Wildfire

By James Bellis

An advert placed in various computer publications around the world attracts the attention of thousands of programmers: "Large, multinational company is looking for programmers to take part in a project that will change the world. Be part of the team that will deliver a system to impr

• Language: English
• Publisher: Take a Peek Publishing
• Release date: Sep 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9798985946932

Book preview

Wildfire

James Bellis

Copyright © 2021 James Bellis

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the publisher.

Take a Peek Publishing – Conway SC

ISBN: 979-8-9859469-2-5

eBook ISBN: 979-8-9858469-3-2

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022904854

Title: Wildfire

Author: James Bellis

Digital distribution | 2023

Paperback | 2023

This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real.

Dedication

To my fabulous daughter, Isobeil, with love.

Special thanks to Susan Benade, Margaret Sweetnam, and Ed Reynolds for their encouragement.

Contents

Wildfire

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Four

Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Fifty-Six

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Chapter Sixty

Chapter Sixty-One

Chapter Sixty-Two

Chapter Sixty-Two

Chapter Sixty-Three

Chapter Sixty-Four

About the Author

Chapter One

Wednesday, January 1, 2020

Durban, South Africa

T

he sun rises early in summer along the east coast of South Africa. At 5:30 am., one block away from the Indian Ocean, it already promises to be a typical Durban summer day—hot and humid. Twenty-seven-year-old Jake Mitchell begins to stir. As he slowly wakens, he feels the effect of the previous night’s action: a blinding hangover. Turning over onto his back with his eyes tightly shut to relieve the pain in his head, he attempts to recall his movements of the previous night.

"I remember joining the guys from work at the Crazy Irishman. The plan was to see the New Year there. The three married guys and one of the girls faded early. Someone suggested we head for the Cellar. It’s always festive there. We decided to walk and leave our vehicles. No need to get picked up by the cops.

I recall having a number of shooters at the Cellar and meeting up with another crowd. Can’t remember any names. A couple of hot birds, though. New Year struck. Byron, Leslie, and Ged left. I don’t remember seeing Bas or Martin again. Well, at least I got home safe, but not so sound.

Contemplating his next move, Jake stretched out his arms and legs to shake loose the stiffness, and to his horror, his right arm made contact with a body next to him. The contact stirred the person, a female, clearly very naked.

Jake leaped out of bed and turned to face the other occupant of the bed. Dragging herself out of what had been a deep sleep, she rolled over to face him. She was a pretty, dark-haired girl who looked anywhere from eighteen upward. Jake had no recollection of ever seeing her before. Jesus, what time is it? I need coffee and a couple of aspirin. Man, did we tie one on last night! Don’t just stand there. Go. Coffee.

Jake turned and headed for the kitchen; he prepped the coffee machine and headed for the bathroom to find some headache pills for himself and aspirins for his guest. He popped two Tylenols for his headache, and grabbing a glass of water and the aspirin, he headed back to the bedroom.

His guest had now divested herself of the blankets and lay spread-eagle, totally naked, not a hair on her body below her neck. Here’s the aspirin. Coffee is on the way.

Sitting up, she took the glass and gulped down the tablets. Thanks. Gee, that was some shagging we did last night. I reckon I will battle to walk today. By the looks of it, you might be ready to go again.

Jake, totally unaware of his nakedness, looked down to confirm her suspicions. Let me get that coffee. I need it as badly as you. He headed for the kitchen via the laundry room where he found a pair of shorts. Returning with two cups of steaming coffee, he found her still naked, sitting cross-legged on the bed.

Thanks for the coffee, but let me apologize in advance. I’m going to have to drink this and leave straightaway. As much as I would like a repeat of last night, I have to get to the airport as my fiance is coming home, and I have to meet him. I had a lot of fun and wouldn’t mind a repeat on a regular basis. What do you think?

You were incredible, but you have a fiance. Isn’t that a problem?

He travels a lot. Give me your phone number, and I will send you a message. Just put me in your contacts. You feel the urge, send me a message, and I will do the same. All things equal—we get together, no strings attached. Jake nodded and gave her his cell phone number. She tapped it into her phone and sent him a message: Janice Cooper, 873-684-5939. Janice finished her coffee, dressed, and bid Jake farewell with a kiss on the cheek and was gone.

Jesus, I have to stop this. I don’t remember a damn thing about her. We must have shagged a lot as I have a real painful pubic area. There is no way I will make contact. What I need now is a Wimpy breakfast and a day surfing.

Jake brushed his teeth, took a quick shower, donned his baggies, pulled on a T-shirt, picked up his car keys and surfboard, and headed for the elevator. Reaching the ground floor, he realized his car was missing. Gathering his thoughts, he remembered driving to the Crazy Irishman. Shit! It was a five-block walk. Normally, Jake would make the short walk to North Beach, which was his local hangout. But it being New Year’s Day, that would be a bad idea.

Prior to the end of Apartheid in 1994 when a black government was voted in, local Durban beaches were off-limits to Blacks. As a show of defiance, Blacks were bused in, in hundreds of thousands, and swarmed both South and North Beach. After the end of Apartheid, the tradition continued even though they were now allowed access to these beaches. Every New Year’s Day, it resulted in chaos.

Jake reached his car where he left it the previous night. He found the window smashed in and the car stereo gone. Shrugging his shoulders, he tied his board to the roof rack and headed for the Bluff and Ansteys Beach. At least the beach wouldn’t be overrun by Blacks, and hopefully, the locals wouldn’t get all territorial.

Chapter Two

Chicago, Illinois

E

ight time zones and nine thousand miles to the northwest, thirty-one-year-old Katherine Kate Biggins was stirring in her one-bedroom apartment in Naperville, a small city just west of Chicago, Illinois. Unlike Durban, the temperature outside was a chilly 15°F with the ground covered by at least ten inches of snow.

Kate had spent the previous evening with a few of her Ernst & Young colleagues. They had congregated at the Goose Island Brewery Pub with the intention of seeing in the New Year. Kate spent most of the evening fending off advances from one of the partners. As soon as the clock struck twelve, she bid her farewells and headed for the Red Line, Chicago’s mass transit system. She made it to Union Station just in time to catch the last train out to Naperville. She was in bed, alone, by 1:30 am.

Strangely, it was the silence that wakened Kate. Living within walking distance from the Metra Station, she was used to a certain level of noise, but the heavy snow and the early hour meant almost absolute quiet. She switched on the TV to catch the weather forecast, only to find that more snow was in the air. Surely this meant that tomorrow’s commute would be a bitch. Hopefully, it would be a work-from-home snow day.

Kate made her way to the kitchen for her first coffee of the day. Quietly sipping her beverage, she contemplated her life. The year 2019 was not great. She had had worse, but at the age of thirty-one, she seemed to be going through the motions.

A normal day in her life would be waking up at 6:00 am., showering, and dressing. Armed with her travel cup of coffee, she would make the short walk to the Metra Station to catch the 6:50 am. to Chicago’s Union Station. The forty-minute train trip would be followed by a bus ride to Upper Wacker and Michigan Streets, arriving at around 7:45 am. at the offices of Ernst & Young. After taking the elevator up to the seventh floor and her cubicle, first order of business was to refill her coffee cup before settling down to work. For the past six and a half years, she had been employed as a computer programmer / analyst.

As jobs went, she was well-paid, but she found the tasks she was assigned boring and repetitive. There had to be more to life than this. At the end of each day, she reversed the process and usually arrived home, depending on the trains, somewhere between 6:30 and 8:00 pm.

Her social life was virtually nonexistent. During the week, it was work, eat, sleep; and by the weekend, she was in no mood for anything other than the basic necessities. Since her divorce, which coincided with her starting her current job, she had only dated sporadically. Work colleagues had fixed her up a couple of times, but nothing lasted. She had had a few blind dates and a couple of one-night stands, but none ever seemed satisfying.

It wasn’t as though she never had the opportunities to socialize. At five foot seven and a trim one hundred and thirty pounds, she was in very good shape. Attractive, more than just pretty, with jet-black hair and stunning blue eyes, she turned heads. She was a willing lover, but despite her partners always seeking repeat dates, she seldom agreed. Something was missing.

She had just started her second cup of coffee when her phone chimed with an incoming email. Reluctantly, she picked up the phone and read the message. The email was from the managing partner of the Information Technology Department. It read, Due to the inclement weather, it is advised that any employee who commutes to the office should take great care. And if in any doubt for your safety, consider working from home. Any scheduled meetings, if vital, could be carried out via conference calls.

*****

Traditionally, the first of January in both the United States and South Africa is regarded as an official holiday. In some South African coastal towns, the second is an unofficial holiday. The holiday originated in Cape Town and spread up the east coast. The Cape Coloreds hold an annual celebration on New Year’s Day where a copious amount of alcohol is consumed, rendering most of them unfit for work on the second, necessitating them to take the day off.

Folklore tells the story that January 2 is celebrated as the birth of the Colored Nation in South Africa. History tells us that the famous Dutch explorer Jan van Riebeeck landed for the first time at the Cape of Good Hope (now the site of modern-day Cape Town) on April 6, 1652, virtually nine months to the day the first mixed-race baby was born.

Jake returned home in late afternoon refreshed after a good day’s surfing. As he had the next day off, he decided an early night was in order.

*****

Kate made an early decision that she would avoid the next day’s commute and spend the day catching up on chores and her backlog of mail.

Chapter Three

Jake

J

ake entered the world on June 6, 1993. His mother, a fifteen-year-old White girl, had managed to hide her pregnancy from friends and family. When her water broke in the early hours, she dressed and quietly left her mother’s cheap flat near the Durban docks. She made her way to Addington Hospital two blocks away.

At 4:00 am., the emergency room was empty apart from the single nursing sister on duty. She walked up to the reception desk and quietly told the nurse, I think my baby is coming. Please help me. The nurse leaped into action and escorted her to the nearest empty cubicle and drew the curtains.

Wait here. I will get some help.

Before the nurse could leave the room, the young girl cried out, I think it’s coming! The nurse lifted the girl’s dress and removed her underwear just in time to see the baby’s head appearing. Realizing she couldn’t wait for help, she reached in and, taking the emerging baby by the shoulders, brought the infant, a boy, into the world. Having been present at numerous births, she followed procedure. She cut the umbilical cord and made sure the baby was breathing before she handed him to his mother.

It’s a boy. He seems healthy. Congratulations. I will go and find someone to help. Can I call anyone, father, parents?

He is Jake.

After making sure the placenta had emerged, the nurse turned and went to look for the intern who would have to do a formal examination. After struggling to awaken the sleeping doctor, she told him she needed his help in the emergency room.

She returned to the cubicle and pulled back the curtain. To her horror, she found the baby wrapped up in the birthing blanket and his mother nowhere to be seen. Frantically, she searched the area with no success, coming to the obvious conclusion that the young mother had abandoned her baby. She picked up the baby and went to find the doctor. She suddenly stopped, and what she did next would change Jake’s life forever.

She wrapped Jake up tightly, placed him in a crib, and attached a chart with the baby’s information: Jake Mitchell. Mother: Nora Mitchell. Father: Martin Mitchell. She recorded all the relevant data needed to complete the chart. "Special instructions: Mother unable to feed. She wheeled the crib into the adjoining nursery and returned to her post. There was still no sign of the doctor. He had probably fallen back to sleep.

She returned to reception, picked up the phone, and dialed. The phone was answered by a very grumpy voice. Who is this phoning at four o’clock in the bloody morning? It better be important.

Martin, it’s your sister. Get Nora and put me on speaker.

A few seconds later, she heard her sister-in-law’s sleepy voice. Maggie, what is it?

I have an abandoned baby boy in the nursery. His mother gave birth and then did a runner. He is healthy. I have put him in the nursery, and his chart has your details as mother and father. If you don’t agree, I will retrieve him and remove the chart.

We are on the way.

Nora and Martin Mitchell had tried unsuccessfully for years to conceive. Eventually admitting defeat, they tried to adopt. With mountains of red tape and given their ages, both in their mid forties, they reached a dead end. Maggie, knowing their desperation to have a child, had discussed this exact possibility with them.

Knowing what kind of life an abandoned child could expect in the orphanage and foster home situation, they had made a decision that if there was any chance, they would take it even though the legal consequences were severe.

Less than an hour after the telephone call, the Mitchells arrived at Addington Hospital. They were met by Maggie, who led them to a curtained-off single cubicle near the entrance to the nursery. Jake, bundled up in a set of hospital clothing, lay sleeping in the crib.

Maggie handed Martin a bag containing baby formula, diapers, and three full feeding bottles. Inside the bag was the official hospital record of the birth. Maggie had destroyed the hospital’s duplicate copies. Nora picked up her son and, with Martin in tow, left the hospital. No official record of the birth now existed.

The Mitchells returned to their Durban North home and laid plans to integrate Jake into their family. Firstly, Nora would have to stop work. They would then have to keep Jake out of sight until they could relocate. Martin would register Jake’s birth at the Department of Home Affairs. The only proof needed was the hospital’s record of birth. They had previously discussed what they would do if this day ever occurred. They put their plan into action.

Nora would call in to her place of employment the following day, Monday, and explain that due to a family emergency, she would not be coming into work for the foreseeable future. Martin would put the house on the market and should have no trouble selling it. They would search for a new property in Hillcrest, which was far enough out of Durban to avoid bumping into anyone who knew them.

Three weeks later, Nora and Jake moved into their new home in Hillcrest. Martin would stay in the Durban North house until the new owners moved in at the end of July. Maggie had kept checking to see if any record of Jake’s birth surfaced. Three weeks later, all was clear. Barring some unforeseen bad luck, the Mitchells were in the clear.

*****

Initially, the Mitchells kept to themselves. But as Jake grew, he made friends; and by association, his parents became more active in the neighborhood. Jake grew into a well-behaved young boy. He was bright and friendly with all he came into contact with. He attended the local primary school where he proved popular among his peers. At Durban Boy’s High School, he excelled at mathematics and swimming. Above average in all other subjects and extramural activities, he was awarded his Matriculation Certificate with B+ aggregate and an A in mathematics.

In January 2011, Jake registered at Natal University to take a bachelor of science degree with a major in computer programming. It was a four-year degree, and by the time he was complete, his folks would be due for retirement. It had been a strain financially on the Mitchells but well worth it to them.

Jake was very diligent throughout his varsity days and studied hard, ensuring he would graduate well, find a good job, and start to pay his parents back. His social life was not lacking, but he never let it interfere with his studies.

In December 2014, Jake graduated in the top third of his class with a first-class bachelor of science degree. During his final two semesters, the larger information technology companies had actively recruited on campus. Jake had two offers on the table, one with a startup .COM company and the other with Toyota SA.

The .COM offer was the more lucrative but high risk. He decided he would be able to contribute to the Mitchell household sooner with Toyota and accepted their offer. On Monday, February 2, 2015, Jake started work as a programmer/analyst at Toyota SA.

He took to his job like a duck to water. He loved the thrill of successfully running a program he had written and seeing it do exactly what he had designed it to accomplish. His social life took a back seat to his job. The daily commute from Hillcrest to Pinetown and fighting the traffic and a long day’s mental strain and an equally congested trip home didn’t leave him for much free time during the week.

With his second paycheck, he bought himself a surfboard; and weather dependent, he would spend Saturdays and Sundays surfing off Addington Beach. He found surfing the perfect getaway from the stress of his work week. Like any good-looking twenty-one-year-old bachelor, he had a lot of opportunities with members of the opposite sex. He had a lot of casual dating but never anything lasting.

*****

Friday, February 26, 2016, was Martin’s sixty-seventh birthday and his last working day before retiring, so he had arranged a celebratory dinner at the Edward Hotel on Durban’s beachfront for his wife and his sister, Maggie. After forty-eight years of working for the Durban Corporation and reaching the position of chief accountant, he was finally free to enjoy his golden years with Nora. Maggie, his sister, had never married and, being two years older than him, had retired the previous year.

After dinner, on the way to drop Maggie off at her Westville apartment, Martin stopped to fill up his car with petrol. He pulled up to the Shell garage, stopped the car, and walked over to the ATM machine to draw R400 cash to pay for the petrol. The moment the notes exited the machine, Martin felt a hard, cold object jammed into his right cheek. He turned to find a large pistol pressed into his forehead. Holding the firearm was a Black male.

Give me the money and the card before I shoot you in the head. I want the pin number as well. Martin handed over the money, but in the same movement, he flung the ATM card away to his left and into the darkness. Thinking he was being attacked by a single person, he figured his assailant would have to go and look for the ATM card, giving him time to make an escape. As he turned to the left, he came face-to-face with another weapon; there were at least two of them.

I will fucking kill you, you White pig. Looking at his partner in crime, he said, Go and find that card. With the gun held to his head, Martin was marched toward his car, the only one at the petrol station. The normal gaggle of petrol attendants was nowhere to be seen. By the time they reached the car, three more armed thugs appeared from nowhere. With one at each window, Martin was marched up to the driver’s door, which he was ordered to open.

When my comrade gets back with your bank card, you will give me your pin number. We are taking your car. Tell your woman to get out.

Martin leaned in. Nora, get out of the car and walk away. Don’t look at them. Nora nodded, opened the door, and got out of the car. As she turned to walk away, the thug guarding her door noticed the gold chain and pendant around her neck. The heart-shaped pendant contained a photograph of her on one side and baby Jake on the other, her most valued possession. He leaned forward and pulled it off. Instead of walking away, Nora turned to face him.

Give that back to me. It has no monetary value. It only has value for me, she shouted and lunged forward in an attempt to recover it. The thug took a step back and shot her in the face, killing her instantly. For a split second, Martin stared at the gunman who had shot his beloved Nora. Reacting, he turned toward the man behind him and grabbed at the gun.

Getting a firm grip on the gunman’s arm, he levered the weapon away from his body and stripped the gun from the man’s hand. He raised the weapon and fired, shooting his assailant in the left shoulder. As he turned to engage the gunman at the right rear door, a bullet struck him in the head, dropping him to the floor.

The robber who had been shot in the shoulder acted immediately. Get the woman out of the back of the car and take care of her. Calling to his comrade still searching for the ATM card, he shouted, Leave it. We need to get out of here before the cops arrive.

Maggie was dragged screaming from the car and was shot five times in the face. One of them put two more shots into Martin to make sure he was dead. The five of them then climbed into Martin’s three-month-old white BMW 535i and left the scene. The whole thing had taken barely two minutes.

As the car fled the scene, the petrol attendants and the cashier miraculously appeared out of the shadows. Someone said to call the police. By the time the police arrived, the three bodies had been stripped of anything of value—watches, rings, wallets, purses, necklaces, cell phones, and even Martin’s Italian leather shoes. If they hadn’t taken it, the cops probably would have.

The Black policeman interviewed the garage staff in an attempt to find out what had occurred. They found out that nobody had seen or heard anything, but as there was no car and there were three bodies, the police assumed a hijacking gone wrong. There were no identifying documents on the deceased; the only clue was a Standard Bank ATM card in the name of Martin J. Mitchell.

*****

Jake, aware of his parents’ plans, had gone to bed just after 10:00 pm. He awoke the next morning, got out of bed, and went to make himself coffee. He was a little surprised to find his father, normally an early riser, not up and about. Pouring his freshly brewed coffee into his favorite cup, he went through the lounge in the direction of his parents’ bedroom.

The door was open, and the bed had not been slept in. He wondered if they had decided to stay over at Maggie’s place. He decided to call her. The phone rang six times until the answering machine kicked in, telling him to leave his name and number and she would call him back. He tried his father’s cell; it went straight to voice mail. It was the same with his mother’s.

He looked at his watch. It was nine twenty-three. There had to be a problem. If there had been an accident and they had been injured, the best course of action would be to phone each of the four hospitals in the area. If that failed, then the police stations. Maybe they had been stopped for drinking and driving.

Jake headed for his bedroom to get his cell phone and start calling. He dialed Addington Hospital first and asked for the emergency room. While waiting to be put through, the home phone rang. Rushing through to the living room, he picked up the receiver.

Hello. Is this the home of Martin J. Mitchell? asked a very African voice.

Yes. This is his son, Jake, speaking. Why are you calling?

I am Sergeant Ndlovo calling from Westville police station. There has been an accident. You need to come here immediately.

What accident? Are my parents okay?

I cannot discuss on the phone. You must come here now.

Jake slammed down the phone, dressed quickly, got in his car, and drove as fast as he could to the Westville police station. Saturday morning traffic was heavy, as usual, and in the hour that it took him, every possible scenario entered his head. It was just after 11:00 am. when reached the police station. He rushed into the building to find a single female police constable at the counter and a line of six people waiting to be attended to.

He walked to the front of the line and said, I need to see Sergeant Ndlovo please.

The response was Get in line and wait to be served.

Jake lost it. I want to see him now! My parents have been in an accident. He called me to come, he shouted at the top of his voice. She blatantly ignored him. He repeated his demand at an even higher volume. She didn’t even look up. Fortunately, the commotion attracted the attention of the said Ndlovo, who waddled over to Jake.

Mr. Mitchell, come with me. Jake followed the sergeant to an office, where he was instructed to sit down. Your father and two other unidentified females have been involved in a fatal accident and are all dead.

Jake, shocked, managed to mutter, Dead? What happened?

The three dead were found at the Shell garage in Westville. They had been shot. It may have been a dispute or a gang killing. No car was found at the scene, and there were no witnesses. Do you have any questions?

Damn right I have some questions. No car at the scene? How the hell do you think they got there late at night? Shot? It was obviously a hijacking. Where are the bodies? I want to see them now!

All in good time, my friend.

I am not your fucking friend. Where are the bodies?

Be calm, Mr. Mitchell. The bodies are at the Westville Hospital mortuary. You cannot leave until you make a statement.

What statement could I possibly make? The only one that comes to mind is, get out there and do your job. Find out who did this. Jake turned around and left the sergeant gaping.

*****

Arriving at the hospital, he headed directly to the mortuary, where he was required to sign in. The attendant, noticing the name, gave his condolences and led Jake to the back of the facilities. Three bodies on gurneys were all covered with white sheets. I will need you to identify all three if you are able.

Jake walked over to the largest of the three bodies, lifted the sheet, and almost vomited. It was definitely his father, although the face was badly damaged. He was shot in the face from very close by a high-caliber bullet. He would have died instantly. He was also shot twice more in the chest, definitely postmortem.

With tears streaming down his face, he walked over to the next gurney. He lifted the sheet. Unable to contain himself, he turned and vomited. The face was unrecognizable. It wasn’t his mother, so it had to be Aunt Maggie. He turned to the attendant. She was shot from very close range up to five times, all in the face. The first bullet undoubtedly killed her instantly. The other four were pointless.

Realizing that the final body would be that of his mother, Jake walked slowly over to the last gurney. With great trepidation, he lifted the sheet to confirm his worst fear. It was definitely Nora Mitchell. The attendant confirmed she died instantly with a single bullet to her face. Overwhelmed by the violent loss of his entire family, Jake broke down.

Once composed, he filled in all the required documentation identifying the bodies. He was informed that although cause of death was obvious, an autopsy would be carried out before the bodies could be released for burial. He would be contacted in due course.

*****

The next few weeks were hectic for Jake. He was given two weeks’ compassionate leave by Toyota but spent most of the time arranging the funerals of his only family members and pestering the police for updates on their investigation.

After ten days, the three bodies were released; and complying with their wishes, all were cremated, and their ashes were spread over the Hillcrest gardens. Insurance claims on Martin’s BMW were paid out and barely covered what was still owed.

The reading of the wills of Martin, Nora, and Maggie resulted in all assets being left to Jake. Deciding it would be too painful to remain living in the Mitchells’ Hillcrest house, Jake put the property on the market. He held a moving sale and sold most of the furniture and all the garden equipment.

With the sale of the house confirmed on June 1, Jake packed up his belongings and moved into his new accommodation, a two-bedroom apartment at 215 West Park, Addington. He was now completely alone in the world, no known relatives. Apart from three paragraphs in the local newspapers detailing the suspected hijacking, there was no other evidence of a crime committed. The BMW was never recovered, and no one was ever arrested.

For the next two and a half years, Jake existed. He worked, ate, slept, surfed, and on occasion, dated. He never seemed able to make any lasting attachments. One-night stands were the order of the day until they, too, became a bit of a blur.

Realizing he was in a rut, he decided to make a concerted effort that 2020 would be the year he would find some direction in his life.

Chapter Four

Kate

O

n November 11, 1989, Katherine Jane Biggins, the first child of Rupert and Jane Biggins, arrived at six pounds, fourteen ounces. Despite being on the small side, she was healthy in all aspects; and with a perfect set of lungs, she let everyone know she had arrived.

The Biggins family of Geneva, Illinois, fell into what could be referred to as a typical middle-class Midwest family. Father and mother, both born and raised in the area, met at college, graduated together, and married soon after. With the birth of her daughter imminent, Jane resigned from her job to be a full-time stay-at-home mother.

Katherine was named after Rupert’s mother, who had died when he was thirteen. His father had died two years previously. The middle name Jane was in honor of Jane’s late mother, also named Jane, a family tradition normally associated with the first son but, in their case, transferred to the first daughter. Jane’s father had died when she was only two years old.

With Jane and Rupert being only children, they were determined to not let their daughter suffer the same fate. Fourteen months later, Marc Biggins arrived, followed a further eleven months after that by another daughter, Laura Biggins. The Biggins family was complete.

Three children under the age of three proved a handful for Jane, and the thought of returning to work was quickly dispelled. With no aunts, uncles, or cousins, the entire Biggins clan was alone in the world.

Kate and her two siblings started school at Geneva Elementary exactly one year apart. Jane was a diligent student, who seldom scored anything other than As throughout. She compensated for her lack of sporting talents by joining the debate team and was also a member of science club and the chess team.

As she grew older, she attracted members of the opposite sex with her jet-black hair, piercing blue eyes, and friendly nature. High school dating never amounted to much more than hand holding and kissing. She graduated high school in the spring of 2007, winning the mathematics prize and her virginity intact.

In the fall of the same year, she enrolled at the University of Illinois in Champaign to do a bachelor of science degree majoring in computer modeling with a second in computer programming. Her outstanding high school marks resulted in her being rewarded with a full academic scholarship.

Moving into residence at the Champaign campus, she experienced living away from home for the first time. Although sad to leave her parents and siblings behind, the thought of university life excited her. Though her studies were foremost in her mind, she did not avoid the campus social life. Although actively recruited by the numerous sorority houses, she chose to live on campus, in the dormitory.

During the first semester, she decided against any social life and concentrated solely on her studies. With her lectures planned, she found she had a good deal of time on her hands. Having had much success with the debate team in high school, she joined the freshman ladies’ equivalent on campus. It was here that her college social life took off.

One of the first debates she took part in was against the junior men’s team. The topic was Does premarital sex lead to infidelity in marriage? As a test of their debating skills, the women had to argue that it did not, leaving the men to argue that it did.

A lively and hilarious debate ensued, both sexes arguing against what most of them believed. The men argued that sexual intercourse should be held back until the couple was married, and the women said to just go for it. The easy and open discussion on premarital sex surprised Kate, who had always been of the opinion that one should wait until married. The debate was declared a tie, and the two teams shook hands.

The last man to shake Kate’s hand was a tall, good-looking fellow, the typical all-American—six foot two, blond hair, dark-brown eyes, and a confident attitude. Hi. I am David Rainor. I am pleased to meet you, Katherine Biggins.

Surprised he knew her name, Kate stammered, Hi. Please call me Kate. How do you know my name?

It took some sleuthing, but then I noticed your name tag. You made some great points during the debate. Almost convinced me that a lot of sex before marriage is the way to go.

Blushing, she replied, Not really, but if you want to debate, you need to be convincing. Your team was hilarious! I could see it was difficult for the men to argue that case. Although concentrating on her studies and limiting her free time, Kate decided that if David asked her out, she would make an exception.

It took David the best part of three months before he finally asked Kate out on a date. Neither was flush with money, so the first date was coffee, and most of the subsequent ones were the same.

David Rainor was a junior, doing his third year of law. He was from Bloomington, Illinois, and an only child. Kate and David dated exclusively through her freshman year but never went any further than heavy petting. David, being more experienced than Kate, honored her refusal to take the final step.

At the end of her freshman year, Kate bade farewell to David and returned home to Geneva. Her brother, Marc, announced that he was joining the Marines and would be heading off to boot camp in San Diego just three weeks after finishing high school. His plan was to serve his time, and at the end of it, he would enroll at a university and study electrical engineering.

Laura was entering her senior year at high school and had many options open to her. Unlike Kate, she was a sporting powerhouse. She was actively courted by a number of colleges with both track and basketball scholarships on offer.

With David in his final year at the University of Illinois and with his plan to continue his law studies at the University of Chicago, Kate realized that at the end of the school year, she would no longer see him on a day-to-day basis. It was with this in mind that she finally capitulated and informed him that she was ready to make love to him.

After the initial discomfort, Kate took to sex like a duck to water. Whenever the opportunity arose, she spent the night with David. As a senior, he had a dormitory room to himself; and although cohabitation was frowned upon, nobody bothered to pay much attention.

Kate finished her sophomore year with her record of straight As unblemished. David, with his bachelor’s degree complete, now looked forward to three more years of school. With their separation about to become a reality, Kate decided it was time her parents met David.

David was an instant success with the Biggins family. Both parents thought the sun rose and set on him. Younger sister, Laura, fell completely in love with him and informed her older sibling that if the romance failed, she would be happy to take over. The only somber note was that Marc had been posted to Afghanistan, and his tour would only end in December of that year.

Kate and David said their farewells, and both decided that it would be fine to date others if the occasion arose. School holidays for David would mean finding an intern job with one of the Chicago law firms and would limit the time he could spend with Kate. Kate, sensing David might be backing out of their relationship, decided she would play it by ear, not forcing him into any commitment.

During her junior and senior years, Kate saw very little of David. She went on dates when asked but tried to keep them as one-offs. Deciding that she should take part in the whole college experience, she started attending many of the parties held on and off campus.

Like many of her peers, she experimented sexually. She tried making out with other females but found she preferred men. By graduation day in May 2011, she had come to the decision that if he was still interested in her, David was the one.

The whole Biggins family, including Marc, attended her graduation ceremony. She had been offered the opportunity to return to the university to do her master’s degree but decided not to take the offer. She had been actively recruited during her senior year, and she decided to take an offer from Chicago-based AON Insurance Company.

Kate’s daily commute by train from Geneva to Downtown Chicago started off as fun but soon became a burden. Accommodation in the city was out of the question as it was way too expensive. After an extensive search, she found a small apartment in the town of Berwyn, four stops from Union Station, on the BNSF line.

With David still studying and working whenever he could, Kate had seen very little of him since she started her job. With more free time on her hands now that she lived closer to the city, she decided to make contact again.

She called David’s cell phone and, getting no reply, left a message. It took him two days to reply, citing study pressure. After the initial greetings and updates, Kate suggested they meet up for coffee, her treat. She had decided that if he was still interested, she would suggest that he move in with her to save costs and also to give him a calm environment in which to study. Putting the option to David, he agreed immediately. One of the reasons he had kept away from contacting Kate was the lack of funds on his part, and he didn’t want to sponge off her.

On November 11, 2011, David moved in with Kate, on her twenty-second birthday. They immediately announced their engagement. With David due to complete his law degree in the following summer, they planned to get married on June 16, 2012.

David started his job with Hickman, Hickman and Scales exactly one week after graduation. With the upcoming wedding one month away, planning was in full swing.

The wedding was held at St. Martins in Geneva. With family, friends, and selected work colleagues, just under fifty people were in attendance. Marc had managed to get time off from his marine unit now based in Beaufort, South Carolina. Her sister, Laura, was the maid of honor, and David’s high school buddy was the best man. The reception was held at Geneva Country Club.

With speeches and toasts over, the party started with the traditional first dance. The newly married couple was on a tight schedule. Their flight from O’Hare to Hawaii was scheduled for the same evening. With congratulations ringing in their ears, the couple left the reception, on their way to their honeymoon.

Once the reception was over, the Biggins family piled into their car and, with Laura driving, headed for Downtown Chicago to drop Marc off at Union Station. They never made it. With the Saturday evening traffic on the I-90 starting to slow, their car was struck from behind by an out-of-control sixteen-wheeler.