Authors: Paul Adan
With his binoculars, Ben watched as the drama unfolded before him. After parking, two men got out of the lead vehicle and approached the door of the mobile home. One of them was short and wore a baseball cap, and the other guy was about a foot taller. They hadn’t been on the porch very long, when a man opened the door to the house. He was carrying a weapon. The three of them greeted each other, talked for a minute on the porch, and could be heard occasionally laughing. Then the porch-light came on, illuminating the porch and much of the parking area, and the three men walked over to the second car. Another man, who had remained behind the wheel in the second car, got out when the men approached. When he opened the door, a faint sound of rap music could be heard emanating from the car’s interior.
All four men slowly, casually, walked around the second vehicle. One of the guys – the tall one – ran his hand along the roof, as if he were caressing the car, while another looked at the rims on the tires. The two others – the one with the
baseball cap, and the one who had come out of the house – sat down in the front seat, and appeared to be looking at the interior. By now Ben was beginning to wonder why four guys would be looking at a car at 2:30 in the morning, in the middle of nowhere. Clearly there was something going on that wasn’t on the up and up. “Criminals,” Ben quietly said to himself.
After giving the car the once-over, the newly labeled criminals went up onto the porch, and there sat down on four wooden chairs. The porch light went out, and Ben could see that they had begun smoking; the orange glow from their cigarettes was clearly visible, and every so often, one or the other of the glows would briefly intensify and then become faint. After a few minutes, one of the men got up from his seat, went inside the house, and turned on the kitchen light. When he returned to the porch, he carried bottles in both hands. For the next forty-five minutes or so, Ben watched as the criminals remained on the porch talking, drinking, and laughing.
By now, Ben was getting a little worried that he wouldn’t make it home before Megan awoke from her slumber. He thought about trying to sneak out from behind the bush, and make his way to the truck, but decided it was too risky; the moon was still very bright, and his silhouette would be clearly visible, even to a bunch of drunks on a porch.
With increasing anxiety, Ben waited, and waited...and waited. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, one of the criminals left the porch and climbed into the driver’s seat of the second vehicle, while another went over to the garage and opened the two large doors. The car started-up, and when the doors had opened enough for a vehicle to pass through between them, the first guy carefully drove into the garage and parked. Twenty seconds later he emerged on foot, and the other guy closed the doors behind him.
Ben continued to watch as all four men came together again near the porch. After some brief “goodbyes” and backslaps, three of them got into the first vehicle and drove away as quickly as they had arrived. Meanwhile, the owner of the house went back into the house, and shortly thereafter turned off the lights. Ben muttered, “It’s about time!” and breathed a big sigh of relief. With stiff joints and sore muscles, he stood up from behind the bush and slowly retraced his steps back to the truck.
WHEN BEN
arrived back at the Serenity apartments, Megan was wide awake. She greeted him with a big hug, misty eyes, and a series of questions. She then related to him how, upon waking, she had initially thought he had gone out to get the paper or buy some milk; but when he hadn’t come back after about twenty minutes, she had become increasingly worried and scared. She had then turned on the TV, as a distraction mostly, but she had been unable to concentrate. Just when she had finally arrived at the point where she was going to call the police, Ben had casually walked through the door. All during this time, she’d never even seen the note Ben had left for her.
At first Megan was relieved, but then she became angry at Ben. They talked and talked, and when they had finally made-up, Ben promised to never again leave unannounced. He also promised to take her with him the next time he went on a stake-out.
Jason’s Property, Stuart Co.
28 September, 10:18 AM
THE GRAVEL crunched under the tires of the car as
Robert Matson and Fred pulled into the driveway of Jason’s mobile home. In the parking area there was an old car with a broken side-view mirror; and though it desperately needed a paint job, it appeared as if it was still capable of moving. Here and there and everywhere, scattered about on the ground, were bits and pieces of cars less fortunate. A little bicycle lay on the ground a few feet to the side of the old car, off in the grass. Robert was cautious as he parked; the last thing he needed was a flat tire.
When the vehicle came to a stop, and before getting out, both Robert and Fred adjusted their radio settings and checked their weapons. Though they both carried the same radios, their weapons were radically different. Whereas Robert was old school and carried a .38 Special revol
ver, Fred preferred the Glock-17 semi-automatic pistol with a fifteen round magazine. With one already in the chamber, making a total of sixteen, Fred figured he could unload a lot of firepower downrange before Robert even reached for his first speed-loader.
The men got out of the vehicle and briefly observed their surroundings. It was a nice morning, and it hadn’t yet gotten very hot. A slight breeze blew from the north, disturbing the leaves, and cooling the air; and with the breeze there came the scent of animal manure. Robert suspected its origin was a horse, because a short distance away there was a somewhat boney horse casually nibbling on dry pasture grass. Overhead, a solitary eagle soared in circles. For a good ten seconds or more, Robert watched as the bird maneuvered in the up-drafts, never once flapping its wings. Robert adjusted the glasses on his nose and had a thought:
Wouldn’t it be nice to have the leisure of a horse, and the eyes of an eagle?
Before he could answer his own question, however, Robert was alerted by movement over near the house. It was the same old dog that had ignored them the last time they were there, and now he was making another appearance. This time, instead of simply napping on the porch and raising his eyebrows, he actually got up from the ground and greeted the men. He was curious; and, surprisingly, he didn’t even bark. Robert surmised it was because he’d seen them before, and was comfortable with them being there. In any event, he first approached Fred’s outstretched arm and nonchalantly sniffed his fingers. A few seconds later, when he was satisfied with what he had smelled, he wandered over to Robert and also sniffed his hand.
BY NOW, Jason had come to the door and was watching through the screen as his dog, Rocky, sniffed the hands of the strangers. For quite some time, he’d been thinking about getting a pit-bull, or some other fierce dog, but he was too attached to Rocky; he worried that Rocky wouldn’t get along with another dog, and he couldn’t bare the thought of getting rid of him. Jason truly loved his dog, and though he was unaware of it, he showed Rocky more compassion and loyalty than he did to his fellow human beings.
A minute or so earlier, before coming to the door, Jason had wisely decided to leave his own weapon in the living room. He had seen plenty of unmarked police vehicles, over the years, and he knew immediately that the car that had just pulled into his driveway was occupied by police detectives. “No use gett’n yourself shot, or thrown into jail” he had said to himself as he had tucked his weapon in between two cushions of his couch.
IT WASN’T long before both Robert and Fred noticed they were being watched. When they spotted Jason, Robert yelled out a greeting: “Hello there. You must be Jason. I’m Detective Robert Matson, and this is Detective Fred Sterling. Nice dog
you got here.” The two men approached the base of the porch, and waited to see how Jason would respond.
Jason opened the screen door and walked out onto the porch. “Hi. What can I do for you, officers?” he said.
Both men noticed that Jason seemed a little nervous, and that he kept glancing back inside the house. As a precaution, Fred moved into a flanking position; just in case he needed to neutralize the threat. Like Robert, he also moved his right hand a smidgen closer to his holster. “We just wanted to talk with you a little more about the death of your friend, Joey Jones?” Robert replied. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
Jason didn’t immediately answer. He thought about inviting the men into the house, but then it suddenly occurred to him that the only place where they could sit was on the couch. A bead of sweat appeared on his forehead as he contemplated what to do. “Uh, yeah, um, I guess I’ve got a few minutes. Have a seat – here on the porch, and I’ll go inside and grab a few beers. You guys do drink, don’t you?”
“Thanks Jason, but we’re ok. Actually, we don’t drink while we’re on duty,” Robert said as he ascended the stairs. He was followed a second or two later by Fred. When they reached the porch, Robert took a seat in one of four wooden chairs, but Fred continued to stand; off to the side and over by the railing.
“Alright then,” Jason responded. “Do you mind if I have a drink?” He looked at Robert since he was the one doing all the talking.
“No, we don’t mind at all. We’ll just make ourselves comfortable.”
Jason disappeared into the house, and Robert cast a wary glance in Fred’s direction. Upon making eye contact, Fred patted his weapon and gave a quick nod. A minute or so later, Jason returned with a bottle and took a seat in another of the wooden chairs. Robert then proceeded to explain the reason they were there: “As I was saying, Jason, we’ve been working on solving your friend’s murder. We have a few suspects already, and we’re just trying to tie-up a few of the loose ends. Are you ok with us asking you a few questions?”
Jason waved his hand, dismissively, before he replied. “Sure, go ahead. Ask away.”
“Ok, well, could you refresh our memories about what happened at
Lucky’s on the night of the murder? I know you’ve already made a statement, but I’m still a little confused about a few things. For instance, did you go to the bar in Joey’s car, or did you drive there yourself?”
“I drove there myself,” Jason replied.
“Ok – alright. Is that the car you drove; the one over there?” Robert asked, as he pointed in the direction of the old car parked in the driveway.
Jason nodded his head up and down one time in the affirmative.
“Alright then, thanks for clearing that up. There is something else that’s been bothering me, though. Maybe, you could put my mind at ease. How come you left so quickly after the murder? You know that makes you look guilty as hell. So why’d you do it? Why were you in such a rush to leave?” Robert asked as he continued to probe.
Jason was a taken aback by the directness of the questions, and thought about terminating the interview. But eventually he responded. “
Cuz I was running for my life, man! That McDonald kid stuck Joey, and I was afraid he and his friends was gonna stick me. If you’d a been there, man, you’d have done the same thing.”
“Yes, yes, I probably would have run,” Robert said sympathetically. He acted as if he understood how Jason felt, and then asked another more piercing question: “By the way, did you know that one of those guys was Edward Bryant?” There was a big pause, and Robert expectantly waited.
“Who’s Edward Bryant?” Jason finally responded. And then a strange, fleeting look passed over his face. Fred noticed it, but Robert had been looking downward.
“Well, Edward Bryant lived in a house where you once did some yard work. Do you remember that? As a matter of fact, the house where Edward lived with his folks was the same one you broke into, and robbed, several years ago.”
And then there was silence.
Jason was at first stunned by Robert’s confrontational question, but soon his demeanor changed. His forehead furrowed, his lips pursed, and his eyes narrowed. Angrily, he responded to the apparent accusation being leveled against him. “What are you saying? Do you think I killed Joey? WELL, DO YOU? Get out of here. Do you hear me? GET THE HELL OFF MY PROPERTY! I don’t know what you’re
talk’n about. Besides, I don’t have to answer any more damn questions. Talk to my lawyer!” With that, he rose from his chair and stomped into the house.
Fred had
already grabbed for his weapon during Jason’s tirade, but loosened-up on the handgrip after Jason stormed into the house. He looked over at Robert, who had gotten up out of the chair and had also grabbed for his weapon. Both men breathed a collective sigh of relief before they cautiously backed down the stairs, and headed for their vehicle.
Along the way, they briefly slowed down and casually looked inside Jason’s car. At first glance, there didn’t seem to be anything unusual about it; so they continued to move along. But just as they were going, Robert looked one more time into the front seat, and noticed that there was something smeared on the knob of the radio. To the eye of an untrained observer, it appeared to be nothing more than the remains of a chocolate milkshake, but to Robert it was clear what he was looking at: it was blood.
And then Robert remembered that he had seen a small, flesh colored band-aid on Jason’s right index finger several weeks prior. It was during the initial interview, and he had asked Jason about the wound. He had even taken a photograph of it. Jason had simply explained that he’d had a hangnail, and that it had bled a lot when he’d messed with it. At the time, the explanation seemed reasonable to Robert.
Now, he wasn’t so sure.
Public Library, Stuart Co.
29 September, 6:11 PM
MEGAN’S EYES scanned the viewer as the micro-fiche film whizzed by in a blur from left to right. Whenever something looked interesting, she adjusted the control-knob and gradually slowed the procession of film across the screen until it eventually stopped moving. Invariably, she would then have to rotate the control knob back and forth several times before the item of interest was finally positioned in the center of the viewer.
For over an hour, she’d been searching. She was hoping to find some information – any information – about vehicle prowls and thefts in Stuart County during the last five years. It was her idea to go to the library after Ben had related to her what he had seen at Jason’s, several nights earlier. At first, upon arriving at the library, she had tried using a computer to conduct her search. But since the internet was still in its infancy, she hadn’t had much luck with that route. Not to be deterred, however, she’d switched over to the micro-fiche machine after about twenty minutes.
Although the process was a tedious one, she loved what she was doing. For her, this type of investigative work was like a big puzzle – and finding the one crucial piece of information, the proverbial needle in a haystack, was highly satisfying. Still, she was getting a little anxious; the library was scheduled to close at 7 PM, and she had just now found something that looked important. She was also distracted because Ben had said he’d come by at 6 PM.
Gas Station Parking Lot, Stuart Co.
29 September, 6:40 PM
ACROSS TOWN, probably only two miles away from the library, Ben sat patiently in his parked truck. In one hand he was holding an old candy bar, which he would take a bite out of from time to time, and in the other was a pair of binoculars. Beside him, on the seat, were wrappers and debris from all the other snacks he’d consumed during the last week. Every so often, he’d briefly place the binoculars down in the midst of the
trash, only to raise them to his eyes again a few seconds later. As he sat there – watching – he felt horrible that Megan was again missing all the action; especially since she’d been so adamant about including her in the investigation. Nonetheless, he thought she’d understand once he told her why he’d been sidetracked. And besides, it had all happened – by chance.
Ben had been driving down Main Street about an hour earlier, on the way to the library, when he was been forced to stop at a red light. As h
is truck had come to a halt, he’d glanced across the intersection where he noticed a man who was panhandling near the exit ramp to the freeway. At first, Ben didn’t think much about it; he’d seen panhandlers there before, and he even felt sorry for them sometimes. But as he waited for the light to turn, he had inevitably cast a few more bored glances across the street.
And that’s when he’d noticed an amazing resemblance.
Could it really be him!?
, he thought.
Why on God’s green earth would Jason Lewis – Jason Lewis! – be standing on the side of the road begging for money?
Ben was astonished. He was also dying of curiosity, and he simply HAD to know the answers to his questions.
When the light had finally turned green, a minute or so later, Ben had casually accelerated through the intersection while looking for a good place to park. As he did, he tried not to stare or cast a sideways glance at Jason for fear that he’d give himself away. He felt reasonably certain that he hadn’t been seen by Jason, or anyone else,
as he pulled his truck into a gas station parking lot. Nearby, however, the two occupants of a white sedan had observed Ben’s every move.