Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers (184 page)

“In the conference room.”

“What’s going on now?”

“She’s distraught. Says you’re her only hope.” Carla shrugged. “Not sure how serious she was about killing herself, she said it like she was joking. But she’s real upset.”

It had been a while since anyone had expressed any need for pastoral counsel, especially since the television broadcasts had begun. He’d gotten so used to having his staff handle things that it was gratifying to make this exception and see someone himself for a change. It was good to feel needed again, in a way so-called celebrities aren’t.

“I’ll need you in there with me—mind staying a bit longer?”

“I’m already late to feed Charlie.” Carla’s cat, her only companion, was notorious for exacting revenge if he had to wait too long for his supper.

“Please. For propriety’s sake, Carla.”

She sighed. Heavily.

“All right.”

“Thanks, Carla. Let’s see what’s going on with her.”

He pushed open the walnut door to find a woman seated with her back to them at the long table, her glossy black hair falling around her shoulders. Carla went to the mini-refrigerator and got bottles of water for them.

“Pastor Hartwell, this is Maria Guzman.”

An unreasonably beautiful young woman stood up and turned to face him.

“I’m so sorry to bother you this late—it was raining, I couldn’t find my hotel, I just happened to pass by your church and the lights were on...I’m sorry.”

“Not a problem.” He took her warm hand and shook it. “Please, have a seat.”

Though she smiled, her eyes were full of something bitter, something dark that lay just beneath the surface. They sat opposite each other, Maria’s hands in her lap.

“So how can I help, Ms. Guzman?”

“Maria, please.” She glanced over at Carla, who was sitting at the far end of the table. “I don’t mean to be rude, but what I have to tell you is...well, it’s personal.”

“I understand. But it’s really for your own security that she’s here.”

“What are you going to do, jump my bones?”

Jon let out a nervous laugh.

“Of course not!”

“I’m sorry, that was really crude. I’m just
such
a mess right now!”

“Don’t apologize, it’s all right. But back to the issue at hand? You can say anything with Carla in the room—trust me, she’s the soul of discretion.”

That she was, but when he turned to her for affirmation she stood up.

“Actually, it’s getting late for me, and Pastor Hartwell is the soul of integrity.” She started walking to the door.

“Wait, Carla—”

“And I have a cat who’ll pee all over my bed again if I’m any later for his supper.”

That elicited a giggle from Maria.

“So I’ll just say goodnight to both of you.”

And with that, she was out the door.

CHAPTER TWENTY

ONLY A FEW SECONDS TO DO THIS.

Even with the scant traffic at this ungodly hour, someone might drive by and report her to the police. Near the edge of the Coronado Bridge, she peered down into the inky water below. Hardly a ripple or wave. How long would she feel the pain of impact? How long would she live feeling the terror of drowning while fighting the instinct to swim, to survive? How cold was the water?

Probably very cold.

Dark and cold. That was exactly how she envisioned her death, for such had been her life. Nothing would stop her now. She’d mentally rehearsed it for months. Twice in the past week she’d come close, then changed her mind. But she’d managed to get this far tonight.

No turning back.

She had to do it—now.

Just then, a seagull flew over her head and let out a plaintive cry. It drew her eyes upward to a blue rectangular sign with white lettering that read:

SUICIDE COUNSELING

CRISIS TEAM 24 HOURS

1-800-479-3339

Too late.

Part of her wished someone would stop their car, get out, try to talk her down. Not that she’d change her mind, she only wanted someone to know that she’d taken her own life—and why. But that would really be inconsiderate of her, subjecting a good Samaritan to such a horrible memory.

It’s time.

With twitching fingers, she gripped the edge of the wall and climbed up. The wind swept matted strands of hair into her tear-stained face. She sucked in a sharp breath through teeth chattering despite the evening warmth.

Just one step forward...

#

Nick stood back from the ledge watching the subject, who looked utterly harmless to anyone but herself. With one foot outstretched over the sixty-meter drop, she asked the cosmic question.

“Why, God?”

Nick tried not to listen.

He hated watching this. He’d ushered the souls of many a suicide victim to the Terminus but always tried to avoid the scene just before they killed themselves. With this assignment however, he was forced not only to attend a suicide but to facilitate it.

She’s just one human. If she goes ahead and jumps, it’s for the greater good of millions.

Nick got up on the ledge and stood behind her—floated, actually.

The woman sobbed softly and pulled her foot back.

Was she reconsidering? This assignment was supposed to be easy. Now he had to listen in to know what she was thinking.

// I HAVE TO DO THIS. NOTHING ELSE WILL STOP THE PAIN...//

“That’s right,” he whispered into her ear. “The pain. There’s no other way to end it.”

She nodded, sniffed, wiped her nose with her sleeve. Then she looked up into the sky.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” She stuck her foot back over the ledge.

“Make it right, then,” Nick whispered. “Go ahead and jump. Maybe that’ll help make up for what you’ve done. You’ll—”

“
What?”
She pulled her foot back and started crying. “It wasn’t my...” The rest of her words were muffled by sobs.

What kind of inane assignment was this, anyway? Nick listened in.

// NOTHING’S GOING TO BRING HER BACK. I’M SORRY, GOD. I KNOW YOU DON’T APPROVE OF THIS, BUT I CAN’T GO ON. //

“Go ahead and do it. It’s what you want, what you need,” Nick whispered, feeling increasingly uneasy about it all. “You’ll finally find...peace.”

“Peace, yes.” She leaned forward, trembling as she started tipping over the edge.

A sudden chill wrapped around him, went through him. Not a physical sensation, as he was not in a physical state. It had been years since he’d experienced it.

The dark vapor.

Memories flashed through his mind—questionable choices, unauthorized interventions, Sophia, Victoria Station,
Clara…

In his dazed state Nick had taken his attention off the subject—now ready to spring, her knees bent. He thought he heard Tamara’s voice but couldn’t be sure if it was really her:

“No matter what, Nikolai, you will always be loved...”

With a profound gasp, the subject cried out, “I’m sorry!”

Filled with anxiety and an odd sense of familiarity, Nick rushed out and floated directly in front of her.

“Wait!”

Astonished, she opened her eyes.

Those eyes.

Those emerald pools.

But before he could piece it all together, she leapt from the bridge.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

THE BODY. THAT WAS YURI’S FIRST THOUGHT as he peered past the wall at the Coast Guard ship whose officers were eyeing Jonas’s boat through binoculars. If they were to come around, they’d find his body hanging from the deck. That would only complicate things.

Making sure he was out of their sight, Yuri pulled the knife from the sheath strapped to his ankle and began to saw away at the thick rope. He wasn’t making much progress and now he heard the roar of the Coast Guard ship’s engine as it began to move.

Yuri let out a grunt and slashed at the rope even more feverishly.

The ship was coming to the front of Jonas’s boat and about to turn to the side where his body hung. The rope sliding in his grip as he cut it stung Yuri’s fingers. Just before the Coast Guard ship rounded the corner, the line broke.

A heavy splash below. Yuri shoved the knife overboard, rolled over on his back, and laughed. Just in time.

Five minutes later, a pair of Coast Guardsmen boarded. Yuri remained on his back as if barely conscious.

“Sir?” the male officer said, crouching down at Yuri’s side. “Sir, are you all right?”

Yuri groaned, slowly reached for his neck and rubbed it.

“Hmmm?”

The female officer zipped open a bag, presumably containing first aid equipment.

“Looks dehydrated.”

Yuri sat up and gazed into her face with his best desperate look.

“Thank God you came!”

“I’m Chief Petty Officer Renard,” she said, then nodded to her partner. “This is Seaman Apprentice Grant. Sir, are you all right?”

“It was terrible. A huge storm—you would not believe how big! I hit head...” He rubbed the back of his skull where he’d gotten bumped. “My friend Jonas...he…” Yuri moaned as he touched his neck again. He didn’t have to pretend, the pain was real.

“Jonas?” Renard said, looking around.

“He was up here during storm.” Yuri stood up, very slowly.

“How long were you here?” Grant said.

“I don’t know. Last I remember, ship was going to sink!” Yuri peered over his shoulder and hollered, “Jonas!”

“Have you checked below?” Renard pointed to the cargo hold.

Yuri’s face went cold. “Of course.”

“Mind if we look?”

Dammit!

“Is slippery and dark. Come with me.” He led them down the steps, grabbed the flashlight on the counter and waved its beam around in a cursory scan.

“See? Not here.” He started back to the steps.

“We need to have a thorough look,” Renard said.

“I looked everywhere,” Yuri said. “I think Jonas maybe fell overboard during storm!”

“I think he could be down here, injured.” Grant pulled out his own flashlight. “Let’s make sure.”

Better create a diversion.

As the other two started off to search the hold, Yuri made a gurgling noise, started to convulse, then fell on the floor with a loud thud.

“He’s having a seizure,” Grant said.

Renard, who had walked off a little ways, rejoined them. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

She was holding the suitcase and not buying Yuri’s act.

“What’s inside, Sir?”

The suitcase was quite heavy with the key component he’d fully assemble with other parts in the States. Yuri opened one eye and glanced at it with concern.

“I don’t know.”

“Where’s your friend...Jonas?”

“I don’t know. Like I said, maybe he fell overboard!”

Renard huffed and spun the suitcase’s combination cam lock.

“Or maybe you’re a murder suspect.”

“That’s crazy!” Yuri said.

“Save us all the time and trouble,” Renard said. “Open the case.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“I HOPE THIS ISN’T AWKWARD FOR YOU.” Maria hugged her arms and leaned back into the chair.

“Awkward?” Jon shook his head. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been alone with a woman—I mean...” A burning heat washed over his face and ears. “
Now
I’m feeling awkward. That came out completely wrong.”