Night Fall

“Yes. Some still damp. So they may have gone down to the beach.”

I nodded and asked, “Did this cop see any vehicles heading away from this beach?”

“Yes, he mentioned passing a light-colored, late-model Ford Explorer out on Dune Road, coming from this direction. But since he was responding to an emergency, not a crime in progress, he didn’t take note of the license plate or if there were any passengers in the vehicle. No follow-up was done.”

I nodded. Ford Explorers, like Jeeps, were as common around here as seagulls, so it wasn’t worth the time or effort to check it out.

Kate said to me, “Okay, that’s about it. Would you like to attempt a reconstruction of the events of that evening?”

I replied, “Rather than me verbally reconstructing, this may be a good time for a re-enactment.”

“John, clean up your act.”

“I’m trying to get into this scene.”

“Come on. It’s getting late. Reconstruct.” She smiled. “We’ll re-enact later.”

I smiled in return. “Okay. We have a man and a woman. They may have been staying at a local hotel, the name of which I may learn later. The expensive wine indicates perhaps upper-middle-class and middle-age people. They decide to go to the beach, and they snag the blanket from the hotel bed. They do, however, have an ice chest, so maybe this was pla

“Why?”

“Well, I remember where I was when I heard about the crash. Bright and su

“Correct. Continue.”

“Okay. So, this man and woman, perhaps driving a Ford Explorer, got here at some point before eight-thirty-oneP.M., the time of the crash. They laid out the blanket, opened the ice chest, took out the wine, opened it with the corkscrew, poured it into two glasses, and finished the bottle. At some point, they may have gotten naked, and may have engaged in sexual activity.”

She didn’t reply, and I continued, “Okay, based on the damp sand found on the blanket, we can speculate that they went down to the water, naked or clothed. At some point-at eight-thirty-oneP.M. to be exact-they saw and heard an explosion in the sky. I don’t know where they were standing at that time, but realizing that this spectacular occurrence would draw people to the beach, they got the hell out of here, and they were gone before the police arrived at eight-forty-six. The two vehicles may have passed on the single road leading to this beach.” I added, “My guess is that these two people were not married to each other.”

“Why?”

“Too romantic.”

“Don’t be cynical. Maybe they weren’t ru

“And kept on ru

She nodded. “That’s the general consensus.”

“Among who?”

“Among the FBI agents on the Anti-Terrorist Task Force, who investigated this five years ago.”

“Let me askyou something. What makes these two people so important that the FBI went through all that trouble?”

“They were probably witnesses to the crash.”

“So what? There were six hundred eyewitnesses who saw the explosion. Over two hundred of them said they saw a streak of light rising toward the plane before the explosion. If the FBI didn’t believe two hundred people, why are these two unknown people so important?”

“Oh, I forgot. One last detail.”

“Ah.”

She said, “Also on the blanket was a plastic lens cap belonging to a JVC video camera.”

I let that sink in a moment as I looked around at the terrain and the sky. I asked her, “Did you ever hear from these people?”

“No.”

“And you never will. Let’s go.”

CHAPTER FIVE

We drove back through the Village of Westhampton. “Home?” I asked.

“One more stop. But only if you want to.”

“How many one-more-stops are there?”

“Two.”

I glanced at the woman sitting in the passenger seat beside me. It was my wife, Kate Mayfield. I mention this because sometimes she’s Special Agent Mayfield, and other times she’s conflicted about who she is.

At this moment, I could tell she was Kate, so this was the moment for me to clear up some things.

I pointed out to her, “You told me this case was none of my business. Then you took me to the beach where this couple had apparently witnessed and perhaps videotaped the crash. Would you care to explain this apparent contradiction?”

“No.” She added, “It’s not a contradiction. I just thought you’d find it interesting. We were close to that beach, and I showed it to you.”

“Okay. What am I going to find interesting at the next stop?”

“You’ll see at the next stop.”

“Do you want me to look into this case?” I asked.

“I can’t answer that.”

“Well, blink once for yes, twice for no.”

She reminded me, “You understand, John, I can’t get involved in this case. I’m career FBI. I could get fired.”

“How about me?”

“Do you care if you get fired?”

“No. I have a three-quarter NYPD disability pension. Tax free.” I added, “I’m not thrilled to be working for you anyway.”

“You don’t workfor me. You workwith me.”

“Whatever.” I asked again, “What do you want me to do?”

“Just look and listen, then whatever you do, you do. But I don’t want to know about it.”

“What if I get arrested for snooping around?”

“They can’t arrest you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I’m a lawyer.”

I said, “Maybe they’ll try to kill me.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“No, it’s not. Our former CIA teammate, Ted Nash, threatened to kill me a few times.”

“I don’t believe that. Anyway, he’s dead.”

“There are more of them.”

She laughed.

Not fu

“Make this case your part-time secret hobby.”

Which reminded me again that my ATTF colleague, Mr. Liam Griffith, had specifically advised me against that. I pulled off to the side of the road and said, “Kate. Look at me.”

She looked at me.

I said to her, “You’re jerking me around, sweetheart. I don’t like that.”

“Sorry.”

“Exactly what would you like me to do, darling?”

She thought a moment and replied, “Just look and listen. Thenyou decide what you want to do.” She forced a smile and said, “Just be John Corey.”

I said, “Then you just be Kate.”

“I’m trying. This is so… screwed up. I’m really torn about this… I don’t want us… you to get into trouble. But this case has bothered me for five years.”

“It’s bothered lots of people. But the case is closed. Like Pandora’s box. Leave it closed.”

She stayed silent awhile, then said softly, “I don’t think justice was done.”

I replied, “It was anaccident. It has nothing to do with justice.”

“Do you believe that?”

“No. But if I worried about every case where justice wasn’t done, I’d be in long-term analysis.”

“This is notany case, and you know it.”

“Right. But I’m not going to be the guy who sticks his dick in the fire to see how hot it gets.”

“Then let’s go home.”

I pulled back on the road, and after a minute or so I said, “Okay, where are we going?”

She directed me to Montauk Highway, heading west, then south toward the water.

The road ended at a fenced-in area with a chain-link gate and a guardhouse. My headlights lit up a sign that read UNITED STATES COAST GUARD STATION-CENTER MORICHES-RESTRICTED AREA.

A uniformed Coast Guard guy with a holstered pistol came out of the guardhouse, opened the gate, then put up his hand. I stopped.

The guy approached, and I held up my Fed creds, which he barely glanced at, then looked at Kate, and without asking our business, he said, “Proceed.”