Nine One One

  Nine One One

  A Mystery Novel Byte

  By

  J. D. Webb

  Uncial Press Aloha, Oregon

  2016

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events described herein are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-60174-217-9

  Nine One One

  Copyright © 2016 by J.D, Webb

  Cover design

  Copyright © 2016 by Judith B. Glad

  911 Dispatcher: © HHLtDave5, iStock

  Boy on phone: © EvgeniiAnd, iStock

  All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five (5) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Published by Uncial Press,

  an imprint of GCT, Inc.

  Visit us at http://www.uncialpress.com

  To the best writing group any author would hope for.

  Thanks Sue A., Sue H., Debby, Marilyn, and Angela.

  Nine One One

  Tuesday

  "9-1-1."

  "My mommy is hurt."

  Jennifer Menlo studied the address on the flickering computer screen. Good God, that's only a couple of blocks from my house. "What's your mommy's name?"

  "Her name is Rachael. Please help her."

  "We will. Don't worry. What's your name?" Jen's fingers raced over the keys to complete the entry form. The address showed Rachael McClendon as resident.

  "I'm Nathaniel. I'm seven."

  "Is anyone else in the house with you?"

  His voice quivered. "Just Mommy."

  Jen sent a message to the Wheaton fire chief and police emergency responder to dispatch personnel. "How did your mom get hurt?"

  "I don't know. I just found her."

  "Is she talking to you?"

  "No, she's asleep."

  "How do you know she's hurt?"

  "There's blood on her bed, and she has a knife in her tummy. Please hurry."

  The child sniffled and Jennifer's heart ached for him. Keep your cool, Jen. She remembered her instructor telling his fledgling dispatchers to try to smile to instill calmness when talking to children. She forced herself to smile, but perspiration began forming on her neck. "Nathaniel, I've already sent an ambulance and a police car to your house. You be strong for your mom and don't hang up. Okay?"

  "Okay."

  "Nathaniel, do you have a nickname? Something everyone calls you?"

  "Nate. My friends call me Nate. Mom calls me Nathaniel because she says I'm her little man of the house."

  "Can I call you Nate, too?"

  "Yes."

  "My name is Jen, and I'm here to help you. I need to ask you some questions, is that okay?"

  "I guess so."

  "Is your dad home?"

  "Daddy doesn't live here anymore. He went to California."

  "Has your mom moved since you found her?"

  "No." More sniffling. "She looks scary."

  Jen flinched. Not a good thing. "I know it's scary, but you're doing a fine job talking to me. It's helping your mom."

  "Really?"

  "Definitely. Do you hear any sirens yet?"

  "I think so."

  "That will be the police. I want you to go to the door and let them in when they knock. I don't want you to hang up the phone though. You understand?"

  "Yes."

  "Nate, you and I are friends now. I want you to know that. I'm here to help you, okay?"

  "I feel sad. I tried not to cry, but I can't help it."

  "Nate, it's not bad to cry. You are a brave little boy, do you know that?"

  "Can't do anything for my mom." Sobbing. "She won't wake up."

  Jen swallowed hard. Tears rolled down her cheeks. I'm supposed to be tough and look at me, blubbering. Lord, don't let my voice fail me. "Nate, you did exactly what you were supposed to do. That makes you a hero. I'm proud of you."

  "I have to go. They're knocking on the door. I'm putting the phone down on the table. Bye, Jen."

  "Bye, Nate. Thanks for helping your mom."

  The boy's footsteps faded and Jen heard the door opening. She sat at the console, listening as the boy directed the police and paramedics into the bedroom. Then the all-too-familiar sounds of EMTs calling in for instructions and imparting information to the emergency room doctors. Tears blurred her vision. She snatched a Kleenex from the box on her desk and dabbed at her eyes.

  Sudden quiet. After a few anxious seconds she heard the pronouncement she'd feared would come.

  "I'm afraid she's gone."

  * * * *

  Jen had little time to reflect on Nate and what he was going through. Three more calls came in. The usual monitoring of prisoners via the closed-circuit cameras, a radio check from the fire department and two actual fire calls to dispatch filled the rest of her morning. But Nate was in the back of her mind. His small voice pierced her heart. She checked the clock again and wished the last seventeen minutes before Aileen relieved her would hurry past. Besides, she needed a pee break.

  Twenty-two minutes later Aileen rushed in. "Sorry I'm late, Jen. Damn car. It's only a 2010 Sentra and the battery went bad. Go figure."

  Jen leaped out of her chair. "I'm out of here. Got to go—bad."

  Aileen donned the headphone and yelled after Jen, "Anything unusual happen?"

  Jen waved, without pausing. "Read the log."

  As she drove home, Jen's mind replayed the call from Nate. She'd had taken calls about murders before, but never from a youngster. Impulsively she detoured toward Nate's address.

  Police cars lined the driveway and were parked along the curb of the McClendon home. The coroner's wagon with its rear door open sat in front of the garage. The house itself was surrounded by yellow crime scene tape. Gawkers stood on both sides of the street.

  This is not a good idea, Jen. Remember the cardinal rule. Don't get involved. Be detached. In her rear view mirror she spotted a tow-headed youngster standing in the yard, holding on to an old woman's hand. He looks so lost. Has to be Nate. God, he looks like Johnny when he was that age. Detached be damned.

  She parked three houses from the crime scene and climbed out of her car. Taking a deep breath, she wove her way through people talking about the tragedy and approached the woman with Nate. Dressed in jeans and a Cardinals jacket, she was almost as tall as Jen.

  "Hello. I'm Jen. May I talk to Nate?"

  The elderly woman raised stricken eyes and glanced down at Nate. "Do you know him?"

  "We talked on the phone today."

  The woman's eyebrows furrowed. "You were the one on the phone when...?"

  Jen nodded. "Yes."

  "He said you were nice." She extended her hand. "I'm his grandma, Barbara Brockton. Thank you for helping him."

  Jen nodded and shook her hand. She leaned down to Nate. "Hello, Nate. I'm Jen. Do you remember me?"

  He looked up, shaded his eyes and nodded. "The phone lady. I did everything I could." He swiped at his nose with the back of his free hand. "Mommy's in heaven now. I couldn't keep her here."

  Jen's throat constricted. She hugged him, and tried but failed to keep tears from flowing. "You're still a hero, Nate. You were brave and strong for your mom. That's all anyone could
ask."

  Jen's heart constricted at the boy's grief and she ran a finger beneath her lower eyelids. "Mrs. Brockton, if there's anything I can do, please let me know. Nate touched me today, and I couldn't help coming over to check on him."

  "You're very kind. Thank you. I think Nate and I will be all right. We'll get through this together." Her breath caught. "His mother was my only child." She looked away and shuddered.

  Jen patted her on the shoulder. "I'm so sorry." Turning to the boy she said, "Nate, you need to be strong for your grandma now, okay?" She leaned close and whispered in his ear, "Remember what I said. It's okay to cry. That's not being a sissy. And you know your Mommy loved you."

  Nate nodded and stuck his hand in his pocket. "I wish she could be here."

  Jen tousled his hair. "I know. My mom went to heaven just last year. When I miss her, I think about the happy times we had. It helps make it less sad. You think about your happy times and remember."

  "We had lots of happy times."

  "Can I see you again sometime?"

  "Sure."

  As Jen walked back to her car she turned and waved at the boy and his grandma. Nate raised his hand in an awkward goodbye.

  All the way home Jen kept seeing Nate bathed in sunlight, those sad eyes, seeing but not comprehending. Even though he was with his grandma, he was alone.

  Wednesday

  The next day Jen's activity log was typical, if you could call three fires—one probably arson—a burglary, a prisoner trying to escape and having to be Tased, and a surprise inspection by the State Police typical. Aileen arrived ten minutes early to relieve Jen, the clomp of her boots announcing her arrival before she came through the door.

  Aileen stopped beside the dispatch counter and plopped her purse down. Someday it was going to go all the way though the wooden top. "Figured I'd make up for being late yesterday."

  "There's no need to do that. I don't keep track."

  "Well, I do. Finally got a new battery for the Nissan. Say, I see you got that murder call yesterday. Boy, first murder in eight months, and I miss it."

  "Be glad. Hardest call I've had in my five years here. Her little boy called it in. I stewed about it all night long."

  "Had to be hard on the kid. My sister works with his mom. I mean, she did. An insurance company. She seemed like a nice person. Who'd want to kill a nice person?" Aileen rummaged through her purse for a nail file, and started sawing.

  Jen worked the keyboard. "His name is Nate. I wonder where he was when his mother was attacked."

  Aileen pointed the file. "Got a point there, missy. He's probably lucky to be alive. Well, git. I'm here, so take off. Must be nice to get off at one with the whole rest of the day to enjoy."

  "It is. I like the hours. I'm an early riser."

  "Yeah. I hardly get to finish my lunch." She again fished inside her purse, pulling out a Twinkie this time. "That's why I bring a snack."

  "Aileen, I don't see how you eat like that and never seem to gain any weight. Makes me sick."

  Aileen laughed. "Metabolism, my dear. Metabolism."

  Jen left before Aileen got the wrapper off. Might as well just rub it on my thighs if I eat a Twinkie. That's where it would go anyway.

  Jen had decided to visit Lt. Randall Guthrie before she left the building. He'd be in charge of the McClendon case. Through his window she could see he was in his office. She knocked on the open door.

  Guthrie, a fifteen-year veteran of the Wheaton Police Department, headed up all violent crime investigations. At six-four, with a well-trimmed moustache and a seriously deep voice, he reminded her of Tom Selleck.

  "Come on in, Jen. What can I do for you?"

  "Just curious. I took the murder call yesterday."

  "Oh, yes. Sad case. Left a cute young boy."

  Jen nodded," Pretty awful."

  "You know the family?"

  Oops, not good, Jen. Careful where you step. "I live close by. Do you have any suspects?"

  Guthrie leaned back in his chair. "None yet. We're canvassing the area to see if anyone saw anything. Supposedly she had no enemies and no boyfriend. Ex was in California at the time of the murder. No robbery, so it was just a murder. Think I'm gonna have to call Perry Mason in on this one." His lips twitched in the closest thing to a smile she'd seen on his face.

  "The boy didn't see it happen, did he?"

  "No, he was doing his homework upstairs. That's a bit weird, too. He says he didn't hear anything. No screams or any commotion. Didn't even hear anyone come in downstairs."

  "That is strange. Do you mind if I check back with you on this case? That little boy really touched me. One tough call to take."

  "No problem. Are you okay?"

  Jen swiped a wayward bang from her eyes. "Just got to me a bit. Thanks."

  She headed home. But as a former investigator before the department downsizing, she couldn't resist looking around a bit and asking some questions. Again she took the slight detour past the McClendon home. The cars had disappeared, but the yellow tape hadn't. It fluttered in the breeze like a holiday decoration. I wish I'd gotten Mrs. Brockton's address. As she drove past she wondered, why would someone would stab a single mom who appeared to be well liked by everyone? Hope Guthrie can solve this one. Sounds like it might take a miracle.

  Thursday

  Jen spent a restless night and couldn't wait to get off work the next day. After Aileen relieved her, she headed down the hall and knocked on Guthrie's door.

  He waved her in. "Come on in, Menlo. What's up?"

  "Just wondering about the McClendon case. Any leads yet?"

  He pointed to a chair. "Not really. Mostly dead ends. No fingerprints on the knife and no apparent motive. No evidence that anyone other than the boy and his mom were in the house. Got no clue, as they say."

  "Where do you go from here?"

  "Well, we're going to talk to her ex when he gets here today. See if he can shed some light. Talking to her friends and neighbors right now. Did find out that she'd been seeing someone, but haven't identified him yet. Her son told us when she went out she hired a baby sitter for him. He's never seen the man."

  "Nate?"

  He tilted his head. "Yes, Nate. You said you didn't know them."

  Jen shook her head. "Just by the phone call. Do you think it would help if I talked to Nate?"

  He shifted in his chair. "I don't think that's a good idea. You're not officially an investigator, you know."

  Jen sat up. "I'll just talk with him. We kind of connected on the phone. Maybe I can get him to remember something. Isn't it worth a try? Being questioned by the cops can be intimidating to a seven-year-old."

  Guthrie rubbed his chin. "You may have a point. I'll have him brought in and you can talk to him."

  "No. That would be just as bad. I'd be identified with the police. Let me go to his grandmother's house and talk."

  Guthrie raised his eyebrows. "How'd you know he's at his grandma's?"

  She shrugged. "Just heard it somewhere. What do you say?"

  Guthrie picked up a pencil and tapped it on his desk. "I guess." He scribbled on a piece of paper. "Here's the address." He handed her the note and held up his index finger. "A warning. Don't, I repeat, don't get emotionally involved. Just a one-time talk. Got it?"

  Jen grabbed the paper. "Got it. I'll let you know what I find out."

  * * * *

  Nate's grandmother had been gracious on the phone and had agreed to let Jen talk to Nate. Jen pulled into the driveway of a two-story Tudor in a cul-de-sac on the west side of Wheaton. Mrs. Brocton answered the doorbell quickly.

  "Hello, again. Come in. Nate's in his room studying." She turned to the stairs.

  "Isn't Nate in school?"

  Mrs. Brockton stopped on the first stair and turned back. "Rachael was home-schooling him. She took a night job to be able to be with Nate during the day. She'd sleep in the morning until eleven and eat lunch with him. Then they'd have school four hours in the afternoon."

>   "That must have been rough. She didn't get much sleep, did she?"

  "She'd try to catch a couple hours before she began her work. She had a stay-at-home job. I helped out every day during the week, watching Nate in the morning and fixing their lunches. Now it's my turn to home school him like I did my own daughter. Wait here. I'll get Nate."

  The foyer was filled with pictures from happier times. Nate smiling, with his arms around his mom, some vacation shots and one picture of a man Jen assumed was the missing dad.

  It wasn't long before the boy came bouncing down the stairs. "Hi. Grandma told me you'd come back. I'm glad you did."

  "I'm glad to see you too, Nate. How are you doing?"

  "Okay, I guess. Grandma said to go into the library." He led the way down the hall and into a large room. Shelves crammed with books lined three walls, and a leather sofa and two easy chairs were in front of a granite fireplace. A coffee table displayed three large books: a National Geographic collection of photos, a book on castles of Europe and a book about King Tut and Egyptology. A desk sat in the corner with a matching secretary chair. Nate jumped into it.

  The leather couch creaked when Jen sank into the cushions. "It's good to see you again, Nate. Your grandma said that you're being home schooled. What's that like?"

  He hesitated. "I get to study my favorite subjects. And Mom was home."

  "I can see that would be an advantage."

  "Now I guess Grandma will be my teacher." He sniffled and his eyes filled with tears. "It won't be the same."

  "Did you remember to think about only the happy times?"

  "Yeah." He watched his feet dangling above the carpet. "I tried, but it's hard to do."

  "What was your favorite time with your Mom?"

  He placed one small finger beside his nose. "Well, we went to the King Tut exhibit downtown. It was way cool. I love studying about Egypt."

  Jen pointed to the picture book. "Yes, I see you have a book about it."

  "Mom let me buy that book at the exhibit. It's neat. Got a lot of the stuff we saw in it."

  "I'll bet you and your mom had plenty of happy times."