The Sentinel Ch. 03

Tom was right. They could be looking in the barn while the killer was still running around in the field, and when you got right down to it, the field was pretty damn big. But it was a big help, and the best filtering they'd done so far. Folding the papers, Linda put them in her purse and enjoyed a quiet hour with Tom, talking about family and his children, something Tom always enjoyed.

Heading across the street to her monitoring center, Linda mentally sorted through her people, wondering who was best to assign to the new list. Of course, she would take it home, also and include it in her after- hours sleuthing.

*****

Jack sat in a rental car in front of a white stucco office building in South Beach. His arrival at Miami Airport had been uneventful, and the need for a place to sit and watch had dictated a rental car. First, he had made sure that if he rented the car on his credit card now, as a guarantee against damages, that he could pay in cash upon return and have the pending credit card charge torn up. "Not a problem," they had assured him. Jack was concerned Michelle or Juan might notice the charge and wonder how he was managing to drive a car around.

Nine-thirty and Jan still hadn't arrived. He had done some quick work in the business center and printed just a head shot, as well as the full body shot of both Jan and Lisa. When what appeared to be the cleaning crew arrived, Jack had run across the street to see if Jan did, in fact, work there. Mention of an inheritance and his mission to locate the recipient had brought a smile and confirmation from the cleaning woman that stood on the stoop. Jack had also learned that the building belonged to a dot-com that had purchased it a few years back, as best she could remember. She wouldn't really talk about what they did, mostly because she didn't know. "Hey, I don't know nothin' 'bout them newfangled computers and stuff. Best ask Miss Jan," had been the reply.

And there she was, taller than she appeared in the photo; Jack put her at 5'9" and around 110 lbs. Wearing an A-cut white dress with matching shoes and handbag, oversized sunglasses and a light green straw sun hat that had a brim almost to the edge of her shoulders, she looked more like a celebrity hiding from the public than a woman on her way to work.

Waiting until she had entered the building and had a chance to settle, Jack locked the car and crossed the street to the entrance. Once inside, he was confronted with a shabby-looking lobby and a security guard that was sure Jack was there to piss on his fire hydrant. After much insistence, the guard finally called upstairs to tell Jan that 'there was some lawyer guy down here that wanted to see her.' Hanging up the phone, he enjoyed making Jack ask again if he could go up or if Jan would come down. "Oh, Jan, well... she'll be down, I reckon..." With a crooked smile that said 'fuck you, asshole', he closed with, "in awhile."

Thinking how nice it would be to fire this guy, Jack idly wondered how much it would cost to buy the place just for that purpose. He was brought out of his reverie by the apparition of Jan as she seemed to materialize from around the corner, having come down the stairs instead of using the elevator. But then, Jack caught the 'Out of order' notice and knew why.

Putting on his best 'I'm here to help smile', Jack put out his hand to greet Jan. Accepting the hand and Jack's presentation as "Jack Pond, private investigator", Jan gave her name. "Janet Cranston, how can I help you Mr. Pond?"

"Is there anyplace we can talk, Ms Cranston?" Up close and without the sunglasses, Jack put Jan at 35 years old. No wedding band, but a small bright stone spoke of engagement.

"And just what would you like to talk about, Mr. Pond?"

There seemed to be a quiet tolerance in Jan's voice that said, 'I know who you are, and you're not who you say you are'. Maybe frankness was in order. Being caught in a bold-faced lie, could ruin any chance Jack had of getting help from her.

"Let me be frank. I'm investigating a murder in Chicago from over two years ago, and a picture of you was found on the deceased's computer hard drive."

There was brief pause, long enough for Jack to realize Jan felt a little uncomfortable; then, "Maybe we should go upstairs to my office. This way, please." Jan lead Jack around the corner and up the stairs to the second floor where they went down a short hall that mirrored the space the lobby occupied, and then through the last door on the left. The building appeared to have been a four-story hotel built back in the 1920's when Art Deco had come in and left as soon as the depression had started to subside. Art Deco had enjoyed renewed popularity in the 1980's when South Beach had been a long strip of abandoned buildings and shabby hotels, looking for a purpose. With interest from and restoration by several West Coast celebrities, a lot of American history had been saved.

The 'office' or as Jack could see 'the hotel room' was nice. The floor was the original sea green marble; a door on the left suggested a bathroom; and a dark wood, probably teak, antique table served as a desk and workspace. It sat where the hotel bed would have once been and Jan sat at the head of the desk in a comfortable leather executive chair. Jack sat on the other side in a guest seat, taking in the few pictures and other personal items around the office. Jan began, "Who the hell are you, Mr. Jack Pond? Wait; let me tell you who you are. You're the asshole who left Lisa. If I had a gun, I'd shoot you for her, right now."

Jack had expected many reactions, but indignant protection of Lisa was not on the short list. He was completely at a loss and little confused. Seeing she had surprised him completely by knowing who he was, Jan continued as her voice became more stern and louder. "I've been with Lisa for a little more than two years now, and it's been a struggle just to keep her alive - to keep her from trying it again, and all for some rich kid that went to some Ivy League college that thinks Lisa, my Lisa, is just not 'good enough' for him. You aren't trying to find her, are you, because I will never tell you where she is!"

Jack could not believe what he was hearing. Left Lisa? Two years ago? Did this woman think Lisa had killed herself or, at least, tried and that he had left Lisa? At last, anger overcame confusion, and Jack jumped to his feet to lean across the desk, his best CEO intimidation look at the ready, and a finger stuck between them, pointing at Jan's nose. The movement had caught her attention, and Jack was able to talk softly which was probably the most intimidating voice for such a situation. "I don't know who you think you are, lady, or what you think is happening, but MY Lisa was murdered almost two years ago in her apartment while I was forced to watch on our chat hookup. I am here to see if something can be done about it, and I found your picture on her hard drive and your address where she had sent you flowers a week before being murdered."

The silence was palpable as Jack slowly straightened to compose himself and start breathing again. Turning away from Jan, he moved to a leather sofa on the wall behind his chair and sat to study Jan's reaction. For a few more seconds, she sat staring at the spot where Jack had stood a minute before. Then a red flush built, rising up her neck as her face contorted, and she turned away to sob into her hands - deep sobs, soulful sobs, sobs reserved for the loss of a loved one. Jack suddenly realized he had just told her that Lisa, someone she considered her Lisa, was dead – and not recently dead, but dead for most of their relationship, whatever that relationship might have been.

Glancing around, he found the obligatory box of Kleenex kept in most executives' offices and retrieved one before moving behind the desk and offering it over Jan's shoulder from behind her chair. The reaction was quick and caught Jack off guard as Jan's chair slammed back into him. "Get the fuck out of my office, you asshole," came out between sobs as Jan grabbed the dropped Kleenex from her lap and wiped her face.

Stunned, Jack retreated to the couch and stood a minute, taking in the scene. Jan was devastated, and Jack was responsible. He felt almost as helpless as he had watching Lisa on the computer screen in his apartment that night as the killer mocked him, "Enjoy, Jackie boy." A sudden urge to not go on came over him - an urge to walk out the door, get in his car, and fly back to his beloved fortress where he could sit in his wheelchair the rest of his life and enjoy his quiet memories.

But no, this was no longer about just Lisa. This suddenly encompassed another human being - a beautiful woman that had fallen in love with Lisa - who was now suffering for it as Jack had.

Walking to the door of what Jack hoped was a bathroom, he opened it hesitantly, expecting another tirade from Jan to 'get the fuck out' and found the light switch. Inside, was a full-sized bath, covered with the original one-inch Italian marble squares that covered much of the Art Deco buildings in South Beach. Jack openly gasped when he found himself staring at three photos beside the sink mirror. The top one was of Lisa in her bikini bottom on the beach - the same photo he had folded in his pocket. The second was a photo Jack had taken one night after barhopping in Chicago. It was of Lisa on her bed, kneeling in thigh highs and black heels - nothing more, staring at the camera with a 'come fuck me' look on her face as she wagged a finger at Jack, urging him up onto the bed with her. And the last was Jack's own office picture of the two of them asleep in Mexico. All of the pictures had been professionally printed because they lacked that washed-out look of a home or office printer, and all were framed in thin, gold-gilded frames that added a sunny shine to an otherwise all white bathroom.

Remembering what he came for, Jack found a washcloth to wet in the sink, wringing it out before taking it to Jan. He could still hear her quiet sobs and decided to make another attempt at comforting her. Stepping out, he stood a few feet away from Jan, washcloth in hand - a silent peace offering, as he waited for her to notice and respond.

Three minutes passed, and Jack waited, silently, as if this were some kind of test of his character. Finally, Jan straightened in her chair and shifted a little to smooth out her dress. Regarding Jack a short while, she finally reached out for the wash cloth which Jack dutifully carried forward, to hand over before retreating to the couch, hoping she would feel safer with the distance between them.

Standing, Jan moved to the bathroom, leaving the door open while she stood in front of the mirror to wash her face. As she turned for a towel, Jack could see her from his vantage point on the couch, gazing at Lisa's pictures. Jan placed the towel neatly back on the rack as if buying time before finally returning to her desk where she sat quietly, contemplating what to say next.

Jack decided it would be easier if he continued. "Let me explain what I know happened, and what I've put together since then. Maybe that will help the two of us make some sense out of all this."

He paused to see if there were any objections; then Jack sat talking quietly for almost an hour as he tried to put together the few pieces of the puzzle he possessed for Jan.

*****

It was hard for the Sentinel to understand exactly what had happened. At an intellectual level the Sentinel had analyzed and contemplated it, reaching for meaning and always coming back to the same depressing conclusion. It was over. Simple as that. The beautiful, joyful life the Sentinel had enjoyed before did not include staring at computer screens, skulking around in cyberspace, spying on people, intruding into their lives, and becoming a part of it. That life was gone.

They all seemed to be a bunch of babbling idiots to the Sentinel with no purpose in life or reason for being. They all lived double or triple lives while expecting their fellow chatters to be 'open and honest' at all times, or they would be 'banned' - a chatter's equivalent of 'go to jail', 'do not pass go', and 'do not collect $200 dollars'.

The Sentinel had watched them and seen it all. The Sentinel knew about the CEO at a certain address in Manhattan that spent hours after the office closed, glued to his computer screen, surfing for needy women. The Sentinel saw how he flirted and chided just to get the women to take their clothes off. Then he would sit in front of a camera, watching, playing with himself, until the end when he would beg them to tell him what a man he was before he erased them from his chat list and moved on.

The Sentinel knew about the little kids that got access to mom's or dad's computer when the parents were out and mimicked, so well, what they had seen mommy and daddy doing late one night in the dark before their camera. It was disgusting, and who could you blame but the fucking parents?

The Sentinel knew about the husbands and wives that cheated on their respective others through the little bits and bytes that sustained their extramarital relationships. The Sentinel also knew about the couples that came out to cheat together - to add the new dimensions to their disgusting, little lives.

The Sentinel knew about the fifty-five- year-old school teacher in Indianapolis that had never married and came home from teaching fourth graders the proper way to add and subtract only to get out her 'leathers' and find some hot room on the internet to 'fuck her brains out', as she often said.

The Sentinel was human too. Why didn't people understand that? The Sentinel had feelings and desires as well as petty problems to be aired out in public forum. The Sentinel felt just as pathetic as the Sentinel thought the rest of them were and maybe even more so. It was just all too much sometimes. If it would just go away, if it could be stopped, then maybe, there was still a chance. Maybe, the Sentinel could lock the door on the 'nest' and move on, never returning to such a dark corner of the soul again. The Sentinel often thought of flushing the whole bunch of them down the fucking toilet of humanity and giving it a good Drano rinse. That always brought a crooked smile to the Sentinel's lips.

If only...yes, thought the Sentinel, if only. But first, the Sentinel had to find them. The perfect couple. The couple ordained by God, selected to be cleansed, chosen by a small lobby of one to live the ultimate cyberthrill. The Sentinel knew it would happen and only prayed it would happen sooner than later.

*****

Jack sat patiently, watching Jan across the desk. Her face had gone from open skepticism to astonishment and finally to deep sorrow as she had put together the pieces as Jack had and realized that for the longest part of her relationship with Lisa, whomever she'd been chatting with was, in fact, someone else. It had to be - because she now believed that Lisa, her Lisa - her confidant and friend; the person that had needed her, needed her love; her lover that had woven such wonderful dreams for Jan in response to their love making - was dead.

"Are you still chatting with her - well, whomever it is that's parading as Lisa?"

"Yes. Almost everyday. Some days we have time to spend together, and sometimes we use snail mail. We e-mail back and forth and try to catch five or ten minutes to say hi in chat, but I don't recall a day in the last six months we haven't chatted."

It seemed like an awkward question but one that Jack had to ask. "How goes the relationship, Jan? Are you still close? Well... lovers?"

Jan hesitated as she turned away from Jack to stare out the window. "Yes, Jack, we are. We made love last night. We lingered and talked afterwards and made another date for this Saturday. By date, I mean to make love on cam in chat." With another slight hesitation, Jan explained further, "I would normally see Lisa tonight, but not now. I can't. I don't know what I'll do."

Jack had learned that there really was a Hank, but that he had died in a car accident about a month after Lisa, the real Lisa. Jan's 'cyber' Lisa had tried to commit suicide at what must have been about the same time as her real death and after recovery had refused to come back on cam. When they chatted now it was only Jan on cam, and Lisa would send the occasional photo from her 'past life' as a lover would send flowers to say 'thank you'. 'cyber' Lisa claimed to have been badly scarred to the point of deformity while trying to shoot herself in the head, but the gun had slipped and only blown off her jaw and one ear as it discharged into the wall behind her. Jack cringed at the accuracy of the detail even though the end result was misrepresented.

"You must, Jan. You have to see Lisa's killer so I can find him. There is no other way."

Jan was quiet as she sat and contemplated what it would be like to sit and chat, using the same phrases and words their lives had always revolved around, knowing that the person she was chatting with had murdered, not only Lisa, but four other people as well. Looking across the desk, she asked Jack if he was hungry. Since it was after noon, maybe it would be nice to get out in the air and find something to eat. With Jack's affirmative response, she picked up the phone to tell Betty, her secretary, she would be gone the rest of the afternoon, and if there was anything scheduled, it should be moved to Tom or scheduled for next week.

All business now, she stood, donned her sun hat and sunglasses, slipped the strap of her purse over her shoulder, and stood by the door, expecting Jack to follow.

As they passed through the lobby, Jan noticed how Jack seemed to check out the shabby appearance and was probably comparing it to the restored beauty of her office. What she didn't notice was how Jack checked out the security guard as he sat at his station and eyed them both as they walked through. By way of explanation, she gave Jack a rundown of the company as he helped her into the car, and they headed out to find a quiet place of refuge.

The company had been Hank's brainchild. As a dot-com targeted at e-commerce, the company handled virtual purchases by way of prepayment into an account where the money stayed until needed by a customer to pay for something. It eliminated the need to give your credit card out to companies you knew only from their on-screen presentation and gave people the peace of mind they needed to buy safely in the growing world of electronic shopping. Hank had seen it as a low overhead business that would rely on only two assets - honesty and good business practice. It had been up and running a year when Hank had died, having made it through the dot-com shakeout that had taken so many. They had been at the anniversary party for the company, and Hank had offered to take a few of the employees home that had had too much to drink; Hank, himself, was stone- cold sober. And, as fate often does, Hank's good gesture had been rewarded with one of those bad things that always happen to good people. A block from the office on his way back, his car had been broadsided by a drunk who ran a stoplight. Hank was killed instantly while the drunk had staggered around the wreck site, claiming no knowledge whatsoever of who had wrecked his car.

The company, itself, had been left to Jan. She didn't really understand why or what he expected her to do with it, but the lawyers assured her that the building, its assets, and business, as well as the obligations, were now hers to do with as she pleased. It had taken her a month to get up the courage to go to the office where she had discovered a business in mourning but operating smoothly. Hank had surrounded himself with good people, the key to starting any business, and they had decided weeks before Jan's arrival that Hank's dream would not only survive - it would thrive.