The Killing Pit : The start of an adrenaline pumping new crime series for 2021 from the author of One Last Prayer for the Rays (A Jake Pettman Thriller)

by Wes Markin

  “There’s a missing girl, Chief―”

  “And there’s an ecosystem. In this town, as well as any other. And it’s our ecosystem. If I start calling up the relatives of some of our most respected residents, how does that make us look?”

  Capable? Jake thought. Proactive?

  “Look, I’m not a betting man, but, if I was, I would put my money on her being where her parents say she is. And until I suspect otherwise, I have an ecosystem to think of.”

  “But the bruises? Devin and Sean had been scrapping, and the father too, it sounds like.”

  “People fight, Mr. Pettman. Especially in towns like this. Looking at your face, I’m guessing you’re no stranger to it either.”

  Jake gripped the underside of the desk as a need to stand up and shout grew. He heard more raucous laughter and another shout from the female officer. He stared at Gabriel, who fidgeted over the disarray on his shop floor. Sensing weakness, Jake nodded at a photograph of an older officer with a handlebar moustache, looking proud and capable, on the wall behind Gabriel. Earl Jewell. Chief of Police. 1980.

  “Your father?” Jake asked.

  “Yes, if it’s any business of yours, Mr. Pettman.”

  “Would he be responding to my concerns in the same way?”

  “I don’t know. Things change. I earned my stripes on my own time.”

  “I don’t doubt it, Chief. I just hope that, deep down, you care about a missing fifteen-year-old girl, because I do. Very much.”

  “Sounds almost threatening.”

  Jake leaned back in his chair. “Just a concerned citizen.”

  “You can be assured that if there’s a need to care, I’ll care.”

  “And what about this Jotham MacLeoid? Is he part of this delicate ecosystem you mentioned?”

  Gabriel drummed his fingers on the table. “Well, our Piper really has been talking.”

  “You leave her out of this. This is down to me. I ask a lot of questions.”

  “Well, keep asking questions, but you won’t get the answers you want. Mr. MacLeoid has brought nothing but good to this town. You’ll struggle to find a bad word spoken against him. I think we’re done here, Mr. Pettman.”

  I think we were done here a long time ago, Jake thought.

  Gabriel stood and offered his hand.

  Jake pretended he hadn’t noticed. “Same way out?”

  “I’ll take you so you can leave your details with Ro. And, Mr. Pettman, I will look into it, and, if there’s anything to it, I’ll raise the alarm. But, if there isn’t, I thank you for being a good American citizen and showing concern. But can I offer one piece of advice?”

  Jake nodded. I can guess what’s coming.

  Gabriel leaned in. “Don’t hang around too long, Mr. Pettman. This is not a place for outsiders. I’d hate any harm to come to you.”

  Jake sighed. “Thank you for the cliché, Chief. I’ll be sure to call later to find out if you’ve made any headway.”

  Outside, the victimised officer was smoking.

  Jake went to stand beside her.

  “Want one?” she asked.

  Jake shook his head. “No thanks.”

  “I work with dickheads.”

  “I noticed. I also noticed that your boss is the biggest one.”

  She laughed and showed a fist. “Maybe I should just go in swinging?”

  “I’m sure you will one day. I’ll be happy to pick up ringside seats when you do.”

  She stood up straight and threw her cigarette on the ground. “You’re funny.” She faced him and brushed fluff off his Barbour jacket. “Scruffy, but funny. You also must be about a foot taller than me.”

  “More, I reckon.”

  “Fine. I like being down here. Although it doesn’t help keep me inconspicuous. Especially up there.” She nodded toward the station.

  “You don’t want to be inconspicuous. You’re better than that.”

  “You mean, show them my worth?” She raised her eyebrows and laughed. “How do you think that will go?”

  “Don’t know. But don’t let them grind you down.”

  She pointed at the station. “Is it that bad in England?”

  “I’ve seen some things, but overall, no. I’ve never seen anything quite as bad as that.”

  “It wasn’t mine you know.”

  “What?”

  “The G-string.”

  Jake smiled. “I gathered that.”

  “I’m Lillian Sanborn. Lil for short.” She proffered her hand, like Gabriel had done before.

  He was happy to shake hers. “And I’m Jake Pettman. I’m descended from the Bickfords. Thought I best get that out in the open right away. It seems to be a source of great anxiety to anyone who finds out.”

  “Never heard of them.”

  “Great. Now how did you end up working with them?” He pointed at the station.

  “My mom worked as a cleaner her whole life. Was spoken to like shit on a daily basis. Mainly by men, including my father. A few years ago, I decided to change the record and join the police. Put some steel into the Sanborn women.”

  “Bet she was proud.”

  “Graduation was the proudest day of her life. She’s in a nursing home with Alzheimer’s now. She can’t remember much, but she can remember that. I’m glad she doesn’t know what a circus I walked into.”

  “You walked into that, and you’re surviving. Hats off to you.”

  “Yeah. Great. I spend most of my time either in that building, issuing traffic citations, or rescuing cats from trees. Every time anything even remotely exciting happens, I’m relegated to the coffee station.”

  Jake smiled. “I’m still stuck at exciting. Here, really?”

  “It’s been known to happen … I’m going nuts. And I’m bored. What would you do?”

  Jake considered his most recent behaviours. Those that made him flee the UK. “I’m probably not the best person to ask.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, I’d probably look for something to do. Maybe put some things right.”

  “Easier said than done. Have you seen any problems worth solving?”

  Jake smiled. “As a matter of fact, I have.”

  Having been wound up by Jake Pettman, Gabriel struggled to control his demons on his journey to see Jotham. At the bottom of Main Street, he slowed as he drove past a couple of fourteen-year-old girls enjoying their weekend.

  They smiled at him out of respect for his status.

  He smiled back at them because his demons told him to. He circled back on himself so he could cruise past them a second time.

  Again, they saw him, and again, they smiled. They wouldn’t think anything of him circling—just a concerned man of law patroling his streets …

  Except wasn’t that a glint in one of those young smiles? And wasn’t that curiosity in that young lady’s raised eyebrows?

  His demons seemed to think so.

  Then, throughout the rest of the journey, he couldn’t still his beating heart and his baser instincts until his demons cackled so loudly and so violently he eventually found himself in a small rest stop, relieving himself into a tissue.

  When he arrived at Jotham’s house, he warned the old drug dealer that the conversation was serious. “They always are with you, Gabriel.”

  So, together, they went for a walk around the property. Jotham carried his rifle, which Gabriel wasn’t best pleased about, but he let it go. Jotham could handle a lot of heat, but shooting the chief of police may be one step too far even for him.

  Every time Gabriel tried to start the conversation, Jotham would shake his head. “Not yet. Let’s just enjoy the quiet a moment longer.”

  Gabriel bit his lip. He really couldn’t be bothered with the old bastard, but arguing, as they so often did, always ended unproductively.

  Eventually, Jotham stopped and faced him. His long white hair rose in a gust of wind that raced over the empty field. “How can I help you, Gabriel?”

  “Maddi
e Thompson.”

  Jotham raised an eyebrow. A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “The Thompson kid? What about her? Did you fuck her?”

  Gabriel flinched. He supressed the urge to lunge for Jotham. He instead focused on a bouquet of colourful warblers swirling low over the fields. It did little to calm him. He turned back. “I don’t appreciate you speaking to me like that.”

  “Maybe I’m out of line, Gabriel, but you don’t get to come here to interrogate me like I’m some drunken bum in one of your fucking jail cells.”

  “I simply mentioned a name to you Jo―”

  “You mentioned a young girl’s name to me to provoke a response.”

  Gabriel took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s try this again. Someone came to the station to report Maddie Thompson missing. Your name came up.”

  “Who?”

  “A man named Jake Pettman.” He paused to see if Jotham would exhibit a response. He didn’t. “A tall British man. He’s only been in town a couple days.”

  “Why would a tourist be interested in Maddie Thompson?”

  “He’s not a tourist. He’s got an American passport. He’s also descended from the Bickfords.”

  “The Bickfords! You’re shitting me!”

  “That’s what he said.”

  Jotham laughed. “The Bickfords! Jesus. Thought that line would have long since burned out. Probably best for all if it had.”

  “Do we need to be worried, Jo?”

  “Well, if the man really is a Bickford, it’s certainly something to worry about! Blood is blood, Gabriel, you know that as well as me. You are your daddy, and I am mine.” Jotham stared across the field. He’d clearly caught sight of the warblers too. “Who has he been talking to?”

  “Piper Goodwin. When Maddie didn’t turn up for work, she got worried and spoke to Pettman.”

  “Uh-huh.” Jotham nodded.

  “They’ve both been round to see the family.”

  Jotham stared at Gabriel.

  “The Thompsons told them Maddie is staying with relatives in Vermont.”

  “Sounds reasonable.”

  “So, if I call these relatives, Jo, will she be there?”

  Jotham laughed. He lifted his rifle and fired into the warblers. They dispersed. “Sounds like another interrogation to me.”

  “Look, Jo,” Gabriel said, shrugging, “if you don’t want my help, that’s fine―”

  Jotham lowered his rifle, turned back to Gabriel, narrowed his eyes and stepped toward him. “Oh, I want your help, alright. You tell this Bickford sonofabitch that Maddie is with her relatives, and then you tell him to leave town by the same road his ancestors did.”

  “You don’t tell me what to do, Jo.”

  “No? Okay, call it advice. And you must know by now, Gabriel, that my advice is worth a hell of a lot. Get him out of town.”

  “Jesus, Jo. Maddie Thompson? She’s just a kid.”

  Jotham snorted. “If there’s one person who shouldn’t be passing judgement in that department, Gabriel, it’s you.”

  “Those rumors again?”

  Jotham chortled. “Was it a rumor when you asked me personally for the youngest-looking whore up at the Edge?”

  “Fuck you, Jo.”

  Jotham smiled. “I like your bile, Gabriel. Now spit some of it in the direction of this Bickford kid.”

  “I’ll consider it.”

  “Stick to what we do best, like our daddies did, and we’ll die old and fat in our beds.”

  “I don’t want to get fat, Jo.”

  Jotham waved him away. “I’ve got other things on my mind right now, Gabriel. Big things. Sensitive things.”

  “Care to share?”

  Jotham took a moment, clearly considering it, then shook his head. “No. I’ll handle it. Safer that way.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “I’m going this way.” Jotham pointed toward the warblers. “I’m sure you can find your way back.”

  As he walked away, Gabriel thought of Kayla in his spare room and smiled to himself. And there she will stay, far away from you, you sick fuck.

  6

  STINSON LAKE WAS a long and narrow body of water.

  “Took its name from a family of early settlers who lost a small child in the water here,” Lillian said.

  A strong wind cut into the lake, and Jake watched the ripple spread.

  “Used to be a popular summer spot a long time back.”

  “Until that?” Jake pointed at the twenty-foot-high wooden wall which spread across the entire other side of the long lake.

  “Yes,” Lillian said and sighed.

  To reach the lake, Jake and Lillian had walked a long muddy track and cut through a woodland. The scenery had been jaw dropping and had reminded him of home. Now, faced with the monstrous wall, Jake could see the significance of their draconian planning permission laws back in England. This most perfect spot had been desecrated.

  Jake sat on a small mound of grass at the water’s edge. He felt the moisture seep through into his pants but wasn’t bothered. This wet and muddy world was the one he’d been raised in.

  Lillian decided to remain standing.

  His question outside the station to Lillian had been, “So who the bloody hell is this Jotham MacLeoid?”

  Her response was to bring him here.

  “So, this is the kind of man Jotham is,” Lillian said. “He builds a wall to shut out the world.”

  “Secretive.”

  “Maybe. Except people already know nothing good is happening in there. He doesn’t need a wall. No one in their right mind would step onto that property unless invited—or told to, anyway! I think it’s about intimidation. A symbol. A look-at-the-size-of-my-dick symbol.”

  Jake smiled and nodded. “So, how did his dick get so big?”

  “By giving the town exactly what it needed.”

  “No offence, but judging by how rundown your town looks, I’m not sure he’s giving out that much.”

  “A deception. There are people in this town with a lot of money, and there are also people in the town given enough so they toe the line while thanking their lucky stars. Don’t be fooled by some boarded-up shops on the main street. People are living well. He’s got most people eating out of his hand.”

  Jake gestured at the wooden fence. “So, these are his palace walls?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Who are the MacLeoids?”

  “Traditionally, the MacLeoids were dog breeders. During prohibition, they ran a liquor racket. Over time, Jotham’s father, Boyd MacLeoid, continued the family name by being a local bully who shook down businessowners for protection and kept the town supplied with recreational drugs during the swinging sixties. Nothing could prepare Blue Falls for Jotham though. He’s the worst of the lot.”

  He sighed. “You’re about to tell me he’s more than just a farmer, aren’t you?” Inside, he felt disappointed that Piper had held back on him last night.

  “Well, depends how you define a farmer. He definitely farms goods. Although, I think the more correct definition would be cooks.”

  His eyes widened.

  Lillian nodded. “I think I may have signed some kind of death warrant for myself telling you that.” She shrugged. “Ah well, fuck it. Maybe they’ll stop looking at me like some pathetic little girl.”

  Jake had stopped listening. “He makes drugs”—he pointed at the wall—“in there?”

  “Yep. He has a meth lab beneath his property.”

  “And everybody in town knows about it?”

  Lillian nodded again. “He has many people in the town working for him. Some in the lab itself, others distributing in other areas.”

  Piper’s spiderweb. Gabriel’s ecosystem. They all amounted the same thing. “This is corruption. Why is no one contacting the Maine State Police? The FBI? Someone?”

  “Are you not listening? Everyone is terrified of him.”

  “He’s one man.”

&nbs
p; “He’s one man with a lot of power and a lot of allies. If he knew I was telling you this now, you’d struggle to find me tomorrow.”

  “Still, if he’s taken out with one fell swoop …”

  “Except it doesn’t work like that, does it? You know that as well as me. You’re police. You have the little matter of suspicion, evidence, and bureaucracy. The state police won’t swoop in and arrest on a phone call from you, Jake. They turn up to investigate, the town will close ranks. He’ll probably torch his lab before they acquire a search warrant. Then, after they leave, people will die. And he’ll start all over again.”

  Jake noticed movement at the top of the wooden wall directly opposite them. Someone was accessing a small pedestal with a chair on it, almost like a lookout tower, presumably from a ladder on the other side.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Lillian said. “No one has ever seen him on that.”

  The lake was so narrow that Jake could clearly see the older man with the long white hair looking out from his pedestal. He had a hand up in greeting. In the other hand, he held a can of some kind.

  “Is this his fucking throne?” Jake said.

  “Hello!” Jotham called across the lake.

  Jake nodded in response.

  “Nothing like drinking the beer from your own lake,” Jotham called.

  And then Jake recalled the awful beer he’d been drinking the night before—Stinson IPA. Jake eyed Lillian. “His lake?” he asked quietly, although he wouldn’t be heard unless he shouted.

  “No. The lake isn’t his, but he probably does feel like he owns everything.”

  “Come and join me,” Jotham called. “I have a cooler full of beer.”

  “No, thank you,” Jake called back.

  “I understand. No drinking on duty, eh Lillian?” Jotham called.

  Lillian sighed at Jake still perched on the mound. “We should go.”

  “Why? This is just getting interesting.”

  “Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve been saying?”

  “Of course, I have, but when you run from a dog, it chases. And being descended from dog breeders, he’ll know that. So the best thing you can do right now, Lillian, is carry on telling me about him.”