After the Evil – A Jake Roberts Novel (Book 1) (26 page)

“Meg, I know we don’t know each other well, but
sometimes that’s better.”

Megan agreed. She made a motion in the direction of
the others.

“They think I’m stupid and naïve. They laughed at
me. I didn’t tell them anything. They just think they know what
happened. I mean, they think I was taken advantage of by the
captain.”

Lori shrugged slightly.

“This is about a bad date?”

When Lori saw Megan’s eyes well up with tears and
her lower lip quiver, she knew it was far worse. She put an arm
around Megan and gave her a gentle hug. Megan stared down at her
Coke. Her trembling hands rose to wipe away the tears. Lori handed
her some tissues. Megan buried her face in Lori’s shoulder, and
didn’t speak as the tears fell. After several minutes had passed,
the story unraveled in bitter pieces.

“I thought he was a good man, I mean, he’s an
airline captain. People look up to them. How was I to know that he
was evil and sick? At first, he was so kind, he helped me with my
chair, and he was concerned about how I felt, listened to what I
had to say. He was so polite, so caring. Then, without warning, he
changed into a filthy animal.”

Lori began to realize what Megan wasn’t able to
bring herself to say. Captain Parker had taken Megan against her
will.

“Megan, are you telling me he––”

She didn’t have to finish the question. The trauma
on Megan’s face and in her eyes told the rest of the story.

“I feel so ashamed.”

Megan sobbed uncontrollably while trying to hide
from the view of the passengers. Lori put her arms around Megan in
an attempt to protect her, although she knew it was too late.

See mommy, all men are evil,

Megan’s face became Emily’s. Lori felt every sting
and bite that her Emily had suffered all over again. She understood
Megan’s trauma all too well.

He should be punished, mommy,

As Lori held Megan, she suppressed her anger and
outrage. She maintained a calm façade. Although it burned, she was
determined to keep her anger buried deep within until she could
inflict it on Nick Parker. He would pay for what he had done to
that child.

“You mean this captain, the one flying this
aircraft?”

Lori asked struggling to hold back her astonishment.
When she was able to Megan faced Lori

“Please don’t say anything to anybody, and promise
me.”

The fear in her eyes was obvious.

“He said he had friends and I could lose my job,
that no one would take my word against his, because he’s a
captain.”

Lori pressed Megan’s head against her. Megan’s pleas
became muffled and muted.

“When did this happen?”

“Last night, on the layover, please don’t tell
anyone, I don’t want anyone to know, I just needed to––”

“I won’t, I promise. Do you need any medical
attention?”

Megan shook her head no. Lori knew she would keep
the promise, but she also knew that Captain Parker would never ever
hurt anyone ever again.

* * *

Sometimes what we say can burn a hole in someone.
When he puts his mouth to it, Harmon’s statements can burn down a
forest. He likes to provoke a fiery reaction, be inflammatory. The
verbal sparring he does is meant to stimulate ordinary, and mundane
mental activity. Today isn’t any different.

“All white people have black hearts,” Harmon
says.

“Are you referring to ancestry, biology, or
character?” I say.

“Ancestry. According to noted prominent
anthropologists, mankind began in Africa. Now if you want to talk
character, a case could be made,” Harmon says.

“You think all white men have black hearts when it
comes to character?” I say.

“A case can be made.”

Mika seldom hesitates to speak up. It’s in her
nature. Besides, she can usually back him down. It’s okay for
Harmon and I to have mind stimulating discussions, but Mika takes
it personal.

Harmon Blackwell, stop it. If you think I’m going to
sit here, and listen to you make such a ridiculous statement then
you better be prepared for a
wuppin
,” Mika says.

“Did you hear that Jake?
Wuppin
––the white
woman said
wuppin
. She can’t help it because she is part of
the tribe.”

“What about red men?”

I keep the fire burning.

“Hum, do all red men have black hearts?”

After a quick glance at a fuming Mika, Harmon
answers.

“All colors, all men.”

She still hasn’t told anyone she wants to quit the
Feds, and maybe she won’t. She is frustrated with us.

“There is something very wrong with you two.”

The three of us left the house and are headed for
the Abrams residence. The possibility that Gates was a copycat
killer gives us cause to take another look. Maybe, in light of our
new perspective, we’ll see something different. We also plan to go
back to the warehouse where Ed was murdered.

We have been to Abrams’ residence so many times even
Mika knows the shortcut through the ‘hood. It gives Harmon a chance
to scope out the streetwalkers. I must admit they look quite
presentable today. He gives each one a friendly wave and some of
the girls return a mock proposition.

“I wonder, because of my new position, if I get a
discount.”

“Maybe now you can afford one,” Mika says.

Across the street from the Abrams’ mansion, our Mr.
Dickens is outside as usual watering, and tending to his flower
garden. He doesn’t even glance at us as we turn into the driveway.
That supports my theory he never saw anything on the night of the
murder.

The Abrams house looks almost forlorn with the
shreds of yellow crime scene tape still fluttering in the breeze.
It is midmorning, but the interior is dark. We don’t speak as we
wander through the premises.

The scent of death still lingers inside.

* * *

Captain Parker had noticed Lori from the open
cockpit door. He remarked loud enough to make his first officer
jerk his head up from his paperwork to see her. Both watched as she
introduced herself to the other flight attendants.

There wasn’t enough time for her to enter the
cockpit and say hello, as boarding began right after, and
passengers obstructed her path.

Parker confidently spoke.

“It’s a long layover in Boston, she’ll need a
guide.”

“Didn’t you bang Megan last night?”

“Of course, but I have an insatiable sexual
appetite, and I liked to eat out.”

He grinned while staring down the cabin aisle at
Lori.

“She looks like a gourmet meal to me.”

His copilot grinned at Parker’s blustering. He knew
that some captains’ egos didn’t stop in the cockpit. Some needed
the world to believe all women desired them. Nick Parker was one of
them.

Parker finally lost sight of Lori and returned to
his cockpit preparations. While Lori occupied his thoughts, he also
planned for a backup just in case.

I’ll take another turn with sweet little Megan.

“Is twenty-six thousand still good on the fuel?”

Parker said the fuel request was correct then he
continued with his fantasy about Lori, only he added Megan in on
the outside chance of a threesome. Benjamin poked his head in and
asked if either pilot needed anything.

“A shapely blonde with great legs for me,” Parker
said.

“A Coke for me,” the first officer said.

Both he and Benjamin had long since learned to
ignore Captain Parker’s ramblings. After Benjamin left to retrieve
the Coke, the copilot chided his captain.

“Didn’t you just get married?”

Parker ignored him. He didn’t like to be interrupted
in the middle of his fantasies. Because the question was raised, he
thought about his recent marriage to Susan. In his own way, he
wanted her. She had a great body and she was always anxious to
please him. He saw her as backup. He would have her if he failed
elsewhere. She also had a seven-year-old daughter from a previous
disastrous marriage. He coveted the little girl more than he
coveted her mother. He had absolutely no illusions about who he was
as a person. He was a good provider, but only did what was
necessary and required to accommodate his own self-serving desires
and interests.

By nature, he was callous, biting and crude. His
lack of respect for women was surpassed only by the size of his
ego. Parker believed it was his responsibility to enlighten all
women in deviant sexual practices, especially those never before
touched. Even while he plotted a rendezvous with Lori later that
evening, he stored a thought in the back of his mind for when he
returned home.

Little Wendy is about ready for a lesson.

He never sought help for his sickness because he
never once thought he had a sexually deviant personality. After
all, he thought, the good guys had bad sides too.

* * *

It has always been my fervent hope that someday,
with the help of genetic research, scientists would be able to
tighten some of the loose screws walking among us. Of course, that
would end my career, but it would be worth it.

I get down on my knees and look under the bed,
beneath where the slaughter took place. I dig through dresser
drawers, but only find the same stuff that was there when I last
searched the residence. It has collected more dust, but that’s
about it.

“Harmon, help me move the bed over a few feet, it’s
too heavy for one guy.”

He walks over and places one of his huge hands on
the frame, while I struggle with both hands. The bed shifts toward
the far wall. The light from the bedroom window illuminates the
carpet underneath the bed.

“Did any of the techs move the bed?” Harmon
says.

“No, I don’t believe so,” Mika said.

She pulls clothing out of the wash basket in the
hall.

“I don’t think they were in here either. You know
how techs are, if it isn’t lying in plain sight, they don’t
bother.”

With my face inches from it, I search the sunlit
exposed carpet for hairs, and other fibers. The nauseating smell of
death permeates the bedroom. It’s distracting even to a seasoned
professional like me. I don’t see anything.

“Where do you guys stand on the high IQ versus
criminally insane question?” Harmon says.

“I’ve never been accused of being either. Gates had
a high IQ. Are you asking if he was over the edge, or sane?” I
say.

“Put me down for insane, there’s no doubt in my
mind. You can’t do something like he did to Ed without having
screws loose,” Harmon says.

“To commit such acts suggests insanity, right? And
to be able to elude the heat as long as he supposedly did suggests
above average intelligence,” Mika says.

Harmon and I exchange looks.

“I guess what I want to know is, was Gates that
good?” Mika says.

She stops digging through the basket and looks at
the two of us.

“Or was he just incredibly lucky?”

This time Harmon and I exchange shrugs. I offer up
some background for the discussion.

“When I had him in interrogation, he seemed as
normal and sane as Harmon here. That was the eerie part for me. He
spoke calmly, clearly, and detailed. He became defensive at times,
but was in control of his thoughts.”

“Calm, clear and detailed right up until he grabbed
the weapon and shot the officer. He had to be insane to think he
could get away with that inside the house,” she says.

“But he was sane enough to know it would end
someday, and he chose suicide by cop.”

That is the total of my two cents.

“I’m not talking about what method he chose to die.
He
decided
that as well. It’s more,
why
did he want
it to end? He was on top. It doesn’t make any sense, unless he
really wasn’t the one.”

While I enjoy the challenging conversation, I think
we’re wasting our time.

“Well that’s why we’re here, to see if we can prove
it one way, or another, but I don’t see anything that’s going to
help this case. Theory and speculation isn’t going to be
enough.”

Mika steps into the walk in closet and starts
pulling things apart. She apparently sees no reason to preserve the
crime scene any longer and no one in their right mind is going to
occupy that room again until the professional cleaners come
through.

“I’m going to take a walk outside and get some fresh
air. I hate the smell in here,” Harmon says.

He gets as far as the door.

“As Chief, I need to call in to see how everything
is going back at the house. I’ll be back.”

“Okay, Arnold.”

He’s not the only one who wants out. This is just
one more in a series of futile examinations of this crime scene. I
also have to do my duty, while on duty.

“I’ll be in the men’s room.”

“I’m almost done here. We can head over to the
warehouse when you both get back,” Mika says.

I stop to peek around the corner at her before I hit
the head. She looks back, smiles and makes a gesture that suggests
we will escape for a quiet evening later.

Abrams’ bathroom is overly ornate. I hate this kind
of excessive décor. It’s overdone, tacky, and a waste of
hard-earned money. If you have, so much money that you do this to a
bathroom then it needs to be reapportioned to those who could use
the money just to survive. It warms me to know I am about to
relieve myself in this ostentatious room. I think the gentile thing
to do is to run some water to disguise my running water. As I reach
over to open the faucet, my eyes shift across the floor, past the
shower, over to the counter, and finally to the faucet. With an
easy grip, I go about my business. I desperately want to pea on a
wall or something. Dogs are good at that. I look back at the loose
drain cover. Something about it won’t let go of me. Finally
finished, I replace my best friend. I walk over and step lightly
into the shower stall enclosure of marble and glass to take a
closer look at it.