by M J Preston
“That’s what my daughter says.”
Jodi knew she was scowling; it was fascinating how the thing held her gaze like a cat might do – never blinking, never looking away. It seemed to know she was curious about it and was returning the sentiment.
“He looks like the devil,” she said.
“My daughter says that, too.”
“Is he a pet?”
“Just a friend.”
“He’s a strange friend.”
“Old men have strange friends.”
Jodi turned toward the crime scene, arms crossed. “Well, like I said; he must be their king or something because he was herding the others over the bones of the kitten. I would have never looked over there if it hadn’t been for him.”
Joe Mac turned stiffly from the scene. “Take me home, if you would. Crime Scene can handle this without us. I want to check on Pamela before it gets too late.”
“Sure.”
As Joe Mac turned, the raven lifted off, and Jodi kept glancing up to see it circling them as they meandered across the field and through the woods and into the parking lot. And when they reached her vehicle, the raven came down with a formidable, utterly unafraid descent to land solidly on the roof of the squad car.
For the first time since she’d met him, Jodi saw Joe Mac smile. He reached up with his free left hand, and the enormous raven took two fearless steps toward him and hopped onto his forearm with a steel-vice grip. It bent its fearsome head – its hooked beak seemed sharp as black iron and much more frightening up close – and Joe Mac affectionately smoothed the glossy blue-black feathers.
“Go on,” said Joe Mac.
At the words the gigantic raven erupted into the sky with a grace and fearlessness that struck Jodi with instinctive amazement. She had never seen such a powerful creature explode upward with such utter confidence and grace. She muttered, “You two really are friends, aren’t you?” She realized she was gaping. “Did you say he’s a wild raven?”
“He comes when he wants. Goes when he wants. Seems pretty wild to me.”
“And he’s not scared of people?”
Joe Mac opened his door. “Why would he be scared of people? You can’t even get close to him unless he lets you.”
With a grunt, Jodi opened the door.
“Yeah. I wouldn’t be scared of anything, either.”
* * *
Jodi waited at the entrance of Joe Mac’s humble barn as he tapped a path back from his daughter’s house. She wasn’t surprised that the crow – wait, it was a raven – had circled over Joe Mac all the way over there and all the way back. What surprised her was that the raven seemed to have identified her individual car and could determine the difference between her squad car and all the other squad cars cruising to and from the crime scene.
Joe Mac stopped at the door and turned.
Jodi asked, “How’s she doing?”
“She’s been sleeping. It’s gonna take her a long time.” He felt for the lock using his forefinger as a key-guide. “They say you don’t ever get over it. One day you just get up and start moving. But when you bury a child a part of your heart crawls down in that grave with ‘em and stays there.”
“Yeah,” Jodi responded. “I lost a brother. But I know it’s not the same. Not even close. Nothing compares to losing a child.”
“Sorry about your brother.”
“So am I. Drugs. We let him down, I guess. The whole family.”
Joe Mac opened the barn door. “Come on. I’ll make you some coffee. I learned how to do all that stuff where they rehab blind people.”
“Fancy.”
“Nuthin’ but the good life.”
Entering what was obviously a revamped barn Jodi saw – with a single glance – a recliner, a double bed, a plate of food on a small kitchen table, and Joe Mac’s entire wardrobe strung along the far wall; it was a typical barn layout with added shelves and a bathroom slapped onto the back.
“You like to keep things simple, huh?” she asked.
“I got a roof. I got food. I got a bed. What more do I need?”
He began to clang around in his kitchenette as Jodi lifted and opened a lawn chair. She didn’t feel the need to inform him that he only had one recliner. He knew, anyway, so she could deal with it if he could. She asked, “How come you were never assigned to this case? Seems like you would have been chief investigator for a serial killer like this.”
“He wasn’t killing people back then,” Joe Mac called. “I retired six years ago. Back then he wasn’t even a blip on the screen. It was only after I got hurt and put out to pasture that he started racking up a body count.” He pulled two cups off a plywood board. “You bring the file in from the car?”
“It’s right here.”
“I want you to read it to me.”
“The whole thing?”
“The whole thing.”
“So you’re gonna lend me a hand, Joe?”
He turned. Stared. “I guess that’s up to you. I want to find who killed my grandson. And I can’t do it by myself.” Jodi saw a deep pain solidify his face. “I don’t think nobody else would have me, no way.”
Jodi felt a grimace. “Well, I think you’ve still got a few good moves left in you – you and your buddy. What’s his name?”
“Poe.”
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SAVAGE HIGHWAY by RICHARD GODWIN
Women are disappearing on the highway, a drifter hunts the men who raped her, and a journalist discovers law has broken down in the area.
On a remote highway in Arizona women are disappearing at truck stops. Journalist Johnny Sullivan travels to the area to investigate. He encounters hitchhiker Patty, who is being hunted by violent trucker Red. Patty tells Johnny of the local myth of the maniac trucker. Johnny also meets Valentino de La Cruz, a mysterious Mexican who is looking for his missing sister. Valentino is having an affair with Natasha, the wife of recently murdered businessman, Theodore Mills, whose wealth funds the corrupt police force in the area. The local Highway Patrol is run by sexually sadistic Sam Roche and Franklin Norman and they want to put an end to Johnny’s snooping. Marshall Simmons knows a lot about the goings on in the area, and has a young woman captive in a house. He is reprogramming her identity. Meanwhile Johnny discovers that years previously serial killer Donald Lake disappeared in the area while in transit between prisons. And it seems he had police help. But what is being done to the women? And who is running the criminal organisation that controls the area? Savage Highways is about lawlessness and the hunt for justice in a no man’s land. Pedal to the floor all the way, the narrative speeds towards its stunning and unforeseeable conclusion.
“The road novel from hell ... a surrealist inferno that makes Dante’s version look like a Rotary breakfast.”--Castle Freeman Jr., author of THE DEVIL IN THE VALLEY
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