Letters From the Grave

FBI arranged for him to look at the coins recovered from Ryan’s truck. He left before dawn and expected to be back in Lafayette late that same night. It was a long trip, but doable.

  The Texas Department of Public Safety was at 4545 Dacoma St. in Houston. The coins were in safe keeping in the Evidence Room. Jake located the building without difficulty and was invited into a small room with a table and three utility chairs. The boxes of coins were delivered on a cart by two Troopers. They were wrapped together with clear plastic wrap and a yellow “evidence” sheet laminated inside several layers of the wrapping.

  The Troopers cut the wrapping away and let Jake look at the six boxes, one at a time. Inside each box were small coin shipping cartons that he’d used for storage in his safes. It was all jumbled, but it certainly looked like his collection. After an hour, he had checked each coin against his master list. Every coin matched using value, date, mint mark, and any special notes from his inventory. They were unquestionably all his, but the checklist showed that about half were still missing. The FBI had confirmed that Ryan sold at least one of the coins, which he was able to purchase back from the dealer for a slight fee. Ryan could not have sold many.

  Jake was asked to observe the re-wrapping and tagging as evidence before the collection was wheeled out by one of the Troopers, back to the evidence storage room, wherever that was. The second Trooper, Gothinger, sat down across the table with a notepad. “Mr. Ramsey, you can read my name on my shirt, but folks here call me Goth.”

  Jake smiled. “All right, Goth, call me Jake.”

  “Fair enough. First, I’d like to keep a copy of that list you checked off.”

  “Okay with me.”

  “Jake, I gather there were more coins stolen from you?”

  “Yes. As you can see from my list, there’s only about half the collection here, and it was all stolen at the same time.”

  “Do you think Ryan had help and someone kept half?”

  “As far as I know, he only worked with a girl, but she was caught soon after the theft and didn’t have any coins. According to her statement in Georgia, Ryan had all the coins.”

  “Do you think she’s telling the truth?”

  Jake reflected before answering, trying not to think too much about Callie right now. “Yeah. She confessed everything, she didn’t have any reason to lie. She told the truth.”

  Goth continued. “Do you think he cashed in the missing coins?”

  “I doubt it. It’s too much to unload that quickly. Someone would have a record, and the FBI was been checking. He cashed one that we know about, but that’s all.”

  “How much are the missing coins worth?”

  “I don’t know exactly. Half are gone, but that might be more or less half of the total value. I’d have to figure it out, but it’s probably around half a million dollars.”

  Goth whistled. “You had that much in your house?”

  “Yeah. I never thought about it much. It took thirty years to collect it all.”

  Goth shook his head. “Man. That sure beats my Indian head nickel collection.”

  Jake smiled. “When do you think I’ll get these back?”

  “I can’t answer that. It’s not so important for our charges here and probably not in Alabama either, where Ryan is suspected of killing a Trooper, but the FBI will probably make the final decision. It could be a year of two if there are long trials and appeals. It might be shorter, it all depends.”

  “Will it be safe here?”

  “Yes, sir. The other Trooper and I witnessed your inventory, so there’s a good record even if they were lost or stolen, and insurance would cover it. But we never lost anything here, never.”

  The trip back to Lafayette was boring and his back was hurting from sitting in one position most of the day. He looked forward to a night’s sleep with the knowledge that at least half his coins would be returned. The other half was still a mystery which Ryan would hopefully unravel.

  It was only six o’clock but dark when he got back home. He decided to make an omelet for dinner when the phone range. The display said “unknown number.” He answered, “Hello.”

  “Ah, Mr. Ramsey?” Her voice was mellow and relaxing after his day on the road.

  “Yes.”

  “Mr. Ramsey, this is Julie LaRue.”

  He walked into the darkened living room, but didn’t sit down. “Ah, Hi. This is a surprise. Did you get the letters back yet?”

  “I should get them in a couple of days, but I got to thinking about them, about Bobby. It’s been such a long time, and I’ve had a nice life with my husband.”

  “It’s good to hear that, Julie.”

  “Can I call you Jake?”

  “I would like that.”

  She began speaking less tenuously and more relaxed. “Then I’ll call you Jake, since that’s the connection I know.”

  He paused but didn’t say anything, didn’t know what to say.

  She continued. “Jake, my husband died last year. We had a wonderful life, but it ended too soon.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Julie.” She’d been struck with tragedy twice with the men in her life. Talking to her was also raising emotions in him about Bobby that had been overshadowed for several months.

  “It’s okay, but thanks. Paul and I shared a great life, and I have no regrets. But, that’s not why I called. In fact, I don’t know why I called. It was an impulse. I was talking to the Georgia police about my address and started thinking about the letters. I haven’t looked at them in thirty years. I don’t even remember what most of them say except some of the good times he had flying over the jungles with you. He was always so vivid and able to describe things -- like painting a picture. In some of them, he sent me pictures of both of you together.”

  Jake sat down. “I remember some of the shots he was sending. He sometimes showed them to me when he put them in the envelope to you. We were both kids back then.”

  “We were all kids back then.”

  “Yeah.”

  She was quiet for a few moments. “Jake. Tell me what you remember about Bobby.”

  “There’s so many things, Julie -- what kind of things do you want to know?”

  “I don’t know. Was he happy? Did he like it down there? Did he like the Army? Did he ... what did he say about me?”

  They talked for twenty minutes. Jake recalled everything he could, but they had lived so close together for all those months that he couldn’t really describe their kinship.

  “Julie, he talked about you all the time. He wanted to marry you.”

  She smiled. “Do you think it was lonely isolation? Was he just fantasizing?”

  “No. Bobby had his head on right. He was more mature than most of the guys. He knew what he wanted.”

  “Jake, were you there when ... were you with him when ... you know.”

  He put his head back with his eyes closed, hoping to answer the right way, to say the right words. “Yes, Julie. We were together in the cockpit.”

  “How did it happen? Is it something that I should hear?” There was a perceptible quivering in her voice.

  Before he could answer, she said, “I don’t know why I’m asking this. It’s just part of the past that I want to close out? Do you think I’m being morbid?”

  “No, Julie. It’s a little painful for me, but I think you should know that Bobby died a hero. That’s the way he lived, and he died saving my life, giving his.”

  “Was he, was he in pain long?”

  “No. He died instantly. His parents received his metals for bravery that day. We were both going to die. Hell, the whole helicopter would have gone down if he hadn’t saved us. I’ll never forget that day.”

  “Oh, Jake, I don’t want to upset you.”

  “No, it’s okay. I probably should talk about it.”

  “Okay. Maybe we can talk again sometime. I’m going to look at the letters when I get them.
Can I call you again?”

  “Julie. I would like that.” Somehow, it felt good talking to her.

  Back on the Job

  Before dawn the next day, Jake was in his flight suit and ready to work. Out of curiosity, he drove past Will’s rental, which was dark with no cars outside, just like the last time. When he got to the Operations Center, he made a fresh pot of coffee and looked at the flight board that had been posted the night before. He was scheduled to fly a publicity company along the seacoast for aerial video. The first leg began at six thirty, to capture the sunrise along the coast. They would fly several legs throughout the day as activities changed at different sun angles. The last leg was at sunset, flying toward Corpus Christi. They would be flying below one thousand feet most of the day, and skimming the wave tops for some shots. The weather was forecast to be clear. Overall, it would be a fun day as long as the video crew followed instructions and no one fell out.

  Ross came in and talked briefly before disappearing into his office. The other pilots came in for morning coffee and to check their schedules. BJ came in around six. Jake had no peace in the office after his ordeal at sea. The pilots would always talk about how Jake Ramsey survived. It gave them all more confidence. It also caused them to check things more closely during pre-flight inspections.

  BJ made some final adjustments to the flight schedule then joined Jake at the coffee pot when all the other pilots had gone. “Well. How’d the trip to Houston go?”

  “I got half of it back, BJ.”

  “Only half?”

  “Looks that way. It’s better than nothing, and the FBI seems pretty confident that