thought of Kate Whitney. The trap he had laid for her and her father. He
had still not gotten over that. He might be a cop, but he had been a
human being long before that. He trusted he still had some docent human
qualities left.
“Jack, the police do have one lead, a real good lead in fact.”
“Okay, what is it?”
Frank paused, then said, “It’s you, Jack. You’re the lead.
You’re the guy the entire District police force is combing the city for
right this very minute.”
The phone slowly slid down from Jack’s hand. The blood seemed to have
ceased flowing through his body.
“Jack? Jack, goddammit talk to me.” The words of the detective did not
register.
Jack looked out the window. Out there were people who wanted to kill him
and people who wanted to arrest him for murder.
“Jack!”
Finally, with an effort, Jack spoke. “I didn’t kill anybody, Seth.”
The words were spoken as though they were spilling down a drain, about
to be washed away.
Frank heard what he desperately wanted to hear. It wasn’t the
words-guilty people almost always lied-it was the tone with which they
were spoken. Despair, disbelief, horror all rolled into one.
“I believe you, Jack,” Frank said quietly.
“What the hell’s going on, Seth?”
“From what I’ve been told the cops have you on tape going into the
garage at around midnight. Apparently Lord and a ladyfriend of his were
there before you.”
“I never saw them.”
“Well, I’m not sure that you necessarily would have.” He shook his head
and continued. “Seems they were found not completely clothed, especially
the woman. I guess they had just finished doing it when they bought it.”
“Oh God!”
“And again they have you on the video blowing out of the garage
apparently right after they were killed.”
“But what about the gun? Did they find the gun?”
… They did. In a trash Dumpster inside the garage.”
“,And?”
“And your prints were on the gun, Jack. They were the only ones on the
gun. After they saw you on the videotape, the D.C. cops accessed your
fingerprints from the Virginia State Bar file. A nine-point hit I’m
told.”
Jack slumped down in the chair.
“I never touched any gun, Seth. Somebody tried to’kill me and I ran. I
hit the guy, with a paperweight I pulled off my desk. That’s all I
know.” He paused. “What do I do now?”
Frank knew that question was coming. In all honesty he wasn’t sure what
to answer. Technically, the man he was speaking to was wanted for
murder. As a law enforcement officer, his action should have been
absolutely clear, only it wasn’t.
“Wherever you are I want you to stay put. I’m gonna check this out. But
don@t, under any circumstances, go anywhere. Call me back in three
hours. Okay?”
Jack hung up and pondered the matter. The police wanted him for
murdering two people. His fingerprints were all over a weapon he had
never even touched. He was a fugitive from justice. He smiled wearily,
then he stiffened slightly. A fugitive. And he had just hung up from
talking to a policeman.
Frank hadn’t asked where he was. But they could have traced the call.
They could have done that easily. Only Frank wouldn’t do that. But then
Jack thought about Kate.
Cops never told the whole truth. The detective had suckered Kate. Then
he had felt sorry about it, or at least he had said he had.
A siren blared outside and Jack’s heart stopped for an instant. He raced
to the window and looked out but the patrol car kept on going until the
flashing lights disappeared.
But they might be coming. They might be coming for him right now. He
grabbed his coat and put it on. Then he looked down at the bed.
The box.
He had never even told Frank about the damned thing. The most important
thing in his life last night, now it had taken a back seat to something
else.
“AREN’T YOU BUSY ENOUGH OUT THERE IN THE BOONIES?”
Craig Miller was a D.C. homicide detective of long standing.
Big, with thick, wavy black hair and a face that betrayed his love of