Going Under_ A Bill Roberts Thriller - Silas Payton Page 0,7

in, Sergeant?" Bill asked.

"We ran the plates on the car, and the owner is listed as an Andrew Livingston living in North York. Since it's in your district, I thought I'd let you know what was going on. I've tried to call the number in the DMV database but there's been no answer," he said. "So far, we can't confirm there even was a jumper. We're just getting started with the search now. I almost called Toronto Dispatch but figured someone from your team might handle this with more sensitivity."

"It sounds like you're a bit in the dark on this one."

"Yeah -- Uhh, you could say that." He paused. "We'll be using search lights."

"I'll send someone to his house to investigate. I hope your search goes well. I wouldn't like the idea of boating in the dark," he said. "Give me his plate, address, and the make and model of his car. I'll be in touch once we have something for you." He took the information, said goodbye, and hung up the phone.

Just what I need, one more thing to deal with right now.

Bill grabbed his coffee and the information from Sergeant Wilcock, and headed to the elevator. He stopped at Cathy's desk on the way.

"Can you have Cliff stop by this Andrew Livingston's house before he comes in? Have him see what he can find out about this guy, and why his vehicle might be parked at the Thousand Islands Bridge. The O.P.P. in the area is investigating a possible jumper and his vehicle is a possible connection. I'm going downstairs to talk to Mrs. Elliott. I'll see if she'll tell me why she shot her husband," he said. "Call me if there's anything exciting."

He started walking, stopped and turned back. "Oh, and can you call that CEO of the Toronto Port Authority and see if he'd come down here? I've got a few questions for him."

Chapter 7

The Doctor

The room was fairly dark with the lights dimmed. This office had been a little cramped compared to his last one, but he was almost through with it. He could put up with one more night. He'd worked with less on a number of occasions, but this time he at least had the essentials -- his desk, a sitting chair, the reclined couch for his "clients", his tablet, a music docking station and his special concoction of relaxation drugs.

As usual, his connections had found him a sufficient space -- a small private office that happened to be vacant. He was able to put his signs up outside and there was parking at the side, well lit and convenient -- a necessity for putting his clients at ease. His temporary location, he told them, while his permanent office was being renovated.

Without any further delays, tomorrow he'd be on the move again. He'd been through this many times before. Although he should have left already, his was an inexact specialty. At least the unforeseen delays added to the excitement. The wheels were in motion. The first part of the plan had worked well, and he waited for confirmation on the second.

His watch said eight o'clock. His client was due any minute. With any luck, tomorrow's appointment would be their last. Tonight's would be the primer, and once he tested the quality of his work, the final piece could be put in place. For now, he sat waiting, scanning radio stations on the Internet. Trying to get the news for a small town three hours away.

Chapter 8

Bill Roberts

On the first floor of the police headquarters, at the back of the building, were a bank of interrogation rooms. Adjacent to each, was an observation room with a one way mirror. The rooms were wired for sound and video so any interactions could be heard and recorded. Mrs. Sarah Elliott sat alone in one of these rooms, waiting for her attorney.

Bill entered the adjacent room where an officer watched her, while playing with his phone.

"Has anyone been in to speak with her yet?"

"Nobody's been in since we put her in there an hour ago. The interrogation specialist is on his way, but he likely won't do anything until her lawyer shows."

Bill confirmed with the officer, that she was aware of her rights then said, "I'm going in. Keep an eye on us, and if her lawyer shows up, let them in."

With his coffee in hand, he went into the hall and down a few feet to the door to the next room. Bill pushed the key