Ionshaker (Part I), Felix Timothy [fox in socks read aloud TXT] 📗

It was only a matter of time before the game was over for the elusive sole murder suspect.
“Got one camera, 10 meters from the gas station,” Jack said quickly and excitedly.
“Zoom in and rewind the time stamp to…how long do you take to gas up?” Brett asked Jack.
“When in a hurry or normal…”
“This’ not the time to be a jerk, Jack,” Brett retorted
“Two to five minutes…”
“Then rewind it to 9:11, then play,” then turning his head towards Shirley he said, “The suspense is killing me, Shirley.”
“A dark-green Ford Explorer,” Shirley replied promptly.
“That’s it!”
Jack who was keyed up exclaimed immediately Shirley identified the car.
“What is?”
“A Ford Explorer pulling into the gas station at 9:12.”
“Go on, play it a little longer, we need to get a positive ID that the driver is our murderer.”
As Jack played the footage on his computer, it simultaneously showed on a humongous monitor hanging on the wall. Everyone’s eyes were glued to it, keen to get a glimpse of the driver and excited about the action.
“There! Freeze it there,” Brett emphasized as he shot to his feet then added after a couple of seconds, “Good work everybody, I think we’ve tracked our killer. Now that we have the visual confirmation, Shirley would you please charm us and locate his car.
Feeling good about herself, Shirley engaged her keyboard, feeding the vehicle registration details and crosschecking the numerous vehicles on Danville Broadway until she isolated the dark-green SUV.
“He’s on Danville Broadway, heading north and flying low...”
“And what did you expect?” Jack interrupted Shirley and added, “Of course he has to speed, he’s running, that’s why we’re here chasing him.”
“And who’s talking to you Weirdo?” Shirley shot back.
“Cut it out you two, we don’t have time for cat fights. Keep your eyes on him. Don’t lose him, Shirley. Jack, get the San Francisco highway patrol on stand by.”
“Brett?” Shirley called out suddenly concerned.
“Yeah?”
“He’s indicating… now branching from Danville Broadway and taking 1425 Main Street. What’s his game plan?”
“He can’t be making another stop; it’s too soon for somebody on the run,” Brett said meditatively staring at the big screen.
“So what’s happening?” Shirley quickly asked Brett.
“He’s either approaching his final destination or he wants to ditch the car. He’s a killer but not a moron. By now he expects we’re hard on our heels after him.”
“So how are we gonna stop him?”
“That’s the fun part sweetheart. How far’s the next junction?”
“I’d say eight minutes give or take from where he is now.”
“Jack,” Brett called out and when Jack turned; he ordered, “Do it now.”
In a flash, Jack was on the phone with the San Francisco highway patrol.
“The officer is on the line for you,” said the woman from the San Francisco highway patrol switchboard.
“We need your help stopping a dark-green Ford Explorer on 1425 Main Street heading towards Kaiser Foundation Hospital. The suspect might be armed and dangerous. Our guess is, you have about four minutes to intercept him.”


4

From a distance, he saw a police car parked by the roadside and as he drew closer, the clearer things became.

The officer was slowly moving to the middle of the road with his gun drawn. Eventually, the officer stood in the middle of the highway. Only one turn and Trey would have reached the end of his destination.

Slowly, the officer began raising his gun and aiming it in the direction of the oncoming dark-green Ford.

By the time Trey Woodley wrapped his head around the fact that he was a moving target and slammed his foot on the brake pedal, he was in the line of shot.

As soon as the SUV had come to a stop, the police officer was already at the driver’s open window pressing the gun barrel in his ear.

Baffled, Trey quickly said, “Take it easy officer! There must be some kind of a mistake.”
“Switch off the engine and do exactly what I tell you. Do you understand me?” The officer ordered with a stern face.
“Okay,” Trey replied quickly killing the engine.
“Now slowly, put your hands on top of your head. I repeat, slowly.”
Trey obliged.
“Officer I’m telling you...”
“Step out of the car. Real slowly,” The officer ordered, opening the door for him with his left hand. Trey stepped out of the car, and the officer pushed him hard against the car.
“Now put your hands behind your back.”

After doing as he’d been ordered, the police officer hurriedly handcuffed him.

* * *

Inside the austere interrogation room, Trey sat on a hard metal chair with his hands handcuffed behind him, replaying his previous day in his mind. He tried to pinpoint exactly what he could have done contrary to the law. It had to be a case of mistaken identity; a misunderstanding that would soon be clarified.

He needed to get back on the road.

Directly in front of him was a large opaque glass panel. He knew they were watching and strategizing on how to interrogate him – the traditional good-cop-bad-cop approach perhaps, but by taking their time to study him, they were wasting his time.
After being abandoned for close to forty minutes, the metallic door was eventually unlocked and a lean, stern-looking man entered and began staring at Trey as if reading his mind, trying to intimidate him.
“My name is Brett Dawson…”
Brett began.
“Could you please let me know what my charges are?” Trey asked innocently.
“You tell me,” Brett answered him pulling a chair to sit across the table..
“Please, if you don’t have any charges, let me go. I have an emergency to attend to.”
“Are you a fireman?”
“No,” Trey answered with a frown on his face not sure of where Brett was heading.
“What about a paramedic?”
“I’m not that either.”
“Sorry then, it looks like you’re stuck here with me,” Brett remarked dryly leaning forward to stare into Trey’s eyes. Afterwards, Brett leaned back to ask, “Out of curiosity, what emergency were you talking about?”
“Visiting somebody in the hospital. She just had an accident and she’s still in a critical condition.”
“Oh it’s a she!” Brett said sardonically before going on to ask, “And where is she admitted?”
“Kaiser Foundation Hospital.”
“What’s her name?”
“Robin Ironside.”
“What time did the accident occur?”
“I don’t know the exact time, but I got a call from the hospital at around 2 pm,” Trey answered with a tone of agitation in his voice.
“And what time did you start your journey?”
“Eightish, nine – I’m not sure.”
“And why didn’t you just fly to San Francisco instead of driving all the way, I know the shortest route can take you six hours , other routes can take you up to ten hours. You said it was an emergency right?”
It was a tricky question and Trey exhaled deeply before answering, “I have my reasons.”
“Well, I want to hear them, what are they?” Brett looked at him squarely; he knew there was something Trey was hiding.
“After she gets better, I will transfer her to a safe place where those who want to kill her can’t reach her. And to do that, I’ll need my car.”
Brett made a brief cynical laugh after Trey gave his reasons for driving. The reason was flimsy if not paranoiac at best.
“You say she was involved in an accident and now suddenly there are people wanting to kill her and you’re the only one who can protect her, is that what you’re saying here?”
“Yes,” Trey said affirmatively.
“You’re deluded, you know that?” Brett asked rhetorically before adding, “And how are you two related?”
Trey took his time before he answered, “We’re not, she is a close friend.”
“Oh, I see,” Brett said with another cynical smile and then, leaning forward with his elbows resting on the table and fingers intertwined, asked in a slow soft tone, “Did you tell your wife you were going to see a friend?”
“No,” Trey replied as calmly as he could.
“No!” Brett feigned surprise then continued to ask in a loud voice, almost shouting, “So were you just gonna disappear without informing nobody? Didn’t you think your wife would worry?”
“What are you, a family therapist?” Trey returned fire with fire, certainly worked up.
He immediately got a grip of himself; he knew he’d just lost to Brett’s strategy. It was all part of the game. But he wasn’t going to give the man the satisfaction, so he continued in a low voice, “I meant to call her when I arrived. If it will make you any happier, I knew she wouldn’t approve of it.”
“So tell me, how are things between you two?” Brett asked softly.
“Great,” Trey said then paused for a bit before elaborating further, “I mean we’re doing fine.”
“I see.”
“So can I call her?” Trey challenged.
“But you already know that’s impossible, don’t you?” Brett challenged back as he got up.
Trey instantly leaned forward and asked, “Impossible?”
Trey was lost.
“You know she can’t pick up your call after what happened, don’t you?”
“What are you talking about, is she alright? What happened to her?” Trey asked with genuine concern, he had no idea.

Then unexpectedly, Brett banged the table with a fierce look on his face as he asked, “How can she be after you shot her, huh? So stop this nonsense about going to visit a friend. We’re gonna try this one more time, and this time, I don’t want to hear your emergency crap. You hear me? You’re gonna tell me exactly how you did it.”
“Brooke was…?” As Trey trailed off, Brett walked out of the room to brainstorm with Nicole who had been watching through the glass.

In the meantime, Trey could not believe what he had just heard. Brooke had been shot dead? By who? How? Why?

Heavy questions weighed on his conscience. Why had he left his wife home alone? Why didn’t he try to talk to her? Why hadn’t he at least just called?

His wife’s death was his fault.

But then again, what choice had he been left with? The hospital had called and informed him that Robin Ironside was in the Intensive Care Unit barely hanging on and he was listed as her only next of kin. And he knew there was absolutely no chance on earth that Brooke would have let him to go see Robin. And so he had been forced to play odds, to take a chance and it had cost him his dear wife.

No words could explain the rollercoaster of emotions circuiting in his mind.
Then, like an epiphany, it hit him. It dawned on him that he was as much a victim of circumstance as Robin and Brooke. He hadn’t requested to be listed as Robin’s next of kin, no, it just happened that he was. He hadn’t planned a long overnight trip and purposely left his wife alone and vulnerable, but you know what – it just happened.

And now he was the punching bag, the fall guy, the culprit… the villain facing execution, or