Jane Doe: Jack Beckett Book Seven

By D.G. Baxter

Jane Doe fell to her death from the Oakland Bay Bridge. No one claimed her or seemed to know her. But Jack Beckett had tried to save her.

He didn't sleep well that night, and the next morning he vowed to find out why she died. He had held her hand for a few seconds until it slipped away. He saw her eyes as she fell, and he knew she didn't want to die.

He found a clue, a young man who lived above a Chinese restaurant had briefly talked with her. The young man saw her get into an SUV, and he got a partial plate. Beckett tracked her to a house in Berkeley. When he knocked on the door, it was empty. But the girl had been there, along with another girl who had just been kidnapped.

FBI Agent Riley O'Connor joined the hunt with Jack. Beckett had stumbled upon a human trafficking ring. Jane Doe was dead, but a beautiful college student was still missing and most likely with the traffickers as they escaped. Another lead placed the girl and the traffickers near the LA airport. The clock was ticking. If Beckett didn't get there in time, something unspeakable would happen.

Praise for Jack Beckett Adventures. "Jack Beckett reminds me of Jack Reacher. If you enjoy lots of action and adventure, read D.G. Baxter's books." – Terry "The Beckett series is one of the best ever. I really need more. I can't get enough of the characters and especially the banter." – GMR

• Language: English
• Publisher: D.G. Baxter
• Release date: Feb 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386713807

Book preview

1

Jack Beckett was coming back from a visit with Karen Myers, the aunt of a woman who had been murdered along with two other women. The case had been wrapped up, at least as far as Beckett was concerned. He walked Karen through most of the details. He owed her that much after she had asked him to look into her niece’s death.

The killer was a wealthy eccentric named Niles Bergman. What drove him to take the lives of three young women went to the grave with him after a fourth woman he planned to kill shot him dead in Mendocino. Beckett was standing ten feet away when Jessica Martin shot Niles with an AR-15. Bergman was unarmed at the time, attempting to run from Beckett and a man named Hammer. So Beckett made sure it looked like self-defense when he pulled a knife from his boot and placed it in Niles's dead hand. The man deserved to die. It was fine by Beckett that Jessica killed him. She would have been his next victim save the good graces of lady luck and her gut feelings.

Beckett admired people willing to follow their gut feelings. It had saved him plenty of times, and occasionally it had saved others. Sometimes it’s hard to listen to what our gut tells us. In Jessica’s case, her gut told her she was in danger, and so she took off with just the clothes on her back. But it saved her.

Beckett was satisfied he was able to find the killer. He was happy to bring some closure to Karen Myers. He was thinking about that and where his life was going as he drove over the Bay Bridge between Oakland and San Francisco. Suddenly traffic came to a stop, and Beckett saw that a few people had jumped out of their cars and were standing near the bridge’s inner railing. He stopped and got out to investigate.

The new Bay Bridge was built with a pedestrian walkway that ran the length of the bridge. It was separated from the roadway with a four-foot-high inner rail, then the walkway, then the outer rail. He saw a young woman clinging to the outer rail. She was facing away and looking down at the water 150 feet below.

A man had climbed over the inner rail and approached the woman. She was yelling at him to back off. Beckett grabbed the top of the inner rail and hopped over to the walkway, and quickly came up just behind the man.

The man had reached out, and the woman backed away, letting go of her hold on the rail as she did. She teetered for a second, then lost her balance and fell.

She disappeared in a second. Beckett pushed the man away and peered over the rail. The woman had caught the edge of a steel beam with one hand. She was dangling. She looked up and found Beckett's eyes. Her eyes were pleading. She didn’t want to die, but Beckett knew she couldn’t hold that beam much longer.

He reached with his long arms and stretched his 6’4" frame.

He came up six inches short of grabbing her other outstretched hand.

He yelled at the man behind him. Grab my feet. I’m leaning over more.

He pushed off from the walkway and felt his feet leave the ground, then he felt the steady hands of the man grabbing his feet. He leaned as far as he dared. His fingertips grasped the woman's fingers, and then he squeezed as hard as he could.

He had her. She let go of the steel beam and reached for his outstretched hand.

Her free hand touched his for a moment, and then it slipped away.

She held his fingertips with the other hand for a few more seconds.

And then her hand slipped out of his. Her eyes grew large. She screamed.

He watched as her body fell with both arms still reaching for him, a look of terror on her face.

He watched as long as he could until she plunged into the dark water far below.

Beckett was devastated. It was his worst nightmare. He too wanted to scream, although he knew it would do no good.

He stayed until the police arrived a few minutes later. He gave a statement, then was told to return to his car. Life had to go on, and traffic was backed up for miles. He didn’t remember driving home, or the rest of the day. He didn’t remember much until he woke up the next morning from a bad dream that was gone before he was fully awake.

He had to find out who that woman was. He had to know what put her on that bridge. That finally got him out of bed.

2

It was a warm September day, and the sun was already filling his windows with morning light. He made his way to the kitchen and turned on the coffee. He sat at a small table while coffee aroma filled the kitchen. He was still thinking about yesterday. He wondered if it made the news.

He grabbed a cup of coffee and walked the few steps to what had become his office, a second bedroom that had no other purpose. He woke the computer as he sipped coffee and clicked a bookmark for the San Francisco Chronicle. He had a digital subscription so he could browse the entire paper. He saw nothing about the woman falling from the Bay Bridge. He googled it. Still nothing. He checked the websites of a few local TV stations. Nothing.

He finished his coffee and decided to go for a run. He jogged the few blocks down to the Marina and began his usual run along the path that winds its way along Crissy Field and the San Francisco Bay. It was warming up, and he soon worked up a sweat. It helped clear his head. Yesterday was brutal, and he quickly made the connection to his childhood friend. It explained his emotional reaction. He couldn’t save Jenny from her abusive dad. She killed herself, or so the reports said, by walking in front of a train. He had carried that around the rest of his life. The guilt. The pain. The what if. But there was no what if possible. Beckett was ten when this happened. Who would expect a ten-year-old to take on a grown man?

He still carried the regret with him, and yesterday it came roaring back. Why couldn’t he have held that woman longer? He knew the answer. She couldn’t hold on to him. Her strength gave out. There was nothing to do but watch as she fell to her death. So he needed to know what happened that put her on that bridge.

He walked back to his apartment and decided to call his friend, Riley O'Connor. Riley was a local FBI agent, and someone Beckett had worked with on a few cases. He could count on her for a favor, and likewise, she could count on him. She could make some calls and dig up what happened. He sat back down at his desk, still sweaty, and picked up his cell phone. Riley was in contacts, and soon her phone was ringing.

Mr. Beckett, how are you?

You know my dad is dead, right?

Just having some fun with you, Jack. So what do I owe this call to?

I could use some information. Maybe you can help.

I will if I can. What have you got?

A woman died yesterday when she fell from the Bay Bridge. I need to know who she was. There’s nothing in the news.

Ok, I'll check the local PD. They should have something on that. What time did this happen?

It was about 4 pm. I was on my way back from Oakland.

Did you see this happen?

Yes, up close and personal, I’m afraid.

How up close?

So Beckett told her the whole story. Then he brought up his run and what he figured out. O'Connor knew Beckett's history, and she knew about Jenny. She was happy to hear that her friend was connecting events to his past. At least he knew where things were coming from, which is more than many people know. She had seen Beckett use his anger about Jenny to push him and take on some truly evil characters. If someone hurt a child or an innocent person, if they were a bully, they should stay clear of Beckett.

Ok, give me an hour. I’ll see what I can dig up.

Wake up, Amanda said as she shook Kenny’s shoulder. He had too much to drink the night before and was sleeping too long. Amanda had to tell him about the new girl.

What time is it? He was still groggy and resented having to get up.

Almost noon. Get up. I need to talk to you.

Kenny groaned and slowly got out of bed, pulled on some jeans, and lit a cigarette.

There’s coffee in the kitchen. Grab some. You look like you need it. Then let’s talk.

He looked at her and nodded. Then put on some socks and a T-shirt.

A minute later he walked into the kitchen of the big house in Berkeley. Kenny and Amanda had rented the house the year before when they met in an Oakland bar. She was from Alabama, and he was from Ohio. Both had served some time for petty offenses. Both had come to California looking for a new beginning. They found each other instead. He was outgoing, and she was reclusive. He could be charming. She could be cruel. They had little in common, but the sex was good.

Then they met Clarence Montgomery III, Monty as he liked to be called. Monty wanted to build a chicken ranch, his euphemism for a whore house that specialized in expensive outcalls. He needed someone to round up the chickens, break them in, then ship them to him in LA. After they talked for a while, Montgomery saw real possibilities for Kenny and Amanda. Kenny was a natural for finding and charming young runaways, and Amanda had an unusual skill set; she could run roughshod over the girls and bring them along with a combination of drugs and hypnosis. Kenny could bring them in off the street and Amanda could break them in.

The odd thing about Monty was that he didn’t need the money. He was already rich. He owned dozens of rental properties throughout southern California as well as an assortment of commercial real estate including a golf course and a high rise office building. He told Kenny and Amanda he wanted to do this for fun, as a challenge.

After a few meetings, they decided to work together. Monty provided the money to keep the Berkeley house going including all expenses, and Kenny and Amanda set about to build a growing enterprise.

But Monty had a dark side. A dark side that he kept secret. Monty was also a pornographer with a very rare specialty. And those that bought his product paid a very, very steep price. He lied to Kenny and Amanda. It wasn’t for fun. It wasn’t for the challenge. He needed three or four beautiful women each year for his snuff films.

Kenny sat at the kitchen table with his coffee and looked at Amanda, waiting for her to tell him what was the big deal.

You remember last night, right? she asked.

Kind of, I guess. What about last night?

You were already three sheets to the wind when George called, so I didn’t bother to bring it up. That new girl is dead.

Shocked, he asked, What do you mean, dead?

I mean dead, dummy, as in not alive. Not breathing.

What happened?

She was on the bridge. George just happened to come across her. How she got out of here is a mystery. I thought she was drugged, in her room, sleeping. But she showed up on the Bay Bridge.

How in the hell did she get there?

If she wasn't dead, maybe we could ask her. Anyway, George was driving along, and he spotted the new girl. She saw him and ran over to the rail and climbed over. People stopped and began to look at something. George jumped out and ran up to her and tried to talk to her. She must have recognized him and yelled for him to back off.

Jesus, what happened then?

A minute later she fell. Another guy, a big dude, reached over the rail. George held his feet. The big dude had her hand for a few seconds, and then she slipped his grip and fell into the bay.

Kenny sighed. What a way to go.

George called me when he was able to get off the bridge. He said he felt bad. It was his night to keep an eye on the girls, but he got his schedule mixed up. He begged me to forgive him.

We only had her a few days, Kenny said. I’ll have to find another girl right away.

That would be a good idea, Amanda said.

Armanda was the boss. Kenny complained about it, not to Amanda but to his brother, George, but he went along with Amanda calling the shots. Not long after they got together, they had a fight and Amanda laid it on the line. Either you do as I say or I’m walking out the door. Your call. I don’t care one way or another. But if you want to have more money than you’ve ever had, not to mention the greatest sex of your life, you’ll do as I say.

From that point on, Amanda called the shots.

3

O’Connor called Beckett as promised an hour later. She had called her contact at the SFPD, Lt. Johnny Simons.

It happened as you said, Beckett. In fact, your account is the main account in the police report. They questioned a few other bystanders and they collaborated the events you described. Apparently, the guy who held your ankles split. One witness mentioned him, but he was nowhere to be found.

Did they recover the body?

Yes, just a few hours ago. That’s why it wasn’t in the early news.

Who was she?

Jane Doe. She’s a Jane Doe for now. We’ll see if anyone comes forward to claim her once her description hits the news cycle.

Beckett was quiet.

What are you thinking?

It’s going to be hard to ID her if no one comes forward.

Agreed. The coroner has her, and he will do a drug screen.

Too bad the guy who held my ankles took off.

I guess you should be happy that he didn’t split while you were hanging over the rail. There would have been two of you in the drink. Did you think before you got up on that rail?

No, it was automatic. She needed help. I was there. Automatic.

Jack, I’m sorry you couldn’t save her.

"Me too.