Carson found the computer that monitors the interior of the police department. A few mouse clicks to the screen and he was able to pull up live feed from the hallway where he met with his stupid brother.
Carson had made sure to move them outside of the security camera sight but the bathroom doors were in full view. He rewound the video feed and saw himself on tape, letting his brother in. They both disappeared behind the corner and less than 60 seconds later another figure appeared.
Carson watched in horror as a young lady walked into the hall and looked around before sneaking to the corner. She probably had a great view of him and Greg from that vantage point.
Carson leaned closer to the monitor and slammed his fist down on the desk. She’s fucking videotaping them! He had to find her but first he had to get rid of this evidence. He looked around the room and spotted a sign that read “No food or drink near computers, Please. THIS MEANS YOU!”
Carson reached into the small refrigerator against the far wall and grabbed a can of Coke from the shelf. He quickly ran the video feed back to the spot where he entered with his brother. Finding it, he popped the soda top and emptied the whole can onto the computer interface. The screen went black.
Carson flicked the handwritten sign with a smirk, dropped the empty Coke can on the floor and flipped off the lights as he strode out the door.
Chapter One Hundred One
Lieutenant Carson made his way back to the lobby and looked out the floor to ceiling glass doors. He watched with a stony expression as the local news reporters and vultures swarmed. He made eye contact with one particular vulture.
Carson has no grace for the press and Bernstein was one of the worst. Bernstein was consistent with his vilification of the police and he had routinely rubbed Carson the wrong way. And there she is. The girl from the video. She’s locked in conversation with Bernstein. She had no idea what she was playing at. She had to go.
Chapter One Hundred Two
Kevin glanced up at the front of the police department and saw Carson staring out at them. Sarah turned to see what Kevin was looking at. “You know him?”
“That guy is so weird. I swear, if looks could kill.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“What would you know about it?”
“He was in there arguing with someone”
“I’ll bet. He has a wicked temper.”
Sarah pulled Kevin’s arm and turned him to face her. “I’m serious. I think he had something to do with this whole Shaw thing.”
Kevin swatted her hand from his arm, “Are you crazy?”
“Kevin, I’m serious! I saw him arguing in the hallway with some guy who was accusing him of having something to do with Shaw’s disappearance!”
“I’m sure you have that wrong. You’re young and new and bound to see conspiracy behind every corner.”
“I know what I saw, and what I heard.”
“ You don’t know what you’re talking about, kid. Take a little advice from someone who used to be just like you. Be very careful about accusing someone of his stature. Yes, he’s a little stoic but he’s a cop. Not to mention, he’s a top cop. I have no doubt that someone accused him of something. But that crazy person is just that, crazy. They get weird tips all the time and what you heard was probably just another nut job doing what he does best.”
Sarah looked down at her shoes and frowned. Doubt crept in. Maybe what she saw really wasn’t as sinister as she thought. She did have a pretty active imagination.
Kevin tipped her chin up so he could look her in the eye. “Look kid, you have a long career ahead of you. Don’t go off the deep end so quick, ok?”
Sarah jerked her chin out of Kevin’s hand and let her sarcasm flow, “Yes, boss.”
Clearly, Kevin wasn’t going to believe her so she decided to hold the video close to her chest. Maybe one day it’ll come in handy but she will keep that card for another day.
Chapter One Hundred Three
Day Two
I awake slowly and my head feels thick with fog. Its pitch black and I’m freezing. The last thing I remember is Mr. Melty face. That bastard drugged me and dumped me somewhere. Whatever he had put in that coffee sure was heavy duty. The cobwebs in my head were clearing quickly but the onset of a wicked headache was taking its place.
I wonder if he thought he managed to kill me? I frantically reach for my gun and find its gone. In fact my entire duty belt is missing. My ankle holster is empty as well. And my uniform shirt! What the heck did he think he was doing? I’m still wearing my body armor, which is puzzling. I honestly don’t care why he left my vest on me I’m just grateful he did. Not only does the heaviness provide a little bit of warmth but I have my personal cell phone tucked safely inside the front pocket that holds the trauma plate. I quickly retrieve my phone and flip it open. Nothing. The light doesn’t come on. The battery must be dead.
I sit quietly on the floor, trying to get my bearings in the dark. I strain to hear anything that might indicate where I’m at but I don’t hear anything. I stand up a little too quickly and a wave of nausea threatens to make me upchuck on myself. I sit back down until it passes and then crawl across the floor gently feeling my way around.
The wall. I reach it and stand up slowly with one hand above my head. I’m hoping if it’s a low ceiling or something my hand will find out before my noggin does. I don’t need another reason for my head to hurt. Standing to my full height without encountering any head trauma I continue to feel along the wall, moving counter clockwise until I feel a round metal protrusion. A door! I try to twist the knob but it doesn’t turn. It must be locked. I pull harder and still nothing budges.
I give up on the door for the time being and commit to exploring the dungeon I’m in. I continue counterclockwise, my hands running along the wall. It feels rough like concrete. I count my steps in an attempt to get some semblance of measurement. Approximately ten feet from the door my hand meets what feels like plastic. I tear at it and a sliver of light penetrates the hole I’ve made. It’s a black garbage bag taped up against a window. I pull it fully aside and let the dingy light in.
Its daylight outside but the window only looks into a window well. I must be below ground in a basement. The window is so dirty and the window well is filled with garbage. No one would be able to see me in here. I briefly consider yelling for help but since I have no idea where I am, I don’t want to chance the wrong person finding me. I don’t want to chance alerting Mr. Melty face either. If he thinks I am dead then I don’t want him to know otherwise. At least, not until its too late.
My mind races with questions. Who is he working with? He couldn’t have pulled this off alone. Which means I may not be able to trust anyone. How did he find out? Did Shorty turn against me? Did he see my car on his way out of the docks? I really need to figure out how to get out of here. Before he comes back.
I tear the garbage bag fully from the window and using some spit and the edge of my undershirt I do my best to wipe enough grime off the window to let more light in. I take survey of my prison.
It’s a basement room with orange worn down carpet. It smells like mold and dead mice. There isn’t much in here other than some broken down furniture piled in a corner along with some old painters buckets and a drop cloth. No phone jacks, no power outlets. It’s cold but not unbearable.
Now that I have a little daylight to help me, I go back to the door and examine it more closely. It’s old, wood and solid to the core. I examine the doorknob and discover there’s no locking mechanism on the inside. In fact it looks as if it’s been turned around. Locked from the exterior. Well isn’t this special.
I examine the door hinges and find them rusty. If I can find a tool of some kind, I might be able to knock the hinges pins out. I go back and make my way around the perimeter of the room and end up standing in front of the pile of broken furniture. I consider breaking a leg off a chair and using it for leverage. I spend some time untwisting a chair leg from its s
eat. It’s made of wood and soft from the damp and age. It doesn’t seem sturdy enough and I throw it back on the floor Damn I wish I had my knife. I found a penny on the floor and wedge it in the top of the screw and twist. It’s not working. I just bash the chair and stomp on it until its in splinters and now I can use the long screw.
I try the top hinge first. Its rusty but it’s coming out. I get it free and move to the lower one but no the door is kinda bent so it’s not aligned properly. It takes a lot of shoving and pushing and I’m sweating in less than five minutes. I’m still feeling weak from whatever drug was in that coffee but I manage to get out the second pin. Now I just need to find something to wedge in the doorframe to get it open.
While I work I wonder what’s happening outside this place. I’m sure the department is on full alert. I went missing during my shift for crying out loud. There must be officers everywhere. All I need to do is get out of here. My guy’s must be worried sick. And I have to admit I’m a little worried as well. Just as I’m about to give up in my search for something to open the door with I hear voices.
I press my ear to the heavy door trying to make out who is outside. Maybe some homeless person is trying to find a place to bed down or for recycling. I bang on the door in my cop banging way. Hard and with purpose
“Hello? Is someone out there? I’m stuck in here!”
The voices stop.
“Hello? Is anyone out there? Please help. Or call 911 to get someone to help!”
I stop and listen. I hear shuffling getting closer “Hello?” Voices on the other side are whispering.
I bang on the door again and yell louder, “Hello! Please help, I’m locked in here!”
“No one’s supposed to be in there.” It sounds like a kids voice.
“I know, help, let me out”
“Are you a ghost?” The voice belongs to a little girl, maybe eight to ten years old.
They shouldn’t be down here. Wherever “here” is. It’s not safe but in this city there aren’t many places for kids to play anyway. “No I’m not a ghost!”
“Are you a vampire?”
“I promise I’m not a ghost or a vampire or anything like that. Please let me out.”
“It’s locked on the outside.”
“Are you alone?”
“No.”
I hear a second voice, “Sssh! Don’t tell her that we are here. Are you crazy? Now she’s gonna haunt all of us!”
“Can you go get your mommy or daddy to help me?”
“No way! I’ll get in trouble if they know I’m down here.”
A short pause followed and then, “I gotta go.” I hear footsteps running away and before I know it they are gone.
I bang on the door as hard and loudly as I can but the kids don’t return. Damn it!
Chapter One Hundred Four
Jamilla and her two friends ran out of the old abandoned greenhouse. She was so disappointed. This was one of their favorite places to play and now it was haunted!
Back in the sunlight the three ran through the field of weeds surrounding the lot and squeezed through the small hole in the fence. Back out on the sidewalk, Jamilla was out of breath and her little body was trembling. “I’m going home and telling my mama!”
Emory, ten years old and always the boss of their adventures, scolded her. “No you aint! You snitch on us and we will never get to play here again. Don’t be a baby!”
“I’m not a baby”
“Yes, you are. You’re a baby snitch!”
Jamilla shoved Emory hard. “I am not! Just cuz you’re a boy doesn’t mean you can bully me!”
“No one’s hurting you, baby snitch. If you tell, that lady ghost is gonna haunt you forever.”
Jeremiah tried to rationalize the voice in the basement, “Or maybe it’s a lady stuck in there?” Jeremiah is eight years old, the same as Jamilla. They have been friends since they were babies and he has always been her protector. Jamilla thought Jeremiah was brave and was grateful he was there to stick up for her.
Emory was unrelenting, “That aint no lady, it’s a ghost! And if you tell, her spirit is gonna haunt you.”
Jeremiah’s bravery made Jamilla feel brave too. “I don’t believe anything you say, Em! I’m going home. I don’t want to play with you anymore.”
Jeremiah tried to play the peacekeeper and placing his hand on her shoulder he reminded her, “You just can’t tell, Jam. You know how your mama gets. She will be watching us every minute if she knows we disobeyed and came here. I don’t want to get in trouble and I don’t want her to forbid us to play together.”
Emory smirked, “Vampires and ghosts don’t like it when you tell on them, baby snitch.”
Jamilla looked at Jeremiah, “I won’t tell.”
“You promise?”
“Sure, I promise.” Jamilla crossed her heart and hoped to die.
Jeremiah smiled at her and took her hand in his. “I’ll walk you home.”
Emory stood on the sidewalk and watched them go. “Bye baby snitch!”
Jamilla turned and stuck her tongue out at Em. He was so mean! She was glad she had Jeremiah to walk her home. Emory was wrong.
She isn’t a baby, she is a big girl but she still gets a little scared once in a while. She didn’t like ghosts or vampires. Jamilla had seen enough movies to know they could hurt her if they wanted to.
Even with Jeremiah holding her hand she felt a little shiver at the thought of being haunted. But she never broke a promise.
Chapter One Hundred Five
Jamilla barely ate any of her dinner but Mama didn’t notice. Being one of the youngest of five kid’s meant you could get lost in the shuffle. No one really paid too much attention to the little kids when her bigger brothers and sisters were always causing so much trouble. The bigger kids were loud and noisy and her littlest sister, Sissy, needed lots of Mama’s attention.
At bedtime, Jamilla said her prayers and crawled into bed. Her mama shut out the lights and closed the door. Jamilla may not be a baby but she still got scared of the dark. She had a little nightlight in the corner of the room. There’s just enough light to see her way to the bathroom in the middle of the night if she needed it.
Jamilla’s tummy hurt. She’s worried about the ghost lady. She looked over at Sissy snoring away in her bed. She was glad she shared a room with Sissy. She hated being alone. Jamilla climbed out of bed and crawled into bed with Sissy. She hugged her sissy tight and pulled the blankets over her head.
Jamilla’s scared. What if the lady ghost comes to get her when she’s asleep? What if the lady ghost is not a ghost at all but a vampire? What if the ghost vampire finds her and drinks out all her blood? Jamilla shivered at he thought.
The only thing was, that lady hadn’t sounded like a vampire. She sounded scared. And besides, vampires were supposed to sleep during the day, weren’t they? Same with ghosts. They don’t come out during the day.
Jamilla’s fear started to recede and is replaced by a little niggle of worry. Could the ghost vampire have been a real lady? Could she be stuck in the basement of the old greenhouse? If there’s a chance that it was a real lady in there, should she say something to mama? But Emory will know if she tells and he will call her a snitch forever. Her mama doesn’t like snitches either. She was forever telling her not to be a tattletale. Besides, her mama never believed her and if she got out of bed now she would for sure get two whoopin’s; one for getting up and the other for being where she wasn’t supposed to be.
Who could she tell? Her uncle Ronny is the biggest toughest guy she knows. Almost like a super hero. He always listens to her and believes her. If she tells him, he won’t tell mama. Uncle Ronny is never scared of anything! In that moment, Jamilla made up her mind to tell Uncle Ronny all about the ghost vampire and her tummy ache starts to go away. She can finally sleep now. She has a plan.
Chapter One Hundred Six
It’s been hours since the kids ran away and I can tell night has finally fallen. Nothing b
ut darkness. And roaches. The roaches don’t scare me but they are pretty nasty. Maybe now that’s it’s night Carson will come back. It’s been close to twenty-four hours I have had nothing to eat or drink. Not to mention that peeing in the corner is not only embarrassing, its stinking up the small room.
My fingertips are raw from trying to pull that old door away from the casing. The door is so swollen from the dampness that it’s wedged in there tight. I just keep hoping someone will come. The right someone. I decide I had better conserve my energy and try to sleep. There’s no telling how long I’ll be in here.
Chapter One Hundred Seven
It must have been the middle of the night because it was dark when Jamilla opened her eyes. The nightmare woke her. She had dreamed that an evil old ghost lady chased her, screaming “HELP ME!” Jamilla tried to hide but the bad ghost lady wouldn’t stop chasing her.
In her dream Jamilla had run and run and run down a long hallway that never ended. The ghost lady chased her relentlessly. Jamilla had made the mistake of looking back and when she saw the evil old ghost lady closing in on her, Jamilla fell to the cold floor. Jamilla looked up and the ghost lady reached out one transparent hand towards her. Jamilla closed her eyes and screamed her head off. That’s when she woke up. Jamilla hated bad dreams.
Jamilla could hear her Mama and her Mama’s friends laughing loudly in the living room. Maybe it’s a party and they didn’t invite her? Jamilla took the risk that Mama would see her and peeked her head out the door.
Caught! “Little girl, I told you to stay in bed. Aint nothing for you out here except an ass whooping!”
Roland P D Omnibus Page 23