have an idea? You think you know? Why do you think I did it?”
“See, that could be an issue. I think I’m right and, if I tell you, you’re going to get really pissed off, and you might even kill me right away. I need you to promise to wait until I’m done.” Jack flashed a big smile.
“You cocky little prick. Fine. Let me hear the whys.”
Jack settled back on his legs and cracked his neck.
“You always loved my mother.”
Dennis’s eyes widened before he scoffed. “What? You’re way off, kid. I’ve been with the same gal since junior high.”
“Yeah, I know all about Helen. Mayor’s kid marrying the police chief’s kid? That’s right out of a storybook, except you loved Patty. I found the valentine. DJ? That’s what they called you when you were little, right? DJ is short for Dennis
Junior
?”
“I hated them calling me that. What valentine?”
“The one you gave my mother. It had three arrows in it.”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “I gave her a valentine. So, what?”
“You loved Patty, but her scumbag father molested her. A police report was filed, so your father looked into it. That was in middle school. Is that why you dumped her?”
“My mother told me what happened. She told me I had to dump her. How could I not? She wasn’t… What could I do?”
“You drove Steven here that night, but you waited in the car. You heard the fight, so you drove up with the bubble light and siren on. After everyone ran away, you come up, he’s lying there, beaten, and he told you. He told you the girl you love is pregnant with his kid, and that hate just went right through you. You thought about how the girl you love is going to have his kid—Steven’s kid. Everyone loved him more than you. Even your father—”
“Screw you.” Spit flew from his mouth. “You don’t know crap. Everyone talks about my old man like he was some great guy, but they shouldn’t. He wasn’t. I was his son. Me. But it was always Steven. Steven did this. Steven did that. Never me. I always had to bring Steven along and then—”
Jack tried to relax his legs. “Then what?”
“He shouldn’t have gone near Patty.”
“What? You have to be kidding, right? Did he even know you loved her? You’re such a pansy. Did you ever tell him about Patty?”
“How could I? My mother…I had to marry Helen.”
“So he didn’t even know. He never saw it coming, did he?”
Dennis shook his head.
Jack shifted his weight, and Dennis held up the gun. Jack raised his hands higher.
“Tell me everything you got, and I’ll make it fast.” Dennis looked around.
“Almost there. You killed Steven—”
“Who was the jogger?”
“That comes at the end.” Jack smirked. “But your father was looking into it. He figured it out, too.”
“Because someone saw the police lights. I didn’t know that then. I thought I got away with it. Then one day he comes home and tells my mother it could have been a cop. He started to look at the cops, and I just knew…I knew he’d figure it out.”
“How did you kill him?”
Dennis spit and looked back at the parking lot. “He had a bad heart anyway. Everyone was telling him to take a vacation, but no, he wouldn’t stop. He kept digging for who killed his precious little Steven.”
“So you didn’t have the guts—”
“Shut up, boy. I switched his heart medicine and the old fool didn’t see that, either. Nothing happened and then, one day, he came home and I knew he’d figured it out. He looked broken. He came upstairs so we could talk. He started crying. I knew he wasn’t crying for me. I said we should go outside, and I’d tell him everything. At the top of the stairs…I gave him a little push.”
Keep talking, you fat idiot.
Jack slowly shifted his weight to his toes. Kneeling on the cold rocks was starting to cause his legs to cramp, and he tried flexing his muscles to warm them up.
“I hoped he’d break his neck. It was a bonus he had a heart attack.”
Jack smiled. “Then I came. It was you who took the shot at me and screwed with my car.”
“But you were too stupid to leave. I just wanted you gone. I wouldn’t have had to kill you if you had enough sense to just go. Why didn’t you leave? I didn’t want it this way. You’re her son. I tried to scare you off.”
“Do you know why I didn’t go? I didn’t go anywhere so I could avenge my father’s murder. You butchered him, so there was no way I was letting you go.”
Jack’s hands shook.
“You’re not avenging anything, boy. They’ll look for your body, but they’ll never find it. Don’t worry, I’ll take out all the stops. I’ll call in everyone. I’ll make it look good. Hell, I’ll even set my son up to console that pretty little pet that follows you around.”
“Here’s the last part, Dennis. This is what you’ve been waiting for. Look at your chest.” Jack’s words were crisp and direct.
Dennis glanced down and looked back up, puzzled. A red laser dot was centered on the middle of his white shirt.
“On the other end of that dot is a fifty caliber sniper rifle with the best marksman I know dying to pull the trigger. I lower my hands, you die. I close my fist, you die.”
Dennis’s face went as white as his shirt, and his head swiveled all around. He looked back at Jack and the gun trembled in his hands.
“We’ve got a standoff then. I can blow your head off.”
“You won’t.”
“Why?”
“You ever see what a fifty caliber round does to someone?” Dennis went even whiter. “That, and the fact that you’re a coward, means you won’t shoot me. Throw your gun in the pond.”
Dennis gripped the gun tighter. “Coward? You want to die, boy? Do you? I’m no—”
“Shut up.” Jack stood up. “It’s wrong that I don’t value my life more, but you value yours way too much. You could shoot me, and I might die. You suck as a shot, so I may not. You? Tank never misses. You’ll die, and you don’t want to. Throw the gun down now or I close my hand.”
“You rotten bastard.”
“You made me a bastard!” Jack screamed. “I had a chance…” His hand shook. “Five. Four.”
Dennis threw his gun in the pond.
Jack moved over and grabbed his own pistol.
“Why didn’t you just leave?” Dennis looked at Jack in disbelief.
Jack scoffed. “How the hell can I explain it to you? For half my life all I wanted was a father, and you killed yours. You wouldn’t get it.”
Jack saw motion on the trail. Replacement sprinted into view, with Tank running behind her.
She’ll be pissed.
“What now?” Dennis’s shoulders slumped.
Jack nodded back toward the parking lot. Kenny ran toward them.
“You’re having him take me in?” Dennis snarled.
Jack grinned.
Replacement raced up the rock. Emotions flashed all over her face, but she kept her distance.
She’s pissed.
“That was your plan?” she panted.
“It worked.”
“You’re out of your mind. You—”
“Not the time, kid.”
“You want me to come back after the wife and you figure things out?” Tank asked.
Jack smiled at his friend as he jumped onto the rock. Jimmy Tanaka hefted the large sniper rifle, and a broad smile spread across his face.
“Thanks for the assist, Tank.”
“I thought I was going to do some shooting today.” He glared at Dennis. “I still can if you want me to.”
Jack shook his head and looked up at Kenny.
“Did you hear everything?”
Kenny nodded. “Every word.”
Dennis looked at his feet with his head shaking from side to side.
Jack pointed down to a box next to the bag. “Audio and video.” Jack grinned. “Smile, you’re on Candid Camera.”
“It won’t be admissible.”
“Yes, it will be.” Jack smiled.
Kenny frowned as he took out his handcuffs. “Hands behind your back, Chief.”
“I have to get the rest of my gear.” Tank looked across the pond.
Dennis grabbed Kenny’s arm and pivoted around him.
Jack’s gun came up, but there was no clear shot.
Kenny winced and then froze as he felt the cold metal from the muzzle of his gun pressed against his head.
No one moved.
Jack looked at the angle of Jimmy’s rifle. It was still pointed at Dennis.
“Throw your guns in the pond now.” Spit flew from Dennis’s mouth as he tried to shield his body with Kenny’s.
“Not going to happen.” Jack aimed down the sight.
“Do you have any idea how expensive this rifle is?” Jimmy glanced at Jack.
“Now. I’ll do it! I will,” Dennis shrieked.
Damn. He’s lost it.
“Dennis, calm—”
“Screw you. It’s all your fault. Everything. If he and her…DAMN YOU. I need time. A head start. I deserve a head start. I’ll let him go when I get out of town.”
Kenny was crying, and Jack saw the stain spread on the front of his pants.
“You can’t kill us all,” Replacement snapped.