A Bustle in the Hedgerow (CASMIRC Book 1) Page 3

  “Thank you,” Prince said to the waiter as he grabbed the steak knife beside the plate and began cutting into his ahi. The waiter nodded and left.

  Jack studied his plate: chicken sandwich, mayonnaise on the side. He tilted his head in an unnoticed gesture of respect to the waiter and his impeccable memory, a little pissed that the douche bag actually impressed him with his parlor trick. Jack spread a small amount of mayonnaise on his top bun and began to eat his sandwich.

  “Oops is right. We’ve learned that Dashiel will be announcing his resignation sometime this week, leaving Rupert without a campaign manager or top aide. News of Rupert’s adultery will surface shortly after that. When we put these elements together in the world of political chemistry, a mini-explosion is likely headed for the Schultz camp in the coming weeks.” Prince took a bite of his tuna, and he let out a small “Mmmmm.” He pointed down at the dish with his knife. “That’s good,” he said, with his mouth still a quarter full. He set his knife down and took a sip of his water. He finished chewing and swallowed down the bite.

  Then Prince looked Jackson Byrne square in the eyes. “Which brings us to you, dear Jack.”

  Well, this definitely is not about a speaking engagement, Jack thought.

  “I think you would be a perfect candidate to replace Senator Shultz as the next U.S. Senator from Virginia.”

  8

  “Did you like the show, Daddy?” Jonah asked for the fourth time, sitting on the couch beside his father, finishing the last few bites of his hot fudge sundae.

  “It was really good, Jonah,” Jack reaffirmed.

  Jack looked over at his son. A huge smile covered Jack’s face as he noticed the faint black “whiskers” still drawn on Jonah’s face and the streaks of hot fudge caked on both his upper and lower lips.

  “And did you find me believable as the lion?”

  Jack laughed out loud. “Believable?” He turned to Vicki, who watched this exchange from behind the kitchen bar that overlooked the family room. “Where does a five-year-old come up with this stuff?”

  “Well?” Jonah insisted.

  “Oh, most definitely. I never doubted for a minute that that was a real lion up there on stage.”

  “Oh, Daddy, you knew it was me, right?” Jonah flashed his adorable grin.

  “I thought it was you, but sometimes it looked so much like a lion that I had to do a double take.” Jack looked directly at Jonah then imitated an overly dramatic, wide-eyed double take with a sweeping turn of his neck. Jonah giggled, producing Jack’s favorite, most delightful sound in the entire world.

  Two hours, a bubble bath, and a bedtime story later, Jack quietly closed Jonah’s bedroom door behind him. He walked down the hall and into his and Vicki’s bedroom. Vicki sat on the bed leaning back against the headboard. She was wearing her typical bedclothes: a plain T-shirt and sweatpants. On the TV Caleb Goodnight interviewed Robert Redford. She looked up at Jack as she turned off the TV.

  “Well?”

  “Corduroy,” Jack replied.

  “Again? That must be the fourth night in a row.”

  Jack shrugged. “It’s his new favorite book.” He began to undress.

  “Clearly.” Vicki scooted over to sit on the edge of the bed as Jack went into the walk-in closet. “So, how was your lunch with Philip Prince?”

  Jack walked out of the closet as he finished unbuttoning his shirt. “Interesting.”

  As he finished getting undressed, slipped into his typical bedclothes—a pair of running shorts—and brushed his teeth, Jack told Vicki of his lunchtime conversation with Philip Prince, culminating in Prince’s proposal to run for the Senate.

  “Wow,” Vicki responded initially. “That is interesting.” She concentrated on Jack’s countenance for a few seconds. “You don’t seem flabbergasted by this.”

  Jack looked at her as he walked around to his side of the bed. “Flabbergasted? No, I guess not.”

  “What was your initial impression, your first thought when Philip presented the idea?”

  Vicki had always been talented at helping Jack to make good decisions. She helped him gain perspective and look at situations from various angles. Sometimes she would go through a “pro vs. con” exercise, while other times she would encourage him to rely on his “gut feeling.” By himself Jack admittedly did not possess a significant alacrity for introspection. In fact, it seemed that the majority of bad decisions he had made since meeting Vicki—including his absolute worst decision— had occurred in her absence.

  “It seemed like Prince had come to a logical conclusion.” Jack responded after considering her question for several seconds.

  “What do you mean by that?” Vicki prodded.

  Jack considered his wording for a brief moment. “I mean that my ‘star’…” Jack made air quotes—and rolled his eyes, because he usually had a distaste for people who made air quotes, and Vicki knew it—“…is rising, and, with my pedigree and my background, I would be a logical choice to run for some political office. With Schultz’s career in disarray, why not the U.S. Senate?”

  “Okay.” Vicki shuffled back in the bed and lay on her side facing Jack. “And what are your thoughts now?”

  “I’m not sure.” Jack sighed. He thought about his last case, the murder of Lamaya Hollows, and the many steps that led up to the resolution of that case. Though it led to his current popularity and fame, overall, deep down, Jack was not proud of how he had gone about solving that crime. “Maybe this would be a good time to get out of the Bureau and move onto something different.”

  “And what if you did, and you lost the election?” Vicki challenged. She knew he would not have considered this line of thinking yet, nor would he find it a comfortable thought. But she also knew that it was an extremely important consideration.

  “Huh.” Jack seemed a little startled. He often, but not always, let down his adversarial conversation guard with Vicki. Sometimes he paid for it. “Do you think I would lose?”

  “Absolutely not. But it’s a possibility. Anything’s possible, right?”

  “I suppose, yeah,” Jack acquiesced. “I don’t know. There’s a ton to be made in consultation work in the private sector. I could freelance for a while, see if I like that. I would probably end up making a lot more money for a lot less work.”

  “That sounds attractive,” Vicki said as she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “You know we’d love to have more of our Jack around here.”

  Jack smiled and turned to face her. He gave her a kiss on the lips. “Thanks, Vic.”

  “What’s the timetable on this? When do you have to let Philip know?” Vicki had grown up with three very outgoing, athletically-gifted brothers, none of whom were particularly bright. Her parents didn’t possess the greatest intellectual prowess either, for that matter. As such, she often had to ask the same question twice with different verbiage. It served two purposes: she had a better chance of her busy, boisterous family hearing her, having said it twice; and she had a better chance of their understanding her by saying the same thing two different ways. It had become ingrained in her as a natural speaking pattern, so she never consciously realized that she did it. She and Jack had been together long enough that even he didn’t notice any more.

  “I told him I would get back to him by the end of the week.”

  Vicki nodded. “Well, sleep on it. Let me know if you want to spend some time talking through it.” She craned her neck to kiss him on the lips again. “Goodnight. Love you.”

  “Love you too,” Jack said. He rolled over and turned out the bedside lamp.

  9

  Jack and Vicki met fourteen years ago. He was 26, she 24. He had just moved back to Maryland from law school and was living at his parents’ house temporarily while studying for the Maryland Bar exam. She was working full-time as a flight attendant and had just started going to business school at night for her MBA. Neither of them liked studying at home (a little too many distractions) nor in libraries (a little too quiet).
Their paths crossed in Barb’s Beans & Bakery, a quiet corner coffee shop that, coincidentally, both of them found conducive to studying. The coffee shop was quaint and simply decorated, with a dozen small pastel-colored tables arranged throughout the floor plan. The previous owner, before the eponymous Barb, had renovated a split-level office building, so the coffee shop actually sat about four feet below street level. One entered through a glass door onto a small landing before walking down five steps to the main level. Large plate-glass windows comprised the entirety of the two outside walls— except, obviously, for the four feet that were underground— exposing the two intersecting streets and their respective sidewalks.

  Jack first noticed Vicki during his second time in Barb’s. She sat by a window drinking a cappuccino with her nose in one of her textbooks. Jack had sat down at the other end of the shop, his window at a 90o angle to hers. Vicki initially stuck out to Jack with her natural beauty. She had relatively plain features, with dark brown eyes, slightly lighter hair, and a flawless complexion. She did not wear any make-up because she didn't need to. Jack contemplated approaching her, but instead decided to sit down and start studying.

  Not much later Vicki looked up from her text. She widened and blinked her eyes for a moment to give them a rest. She looked around the shop and noticed Jack several tables away. He had a handsome profile, with angular cheekbones and a rugged five o’clock shadow. Before she could conclude whether or not she found him handsome, she noticed a small puppy on the sidewalk just on the other side of the window behind Jack. The puppy continually licked the sidewalk, lapping up the remains of a partially spilled gourmet coffee. His owner stood about ten feet away, engrossed in conversation with an acquaintance, oblivious to his dog’s doings. Vicki realized that a few other people in the coffee shop also noticed the puppy and were grinning uncontrollably. Within less than a minute, the adorable puppy drew every pair of eyes in the shop, with more than one person uttering an “Awww!”

  Every pair or eyes, that is, except Jack’s. He focused deeply on the workbook in front of him. The attention of every patron and employee in Barb’s Beans & Bakery focused on the puppy no more than four feet away from Jack’s head, and Jack’s gaze could not leave the page.

  Soon, because now he became the oddity, people began focusing on him. Spectators speculated that he must not have a soul; how else could someone ignore something so close by that was so undeniably adorable?

  Vicki, however, did not think Jack heartless. Quite the opposite, she found his focus on his work endearing, and hence instantly found him attractive.

  After another twenty seconds, Jack suddenly felt all those pairs of eyes on him. He looked up from his book to see everyone staring at him, many in disbelief. He was still unaware of the dog, so, naturally, he could not understand why everyone looked at him. Moreover, he couldn’t understand why most of them gawked at him as if he had two heads.

  As he looked around the room, trying to make some sense of his surroundings, he noticed that one face did not have a frown, but rather a huge smile—the attractive girl at the other window. Finding her smile open and friendly, he met her eyes, furrowed his brow and shrugged as if to say, What is going on here? She laughed as she pointed her index finger in the air, swirling it in a circle. Turn around.

  Jack looked quizzically behind him and saw the puppy, finished its morning coffee. He laughed to himself and turned back around to face Vicki, who began another bout of laughing. He shut his workbook, grabbed his coffee, and went over to her table.

  “How long was that going on before I noticed?” Jack asked, still with a slight grin.

  She shook her head, minimizing. “Only about ten minutes.”

  He laughed and then extended his hand. “I’m Jack.”

  She shook his hand with an adequately firm grip. Jack was immediately impressed—most women don’t have such a confident handshake. He liked her.

  “I’m Vicki. It’s nice to meet you, Jack.”

  She ended up inviting him to sit down. Uncharacteristically, he did. Normally Jack’s mind would have been too focused on his studies to take a break and sit down. They shared about a twenty-minute conversation, mostly the getting-to-know-you variety. At the time Jack did not share with her that he technically still had a relationship from law school with his girlfriend Danielle. She lived in Pittsburgh, where she had gotten a job in a medium-sized law firm. They had thus far succeeded in maintaining a long-distance relationship. Two weeks after Jack met Vicki, though, he and Danielle broke up.

  Jack and Vicki started dating shortly thereafter. They naturally fell into a model relationship—both very much in love with each other, enjoying each other’s company, but still maintaining their own individual interests and endeavors. Vicki still spent quite a bit of time on the road— or, more accurately, in the air—in the first two years of their relationship. She mainly flew three routes, two of them to-and-from Florida—Orlando and Tampa— the other to-and-from Dallas. When she wasn’t on the road, she split time between being with Jack and her MBA classes. Jack had taken a job with a large law firm in Bethesda, which he quickly grew to hate.

  The next year she completed her graduate degree, he took a job as an Assistant District Attorney for Montgomery County in Rockville, MD, and they got married. The following year Vicki applied for an administrative job within her airline and easily won the promotion. Now that she could stay in one place, they decided to start a family.

  Unfortunately, their first attempts ended in a late miscarriage, around twelve weeks after conception. Vicki took it quite hard, and Jack promised patience and understanding. He provided the former—they shared limited physical contact for almost a year— but he never could fully comprehend how deeply and emotionally scarred the experience had left Vicki.

  During that time Jack felt increasingly unfulfilled in his job. He decided that if he were to continue to spend over eighty hours per week at a job, it needed to provide him with a sense of accomplishment. Less than six months after Vicki’s miscarriage, Jack applied for a position with the Federal Bureau of Investigation as an investigator in the Criminal Division of the Washington Field Office, which he got.

  About two years later, after playing a large role in the apprehension of a serial molester in southern Maryland, Jack took a brief meeting with FBI Director Robert Mueller, III and a man named Dylan Harringer, the Special Agent in Charge of CASMIRC, or the Child Abduction and Serial Murder Investigative Resource Center. Mueller and Harringer asked Jack to move permanently to CASMIRC, located in Quantico, VA. A relatively small but prestigious division, CASMIRC would offer Jack more opportunities for advancement and a wider range of potentially important cases, with its jurisdiction spanning the entire country. He accepted on the spot.

  By spring of that year he and Vicki moved to Lake Ridge. One month later, Vicki became pregnant with Jonah. She was 33 when she had Jonah and 35 before they decided to try again. After another 18 months, and her 37th birthday, they decided that Jonah would be their only child rather than risk a pregnancy in her late 30’s. Despite their difficulty in coming to such a tough decision, both seemed very content with their small family and their wonderful son.

  DAY THREE:

  WEDNESDAY

  10

  Early the next morning, Kenneth Howard stared at the scrap of paper enshrined in a plastic bag in front of him. He had been through all of the crime scene photographs, the autopsy report, the crime scene analysis, and all of the other victim’s belongings. Nothing intrigued him as much as this 1” by 4” piece of paper. It had been folded in half once horizontally and slid into the front pocket of Adrianna Cottrell’s jeans. It had the following script, written in black ink:

  Howard had no idea what it meant. He needed someone proficient in linguistics to analyze this. He had a strong feeling that he currently held in his hands the most important piece of evidence in his case.

  He set the plastic bag down and looked through his Rolodex. Despite storing hundreds of phone
numbers in his cell phone, Howard still felt the need to have a Rolodex on his desk. He found the number he needed, picked up the phone, and dialed.

  11

  Jack was the first to arrive in the conference room shortly before 9:00 am. He had gotten to work a little after 7:00 that morning, earlier than usual. He knew he would have several things to take care of—forms to sign, secure e-mails to return, etc.—as it was his first day back in the office for almost a month. He had received a special leave in order to promote his book. Apparently the Powers-That-Be felt that his book and his presence on the talk-show and book-signing trails provided good—and free—PR, which outweighed the downside of being short one senior investigator for several weeks. The most recent e-mail he had received, which announced this current meeting, came from Dylan Harringer, who still served as CASMIRC’s Special Agent in Charge, or SAC.

  Jack always arrived early for meetings. He felt that as the first person present he would have the opportunity to observe others as they arrived. He also valued punctuality. Punctuality projected a sense of seriousness. Jack could use his charm and sense of humor to put others at ease, but he always wanted them to know that he meant business.

  Dylan Harringer had served as the head of CASMIRC for the last nine years. Due to his short stature (Jack had always assumed, at least), Harringer had grown up spending most of his free time in the gym. He became a competitive weight-lifter in high school and still, at the age of 53, spent a minimum of ninety minutes per day working out. He wore snugly fit yet impeccably stylish suits which emphasized his massive arms and V-shaped frame.

  Harringer arrived not too long after Jack, at 8:59 am. Typical Dylan, Jack thought, right on time.

  Harringer looked up to see Jack already seated in the conference room, half-smiling. Typical Jack, Harringer thought.

  “Hello, Jack. Welcome back.”