Chapter Nine
At Honolulu International Airport, Ruthie and Peter were getting ready to board a commuter plane for the short flight to Maui. Just before they went on the plane, Ruthie called Lucy – who was sorting through computer code with Roxanne, Michaels and the 5-0 – at the police station.
"You lied to me, Luce," Ruthie said when Lucy answered, taking the call in a broom closet adjacent to the command center.
"What are you talking about?" said Lucy, shocked.
"You told me that you and Kevin haven't had sex in months. That's not true. Ever since you and Chandler did it, you've had sex every night with Kevin to compensate for your mistake. I know, because a few days before Peter and I got married, we decided to make out in the garage. We were feeling each other up, grabbing each other's crotches under our clothes. As we brought each other to climax, I saw some dust falling from the ceiling between the garage and your apartment. You must have been having some pretty rough sex with him that night."
"Well, you're right," conceded Lucy. "But there was a reason for that. I think I might be pregnant again, and I want to make sure it's Kevin's baby and not Chandler's."
"You mean you don't know?" asked Ruthie, shocked.
"I'm not even sure if I am ... but I know I'm a couple of days late."
"So it could be Chandler's. My God, Lucy, what were you thinking?"
"I don't know," said Lucy, bursting into tears. "I couldn't help myself. But it's Chandler who's in denial. He hasn't told Roxanne about it. Far as he's concerned, since I was on top of him, I serviced him – not the other way around."
"Is that what his definition of 'is,' is?" Ruthie asked rhetorically.
"That's something you're going to have to ask Chandler – or Roxie."
"Are you going to tell her?"
"I think she knows; otherwise, why else would she have wanted to come here?" Lucy sighed. "Look, Ruthie, I'd love to talk to you, but Roxie and I really need to deal with the other fish. Have a nice time in Maui, and please, listen to what the cops say. Stay low. In fact, stay in your room the whole time – and you and Peter make a baby. I've given you a couple of nieces and a nephew, now it's your turn!"
"We'll see. Love you, sis."
Ruthie hung up the phone. Squeezing her husband's hand in a meaningful way, they handed their boarding passes to the agent and loaded the plane.
Meanwhile, Lucy discussed her theory about who was behind the serial killings. Roxanne listened patiently, as Lucy went through the details of how each of her friends came into her life, how her family helped them, and how each of the respective couples ended up getting together. She also tried to tie the stories together, suggesting a link. When she had finished, Roxanne took a minute to process the story. Finally, she shook her head.
"I'm sorry, Lucy," said Roxie. "I consider you a friend and all, and what you say is plausible to a point. But there's something about it that's just not right."
"What do you mean?" asked Lucy. "Other than one or two other people, who check out because they have alibis, this is the only one that makes sense."
"Listen to me, Luce," said Roxie. "I appreciate your putting on your gumshoes, as well as your sister and brother-in-law. Sometimes, the craziest explanations are the simplest. I've learned that being a cop all this time. But for your theory to work, Theresa's parents would have to be so full of hate and anger at the world that they'd make people like a high school shooter look good. They disowned their daughter. And the member of your family who helped her the most was your brother, Matt. If they had a vendetta, they'd take it out on him and Sarah – not on Ruthie and Peter."
"So why would they use their daughter's name for e-mail?" asked Lucy.
"They're wanted for environmental crimes. The anti-environmental movement has its own underground railroad, as does the radical anti-abortion cause and the so-called 'Common Law Courts.' In fact, these anarchists have a lot of linkages between them, and are quite sympathetic to people like Osama bin Laden. Using their daughter's name is perfect for the reason you suggested to Ruthie – to make her take the fall – but we're taking malfeasance here. Not a class one felony like murder or attempted murder."
"So what's your theory?"
"I have a feeling it's someone else you've crossed paths with. Obviously, I don't know everyone you know, but I'm going to need you to give me a list of all the people you know. And, I do mean all of them. Kevin and I have gone through the usual suspects, but they've all come up clean."
"And who were the usual suspects?" Lucy raised her brow.
"Well, we started with Jimmy Moon," said Roxanne. "It can't be him, because he just finished his sentence for armed robbery. He's in a half- way house outside of Glen Oak finishing drug rehab, and he's sworn never to get into the wrong crowd again. So he checks out."
"Who else?"
"Jordan Johansson. He's got a basketball scholarship at MIT. Mike Pearce – he and that girl you set him up with, um ..."
"Elaina Casey," helped Lucy. "The one with the huge acne problem – she and Mike hit it off pretty well, as I recall."
"Extremely well," agreed Roxanne. "They had sex a year after they started dating. They're happily married now, have two kids, and they live in Vermont."
Lucy was going through some names in her head. The next one seemed preposterous, but ...
"Wilson West?"
"He and Corey Conway are also happily married. Wilson Jr. – the little guy you all called Billy – and Bernadette are crazy for each other, which says something given they're stepsiblings. Corey's expecting another child, a boy, in the fall."
"Jeremy?"
"He's a firefighter with FDNY. He signed up the day after 9/11."
"Married?'
"He's living common-law – with your rival from high school, Ashley."
"No," Lucy said, "Ashley, as in Serena's daughter?!"
"That's the one."
"Who would've imagined those two?"
"Stranger things have happened." Roxanne paused for effect, as if trying to tell Lucy something. But Lucy didn't get it.
"Okay, getting back to Theresa. Let's suppose you're right," said Lucy, "and her parents aren't the ones doing this. Why use an account in her name – and this time, Roxie, think hard."
"Maybe someone else is using her name as a front," admitted Roxanne. "But who would it be? And why her name?"
Lucy reached for a pile of e-mail hard copies, with the addressing information revealed. She noticed a large block of 'to' and 'from' IP addresses, all of which seemed to emanate from similar locations over and over again. She pointed this out to Roxanne.
Roxanne signaled to Michaels, who in turned called for a 5-0. The 5-0 ran a search of the source and destination IP's. To everyone's surprise, they all seemed to be coming from two locations. One was the Polynesian Cultural Centre, on the northeast side of Oahu; the other, from an Internet café on the Banzai Pipeline.
"They can't be that stupid," said Roxanne in disbelief. "And look at this, boss – the dates of the e-mails. They go back three months; which means these aren't random attacks ..."
"They've been planning this the whole time," finished Michaels. "The mode of attack, the time, the places, the escape routes ..."
"But there's just one problem," said Lucy. "We don't know if the couples in question were just random victims or not. For all we know, they could've been in the wrong place at the wrong time and it's just a coincidence they were all on Oahu."
"Richardson," said Michaels, "call the Hawaii campus of BYU. They're the ones who own and operate the PCC. Ask them if they offer public access to their e-mail server."
"I don't want to make a long distance call," said Roxanne, "it might be better if I drove up there and checked it out myself."
"The whole island of Oahu is considered Honolulu, so it's a local call," said the 5-0. "But if you want to make the trip, I'll be happy to escort you. If the traffic is good, we should make it in about an hour."
"What are you going to do?" asked Lucy, as the two cops put on their gear. "Try to catch the helper or the culprit in the act?"
"Something like that," said Roxie. She and the Honolulu cop walked out.
Lucy and Michaels continued sorting through the e-mail. Unspoken, each knew what the other was looking for ... the missing link that would explain all the mayhem, and how Theresa somehow fit into all of this.
The flight to Maui took less than half an hour, and upon arriving there were greeted with pink-colored leis. An unmarked cruiser was waiting for Ruthie and Peter to take them to an all-suites hotel, overlooking the ocean and a greener than green golf course.
Ruthie silently closed the door, while Peter drew the curtains. He drew his wife closer to her and started kissing her, letting his tongue trace the inside of her mouth. Ruthie did the same with her husband, as she unbuttoned his shirt and he her blouse.
Working his way down to her neck, Peter gently bit it, giving her a hickey as he uncoupled her bra and slipped it off. Ruthie, both delighted as well as annoyed, bit harder on his neck as he started to caress her bosom like a newborn baby feeding itself on its mother's breast; while Ruthie slowly worked her way down to his khaki shorts, slowly taking off the belt and unzipping the pants. She worked her way back up to his chest and then his face, kissing Peter again. Peter then unbuttoned the skirt that Ruthie was wearing, letting it drop to the floor.
Ruthie then went to the floor once more on her knees, taking off Peter's shoes, socks and then his boxers. She sat on the bed, allowing Peter to take off her high heeled shoes and her stockings, before removing her panties. Totally in the buff, the spouses gently pulled the covers off the bed. Ruthie laid on her back and allowed Peter to go down between her legs for only the second time in her life – the first being on their wedding night. He drew her around so she could take his manhood into her mouth. They continued this for several minutes until they were both ready to explode. Gently but firmly, Peter turned Ruthie back so they were now face to face, put himself inside of her, and after less than a minute they both burst with such intensity that for a moment each thought the other was dead.
It was only when Ruthie drew Peter even closer to her and he started kissing her bosom once more that both knew the other was all right. They fell asleep, still one human being.
The next morning, well into mid-morning, Ruthie finally got up, and saw the message light on the phone flashing. Peter wanted to draw her back for morning glory, but Ruthie knew it had to be urgent.
It was. The phone call came from California. Kevin had been on duty writing a routine traffic ticket, when he got run over by a drunk driver. Kevin was badly hurt, both legs broken, but he was expected to live. Meanwhile, Chandler had gotten into a violent argument with Lou, Lucy's favorite deacon at the church. He had lunged at Lou, but instead his fist wound up in one of the stained glasses in Lucy's office.
Still totally naked, Ruthie hung up the phone, and looked at her husband in shock. Peter, also still nude, returned the look with consternation of his own. This wasn't like Chandler at all. What was eating him? And how would Lucy and Roxanne react to the news?
At Honolulu International Airport, Ruthie and Peter were getting ready to board a commuter plane for the short flight to Maui. Just before they went on the plane, Ruthie called Lucy – who was sorting through computer code with Roxanne, Michaels and the 5-0 – at the police station.
"You lied to me, Luce," Ruthie said when Lucy answered, taking the call in a broom closet adjacent to the command center.
"What are you talking about?" said Lucy, shocked.
"You told me that you and Kevin haven't had sex in months. That's not true. Ever since you and Chandler did it, you've had sex every night with Kevin to compensate for your mistake. I know, because a few days before Peter and I got married, we decided to make out in the garage. We were feeling each other up, grabbing each other's crotches under our clothes. As we brought each other to climax, I saw some dust falling from the ceiling between the garage and your apartment. You must have been having some pretty rough sex with him that night."
"Well, you're right," conceded Lucy. "But there was a reason for that. I think I might be pregnant again, and I want to make sure it's Kevin's baby and not Chandler's."
"You mean you don't know?" asked Ruthie, shocked.
"I'm not even sure if I am ... but I know I'm a couple of days late."
"So it could be Chandler's. My God, Lucy, what were you thinking?"
"I don't know," said Lucy, bursting into tears. "I couldn't help myself. But it's Chandler who's in denial. He hasn't told Roxanne about it. Far as he's concerned, since I was on top of him, I serviced him – not the other way around."
"Is that what his definition of 'is,' is?" Ruthie asked rhetorically.
"That's something you're going to have to ask Chandler – or Roxie."
"Are you going to tell her?"
"I think she knows; otherwise, why else would she have wanted to come here?" Lucy sighed. "Look, Ruthie, I'd love to talk to you, but Roxie and I really need to deal with the other fish. Have a nice time in Maui, and please, listen to what the cops say. Stay low. In fact, stay in your room the whole time – and you and Peter make a baby. I've given you a couple of nieces and a nephew, now it's your turn!"
"We'll see. Love you, sis."
Ruthie hung up the phone. Squeezing her husband's hand in a meaningful way, they handed their boarding passes to the agent and loaded the plane.
Meanwhile, Lucy discussed her theory about who was behind the serial killings. Roxanne listened patiently, as Lucy went through the details of how each of her friends came into her life, how her family helped them, and how each of the respective couples ended up getting together. She also tried to tie the stories together, suggesting a link. When she had finished, Roxanne took a minute to process the story. Finally, she shook her head.
"I'm sorry, Lucy," said Roxie. "I consider you a friend and all, and what you say is plausible to a point. But there's something about it that's just not right."
"What do you mean?" asked Lucy. "Other than one or two other people, who check out because they have alibis, this is the only one that makes sense."
"Listen to me, Luce," said Roxie. "I appreciate your putting on your gumshoes, as well as your sister and brother-in-law. Sometimes, the craziest explanations are the simplest. I've learned that being a cop all this time. But for your theory to work, Theresa's parents would have to be so full of hate and anger at the world that they'd make people like a high school shooter look good. They disowned their daughter. And the member of your family who helped her the most was your brother, Matt. If they had a vendetta, they'd take it out on him and Sarah – not on Ruthie and Peter."
"So why would they use their daughter's name for e-mail?" asked Lucy.
"They're wanted for environmental crimes. The anti-environmental movement has its own underground railroad, as does the radical anti-abortion cause and the so-called 'Common Law Courts.' In fact, these anarchists have a lot of linkages between them, and are quite sympathetic to people like Osama bin Laden. Using their daughter's name is perfect for the reason you suggested to Ruthie – to make her take the fall – but we're taking malfeasance here. Not a class one felony like murder or attempted murder."
"So what's your theory?"
"I have a feeling it's someone else you've crossed paths with. Obviously, I don't know everyone you know, but I'm going to need you to give me a list of all the people you know. And, I do mean all of them. Kevin and I have gone through the usual suspects, but they've all come up clean."
"And who were the usual suspects?" Lucy raised her brow.
"Well, we started with Jimmy Moon," said Roxanne. "It can't be him, because he just finished his sentence for armed robbery. He's in a half- way house outside of Glen Oak finishing drug rehab, and he's sworn never to get into the wrong crowd again. So he checks out."
"Who else?"
"Jordan Johansson. He's got a basketball scholarship at MIT. Mike Pearce – he and that girl you set him up with, um ..."
"Elaina Casey," helped Lucy. "The one with the huge acne problem – she and Mike hit it off pretty well, as I recall."
"Extremely well," agreed Roxanne. "They had sex a year after they started dating. They're happily married now, have two kids, and they live in Vermont."
Lucy was going through some names in her head. The next one seemed preposterous, but ...
"Wilson West?"
"He and Corey Conway are also happily married. Wilson Jr. – the little guy you all called Billy – and Bernadette are crazy for each other, which says something given they're stepsiblings. Corey's expecting another child, a boy, in the fall."
"Jeremy?"
"He's a firefighter with FDNY. He signed up the day after 9/11."
"Married?'
"He's living common-law – with your rival from high school, Ashley."
"No," Lucy said, "Ashley, as in Serena's daughter?!"
"That's the one."
"Who would've imagined those two?"
"Stranger things have happened." Roxanne paused for effect, as if trying to tell Lucy something. But Lucy didn't get it.
"Okay, getting back to Theresa. Let's suppose you're right," said Lucy, "and her parents aren't the ones doing this. Why use an account in her name – and this time, Roxie, think hard."
"Maybe someone else is using her name as a front," admitted Roxanne. "But who would it be? And why her name?"
Lucy reached for a pile of e-mail hard copies, with the addressing information revealed. She noticed a large block of 'to' and 'from' IP addresses, all of which seemed to emanate from similar locations over and over again. She pointed this out to Roxanne.
Roxanne signaled to Michaels, who in turned called for a 5-0. The 5-0 ran a search of the source and destination IP's. To everyone's surprise, they all seemed to be coming from two locations. One was the Polynesian Cultural Centre, on the northeast side of Oahu; the other, from an Internet café on the Banzai Pipeline.
"They can't be that stupid," said Roxanne in disbelief. "And look at this, boss – the dates of the e-mails. They go back three months; which means these aren't random attacks ..."
"They've been planning this the whole time," finished Michaels. "The mode of attack, the time, the places, the escape routes ..."
"But there's just one problem," said Lucy. "We don't know if the couples in question were just random victims or not. For all we know, they could've been in the wrong place at the wrong time and it's just a coincidence they were all on Oahu."
"Richardson," said Michaels, "call the Hawaii campus of BYU. They're the ones who own and operate the PCC. Ask them if they offer public access to their e-mail server."
"I don't want to make a long distance call," said Roxanne, "it might be better if I drove up there and checked it out myself."
"The whole island of Oahu is considered Honolulu, so it's a local call," said the 5-0. "But if you want to make the trip, I'll be happy to escort you. If the traffic is good, we should make it in about an hour."
"What are you going to do?" asked Lucy, as the two cops put on their gear. "Try to catch the helper or the culprit in the act?"
"Something like that," said Roxie. She and the Honolulu cop walked out.
Lucy and Michaels continued sorting through the e-mail. Unspoken, each knew what the other was looking for ... the missing link that would explain all the mayhem, and how Theresa somehow fit into all of this.
The flight to Maui took less than half an hour, and upon arriving there were greeted with pink-colored leis. An unmarked cruiser was waiting for Ruthie and Peter to take them to an all-suites hotel, overlooking the ocean and a greener than green golf course.
Ruthie silently closed the door, while Peter drew the curtains. He drew his wife closer to her and started kissing her, letting his tongue trace the inside of her mouth. Ruthie did the same with her husband, as she unbuttoned his shirt and he her blouse.
Working his way down to her neck, Peter gently bit it, giving her a hickey as he uncoupled her bra and slipped it off. Ruthie, both delighted as well as annoyed, bit harder on his neck as he started to caress her bosom like a newborn baby feeding itself on its mother's breast; while Ruthie slowly worked her way down to his khaki shorts, slowly taking off the belt and unzipping the pants. She worked her way back up to his chest and then his face, kissing Peter again. Peter then unbuttoned the skirt that Ruthie was wearing, letting it drop to the floor.
Ruthie then went to the floor once more on her knees, taking off Peter's shoes, socks and then his boxers. She sat on the bed, allowing Peter to take off her high heeled shoes and her stockings, before removing her panties. Totally in the buff, the spouses gently pulled the covers off the bed. Ruthie laid on her back and allowed Peter to go down between her legs for only the second time in her life – the first being on their wedding night. He drew her around so she could take his manhood into her mouth. They continued this for several minutes until they were both ready to explode. Gently but firmly, Peter turned Ruthie back so they were now face to face, put himself inside of her, and after less than a minute they both burst with such intensity that for a moment each thought the other was dead.
It was only when Ruthie drew Peter even closer to her and he started kissing her bosom once more that both knew the other was all right. They fell asleep, still one human being.
The next morning, well into mid-morning, Ruthie finally got up, and saw the message light on the phone flashing. Peter wanted to draw her back for morning glory, but Ruthie knew it had to be urgent.
It was. The phone call came from California. Kevin had been on duty writing a routine traffic ticket, when he got run over by a drunk driver. Kevin was badly hurt, both legs broken, but he was expected to live. Meanwhile, Chandler had gotten into a violent argument with Lou, Lucy's favorite deacon at the church. He had lunged at Lou, but instead his fist wound up in one of the stained glasses in Lucy's office.
Still totally naked, Ruthie hung up the phone, and looked at her husband in shock. Peter, also still nude, returned the look with consternation of his own. This wasn't like Chandler at all. What was eating him? And how would Lucy and Roxanne react to the news?