This time, Jarecki wasn't waiting for us at the security gate. He called before we even got to the freeway.
"How soon can you have that jet of yours fired up and ready to fly?" he asked.
"Why? What happened?"
"The damned phone has been blowing up with Fletcher and Banks sightings since the minute you made your statement," Jarecki said. "We've got an abundance of sightings in western Colorado, Grand Junction to be precise."
"Is the Colorado State Patrol able to confirm their location?" I asked.
"Oh, I do you one better. One of the deputies in Grand Junction was in the local IHOP when the broadcast aired. Of course he'd already gotten the BOLO when he came on duty this morning, but he saw them pull into the parking lot while he was having his morning egg white omelet and coffee. He's been tailing them from a distance ever since."
"How long ago?" I asked.
"Twenty minutes or so."
"They didn't go into the restaurant?"
"He said they saw him and casually pulled out and got in the drive through line at Taco Bell right across the street."
"Jesus, he needs to get them into protective custody, not risk losing them because they realize he's keeping tabs."
"He considered it, but said there's a rifle visible on the gun rack in the cab of the pickup they're in."
"Meet us at the airport. Our jet is in a private hanger, but we have an arrangement with Southwest for terminal access. Basically, they let us use one of their gates that isn't in use at the time we need to depart. Arrivals are different. We just get off the plane at whatever hanger we're directed to," I said. "I'll call and get our pilot ready to go. In the meantime, Mesa County and the state patrol need to get as many officers in unmarked cars following these guys. If they become aware of the attention they're getting from the public, it could be messy."
I disconnected the call. "How much of that did you catch?"
"We're flying to Mesa County," Johnny said. "Let's hope the state patrol can get them into custody without incident."
I was already dialing Casey's cell phone number. "It's Helen," I said. "How fast can you file a flight plan and get us to Grand Junction?"
"Shouldn't be a problem. We're fueled and ready to go, Helen. Give me thirty minutes. Is that fast enough?"
"Yeah, that should work. How long will it take to get there once we're airborne?"
"An hour and change. Is this something that requires haste?"
"Always, Casey. You should know that by now."
We were actually using my old enemy turned new friend Danny Datello's jet and pilot, as I'd begun to do whenever I flew anywhere with the boys. That it was a matter of police business, Danny gave me carte blanche this time. No surprise there.
"I'll call with the gate info in a minute, 'kay?"
"Thanks. I appreciate the fact that you're always there when we need you, Casey."
It took us seventeen minutes to get to the airport, park and another five to run through the gate. Jarecki was waiting for us at the TSA checkpoint to hustle us through without any problems.
"I've got a runway available for take off," Casey said. "Perk of the private flight. Get ready for take off. We should be on the way in five to ten minutes."
It was the longest hour of my life. Nobody spoke. We all just sat quietly. Johnny was praying for a peaceful resolution I'm sure. Jeremy was probably doing the same, along with another entreaty for a peaceful surrender and the best possible outcome for his son in the long term where prosecution was the next major concern.
Who knew what ran through Jarecki's mind beyond his desire to leverage any situation to serve his own agenda.
My mind was occupied with what if. What if I judged this whole thing all wrong again? Fletcher could be the cold blooded killer some would no doubt think he was regardless of the evidence. What if David's murder really was unrelated to the rest of this? Unlikely, but who knew for sure unless these men would confess.
My worst fear of all was that it might be too late to save Keith Rhodes especially. There was no evidence that Thomas Anderson had participated in any of the murders of women and children. At best he was an accomplice in David's murder, at worse, he'd shot the arrow that killed my oldest friend.
How would I ever reconcile the horror of those murders with the torture committed against two children who grew up absent the love and nurturing they should've had?
I thought of Aileen Wuornos and her schizophrenic father, her mother who literally rejected and abandoned Aileen when she was four years old. Some people thought that the woman literally had no chance to become more than she was, a cold-blooded killer.
Had Harley Shriver created two monsters in his own image?
Johnny tapped the back of my hand. "We'll get them through this Helen. Don't give up hope."
"I'm not sure there's hope to abandon in this case," I said. "Johnny, too many times I've seen people so frail and damaged and rather than be taken into custody, they…" the words choked in my throat, and Gia Malone's image flashed before my eyes.
"Stop blaming yourself for her, Helen," Jarecki said. "Gia had no one to help her get right, but Rhodes and Anderson have him."
He pointed at Jeremy.
That was the only part of this scenario that didn't flood me with doubt. Jeremy Rhodes would champion for these boys the same way he had for countless other children with far less connection to himself personally than Keith and Thomas.
"You know I won't abandon Thomas either," Rhodes said. "He's every bit the victim Keith is. We have an entire network of people who will rally for them, Helen. And…and even if I can't save their lives because of all the wrong they've done, I can at least help them find peace before this is over."
God, I wanted to cry again.
Casey interrupted the jumbled turmoil in the cabin by announcing that we were on final approach to Grand Junction.
"The sheriff should be waiting for us when we land with an update," Jarecki said.
My nerves were in knots, and I still felt like throwing up. In hindsight, some might call it intuition, that my sense of foreboding was pitch-perfect.
Keith and Thomas got wise to the surveillance, even though all the cars were unmarked. They'd holed up in a Starbucks not far from where the deputy had originally spotted them.
"Tell me that you don't have a tactical team ready to storm the building."
"Ma'am, they could have hostages in there," the sheriff blustered.
I gave Jarecki a hard stare.
"Sir," Jarecki took over before I pulled my sidearm and shot the sheriff—just in the foot, but something good and painful so he'd never forget there are consequences for pissing me off. "Have you ascertained how many employees were in the building?"
"Yeah, there were three including an assistant manager."
"And how many of them are unaccounted for?"
"Well, none of 'em. I guess they all ran out the back when those fugitives came in wavin' their guns around."
"And all this time I thought you western Colorado folk advocated for your rights to open carry," I sneered.
"Helen, not helping," Jarecki said. "How many customers were in the store?"
"We can't say, which is why I got tactical in place—"
"Sheriff, have your men stand down now. These are not fugitives, they are persons of interest, and they're running out of fear for their lives."
"Well that first email said they were the killers, this gift wrap killer, and the other one shot and killed one of your men from the FBI. So which is it? Are they lions or poor little misunderstood lambs?"
I'd about reached my boiling point. Johnny saw it, or felt it maybe, and preemptively pulled me away from the sheriff.
"The first information that was disseminated was premature, a miscommunication. I realize you can't fathom the complexities of a five state manhunt for a serial killer who's taken a dozen and a half victims over the past decade or so, therefore I will not overtax your mind with many details. This is an FBI operation now and you will have your men stand down this instant, or I will see to it that all of you are arrested and prosecuted."
"What for?" the sheriff snarled.
"Excessive use of force seems to be a favorite for media coverage, we could start there," Stephen said. "Or you could be helpful and rational and not let the fear and bloodlust of your very uninformed constituents make you behave rashly. I thought we were going to have such a good, symbiotic relationship when we spoke on the phone a little over an hour ago, sheriff. Please don't make me doubt my initial impressions of our partners in law enforcement."
He grabbed the radio unit on his shoulder and barked out the command for the tactical team to stand down, that the FBI had arrived and were taking charge of the situation. "Our ETA is five to seven minutes, lights and sirens. Any available officers please help control traffic through the direct route to the scene, over."
Most of the morning rush hour traffic had dissipated, so it did take five minutes of terrifying navigation on behalf of the good sheriff to ferry us across town to the Starbucks in question.
We rolled up, and the building was surrounded by officers with their guns drawn. I rolled my eyes. "Big trouble in the wild, wild west, eh sheriff? Is this what stand down means to your officers?"
I made a show out of stepping past the police barricade and taking my weapon out. Johnny took it, but warned me, "You'd better not be doing what it looks like you're doing, Helen."
"Trust me. Jeremy?" I called.
He stepped up beside me.
"Fletcher and Banks, my name is Dr. Helen Eriksson. I'm coming into the store with Jeremy Rhodes. I just want to talk to you, so I'm unarmed."
"No tricks!" a voice yelled from a crack in the front door of the coffee house. I recognized it as Banks' voice.
"No tricks, Billy. I am talking to the man who introduced himself to me as Billy Maynard, aren't I?"
"It's me," the mumbled response was barely audible. "Tell those cops to put their weapons down. I want my boy out of this safe. It's got nothin' to do with him!"
"Lower your weapons," I ordered.
None of them moved.
"Lower your goddamned weapons!" I shouted. "Do it now!"
Slowly, and I suspect after a humoring nod from the sheriff, the weapons were lowered.
"Jeremy, let's go."
We met Mitch Banks at the door. He was wide-eyed and obviously frightened half to death.
"Everything's going to be all right, Mitch. Nobody's going to hurt you or your dad."
"I ain't lettin' my boy grow up in the system," Fester aka Billy aka Thomas Anderson said from behind the counter where the top of his head down to the eyes was visible. He had a rifle trained on me.
"We're not here to hurt you or your friend. Where is Hank, anyway?" I asked.
A slight gasp rose from behind the counter.
"Is that you, Mr. Fletcher? Please speak to me and let me know that you're all right."
The voice was soft-spoken and decidedly feminine. "I'm okay, but…but how did you know that I'm really Hank?"
"Please put down your weapons, gentlemen, and come out from behind the counter. I'd like to have a conversation with you wherein I don't feel threatened and you don't feel coerced. There's someone here I think you should both meet."
"I know the bastard," Banks' hostility spiked again, only this time, it wasn't quite as inexplicable or mysterious to me.
"I know why you're angry with him, Billy," I said. "But it's not his fault that he wasn't there when you and Hank needed him, not like he was for countless other children that have benefited from what he suffered when he lost his own son. Please. Come out and let me help you. Nobody wants anyone to get hurt in here. We can make sure nobody ever hurts you again."
It was heartening to see Hank Fletcher rise first. He wasn't armed, which I found rather telling in that it supported my theory about his motivation for the murders he committed.
"C'mon, Billy," he said softly. "Let's not run away anymore. What'll it hurt to just listen to her?"
Billy rose and laid the gun on the counter, but refused to step away from it. Maybe it was his testosterone that made him the untrusting soul and Hank the one willing to listen.
For Jeremy's part, he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from his son. If ever I witnessed a moment to pray, it was this one. He needed to hold it together until we could talk both of them into surrendering, get Jarecki in here to take them into custody, and get the hell out of Grand Junction.
His voice broke the silence, "Hank and Billy, you have no idea how much I wish I could've saved you both when you needed someone who would love you. Let me help you now. No matter what you've done, it's not too late to make everything better again."
I let out a slow, shaking breath when Hank reached for Billy's hand and they both came out from behind the counter.