Once again, George thought of the German plane that had crashed into the French Alps, and how the entire plane had turned into bits and pieces.
“But he had to have killed his co-pilot,” Mike said. “And the pilots go through the same type of screening as the passengers. He couldn’t have brought a weapon on board.”
“He could have strangled him, I suppose,” George said, and winced. “Captain Daniels was a very large and muscular man. And his mother told me he was ex-military. It wouldn’t have been hard for him to kill his co-pilot with his bare hands.”
“You really think he could’ve strangled his colleague to death?” Mike asked.
“Perhaps they weren’t that close, or maybe they didn’t care for each other. Besides, he was going to kill every other person on that flight, so—”
“It’s not the same.” Mike interrupted. “Killing his co-worker in cold blood would be much harder.”
“Perhaps he was psychotic at the time.”
“Each pilot has to go through a mental health evaluation,” Mike retorted.
“A psychologist can only tell so much. Besides, healthy people can suddenly snap. Perhaps he snapped when he saw his ex-wife with another man.”
Michael Williams looked appalled; the side of his mouth kept pulsing.
“Or perhaps the co-pilot was in on it,” George added. “It could have been a suicide pact. Depression is contagious. Perhaps the co-pilot had his own reasons to end his life.”
“No, they didn’t fly together on a regular basis.”
George thought his boss looked as he was about to be sick, and he figured changing the subject would be a good idea.
“I hate to sound cynical. But do you know if the passenger load factor has increased or decreased in the past week?” George asked.
“Actually, the load factor has increased in the last week,” Mike said. “We’re selling more tickets than ever.”
“Fly F.A. or the terrorists have won,” George said, and quoted a man on the street, who had been interviewed on TV the day before.
“This doesn’t feel right,” Mike said and bowed his head.
“Well, it could have been a coincidence for all we know. I mean, Captain Daniels could’ve purchased the tickets for his ex-wife and her companion from the goodness of his heart.”
“Do you believe that, George?”
Of course not.
“It doesn’t matter what I believe. The only thing that matters is what you can prove. You need evidence to convict someone. Even a dead man.”
After an awkward pause, Mike Williams eventually shook his head and spoke.
“I find it incomprehensible a Christian person would do such a thing. Mrs. Daniels told me her son was raised in a home with Christian values.”
Once again, George felt as he had been sucker-punched.
“You didn’t tell her, did you?” He stared at his boss with wide eyes.
“No, of course not, George,” Mike responded firmly. “I just can’t believe a Christian person would cause the death of all those people.”
“Going through a divorce can be devastating. I remember reading about this woman who committed suicide the same day her husband filed for a divorce…” George paused for a few seconds, again to add more drama. “…and she killed their children the same day. Drowned them in the bathtub. One at a time, and placed them in each of their beds. She left a note explaining how killing her children was truly an act of mercy.”
“To protect the children from their father?” Mike looked mystified.
What? Why would you make that assumption?
“No, according to the psychologist who read the suicide letter, she killed her children because they no longer filled a purpose in life. Normally, a parent is supposed to be there to promote the welfare of a child, but in this case, it was the other way around. Her children’s only purpose was to enrich this woman’s life. The children were merely an asset, and when you’re dead, you no longer have a need for assets. So, in her mind, killing her children was an act of mercy.”
The CEO looked horrified.
George shrugged. “I mean, what are the kids going to do when she’s gone? Just wander around the earth without any purpose, with nothing to do, and no one to please? It’s not as if her children had lives of their own or anything—in her mind.”
George thought his boss looked as if he was about to have a stroke.
“She killed the cat too. Rat poison,” he added, and then mentally prepared himself to dial 9-1-1.
“And this was a Christian woman?” Mike asked and sounded annoyed.
“I don’t have that information,” George said, immediately regretting his choice of words.
Why did you use that phrase, George?
After yet another awkward pause, George eventually rose to his feet. “Tell Trisha, I said hello.”
“She didn’t come in today. Her boy is in the hospital.”
“What happened?”
“He’s sick a lot. He has a disability.”
George felt his chest tightening. Something about a single mom raising a child always got to him, and especially a child with a disability.
“That reminds me, how was the meeting…”
What was her name again?
“…with the mother of the flight attendant?”
“Mrs. Olsen went to visit her family in Stockholm,” Mike said. “So, we had no meeting.”
Stockholm? George thought it was strange that the mother of the flight attendant had suddenly decided to travel abroad, especially when the plane hadn’t been located.
“Stockholm? As in the capital of Sweden?”
“Stockholm, Wisconsin,” Mike responded.
“Never heard of it.”
“I had my doubts too, but apparently it exists.”
29 THE SOLDIER
Friday evening
They’d started walking early in the morning, and hardly made any stops along the way. Jack had carried Julie on his back for the entire journey. As the hours passed, and the woods grew darker, they’d stopped, and settled down beside a large pine tree. When Jack went looking for food, Julie kept staring in the direction in which he’d left; she never took her eyes off his trail.
When Jack finally emerged from the dark woods, Julie lit up with joy and waved her arm for him to see. Jack never waved back but simply held his cupped hands close to his chest.
“What do you have there, Jack?”
Jack extended his arms, and held his hands close to Julie’s face, the content still concealed in his cupped hands.
Julie hesitated, and looked wary. “It’s not an animal is it?”
Jack smiled, and slowly opened his hands.
“Blueberries,” Julie blurted out. “I love blueberries.”
Julie consumed each blueberry, one at a time, moving her arm rapidly back and forth between Jack’s cupped hands and her mouth. Then, Julie suddenly stopped eating, opened her mouth, and extended her tongue as far as humanly possible.
“Is aisle town glue,” Julie mumbled ambiguously.
Jack frowned. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”
“Seriously? You’re not getting this? It’s so obvious,” Julie said. “I asked you, if my tongue is blue.”
“Now I get it.”
“So, is it blue?”
“Yes, it’s blue,” Jack responded hesitantly.
“Yaayyy… It’s blue,” Julie cheered, and sounded childish.
Jack appeared puzzled by Julie’s remark, and looked dubiously at her as she kept consuming the blueberries one at a time. Then Julie began giggling and made an attempt to feed Jack a blueberry. However, Jack never opened his mouth. He merely kept frowning and looked quite skeptical of Julie.