The Dark Trail

by Will Mosley

  “You were spending all your money on Coke.” Ken answered for him.

  “Yep! I was just spinning my wheels. I didn't realize that until later. One day, during the time I was making these deliveries, she asked to tag along. I didn't see a problem with it. Besides, I'd have company. So, we go out to Houston and this time, I actually meet the guys who were there to pick up the truck. They were real cool characters. They wanted to see if we would party with them. Of course we agreed and later we went to someone's house. It was a big, nice home on the out skirts of Houston. During the party, we're all wasted, you know, totally gone. Well, this girl gets to blabbing her mouth about her dealer and apparently some guys there knew him, didn't like him and wouldn't have done business with me if they knew I worked for him.”

  “You remember his name? He might be in the state criminal database.”

  Tanner darted his eyes away from Ken in thought, but it proved futile. “I don't remember his name. So, at the party, nothing changed. I figured they were going to cause trouble with me, but that never happened. My high had started fading because of it and, since I was so afraid of overdosing, I started drinking instead and eventually blacked out.”

  Ken realized that he was now involved in the story like some late night film noir and hadn't taken a sip of his coffee in a while. “Then?” Ken said, and put the cup to his lips, savoring the warm drink.

  “Then, I woke up the next morning.”

  “You don't remember anything after you blacked out, I'm guessing.”

  “Not a thing. I don't remember the faces of the guys we partied with, I don't remember what time everyone left, and I sure as hell don't remember who killed the girl.”

  “Killed?” Ken put his cup down. “Someone killed her?”

  “Yeah. When I got up, the house was deserted and the girl's naked body was face down on the floor with a huge maroon circle staining the carpet around her head. She had been brutally raped, and then afterward someone had decided that rape wasn't enough, and put a bullet in her – as if she would have remembered anything anyway. We were so screwed up.”

  Ken's involvement in the story became more focused on the murder than the story itself. “Tanner are you sure you didn't –,”

  Tanner waved the thought away before Ken could finish. “No, Ken. Absolutely not. I didn't have a gun and the killer didn't leave a gun behind.”

  “Because I'm a cop and, though I wouldn't turn you in, I couldn't keep you here either.”

  “Relax, Magnum P.I., I didn't kill anyone. I left the house, walked nearly three miles to the nearest pay phone and called the police. They picked me up at the pay phone, took me back to the house and I explained everything that happened – excluding the real reason why we were in Houston – from our arrival, to her rape or murder, and pleaded my innocence the entire time. Well, they held me for fifteen days and advised me to seek drug treatment.”

  “You didn't contact mom or dad?”

  “Come on, Ken.” Tanner smiled.

  “Well, they would've helped.”

  “Helped to finish the job that the drugs had started by killing me, sure. I wasn't calling them. I figured I could handle it. So, I went to drug treatment. When I get there, they said that the state of Texas had paid for my treatment and that they had been waiting on me to arrive.”

  “That was sweet.” Ken laughed.

  “Hell yeah it was – for the two days it lasted. There were no bars or security guards or policemen to keep me from leaving, so I left. When I finally got back to Georgia, I called the dealer to tell him what had happened and that I could start back making deliveries immediately. Like night and day, he was no longer concerned with deliveries, all he wanted was to know where Brandi was.”

  “So her name was Brandi?” Ken asked.

  “Yep. Brandi Hart. I'll never forget the girl who ruined my life. I tell him that someone killed her in Houston, then reiterated that I needed the money and that I was ready to work. He didn't want to hear any of that. This guy was fiery mad and kept asking me what did I do to her. I told him that I had no involvement, that it was the guys at the party. He asked why I took her along in the first place. I mean, it was like he was trying to figure out some way to blame me for what happened to her. She wanted to come along, I said. Who was I to deny her? She was sexing me up after all. Maybe we were dating, in a way.”

  “You told him that?”

  “Yeah. I thought, 'why does it matter to him?' She was just some girl.”

  “Did you ever think she might be related to this guy?”

  “And be her dealer, too? Unlikely.”

  “If she was already using, maybe he wanted her to find some rich college guy so that they could milk him for his cash.”

  The thought had crossed Tanner's mind long ago, but only faded indentations were left where the thought had been. Now, suddenly, being clear of mind with no threat present, those tracks seemed fresh and new once more. “That,” Tanner said, paused, and thought of reasons why Ken was wrong, even though he had reached back into the past and revealed a vital new piece of information to him. “That... can't be right. Can it?” Tanner shook his head at the table.

  “I don't know. I wasn't there. But my job forces me to think out things like that. Strange connections sometimes prove to be less strange than we think.”

  “I mean, that makes sense now that I think about it. They certainly could have been related because he was boiling hot when I told him. The strange thing is, a second later, he was no longer pissed and told me that he did indeed have another delivery going to Houston for me. 'Great!' I said, like an idiot. He told me that the truck would be waiting for me at the normal location, which was a parking garage on Williams Street in downtown Atlanta. He said it would be ready in two hours. I walked to the Varsity, sat down, had a hot dog, rings and a Sprite, relaxed and thought about how I would get through this without mom and dad finding out. 'They'd never have to know.' I thought. After eating and taking a crap, I walked to the parking garage, but I couldn't shake this sense of impending danger. Something kept telling me, 'Run, you fool! Get out of there!' I didn't run. Instead, I went to the parking garage and walked up the stairs – I didn't take the elevator just in case the cables decided to break on my way up and I avoided that danger – and just before I get to the top stair, I see her dealer standing there at the elevator with blazing red hair. He was there with two other guys about his size, and one really big bastard with long black hair. I watched them for several minutes trying to figure out what they were up to. A few times it looked like the big guy was crying. The other guys comforted him, patting him on the back, saying things that were only muffled reassurances through the glass I was standing behind. Then, I heard some people talking below me. I looked down to see two guys entering the elevator. Everything was fine up until that point. I actually wanted to be introduced to her dealer and meet the crew, you know, as gesture of solidarity.”

  Ken threw his head back in laughter. “Solidarity? You're crazy, Tanner.”

  “I know, I know. I was young alright, asshole!” Tanner said. Ken's laughter subsided and he chuckled each time he thought of innocent, Peter Pan looking, Tanner Garay, the first Eagle scout in the family, trying to form a lasting brotherhood with vicious dope peddlers. “So, I put my hand on the door knob to open the door. Granted, I can still see these guys through the side lights beside the door of the stairwell. I turn the knob and then I can hear the elevator 'ding' loudly as it approaches the second floor. Then I freeze. As soon as these guys hear that 'ding', I realize that my instincts were absolutely right and I didn't even realize what they had in their hands before now. I guess I was just blinded by friendship, comradery and rainbows.” Tanner said snidely and smiled. Ken chuckled again. “But seriously, when the elevator 'dinged', each man drew his own gun and trained it on the elevator doors. I couldn't move. My shoes seemed heavy. Not only could I not move, I didn't want to move. Sickly, I still didn't understand what fate they had in store for me. I gue
ss I thought that they just carried guns because all drug dealers carried guns, and that it was just no big deal. They never lowered those weapons and I continued to watch. Because the entire shaft of the elevator was wrapped in glass, I could see it move closer and closer up. I, however, couldn't see inside the elevator. But it crept slowly upward until it got to the third floor. Then it stopped, and dinged, and when the doors opened, there was constant explosions going off inside the elevator and the noise reverberated throughout the parking garage, through the stairwell. I covered my ears, ducked down out of instinct and waited for the noise to stop. After several seconds, when no more gun shots were fired, even though the sound quality was poor inside the stairwell, I clearly heard someone yell, 'It's not him! It's not him! We gotta get outta here!'. I opened my eyes and didn't feel any pain, so I knew I wasn't hit by accident or anything. But when I turned to look back through the glass, back to where those four guys were just standing, I saw that they were all running – still holding theirs guns, two of them were putting their guns away – in my direction! Best I could figure is that they parked on the first floor as to make a quick getaway. I quickly got to my knees, but when I raised my leg up to prepare to stand, the door flung opened, slammed against my arm and threw me into the wall. Their clattering feet hustled down the stairs. I stood up, reached for the door, and the red haired guy, who I assume was the dealer, turned around and stared right at me. His gaze was piercing and locked my movement. As I watched him, his face went from pale to bright red in an instant, glowing like his skull was made of heated embers. 'There he is!' The dealer yelled hysterically. My feet felt mobile again. I grabbed the knob, turned it, opened the door, burst through it, bullets whizzed by my head only inches from me. I didn't hear the muzzled explosions until the bullets had already passed, but in the stairwell, they were deafening. I turned the corner and ran as hard as I could. Again, I hear the footsteps behind me echoing in the parking garage and again I hear bullets, clanging into cars, activating alarms, screeching off of concrete and dinging off of the metal rails. I ran harder but, they didn't pursue me. One of them yelled, 'Cops!', the door slammed shut and they hustled down the stairwell.”

  Ken felt as though he hadn't been breathing while listening to the story. He inhaled deeply and followed it with a long exhalation. Tanner took a few sips of his cooled coffee. “You're damned lucky you're still alive. It sounds like this guy is a true goon. A real piece of –,”

  “I'm not finished, Ken.” Tanner said. Ken sharpened his eyes, leaned forward, forgetting about his own mug of coffee, and prepared to continue listening. “And you're right. This guy is a real piece of work.”

  “I was going to say 'shit'.” Ken grinned.

  “That too. Dogged is an understatement for this guy. So, after I leave the parking garage, I'm watching for these guys, making sure that they're nowhere around. I safely got back to campus and back to my room. The next day I wake up and I'm thinking of walking to Woodruff hall for something to eat. I walk downstairs and before I reach the front door, I see that same dealer, that same burning red hair, standing outside of Fitten hall talking to other students coming out of the dorms. 'Does he also attend Tech?' I ask myself, but I'm not sticking around to find out. I get back to my room, lock the door throw a chair in front of it, as if that would do anything, and waited. Since my room was on the second floor and faced the front lawn, I looked out of it to see if I could still see him. He was already inside! Someone had let him in! At first I thought maybe he had just left, but the lawn was so large, I would have seen him walking away. And I was sure he was telling people that I was some friend of his. So, in my room I'm absolutely terrified, I don't know whether someone has told him where I stayed or not. I waited until I heard the main door of the hall open and close. There was no talking accompanying the guest as there usually was. In the hallway I heard slow, firm footsteps that sounded as if this person didn't know where they were and needed directions. I heard a knock on a door somewhere down the hall and a few moments later, the door unlocks and opens. Absolute joy rushes over me! It's probably someone's girlfriend. A guy named Ted answers his door 'Yeah? What's up?' He says. The other voice says, 'Hey, man, I'm looking for my buddy, Tanner. We're supposed to study Biology together. He said he stays in Fitten, on the second floor, but he didn't give me a room number?' I hear Ted say, 'Right there. 218.' and then the footsteps move toward my door. And then he knocks, 'Tanner, I'm here to study.' He says. At first, I don't make a sound and I stay perfectly quiet. Then he says, 'I talked to Jeff downstairs and he said he saw you running back up to your room. I know you're in there. Open up so we can study.' I was flipping out because I had no escape. I was stuck in this cement block room and there was only one way out! I looked to the window and told myself that I wouldn't take that route, and that I'd rather face him man to man before jumping from a second story window. Then, I heard the metallic/wood thump of him tapping on the door with his gun. Suddenly, the window didn't seem all that bad. When I opened the window, he became frantic. 'Open up, Tanner! We have to study before class!' Just as I fit my entire body through it, he started blasting away at the lock. I dropped into the hedges below, ran to the opposite side of the building so that if he did get into the room, I wouldn't be an easy target running across the lawn, and I ran. I didn't look back.”

  “You didn't go back at all?” Ken asked.

  “No. I left everything there.”

  “Do you know whatever happened to that guy?”

  “No clue.”

  Tanner drank from his mug and shook his head, focusing on the handmade, bovine napkin holder that sat in the center of the table. As if faint words were spoken, both men hearing them at the same time, their eyes connected.

  “And?” Ken said. “Don't leave me hanging.”

  “And, what? That's it.”

  Ken rolled his head back and the vertebra in his neck crackled like grinding rocks. “So,” Ken crossed his arms. “For twenty years you've been on the run from this guy; dodging bullets, evading some red-headed freak who wanted to kill you, jumping into bushes, and all that lead you here – this morning.”

  “I wasn't running from him for twenty years, Ken.” Tanner grinned. “He was after me for some time, but I think he got pinched for something a few years back. Because, suddenly, I didn't have to run. It was weird. Before, everywhere I turned, him, or someone he knew, was coming after me. They weren't inconspicuous either. I'd be in a club, and all of a sudden, five men would rush me. I was in a Taco Bell in south Atlanta, and two guys literally jumped out of a car, ran across the parking lot and came after me. If they had just came in and behaved normally, they could have taken me out in the parking lot. It's like they all were dumb brutes filled with white-hot rage.”

  “That Brandi girl was related, Tanner. I'd bet anything on that. Only family takes that sort of emotional approach to dealing with confrontation.”

  Tanner nodded, yawned and reached for his mug, but pushed it away when he saw that it was empty. “Yeah. You're probably right. Well, he's not a concern now. I haven't seen the bastard in years.”

  “Years, huh?” Ken asked. “So where have you been?”

  Tanner stared at him, lowering his eyebrows in confusion, as if the story had already been explained. “But I told –,”

  “You told me were chased by this guy for a while, but you haven't seen him in years. What's been going on since you last saw him?”

  His eyes rolled around, again to the ceiling, and to the kitchen table before finally, as sharp as the fixed gaze of a statue, settling on Ken. “I was on the streets using heroine for a long time. I spent many years homeless and destitute living in many different homeless shelters around metro Atlanta. I also spent time in the Carolinas, Pennsylvania, and New York selling and using drugs until finally, I checked into the Francis J. Collins treatment center, cleaned myself up and found steady, reliable work.”

  While he talked, Ken noticed that Tanner's eyes did not flutter about and his words d
ropped dryly from his mouth with no feeling, no inflection on his tone, and sounded well thought through as if the statement had been rehearsed.

  Chapter 12.

  Standing in the kitchen, bare chested and with no concern whether a neighbor could have heard gun shots, Xoscha grinned, absorbing the darkness as the altruistic companion it had become.

  Pans used for breakfast teetered in a high stack in the sink, piles of clothes and toys looked like foothills on the floor and counters, and a fresh trail of blood, like that of a bleeding snake, slithered down the stairs, across the living room carpet and on the kitchen linoleum, but the darkness hid this new mistake in it. It didn't constantly gloat, shining heavy light on what he had done, making him take notice and responsibility for his actions, it concealed what needed concealing. The comfort he took in having such a loyal ally made his skin and chest warm with an admiring respect.

  Through the kitchen curtains he could see that his respect for the darkness would soon abate as it was helpless, like he was, to the forces that watched him, against what was coming – daylight.

  The house that formerly belonged to Bjorn and Madeline Kerlinson was situated in the middle of a sparsely wooded quarter acre facing due west. Bjorn, a Swedish born, Senior software engineer for SUN Microsystems, and Madeline, a housewife who dabbled in painting, and their two children Michael and Emily, on especially cloudless evenings, used the front porch as a theater to watch sunsets, often taking dinner to their theater instead of plopping in front of the television. The back of the house faced east and the kitchen was the perfect place to watch the sunrise, enjoy breakfast and be in the company of family – of untarnished love. From that same window, Xoscha now watched as the radiance from the hidden sun set red fire to the clouds seemingly an inch above the horizon.