I got dressed and hustled outside, climbed into the skimmer, and took off. I was barely in the air when I heard the first media reports. They hadn’t identified her yet, simply talking about a woman threatening to jump from the bridge. I put the images on-screen. She was on the south side of the bridge, outside the guardrail. She had only a few inches of walkway to stand on. There wasn’t much light, and I couldn’t get a good enough look even to be sure it was her.
Below her, the river looked desperately far away. Melony Road was visible, of course. It runs along the south bank, but at that hour there were no moving lights.
A police officer had straddled the rail and was talking with her from a few meters away. He was nodding, holding up his arms. You don’t want to do this. Every time he leaned forward, tried to move closer to her, she pushed out over that awful chasm. I couldn’t hear either of them, but it was enough to stop him. Once, she let go with a hand and seemed about to fall, but she grabbed the rail again and clung to it. The woman was obviously terrified.
Don’t do anything sudden,
I thought at the cop.
Wait her out, she’ll come down on her own.
Police had blocked off the approaches. Skimmers were circling; ground vehicles were pulling off the road to watch. Police were trying to reroute the traffic north to the Capital Bridge. As I got closer, a voice broke in:
“Emergency situation in progress. Please leave the area.”
A police skimmer moved in close and repeated the message. Official vehicles were scattered across the bridge. They got closer with the imagers, and I could see it
was
Rachel. “I know the woman,” I said. “I might be able to help.”
“Are you the sister?”
the voice asked.
I didn’t know anything about a sister. “No. I’m an acquaintance.”
“Name, please?”
“Chase Kolpath.”
They hesitated. Then:
“You’re not on the list. Sorry.”
Trafalgar was a resort area with a population of about eight thousand. I couldn’t find a decent place to park, and I finally landed in a field outside town. I climbed out, walked onto Melony Road, and saw the clutter of people and vehicles ahead. It was
our fault
. Damn it, I’d warned Alex.
It was cold, and I wished I’d stopped to get a jacket.
At the bridge, people and vehicles were piled up in front of a police barricade. I pushed through the crowd and got to the front just in time to watch a taxi descend onto the bridge. Police and medical people were scattered across the span. A cruiser was drifting down out of the early dawn. I couldn’t get anyone’s attention, so I ducked under the cable. Somebody yelled, and suddenly I was confronting an officer. “Back off, lady,” he said.
“I know her,” I said. “Maybe—”
“Please get back, ma’am.”
“I
know
her. I might be able to—”
He held up a hand. Made a face as if he were trying to identify me. “You know
who
? The jumper?”
“Yes. If you’d let me talk to her—”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I really can’t do that.”
He started away. “Okay,” I said, “can we try something else?”
His shoulders tightened, but he stopped and turned. “What?”
“Contact Inspector Redfield. Ask him if it’s okay to let me through.”
He scowled. It had been a long night. “Wait one, please.” He walked over and talked to another officer. The conversation went back and forth while I tried to see what was happening with Rachel. But there were too many people on the bridge, and I couldn’t see her. Then the second officer came over. He wore three stripes on his sleeve. “What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Chase Kolpath.”
“And you want us to check with Inspector Redfield?”
“Please.”
“Wait one.” He retreated a few paces and started talking into his link. I couldn’t hear the conversation. Gulls flew past. More people arrived. Another media team descended on the scene. Then he came back and handed me the link. “Talk to him,” he said.
I took it. “Fenn?”
“Chase, what are you doing out there?”
He sounded as if he thought it wasn’t a good idea.
“I’d like to try talking her out of jumping.”
“I’ve just gone over this with Alex. If you go near her, that might be all she needs to send her over the side.”
“Is Alex coming?”
“Not anymore. He agreed it’s too dangerous.”
“Fenn, I might be able to stop this.”
“Or you might make things worse.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Chase, I’m not sure it’s entirely in your hands.”
I stood there, holding the link, looking at the cop.
“All right,”
he said finally.
“Let me talk to the officer.”
I ducked under the lines and hurried out onto the bridge, threading my way between the vehicles and the police. Ada and Doug had arrived and were talking with Rachel, gesturing, pleading with her while she hung outside the railing and shook her head.
No.
Doug saw me, screwed up his face in outrage, and held up a hand. Keep away.
Rachel was flushed. And terrified. She peered down into that awful chasm, gripping the waist-high rail so tightly, I wasn’t sure it would be possible for her to let go. She pulled her eyes from the river and looked back at her nephew and his wife. She was fighting off tears. Skimmers circled overhead.
Then those eyes found me. Her face hardened.
Doug started in my direction. Get out. Go away.
Rachel said something to him. He stared at her, and she went on talking. Ada put an arm around his shoulders, spoke to Rachel, and tugged at him. Tried to get him away.
I waited. Doug’s eyes blazed with hatred. His wife continued talking to him, continued pulling until, to my surprise, he gave in, and they both retreated a few steps.
Rachel seemed to be waiting for me. Her face was a mixture of fear, resignation, anger. “Don’t do it,” I said. “Whatever this is about, it’s not worth your life.”
“How would
you
know?”
I went a few steps closer, almost close enough to try to grab her. And, incredibly, she smiled. “Why do you work for him, Chase? You’re not like him.”
“Rachel, please. Come back inside, so we can talk.”
“We can talk.”
“Look, I’m sorry this happened. We never intended any harm.”
“I know.” Her voice steadied. “It’s not your fault. Not anybody’s fault, really. Except mine. You were just doing what you do.”
“That’s exactly right. And if we realized—”
“Shut up a minute. I don’t want any empty promises. It’s probably too late anyhow.”
“Why? What’s—”
“I asked you to shut up.” She took a deep breath. “It’s not your fault,” she said again. “It was inevitable that it would come out. I just wanted you to know. So you don’t blame yourself.”
“Don’t do this, Rachel.”
“If you want to do something for me—”
“Yes. Anything. If you’ll get away from there.”
“I’d like you to back away from this business.”
“Okay.”
“Forget the tablet. Will you do that?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t suppose you can get your idiot boss to do it?”
“I think he will.”
“You don’t believe that yourself. But try. Please.”
“I will.”
“Thank you.” She looked over at Doug and Ada, standing just out of earshot. And she said good-bye.
When I saw what she was about to do, I lunged for her, caught her wrist as she let go. We fought each other and screamed at each other. Then she twisted free.
Ada and Doug and the cops and I don’t know who else all converged on us as she slipped away. Rachel’s eyes brushed mine, pleading for help. Then she was gone.
We all stood looking down. I never heard the splash when she hit.
TWENTY-ONE
Guilt is never a reasoned response. It is rather a piece of programing that may or may not have justification. And it is probably most damaging to the innocent.
—Timothy Zhin-Po,
Night Thoughts
Alex was furious when he heard.
When he gets angry, he doesn’t start throwing things, like most guys. He gets very quiet, and his eyes focus on something, on a chair or on a clock or on something in the display case, and they proceed to burn a hole through it. As he listened to my description of events, he was locked in on a table lamp. When I’d finished, he sat unmoving for several minutes. Finally: “Didn’t the police have a barricade set up?”
“Yes, they did.”
“How’d you get past it?” His voice was unemotional, level, calm. Which told me everything I needed to know.
“They let me go through.”
“The police did?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“They just did.”
We were in his office in back. He was still watching the lamp. “Did you call Fenn?”
“No.”
“Chase?”
The eyes finally swung in my direction.
“The police called him.”
“And he got you through?”
“Yes.”
He pressed his fingertips to his brow. He looked genuinely in pain. “Jacob, see if you can get through to Inspector Redfield.”
“Wait,” I said.
“What?” His voice was icy.
“I don’t want you to do this. Create a problem with him, and you embarrass
me
.”
“Chase, the woman is
dead
.”
“And it’s my fault, right?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“What
were
you saying, then?” I think I was edging toward hysteria. Because I knew it was true. She probably would have jumped anyway, but if I’d listened to Fenn and kept my distance, it might have had a different end.
“Alex.”
Jacob sounded nervous.
“Did you wish me to put the call through?”
Alex ignored the question. “I was
saying
that Rachel died, apparently as a result of the investigation Rainbow was conducting. That’s
my
responsibility, not yours. It’s just that Redfield should have recognized what anyone from
here
meant to her. That there was an inherent danger in reminding her of why she was out there. He knew better, but he told you to go ahead anyhow. Damn.”
“Well,” I said, “do what you want. That’s how you’ll handle it anyhow.” I looked at him and had trouble bringing him into focus. “I’ve had enough, Alex. I’m going home.”
“That’s probably a good idea, Chase.” His voice had softened. “Get away from it for a while.”
“Yeah. Take a taxi.” I got up. “Anything else?”
“No. See you tomorrow. If you feel you need more time—”
“What are we going to do now about the tablet?”
He got up, and we walked along the carpeted corridor toward my office. “I still have a couple of ideas.”
“You mean we’re still going to pursue this business?”
“Yes.” He didn’t look surprised that I was offering resistance. “Chase, it’s more important now than ever.”
“Why?”
“Because whatever it was she was hiding, whatever happened to her, was so significant she couldn’t face it. She must have known that even if we pulled off, somebody else would take up the trail. The tablet has had too much exposure.”
“Alex, I promised her I’d give it up.”
“I know.” We paused at the door, then entered the office. I got my jacket out of the closet and pulled it on. “Maybe that’s why she did it.”
“What do you mean?”
“To extract that kind of promise.”
“You’re saying—”
“That keeping the secret, whatever it is, was more important to her than her life.”
I went home. There’d been a thousand calls at the office, most from media types, some from people who wanted to tell me what they thought of me. One had come from Robin, inquiring whether I was okay. There were more waiting when I walked in through my front door. They included one from my folks and one from my sister. Was I all right? Why was I being blamed for that poor woman’s suicide?
The most painful one came from Fenn.
“It wasn’t your fault, Chase,
” he said.
“I was the one who gave you the okay. I shouldn’t have done it. I take full responsibility.”