Dead or Alive (23 page)

“What doesn’t make sense?” he asked.

“Clearly this man was going to her room with the intent of murdering her.”

“Yes, clearly Remy was.”  Miles didn’t miss the way she kept referring to Remy as “this man” or “the killer”, so Miles was all too happy to throw his name into the mix incessantly until she got it right.  “Yes, clearly
Remy
was going to her room with the intent of killing her, because he was checking--”

“Checking for witnesses,” Violet finished Miles’ thoughts, the way she often did.  “He was looking down the hallway to make sure no one was around to see him go in.”

“Yeah, that’s what killers usually do.”

“But why?” Violet demanded. “If he didn’t want witnesses, if he didn’t want anyone to know it was him, why would Remy wear his
work uniform
on his way into Meredith’s room?
Knowing
that he was going to kill her? He
wanted
to be seen. Why else would he incriminate himself that way?”

The moment she asked the question, Miles’ eyebrows rose slightly.  It was a valid point.

“I know if
I’m
going to murder someone, I’m going in full hazmat gear, okay?  Head to toe in a paper suit, surgical cap, face mask and goggles.  I’m going to make damn sure that nobody who watches camera footage of me will be able to recognize me in a million years.  Why would a known
pilot
wear his
pilot’s uniform
into the hotel room of a girl who he’s intending to
murder?”

Miles could only shake his head.

“I don’t know a single pilot—or person, for that matter--who would do such a ridiculous fucking thing.  But I do know who
would
do such a ridiculous thing. A man who’s trying to--”

“Frame another man,” Miles finished her sentence this time, and he waited for Violet to get excited about the fact that she’d convinced him, but she was too entranced by the video.  “What is it?” he demanded, sitting up in his chair.

Violet pointed to the video.  “Rewind it.  Take it about twenty seconds back.”

Miles did what he was told, then looked back to her, waiting expectantly.

Tears hit Violet’s eyes, once more, but this time they were tears of joy.  “Pause it.”

Miles paused it.

“Can you zoom in?”

Miles zoomed in.

And now, tears were tumbling out of Violet’s eyes.  “Oh my god, Miles.”

“What?” Miles asked, looking at the frozen image of “Remy” walking down the empty hotel hallway, confused about what it was that had moved Violet to tears.

“Here. Look at his cuffs.  The stripes on his cuffs.” Violet pointed to the image on the screen, hardly able to believe that it had taken her this long to see it.  When she saw the perplexed look on Miles’ face intensify, she laughed through her tears.  “Three stripes.”

He shrugged. “And?  All pilots have stripes on their cuffs.”

“Yes, but Captains have
four
stripes on their cuffs, and first officers have
three
.  Their uniforms are identical, and the stripes are the only thing that distinguishes one from the other. A hotel employee would be very unlikely to know the difference, especially with just a passing glance. Hell, anyone who isn’t in aviation would be very unlikely to know the difference.  They look at this man and all they see is
El Capitan.
But
El Capitan
would have four stripes, not three.”

“Oh wow.” With a shake of his head, Miles took in the grainy image of the cuffs on the pilot’s jacket, watching as Violet’s finger went back and forth between each one of them, her nail motioning to each stripe individually. “One, two, three,” he counted them as she moved.

“The man who killed Meredith wasn’t
El Captain
.”

“He was
El First Officer
.”  Miles was blown away.

“We just proved Remy innocent,” Violet whispered.

“How the fuck did the defense miss this?” Miles thought for a long moment, then shook his head.  “It’s still not enough to clear him.”

“I know,” she mumbled.

Miles went on.  “Who’s to say that someone else won’t see it the way you just saw it ten minutes ago? Who’s to say Remy didn’t put on a first officer uniform to throw everyone off?”

“Because it’s too obscure.  It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe not. But it still isn’t proof enough to clear him.”

But Violet was already on another level, grabbing her coat from the back of the chair.

“Where are you going?” Miles demanded.

“To find the fucking truth,” Violet said, racing to the door.  “To find out who’s in that video. 
That
is what will clear Remy.”

“Where are you going?”

“To the airport.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No, I need you to find out if any of the crew from Remy’s trip are going in or out of Redding today, and let me know as soon as possible, please?”

Miles bit his lip.  “I can do that and come with you.”

Violet realized he was worried.  “Don’t worry about me.  Stay here and spread the word.  By tomorrow morning, I want the entire country to know that they convicted an innocent man.”

***

The bartender speared Remy with his eyes, and concern for the pathetic kid that had been crying in the corner of his bar for the better part of the hour was all over his face and alive in his eyes, as well.  He considered Remy out of the corner of his eye as he polished a glass so dirty and scratched the act of polishing it was all but useless.

“I know you, kid?” the bartender asked, switching the toothpick in his mouth from one side to the other.

Remy sniffled softly. “No… I don’t think so.”

“You thirsty?”

Remy’s tongue was wet again.  He’d kill for a drink, but his mind was finally freeing itself of Violet, and he was thinking somewhat clearly, once more.  Alcohol would surely only lower him to a sniveling punk, once more, and it was a risk he couldn’t take.

He hadn’t broken free for nothing.  And no one was going to steal the only freedom he still had left.  He’d get to Santa Cruz and take Jason up on borrowing the Tundra.  Then he’d make the long drive back to Redding and pray he wasn’t caught before he had the chance to get to the bottom of this.

It was a long shot, but it was all he had. He could only hope that the police hadn’t made the connection between him and Jason, yet, otherwise they were sure to be watching his home, waiting for any sign of Remy.  He had no doubt they were already watching Violet’s.

“No, I wanted to make sure…” Remy adjusted the cap on his head, suddenly worried about being recognized.  “The guy who dropped me here said there’s a bus to Santa Cruz?”

“Every hour on the hour.”

Remy swallowed every inch of pride he had left.  “How much is it?”  The answer to the question didn’t matter, unless that answer was “free”, because Remy hadn’t a penny to his name.

“Buck fifty.”

Remy pressed his lips together.

“You got any money?”

His head fell, and he stared at his shoes before giving an indiscernible tilt of his head.

Studying him for a moment longer, the bartender finally set the glass down on the bar, never taking his eyes off Remy as he fished the only two dollars in his tip jar out, and slid them across the bar.

Remy’s eyes rose to his, and filled once more.

The bartender watched him take the money, too moved to even thank him, and switched the toothpick to the other side of his mouth, once more.  “It’s never as bad as it seems, kid.”

Remy pressed the money in his back pocket and stopped himself from agreeing that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed.

It was ten times worse.

***

After swallowing back her fury at the high price of parking one’s car at Redding Airport, and taking the sluggish, rage-inducing shuttle ride into the busy terminals, Violet found herself unable to keep up an even pace as she speed-walked into the automatic doors of Terminal 5.  Her patience was spent.

She took in the bustling ticketing area, where perpetually stressed out passengers were punching their fingers impatiently into the ticketing machines, and the less savvy travelers giving the ticketing agents a piece of their mind for god knows what.  Parents hauled troublesome children and piles of baggage from every angle.  Several large groups stood motionless, looking around in confusion, and employees observed the area with a bored impatience as a general unrest, just on the verge of madness, seemed to unfold by the second.

With a shake of her head, Violet wondered just how the hell anyone could work in a place like this, just as her cell phone vibrated in her back pocket.  She snatched it out, frantically reading Miles’ message.  He had sent her a copy of the hotel footage, as well as the schedules of each flight attendant who’d been working Remy’s trip on the night of Meredith’s murder.  Amazed, Violet couldn’t help but wonder how Miles made miracles happen the way he did.

She drank in the words in the message like water.

Miles: Flight attendant Carrie Cochran signs in for a trip out of terminal 5 at 12:05pm, Gate B3

Violet checked her watch.  It was 12pm on the dot.  She prayed that Carrie Cochran would be right on-time that day.  Her eyes flew around the busy area, and she realized with a heavy heart that she had no idea what Carrie Cochran looked like.

When her phone immediately buzzed with a picture message from Miles, she would have kissed him if he wasn’t miles away.  He’d always known what she needed before she ever had to ask for it.

Miles: Carrie Cochran

Below his message was a photo of a middle aged blonde woman with sun damaged skin that seemed to be running away from her face, fire red lips and bright blue eye shadow that matched her eyes perfectly, but still managed to make her look clown-like and overdone.  The scowl on her face wasn’t doing her any favors, either.

“Looks like a real ray of sunshine,” Violet mumbled, just as Miles sent her a photo of Amy Anabella, and first officer Jake Patterson, as well.

With a heaving sigh, Violet took a seat in the ticketing area, watching the only two automatic doors like a hawk.

She prayed that Remy was okay.

She didn’t have much time to pray, because just as quickly as she’d sat down, the forlorn face of Carrie Cochran came into her view.  She was in full flight attendant uniform, a wrinkled navy blue atrocity that looked itchy and hugged Carrie’s plump frame a touch to tightly.  She dodged the confused and inquisitive eyes of the passengers around her like they weren’t even there.  Behind her, she wheeled five different bags, all varying in size, sluggishly towards the escalator that led to the security lane on the second floor.

“Carrie Cochran,” Violet called, racing across the ticketing area, dodging families, bags, and suits all over the place.

Carrie Cochran came to an abrupt stop, snapping her head over her shoulder in the way only someone startled by the unexpected sound of their name could.  The moment she caught sight of Violet Chambers racing towards her, her eyes went wide.  When Violet came to a breathless stop in front of her, Carrie was already shaking her head no.

“Hi there,” Violet said, holding her hand out to Carrie.  “I’m Violet Cha--”

“I know who you are.”

When Carrie only stared at it with distain, Violet pulled her hand away with as much dignity as she could manage.  “Right.  Of course.”  She’d almost forgotten that her face had been all over the news for the better part of the month.

“You’re the idiot who was dumb enough to make herself an accomplice to a murderer.”

Violet didn’t like her.  At all.  The way her blood ran cold and raced to her heart, freezing that as well, was instant. “Even though you’ve jumped to many unfair conclusions, and called me many unfair names, I do have to insist that you hear me out Carrie.  Remy didn’t kill Meredith, and I can prove it.”

Carrie began moving towards the escalator.  “I’m late for my flight.  I can’t do this.”

“What if I could prove that the person who went into Meredith’s room that night was a first officer?”

Carrie stopped short, just in front of the escalator, and after a moments hesitation, turned towards Violet.  When their eyes met, her sharp edges softened ever so slightly.  “That’s not possible.”

“I can prove it,” Violet said, breathing deeply when Carrie began gingerly making her way back towards her.  She pulled up the hotel video Miles sent to her phone, and held it up for Carrie to see.  “Look at the cuffs on his jacket.”

When Carrie squinted at the small screen while fingering for the reading glasses hanging around her neck, Violet hurriedly turned the phone back to herself and zoomed in on the cuffs, before pointing the screen back at Carrie, who came in so close to the phone’s screen that her nose was a breath from bumping against it.