The Aftermath

18

Wednesday 5:00 AM

Tom's phone rang, piercing the early morning silence. He reached for it, hoping it wouldn't wake Samantha. But she groaned and buried her face deeper into the pillow.

"Hello?" Tom answered, stepping out of bed and heading to the hallway.

"Tom, it's Teri. Get out of bed and get your brain in gear," she said, her tone urgent.

Tom descended the stairs, heading for the kitchen. "What's up?"

"Your mom was found murdered, Tom. This morning at 4:30 AM," Teri stated.

Tom stopped in his tracks. "My mom? Are you serious?" he gasped.

"Yes, I'm serious. I don't call people at 5 AM to tell them their mother was murdered just for kicks," Teri replied, offended.

"Sorry. What's the story?" Tom asked, moving to make coffee on autopilot, his mind swirling with a rush of emotions, none of them good.

"The Coroner Killer got her. Her body was mutilated like the others. Oceanside PD wants you for questioning. Detective Robert Green is in charge."

Damn. "Thanks for the heads up. I'll call you later, alright?"

"Yeah, sure, Tom. I'm sorry for your loss," Teri said, her tone softening.

"Yeah, thanks. Bye." Tom clicked off his phone and realized he had poured coffee grounds into the glass pot. He corrected his mistake, his mind racing.

"Tom?" Samantha's voice broke through his thoughts. "What's wrong?"

Tom turned to her, his face pale. "It's Mom. She's dead. They think it's the Coroner Killer."

"Ah, shit," Samantha breathed, sinking into a chair. "Fuck me."

Tom took a seat beside her, holding her hand. They sat in stunned silence until Tom noticed the coffee was ready. He poured them both cups, his mind still racing.

"They say it's the Coroner Killer. Happened around 4:30 AM, or that's when she was found. We need to deal with the funeral, her house, her estate," Tom said, his voice monotone.

"France is off. I'll cancel the tickets," Samantha replied, equally numb.

"Sorry about that. We'll still go, just not next week," Tom assured her.

Samantha nodded, a hint of life returning to her voice. "Okay."

Tom handed her a cup of coffee. "I want Angie out of school," Samantha said suddenly.

"And I want you both at Drew's house," Tom countered.

Samantha looked at him, ready to argue, but then nodded. "Alright. I'll call Drew and tell her we're coming. What about you?"

"I'll stay here. I need to talk to the police and handle Mom's things. Tell Drew we don't want to lead this guy to her house, so she shouldn't come down until the funeral. I'll take care of the details."

"You'll call often?" Samantha asked, her eyes searching his.

"Yes," Tom promised. "I should be the one to call Drew, right?"

"If you don't feel up to it, I can call her," Samantha offered.

"If she wants to talk to me, tell her I'm here," Tom said.

"Of course. I'll get my phone," Samantha replied.

"Use mine," Tom said, handing her his phone.

Drew took the news harder than Tom expected. After talking with Samantha for half an hour, she spoke to Tom for another half-hour. Understanding their fears, she agreed to their plan.

After the call, Tom made breakfast. Samantha woke Angie and told her the news and the day's plans. Tom left a message for Charlie, asking her to call back as soon as possible. By 8:00 AM, a cab was ready to take Samantha and Angie to the airport.

"Pack one bag each," Tom instructed. "Buy what you need up there. When you get to the airport, go from departures to arrivals and take the first cab you see to Drew's house. Pay cash."

He handed Samantha his winnings from the night before. "Pay cash up there too. Let's assume this guy is the best in the world at tracking people."

Samantha nodded, suddenly nervous. "Yeah, alright."

"And bring your gun. At least three clips," Tom added softly.

"He won't come up there, right?" Samantha asked, her voice shaking.

"Not if we do this right," Tom reassured her. "And if you think you're being followed, you know what to do."

"Go to Dave's house," she repeated.

"Right. Dave's house, then take his plane for a vacation," Tom reminded her.

"I don't think his plane will make it to Paris," Samantha joked weakly.

"It'll get to New Orleans. We always wanted to go there," Tom said, pulling her into a hug.

"With you, not alone," Samantha whispered.

"I'll join you as soon as this is over," Tom promised.

"What if it never ends?" Samantha argued.

"Then I'll escape San Diego the same way and meet you there. Then we'll go to Paris," he told her.

The cab arrived. Tom watched the street as they got in. He waved goodbye, ensuring no one followed. As far as he could tell, they were clear. If not, the airport or Dave's house would ensure their safety.

Dave had always been reliable. Living above a private hanger at Gillespie Field, he had two planes and a willingness to help. "It might be dangerous," Tom warned him.

"We won't come back. We'll take your family and go someplace nice for a while. A month, maybe?" Dave offered.

"I hope it doesn't come to that, but I'm grateful," Tom said.

"Nonsense. I'll take care of them. Don't worry," Dave assured him.

"Thanks."

Tom hung up, mentally reviewing his plan. Even if this guy was the best tracker, he couldn't fly.