Free Vampire Moon by J.R. Rain

dropped against him.”
     
               Stuart nodded; his jawline rippled slightly.
     
               “The plane crash investigation is still ongoing,” I said after a few minutes. “The investigation could take years. Even if the authorities do find out who took it down, or sabotaged it, I suspect there will be very little evidence linking the attack to Jerry Blum.”
     
               He set his frosted glass down on the dusty, round glass table that sat between us, and turned and looked at me.
     
               Stuart said, “And even if evidence is found indicating Jerry Blum was responsible for my wife’s crash, who’s to say that the next batch of witnesses won’t be killed as well.”
     
               “It’s a sick Catch-22,” I said.
     
               “This could go on forever.”
     
               I nodded.
     
               “I may never see justice,” he added. “Ever.”
     

           “There is still a chance they could find damning evidence linking Jerry Blum to the downed aircraft,” I said.
     
               “Or not,” said Stuart.
     
               I nodded. “Or not.”
     
               “More than likely he’s going to get off, again, and meanwhile my wife....” Stuart’s voice trailed off and he suddenly broke down, sobbing hard into his hands. I reached over and patted his shoulder and made sympathetic noises. He continued crying, and I continued patting.
     
               When he finally got control of himself, he said, “I have something I want you to listen to.”
     
              
     
              
     
              
     
               Chapter Sixteen
     

     
              
     
              
     
               Stuart got up and went through the sliding glass door. He came back a moment later holding a Blackberry phone. He sat next to me again and pushed a few buttons on the phone. A moment later, the phone was ringing loudly on speaker mode. An electronic voice answered and asked Stuart if he wanted to listen to his voice mail. Stuart pressed a button. I assumed his answer was yes. The voice then asked if Stuart wanted to listen to his archive. He pressed another button, and he held the phone out between us, face up, above the round table and above his beer.
     
               “Stu!” came a woman’s frantic voice. “Stu, listen to me. Something very, very bad is happening. Oh, God! Stu, the plane is having problems. Serious problems. I heard an explosion. It happened right outside my window. On the wing. It blew up. I can see it now. Flapping, burning, on fire. This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening. Oh, God, Stu!” The voice stopped. From somewhere nearby, I heard a woman screaming in the background. A horrible, gut-wrenching scream. “Stu, sweet Jesus, the plane is going to crash. Everyone knows it. The pilot can’t get...can’t get control of it.” Another pause. A voice crackled loudly over a speaker. It was the pilot. He was telling everyone to sit in their seats, to buckle up, to remain calm. And then he told them to prepare for a crash landing. “Jesus, Stu. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. Oh, good Christ. I wish I was talking to you, baby. I need you so bad. I need your voice. Baby, I’m so scared. So scared. This isn’t happening.” Someone screamed bloody murder in the background. “I heard your voice, Stu. I heard it when I got your voice mail. At least I heard it one last—one more time. I love your voice, baby. I love you, baby. I love you so much. I’m going to die now.” Someone spoke to her rapidly, hysterically, but the woman on the phone didn’t respond. “Everyone’s losing it, Stu. Everyone’s freaking. Stu, the explosion. Something blew this plane up. Something blew the wing up. It’s Jerry Blum, Stu. I know it. He did this, baby. Somehow. Somehow he got to us all. The motherfucker. Oh, God....” and now