CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Crumbling Plans
The gates open slowly as Zale punches in the code Jade so generously gave him to her apartment building. He feels her magnetic pull forcing him to help her with this next mission, but if it's anything like last time, Zale isn't sure he can handle it. He wants to believe it's his sacred duty to rid this world of evil men, like she keeps telling him. Unfortunately he knows how far that is from the truth.
He parks his car in its usual spot, people assumes it's his now because he's always there. He takes a deep breath before picking up the phone, texting her before coming up, another one of her strange rules. He waits for her to respond, turning off that great air conditioning, sitting in the heat to think clearly, if only for a moment. The vibration in his pocket comes too soon and signals the end of his peace.
Standing in front of her door he notices the smell of something familiar, his deodorant coming from inside the house. It only serves to remind him that he forgot to put it on this morning. He goes to knock but just before his fist reaches the door Jade jerks it open.
"That took you long enough. If you want me to trust you, you're going to have to try a lot harder than that," Jade says with a sneer and holds her hand out, indicating for him to come. Zale doesn't respond but walks by her with his head hung low.
This is the first time he's seen her apartment and it's a near religious experience for him. The unremarkable walls take on a hint of light coming from her barely glowing figure, while the ugly kitchen to the right is transformed by her presence into a true modern beauty. She herds him past her tiny living room and into a small bedroom, transformed into what looks like a modern day war room. There are pictures of people everywhere, mostly big business looking types, many of them with giant red x's through them, while others have folders and random papers pinned to them, almost fully enveloping their faces. Hundreds of surveillance photos cover the old desk sitting just below the mass of pictures on the wall. Other than a tall lamp sitting neatly in the corner there is nothing else in the room. He never fully realized the level of her obsession. How has he misjudged her so badly and why can't he release himself from her control? She's so assured in his obedience, what is he missing? If he doesn't get away from her soon his death is surely waiting around the corner.
"Look at this folder," she says, throwing it at him. He manages to catch it without letting more than a few pages fall. He flips through it absently, all he can focus on is the level of obsession she puts into killing people. He pretends to be reading the endless notes on the man and keeps his eyes unseeing yet glued to the folder. Picture after picture of disgusting acts assault his vision.
"This one is truly sick, I mean... You can see from the file. And that's only the small stuff I could catch him doing," she expels and grabs the file from him. She looks around the room in admiration of her work, Zale just stands there dumbfounded. She continues, "Can you believe he's gotten away with it for this long?
"I..." he stumbles and tries to at least take a breath before he adds a very simple, "No." She nods her head in approval.
"Let's get started then," she says as she pulls another manila folder from a small drawer under the overcrowded desk. She flips violently through the pages until she finds one that satisfies her.
"Here's a catalog of his daily routines and habits," she says and hands him a long list of times and corresponding events. "Study this. I may need to call upon you anytime to get this done. And you'll need to know where to go without me telling you."
"I'll try my best," he says pulling the paper close to his face and begins studying, the glow from Jade is starting to fade into nothingness, he can look at her now with only the smallest hint of a squint. All he really wants to do is go bowling, but he somehow doubts that's going to happen tonight.
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The deep grinding sound coming from her engine can't be good. Well, that's what Azelia deserves for trying to spy on Zale. She is willing to do anything to keep her mind off her current reality. Her mission proved fruitless in both aspects, she's still mired in guilt and after Zale went up the stairs she couldn't even see who opened the door for him. He's probably just visiting a friend, something innocent, not the evil she had thought earlier today. She's projecting her thoughts of wickedness on him, trying to pawn her guilt on someone.
She speeds off unsatisfied. Her thoughts drift to Clint's end for the millionth time. Every time her mind has a second to rest it forces her to look on his dying face. She tries to shake the image, but in the absence of other action she's powerless against the visions. Despite the horrendous event the idea of Clint never bothering her again plays in her head. She wonders if she had let him live if she could have been truly rid of him? The small silver lining isn't enough to move the boulder of shame crushing her.
Without even grasping what's going on her car is steering itself towards her old campsite, maybe she'll go, just one more time, to make sure everything is clean. A giant magnet has been trying to pull her there all day and this time she gives in to it. It only takes her ten minutes to arrive, the scene that attacks her pretty eyes isn't quite so beautiful. Cop cars are everywhere as well as forensic trucks, ambulances, and even a camera crew or two. Despite the entrance being blocked off dozens of pedestrians rubber neck the frightening scene. She's trying her best to look uninterested as an overweight and mustached officer waves her to turn her car around before she reaches the wooden barriers, she smiles at him and nods. Her nerves and embarrassment build as she has to make three turns to get out of the tight lane.
A thousand thoughts all slam together at the same time inside her assaulted mind. What should she do? Could they really tie the murder to her? Would it be better to stay in town or to leave? Would leaving look too suspicious? First things first, she must force herself to stay calm. She doubts they could tie it to her, she always booked the sites under a false name, a measure to try and keep Clint guessing. Now his insanity might help her in his death. The only other person who could possibly know is Zale and she doesn't think he would rat her out, but it could be a possibility she may have to address.
She tries her hardest to drive like a normal person, but that's proving more difficult than she can comprehend. The road seems to be moving out from under her car, making her swerve like mad. She pulls over at the nearest abandoned gas station and tries to collect herself. Zale would never tell, she keeps saying to herself, and even if he could she wouldn't try to stop him.
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John finally received the call he's been dreading all day, his mind had run away with the most dire possibilities and they have turned into truth. The apologetic woman on the phone had told him about Clint, how they found him buried in a shallow grave in the middle of a campsite. The tears had not stopped coming for John since the call. She said he had a gunshot going through his heart, but at least he would have died fast, not felt too much pain, she said. He'd shot people in the chest in the war, he saw the pain on their faces as the life slowly drifted from their eyes.
His chair has once again become his prison, but this time the fire still burns. No longer will he waste away, not after what has happened to his son. He can't let him die in vain. He vows, vows to himself and any deity who will listen, that he will take his just revenge. The nice lady on the phone said they will find the killer, and not to worry himself with such things at a time like this. The last thing on earth he is going to do is let the police screw this up, not something this important.
He was a decorated army ranger and a champion boxer, he's fallen into disrepair but his skills remain. He debates whether or not he needs to get in shape before taking this vengeful trip. More importantly, he hasn't shot a gun in ages, he needs to see if he has some of his old shooting skills. Out of habit, he always kept his handgun in his recliner, he pulls out the six shooter and takes aim at his TV. A loud ringing in his ears lets him know the shot went off successfully. When the smoke clears a baseball sized hole sits where his TV screen once
stood. This is going to be fun, he thinks. Screw getting in shape, he's going to avenge Clint tomorrow.
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"Is that easy enough for you?" Jade asks. She can't have him blundering. Even though it's a simple part of the plan he needs to be able to do it perfectly.
"I can handle it, when are we doing this?" Zale asks her.
"Finally, some enthusiasm. Don't worry, we'll get the job done soon enough," Jade responds and stuffs the photos of her target and their plans for him back into its overused manila envelope.
"That's everything for now, I'll call you soon," she says and starts to shoo him out of her planning room.
"Wait! That's it?" he says just before she gets him to the door.
"Yes, I'll call you soon," she says and slams the door in his face. She's always hated people and interacting with a living person for so long is near torture for her. That little girlfriend of his is also becoming a problem. She caught him trying to text her more than once. That will make a fun task for her tonight. He tried to hide his responses, despite the futility of it. He doesn't understand she sees everything. She pushes away his idiocy for the moment and starts getting giddy for tonight, there are few things on earth she likes more than tailing someone. She'll have to keep an eye on him for a little while. She regrets trying to take a partner on, still every time she thinks of disposing him something deep down forces her to stop. She'll have to make sure he doesn't blow her cover, anything would be better than getting caught due to some bumbling snitch.
She puts her hair up and figures she better hurry to keep up with him.