Chasing Shadows

by Wendy Meadows

  “Are you sure you killed the right person?”

  “My mother tracked down the killer,” Don assured Sarah. “All I had to do was carry out the dirty work.”

  “I see,” Sarah said and her thoughts raced down a quick, alternate path for a few seconds and then turned back to Don. “Your mother must be a brilliant woman.”

  “More than you'll ever know,” Don told Sarah in a snide, proud voice.

  “You said your mother monitors your secure e-mail?”

  “Yeah, I did,” Don said and fought back a surge of rage, seeming to seethe every time she questioned him. “I sent every name on your contact to list to her. And currently,” Don grinned, “my mother is gathering information on those people and assigning hired killers to each one.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you?” Don's grin widened. “You do as I say or your friends die, cop. If I don’t text my mother our code, she’ll release the hit men, and your loved ones will be dead within twenty-four hours, tops.”

  “Did your mother order you to kill Rebecca?” Sarah asked, changing tack.

  Don's grin vanished. “Yeah, but I didn't—not immediately…” he faltered.

  “Why?”

  “Hey, what my mother didn't know wasn't hurting her. I...all she wanted was for my dad's killer to die. I wanted more. I wanted...peace for my dad. I wanted...” Don struggled, the rage crackling under the surface of every word. “I wanted...you to solve his murder because you were part of his death. Can you understand that, cop? Can you? I needed...closure, okay? Get it? I needed closure...my dad needed closure...my mother needed closure...and I didn't want some strange cop jumping into the scene. I wanted...needed...the original actors, get it?”

  “Maybe,” Sarah replied with the clear understanding that the death of Don's father had driven the kid insane.

  “You better, cop, because my mother has enough money to buy California. She knows people who will put a bullet in you for a few measly thousand, too.”

  “I bet,” Sarah said in a sarcastic tone.

  “Oh, you think I'm lying?”

  “Nope,” Sarah told Don. “I'm just wondering what your mother must be thinking about your failed plan right about now.”

  Don hissed, “She ain't too happy, okay?” Don ran his hands through his black hair. “I messed up, I should have killed that annoying woman when mom first ordered me to…mom told me my plan was stupid, too. I wanted to prove her wrong.”

  “Guess that didn’t go so well,” Sarah said and eased back toward the office door. “Or at least, I doubt she’ll think so now.”

  “Hey!” Don snapped, “I'm going to prove to her that my plan was brilliant. But that’s not the point. You're going to solve my dad's murder or your friends are going to die, and my mother will come to her senses later! But trust me, she'll dig it, cop, because I’m going to give her one last choice: either she helps me, or I go public with everything I know about her. But don’t worry about that…worry about your friends, cop.”

  Sarah bit down on her lower lip and began wondering if Don was bluffing about his mother hiring hit men. She thought about her contact list, which was practically empty after all; after the divorce she was so alone. At least until Amanda stepped through the door. Of course, Don couldn’t know that seventy percent of the names he e-mailed his mother were citizens of Snow Falls, Alaska who needed her number for one reason or another – and furthermore, were the kind of Alaskans who would probably give as good as they got from any hired gun who dared show their face. Amanda and Pete were the only contacts she would be truly worried about, not to mention Conrad. If Don was telling the truth, that is. The kid was really mixed up. “Threatening your own mother isn't nice.”

  “Hey, in this world, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. I'm growing tired of my mother insisting my dad's death be kept in the shadows,” Don shook his head. “It took years of me nagging her to finally convince her to help me track down dad's killer.”

  “I see,” Sarah said as her mind connected the final dots to her unsolved murder case. “And your mom tracked down the real killer?”

  “Yeah, she sure did. Mom took me right to dad's killer, too. The rat was working on a back lot all by himself.” Don's eyes turned dark again. “I strangled him real slowly.”

  Sarah nodded, not betraying her horror at his deeds. Don's mother had most likely been desperately attempting to locate her son and reel in his sick, out-of-control mind so she could control him. But her desperation was not just because of Don’s growing thirst for revenge – it was clear to Sarah that Don's mother was somehow involved in the murder of her own husband and didn't want her son to find out the truth. The woman arranged a fake killer to be framed, letting Don carry out a painful revenge on an unsuspecting person, hoping the ringer’s death would solve her problems. But unknown to her, Don was making plans of his own – foolish plans he believed were brilliant and foolproof; until Rebecca caused him problems, that was. Now Don and his mother were mired in a tar pit of their own making, each trying to break free but becoming more and more trapped. “I bet you did,” Sarah told Don and raised her gun into the air and pointed it at him. “Get your hands into the air.”

  Don's face went blank. He stared at Sarah with shock. He managed to recover and sputtered, “Do you not understand what’s at stake? Put your gun down or your friends die.”

  “That's a chance I'm willing to take.”

  Don’s face reddened as his rage bubbled to the surface again. “I told you, if I don’t text her the code, my mother will—”

  “I seriously doubt your mother is assigning a killer to anyone but you, Don,” Sarah said flatly. “I don’t need your code to confirm that. Put your hands in the air.”

  Don balled his hands into fists again, impotent with rage. But his eyes glowed with a furious light born of desperation. “Put your gun down or the old man dies.”

  Sarah's blood turned cold. “What old man?”

  “The old man I found fishing beside the river,” Don grinned, his eyes wildly manic. “Real nice guy, too. He was very willing to help me find my way back to my car, seeing that I was lost and all.”

  Sarah lowered her gun. Don's eyes told her that he was telling her the truth – he meant to kill an innocent person unless she did as told. He was a naïve kid, but not naïve enough to go into this without a backup plan, evidently. “Okay, Don, my gun is down.”

  Don looked up at the window on the wall behind Paul's desk. He grabbed the office chair and slid it roughly up against the back wall, climbed up on the chair, unlocked the window, and looked at Sarah. “Stay in town until I convince my mother to agree to my plan. She will agree. And then you will solve this case and fix what you left broken. If she refuses, well, I'll handle her. But I think she’ll come around soon enough. What choice does she have?” Don grinned again. He took her cell phone out of his jacket pocket and slid it across the desk to her. “I'll be in touch, cop. Be prepared to leave, alone. I'll pick you up at a location of my choosing and drive you to Los Angeles. Once we...get home…I'll take you to the dead body and then you'll do your job, got it? You'll pick up where you left off...and this time, do it right or else.”

  “I'm not authorized—”

  “That's your problem, cop. Find a way to get back on the clock again or else,” Don warned Sarah. “My dad deserves this...I deserve this. So get your mind right or the old man won’t be the only innocent person who’s going to die!”

  Sarah resisted the urge to shoot Don. There was no telling where Don’s victim was hidden. If Sarah shot and killed Don, the victim might never be found. “I'll handle it,” she assured Don.

  Don reached into his jacket pocket, whipped out a pair of sunglasses, slapped them on, and climbed out of the window. “I'll be in touch,” he repeated with a smirk and jumped to the ground below and vanished out of sight.

  Sarah kicked Paul's desk in anger. “I bet you will, you little punk,” she growled. “But don't worry, I'll be prepared.�
� Sarah hurried out into the hallway and waved at Amanda and Nate.

  Amanda ran up to Sarah. “Where is he?” she asked.

  “Gone,” Sarah said in a frustrated voice. She pointed to Paul's office. “He went out of the window.”

  “If you didn't stop him, that means something real bad must have gone down,” Nate told Sarah and shook his head. “My, my, what a mess this all is.”

  “I know,” Sarah agreed. She put her gun away and rubbed her eyes. “The name of our killer is Don Smart,” she said feeling a headache kick in. “I let him escape because he kidnapped one of the locals,” she continued. “An old man he found fishing beside the river in Prate.”

  “Only man who ever goes to the river with his pole is Mr. Rhodes,” Nate pointed out. “Mr. Rhodes goes fishing at the river whether it's raining or snowing, hot or cold, clear or cloudy. Folks around Prate call him The Mailman Fisherman.”

  “Poor guy,” Amanda sighed. “He went fishing and ended up the prisoner of a very sick person.”

  “Sick is right,” Sarah agreed. “We're dealing with a very disturbed and deadly nineteen-year-old kid who thinks he's invincible and brilliant. A kid who crafted a clumsy plan that cost Rebecca her life.” Sarah closed her eyes. The image of the deserted cabin in Alaska flashed through her mind once again. She saw the cabin alone, hungry for life and love, calling her name from the deep wilderness of Alaska. “I need to call Pete,” she said, shaking her head and trying to focus.

  “Wait a minute before you do,” Nate replied and gently touched Sarah's arm. “Your friend can wait. Right now, we need to focus on finding Mr. Rhodes, don’t we? The man is my age, and despite his fishing he’s known to be a mite fragile. He ain't likely to live through the night, either. Time ain't on our side, girl.”

  Amanda looked at Sarah with worried eyes and then focused on Nate. “Nate, where would we even look?”

  “If that punk found Mr. Rhodes down by the river that means he has to be hiding someplace near there himself,” Nate pointed out. “I ain't about to let some punk kill an old friend.”

  Sarah saw anger explode in Nate's aged eyes. She began to tell Nate she agreed with him when all of sudden Nate turned very pale and fainted before their eyes. “Nate!” Sarah cried out and managed to catch his body before he hit the floor.

  “No,” Amanda exclaimed and burst into tears as she dropped down onto her knees and pulled Nate's head onto her lap. “Nate...love...speak to me.”

  Sarah threw her head down on Nate's chest. “He has a heartbeat and...he's breathing,” she said in a grateful tone.

  “His face is so pale,” Amanda cried and gently caressed Nate's face. “Don't die, love...stay with us, please.”

  Sarah jumped to her feet, ran into Paul's office, and called for an ambulance. Minutes later, everyone working in the courthouse gathered around Nate and waited for the ambulance to arrive. When the ambulance finally did arrive, Sarah was told that only one person could ride to the hospital with Nate. Amanda insisted on being that person. She hugged Sarah, followed the paramedics outside, climbed into the back of the blue and white ambulance, and it sped away, leaving Sarah standing alone. Sarah wiped at her tears and walked back to Paul's office, feeling as if both of her arms had been cut off. When she reached the office she closed the door and called Pete. “Don Smart paid me a visit,” she said and wiped at more tears.

  Pete heard the tears in Sarah's voice. “What's wrong, kid? Talk to me.”

  “The kind old man who’s been helping me and Amanda just collapsed. He's being rushed to the hospital.”

  “I'm sorry to hear that,” Pete told Sarah and spit out the cigar in his mouth into a metal ashtray on his office desk. “Are you okay?”

  “Tired,” Sarah confessed. “Pete, we're dealing with a very dangerous, mentally ill kid who is bent out shape in every direction possible.” Pete listened to Sarah explain the encounter she had with Don. “It's clear that Don's mother had him kill an innocent person, Pete. You need to find this woman as quickly as you can.”

  “I'll look into her,” Pete promised, “but if she has the money her son claims she does, slapping handcuffs on her won't be easy and you know that. I need hard evidence, kid. And right now all I have is a bunch of words.”

  Sarah rubbed her eyes with her left hand. “I know,” she said miserably. “Uh...did the cell phone number show anything?” she asked, trying to remain focused.

  “The kid is smart, Sarah...at least with phones. The cell phone he's carrying around is a prepaid phone that was purchased in Mexico.”

  “I'm not surprised,” Sarah replied. “Don Smart claims he hacked into my personal records and bank records. I'm sure he has,” she told Pete. “He did manage to track me to Alaska and find out I was writing under a pen name.”

  “When our lives are made digital it's pretty pointless to hope for privacy,” Pete groused and snatched up his cigar. “Listen to Pete, kid. You better catch this looney, do you hear me? I'll check on his mother and see what her story is while you’re doing your job.”

  “Pete, I could cause an innocent man to die if I'm not careful,” Sarah pointed out. “This town isn't set up to handle a person like Don Smart.”

  “You're a smart kid too,” Pete assured Sarah. “You've handled worse than some lame-brain kid running around with a few screws loose.”

  “Yeah,” Sarah sighed and closed her eyes again. Nate's pale face burst into her mind. “I've handled worse,” she agreed, “but I've never dealt with a killer who isn't old enough to buy a bottle of wine, Pete.”

  Pete chewed on his cigar. The case was a mess and there was no silver lining in sight.

  Chapter Seven

  Sarah let her eyes fall down to Nate's pale face. “Now, don't go being sad on account of me,” Nate told Sarah in a weak voice. “Old Nate isn't going home to Heaven anytime soon.”

  Amanda walked around Nate's hospital bed and patted Sarah's hand. “Nate is being flown to Portland in the morning,” she explained. “The doctor who came in and spoke with me – some backwoods guy who looked like he was barely out of high school – is sending Nate to a specialist.”

  “The doctor doesn't know why Nate collapsed?” Sarah asked in a desperate tone. She looked at the I.V. line in Nate's right arm and the heart monitor attached to his chest. The hospital room Nate was resting in was small and depressing, dominated by dark brown and red colors that were mingling with a horrible disinfectant smell.

  “Not yet,” Amanda replied and rubbed Nate's forehead.

  “I've been running myself too hard, that's all,” Nate assured Sarah. “I ain't used to running my body so hard. All I need is a little rest and I'll be as good as new, wait and see.”

  Amanda rubbed Nate's forehead again. “I called Harry. He's on his way.”

  “Oh, that old fart,” Nate complained and then smiled. “I reckon he'll bring his Uno cards.”

  Sarah studied Nate's face. The old man seemed very weak, yet his eyes were full of life. In her heart, deep down where the truth speaks, she felt that Nate wasn't going to die. This feeling sent relief through her mind. “Nate, I need your help, okay?”

  Nate raised his eyes and focused on Sarah. “You want Old Nate to tell you about the river, don't you?” he asked.

  “I need to know if there are any caves, abandoned buildings, houses, any place a person could hide that might be near the river,” Sarah said, nodding her head. “I'm going to find Mr. Rhodes...alone,” Sarah said and looked at Amanda. “June Bug, I want you right here beside Nate. Please.”

  Amanda began chewing on her lip and then looked down into Nate's eyes. Nate needed her. “Okay, love, I'll stay with Nate,” she conceded with a worried voice.

  Nate smiled at Amanda and closed his eyes. “Sarah, my girl,” he said in a loving voice, “there is an old cave that us kids used to mess around in that's close to the river. The cave isn't that big...more or less a large room.”

  “Where is this cave?” Sarah asked. Nate kept his eyes close
d and slowly began to voice directions to the cave. Sarah whipped out a small notepad from her pocket and wrote down the directions. “What about any abandoned buildings or houses or—”

  Nate shook his head. “County went and tore down every deserted place along the river after a hitchhiker fell asleep with a cigarette in his hand and set an old workshop building there on fire back in 1987. Fire nearly made its way all the way into Prate.”

  Sarah reached down and touched Nate's cheeks. “A girl could truly marry you,” she smiled.

  “Oh, now,” Nate smiled and opened his eyes, “my wife might be a tad jealous.”

  “Don’t worry. I'm jealous of her already,” Sarah smiled again. She thought about her plan and looked at Amanda. “June Bug, Don Street is a dangerous killer, I'm not denying that. But he's also a very disturbed kid that's trying desperately to hold a flimsy plan in place.”

  “No wonder we couldn't make sense of things yesterday,” Amanda sighed. “This kid has us grasping at straws looking for logic, but there was no logic in it to begin with.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Sarah agreed. “My main concern is to capture Don Street before he hurts anyone else. Pete is dealing with his mother. We'll have to wait and see what he comes up with. In the meantime, I'm going solo and—” Before Sarah could finish her sentence, a man knocked on the hospital room door. To Sarah's shock, Conrad walked into the room. “Conrad?”

  Amanda quickly buried her face in her hands. “I...uh, well, love…at Harry's, when you went to use the bathroom, I...kinda called Conrad and told him what was happening.”

  Conrad walked up to Sarah and looked into her eyes. “And I took the first flight I could. You should have called me.”

  Sarah stared into Conrad's eyes and felt relief – if not joy – wash over her. She reached out and hugged Conrad. “Thank you for coming,” she whispered.

  “Anytime,” Conrad whispered and hugged Sarah back warmly. “Amanda told me you were dealing with a serious killer.”

  Sarah let go of Conrad. “In a way, yes, in a way, no,” she said and carefully detailed Don Street’s profile for Conrad.