The Road to Justice/Sins of the Son combo pack - A John Fowler Novel (John Fowler (Books 1 & 2)) (3 page)

After the funeral and the family left the cemetery, the four of them gathered around the gravesite.  No one said much.  How could they?  They all looked down at their friend.  Leroy wondered if all of the thoughts about telling the truth were going through their minds
as well
.  Was it time t
o tell what really happened all
those years ago?

A light snow began to fall.  As they stood there
,
they saw a figure approach them.  It dawned on Leroy as the figure was less tha
n 10 feet away who it was
. . .
but that was impossible.  It was just
. . .
impossible. 

Leroy swallowed,
“
David?   David George
,
is that
. . .
you???
”
 

“
Leroy Jenkins, Amy Jensen, Colt McCormick, T
om Bradley
. . .
”
All four looked nervous and anxious.  In one motion
,
the man in front of them reached down pushing his trench coat aside on both sides of him.  Shock and surprise was on all four of their faces as he pulled out a gun in each hand.  There were silencers on the end of each gun and they were pointed at the two members of the group
on the outside.  Simultaneously he shot from both hands and then changed targets to the two on the inside and shot again at the second pair of targets.  All four dropped dead.  As he fired the shots, he answered. 

“
Yeah, it
’
s me. 
David George.  You see when I kill someone; I make sure they
’
re dead.
”
 
David dropped a note on the bodies and then turned and walked away.  Each body lay on the ground with a single gunshot wound
in the middle of their forehead
.  The note simply read,
“
Tell Veronica I know who she is, and she
’
s next.
”

John Fowler
’
s Apartment, New York, New York

Chapter 5

             
“
Four shots in 5 seconds; how do you know that?
”
 
John asked.

             
Chet smiled. 
“
He sent us a tape of it.  He
’
s that good.  No one saw it happen.  John, he wants us to know who he is.
”

             
John looked at the file
;
it was very thin.  He groaned inwardly and looked at Chet.  Chet was looking everywhere but in John
’
s eye
s
. 
“
Chet . . .
?
”

             
“
Ok, ok.  We
’
ve got nothing, except
there are four people dead and the killer sent us a video.  There is also a g
ood chance that the killer
. . .
”
John leaned forward and was staring daggers into Chet. 
“
I mean we
feel like there is evidence
. . .
”
John
leaned in even closer. 
“
All right; I
’
ve got a gut feeling.
”
  
John fell back on the couch with his arms spread. 
“
John, I really, really think that whoever killed these four people also killed the soldier.
”
 

         
John stared up at the ceiling.  Chet was a computer genius.  He probably could have been a rich computer tycoon
or a world class hacker
. . .
or both!  Chet's biggest problem within the FBI was
that
he was always looking for a conspiracy.  Chet
, however,
tended to be right about when he had a "feeling" on a case or what seemed to be unrelated cases.  That kind of gut instinct had the tendency to ruffle some feathers.  Not John, he had no problem looking at something wild and outlandish, he just needed some evidence to back it.  That
’
s probably why he and Chet had become so close over the years.

    John was lying back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. 
“
Special Forces?
”

             
Chet,
“
We
’
re pretty sure.
”

             
John,
“
Why?
”

             
Chet looked confused,
“
Why what?
”

             
“
Why do you think this person has Special Forces training?
”
 
John asked.

             
Chet responded. 
“
Four shots in five seconds; you don
’
t learn that on the street.  Also, there were some companies deployed in Afghanistan during the time Jason Sparks was stationed there.
“

       
John shook his head.  He looked at his friend. 
“
Chet, you
’
re doing it again; you are trying to make the evidence fit a theory.  You know better.
”
 
Chet looked down.  He didn
’
t know how many times over the years he had heard the same speech.  He couldn
’
t help himself,
when he got these gut feeling
s
. . . sometimes they would just take him over, and he would push until he found the mystery. 
“
Hey Chet,
”
said John,
“
I never said it was a bad theory, but let
’
s let the evidence get us there.  Now, since you
’
ve headed down this path, let
’
s take it a step further.  Is there anyone
AWOL
who might
have this type of training
?
”

             
Chet shook his head.  
“
Not that I can find.
”

             
John looked at his friend and asked the question that had been troubling him,
“
Why me?
”

             
Chet froze.  John tried hard to repress a slow smile.  He knew what was going on.  This was a gray area case.  Locals didn
’
t want it because of the proximity to the base.  Feds didn
’
t really want it because it had loose military ties, and military couldn
’
t investigate because it wasn
’
t military personnel shot at the grave-site.  The FBI wanted someone they knew, but wasn
’
t connected directly to them.  It was the old political game that he had seen many times
. . .
and hated. 

John also knew what this case meant.  It could be a career maker or breaker.
If he took this case, it could
be his chance back in, but if he couldn
’
t solve it, he would probably never be back with the FBI.  John wasn
’
t sure how he
felt about that.  On one hand he really didn
’
t
want back in, but on the other
. . . John had never seen the case file on his wife
’
s death.  In fact, it was still listed as unsolved.  John wanted one thing in his life more than anything, to wrap up that case.  He believed he should be in jail, but he was found innocent of all wrongdoings.  That means there was more to the story than he knew.  As much as he didn
’
t want to join up again, there was that part of him, the part that made him the guy that solved more cold cases, or cases everyone thought were unsolvable, that wanted back in.  If the FBI thought it was someone else who had killed Sam . . . John knew this was his one chance.  He couldn
’
t appear eager.  He had to make them think he was doing them a favor.

             
John looked at Chet.  Chet had turned away trying to think of a polite, political way to answer his question. Chet was struggling with what to say to him. 

             
“
Chet, give me one good reason to take this case, just one.
”

             
Chet looked his friend straight in the eye,
“
John
,
if you ever, ever, EVER want back in, this will be your ticket.
”

             
“
Why
,
Chet?  W
hy would
I ever want to go back to them?  Why
. . .
”
John stopped and looked out the window.  It had been over three years and it was still a fresh wound.  Because of them . . . because of the FBI, he had lost Sam.  This is why he didn
’
t want the case.  John swallowed and looked at his friend.  John asked the question he had avoided asking for three years.

             
“
Chet,
”
John asked trying to choke back tears,
“
do you think I
’
m suicidal?
”
 

             
Chet was taken aback,
“
John, where did that come from!?  Are you trying to tell me something???
”

             
John waived his friend off. 
“
No, nothing like that.
I just wondered if
you were trying to keep me busy
by
showing me there is more to life, or show
ing
me the
“
good
”
part of the FBI.  You know what happened.  Chet, you
’
ve seen the file.  I haven
’
t even seen the official file on her!!!  You
’
re the only person I
’
ve ever told what happened to Sam.  Not her parents, friends, or anyone.  Well that
’
s not entirely true, is it?
”

Chet looked away very uncomfortably.  John smile
d
. 
“
How about this
?
  Y
ou
’
re the only human I ever told what happened to Sam.  For crying out
loud
,
Chet
, it
’
s been three years and they
’
ve never done anything to me about it!!
”
 
John looked at his friend.  Chet was so uncomfortable.  But there was something else, that he couldn
’
t quite put his finger on it.  That was one of the things that got John so far in the FBI and made him such a great PI.  He noticed the little things and followed the trail until not only was it cold, but there were no other possible leads.  Today John had other things on his mind or he might have followed his instincts. 
“
But never mind all of that
;
you
’
re avoiding the question.  DO YOU THINK I
’
M SUICIDAL!?!?
”

             
“
No John,
”
said the woman who had entered the room durin
g the previous exchange and
stood quietly
leaning
against the door
frame
. 
“
No John, you may be vain, arrogant, narcissistic, a pain-in-the-butt, and most importantly very hurt and lonely, but no
. . . you
’
re not suicidal.
”

             
John looked stunned.  He couldn
’
t believe his eyes.  The one person he had gone out of his way to avoid more than his in-laws.  He stared at the woman and then back at Chet. 
“
Chet,
”
John said very angrily,
“
Why on Earth is this woman in my home!?!
”