Kyle tried to squirm, to no avail. For months, Grady had lacked the energy to pick himself off the couch, but now suddenly had the strength of two men. He glared into Kyle’s eyes and felt a powerful chill throughout his being. He knew he was looking into the eyes of evil.
He let go of Kyle’s neck, and he fell to the ground in a heap beside his girlfriend. Grady quietly walked to his room and shut his door, leaving stunned looks on Lucy and Kyle’s faces.
He couldn’t shake the darkness he saw in Kyle-but he also saw the future with clarity-a future in which he’d have to be the one to stop Officer Kyle Jones.
Chapter 34
Rockfield, Connecticut
Saturday Night-Labor Day Weekend-present
We took off without a word. Gwen moved briskly, while I limped through the pain as fast as I could. We arrived at her vehicle-a white van that advertised the Rockfield Gazette on the side-and sped off.
Gwen had no answers to my incessant questions, but something told me it was related to this being this day, and that scared me. Gwen explained that she got the tip from Jones. He was the first officer to arrive at the scene. I wasn’t surprised.
Three police cars blocked the bridge, their flashing lights blinding. A sick feeling attacked my stomach like nothing I’d ever felt before. I’d witnessed more than my share of death and knew what it looked like. I saw the stretcher covered in the black tarp.
As Gwen slowed the van, I hopped out before it came to a full stop, almost falling in the process. But I felt no pain shoot through my brittle body-I was completely numb. I stormed past police who tried to hold me back.
I walked to the tarp and pulled it back. My world immediately spun out of control. Staring back at me was Noah. His face was full of abrasions and the calm look of death. I instantly knew that any peace I’d rediscovered had vanished. Maybe forever.
I lightly stroked Noah’s face. I reached behind his head, feeling a big gash in the back of the skull so wide my finger slid into it like the grip on a bowling ball. I pulled the bloodied face close to mine and kissed his forehead.
My gut wrenched, thinking of my mother’s reaction. Throughout my career, I’d always been able to maintain some semblance of composure, no matter the situation. But I felt like I’d lost all control of my emotions.
I snapped my head to Jones. “What the hell happened?”
He remained calm. Too calm for my taste. “I’m sorry, Mr. Warner, I know this must be hard for you. But please let us complete our investigation, and then we can properly inform your family of the cause of your brother’s death.”
The cause of my brother’s death. The words stung.
I glared fiercely back at him. “Perhaps you should take the cotton out of your ears, officer. What the hell happened to my brother?”
Jones looked to Rich Tolland to see if it was all right for him to talk. Rich nodded his block-shaped head.
“I was patrolling the area at approximately 0200 hours. When I came upon Samerauk Bridge, I saw a male standing on top of the guardrail. I got out of the patrol car and shouted for him to get down. At that point, I made the identification of Noah Warner. He was in what I would describe as a trance, and shouting, ‘I miss you, I miss you’ over and over again. I tried to talk him down for minutes. When I continued to receive no response, I returned to my car to radio for help. Before I could make the call, he leaped off the bridge.”
“Did you just say my brother took his own life?”
He lowered his head. “I’m afraid so, Mr. Warner.”
“So are you going to tell me what really happened?”
Jones’ eyes remained steely and calm. He didn’t even blink once. “I realize such news is hard to accept for any family.”
“Especially when some dumb cop is lying through his teeth.”
Gwen tried to play peacemaker, and pulled me into an embrace. I wasn’t sure if it was to comfort me or to keep me from killing her boyfriend. As she pulled me closer, I was hit with the memory of her being with my family at the hospital when Noah was born. The image was still vivid in my mind. I could see Gwen holding Noah, who looked like a loaf of bread draped in a blanket.
“I’m so sorry, JP,” she whispered in a shaken voice. “But there is nothing you can do here. Let’s get out of here before you do something you’ll regret.”
Her words weren’t what I wanted to hear, so I turned to Rich Tolland. “Where the hell are the crime scene investigators? And what about all that fancy yellow tape you guys like to hang up?”
He gave me a look of pity, which further infuriated me. “JP, there’s no evidence of any crime here. For goodness sake, we had to pull him off the same bridge last year. It was self inflicted.”
“He didn’t commit suicide, so I think you need to start looking to other theories.”
I saw a slight crack in Jones’ normally cool demeanor. “What makes you so sure?” he asked.
“For starters, we had plans tomorrow. People who plan on killing themselves don’t make plans. But I think the real question is how can you be so sure?”
“Because I was here.”
“Exactly,” I said, jabbing my finger in his direction. “You know what happened here, officer, and I will get to the bottom of it if it’s the last thing I do!”
Gwen stepped in again, and knowing I couldn’t be reasoned with, she physically moved me out of harm’s way back towards the van.
As she did, my eyes never left Officer Jones.
Chapter 35
The evidence was clear. On the anniversary of the death of his soul mate, Noah Warner went to the darkest of places. Faced with nothing but lonely years ahead, he made a pilgrimage to the place where the accident took place, just as he had the year before. But this time he didn’t back down, and threw himself over the bridge, onto the rocks below.
Over the years, with the success or failure of a story hanging precariously in the balance, and sometimes life and death, I’d learned about trusting instincts and hunches. And in this instance, every bone in my body screamed out that Noah did not commit suicide.
The living don’t kill themselves. People that are already dead do. The ones who are just matter taking up space, with their breaths being nothing but window dressing. Our conversation from the fair replayed in my mind. I didn’t have a doubt-Noah was one of the living. Now I had to figure out a way to prove it.
Chief Tolland, along with his sidekick Bobby Maloney came to my parents’ house late last night to deliver the grim news. Gwen and I showed up a few minutes later to witness my father unsuccessfully trying to console my mother. At the break of dawn, Ethan and Pam arrived. It was the day everyone had feared for two years, and now it was the reality we would have to live with for the rest of our lives.
I sneaked away to my quarters and went immediately to my laptop. I had access to numerous files through my lengthy list of connections and could get information on almost any person on the planet. But even with this access, I still didn’t learn a lot about Kyle Jones.
He had lived the life of the typical military child. Born in Germany, but spent time in San Diego, North Carolina, and Lake Cumberland, Kentucky before he was in middle school. The military background made it more understandable as to why he’d described the incident in military time, which I had found odd at the time.
Jones followed his parents’ footsteps into the Air Force, a career that culminated with him piloting a jet fighter in the Gulf War. Other than the combat service, his military career was bland but honorable. He left in the mid-1990s-his last stop was Luke Air Force Base in Arizona.
Following his military service, he joined the police force in Gilbert, Arizona. His next stop was the Outer Banks of North Carolina, where his only job of note was giving flying lessons to the locals. Then he must have rediscovered his love for wearing a uniform, because he accepted a job of police officer in Rockfield, Connecticut, where he had a stellar record … except for the fact that he might have killed my brother.