Jack kept his eyes down. As the son of a prostitute, he’d spent his formative years reared by them. Most people would look at a prostitute and see nothing more than a hooker; Jack would see that too… but he’d also see the girl who’d read him Green Eggs and Ham. The disconnect made him uncomfortable. Sometimes the prostitutes—when they were sober—had been caring and nice to him, but most of the time, they’d steal from their own mother to get a fix. Even now, many of their faces still haunted Jack’s dreams.
And this woman was bringing back feelings that he wanted to stay forgotten.
“You want some action?” She strolled away from the pole. “I’ll consider a group discount.”
“No,” Jack said curtly. The disgusting offer made his skin crawl.
“How ’bout a dollar then?” She followed them. “Just a couple of bucks so I can get a burger?”
Jack knew not to give her money. Her pimp could be nearby, or she was just trying to get him to take out his wallet. But when he glanced at her, he noticed her black eye. She had tried to cover it with makeup, but hadn’t been entirely successful. She was only a few years older than Jack. Or maybe she was younger than him. It was hard to tell.
Jack pulled two dollars from his wallet and set them down on a bench without stopping. “Here you go.”
The woman snatched the money off the bench and strolled away without a word. Chandler looked as though he wanted to say something, but he kept his thoughts to himself.
As they neared the center of the park, they heard the fountain. Up ahead, the moon’s faint light reflected off the water spraying into the air.
“We’re almost to thirteen, I think,” Jack said as they passed another bench. This one had a homeless man sleeping on it. Two full trash bags sat on the ground next to him. His hand rested on them both, guarding them even as he slept.
Without warning, the man opened one eye and watched them suspiciously. As if passing a junkyard with an unchained dog, Jack and Chandler both moved to the far side of the path and quietly walked by.
“Glad you brought the flashlight.” Chandler pointed to the ominous darkness that lay ahead of them. The streetlight that should have lit this area was out. Jack flicked on the flashlight and shone the beam up the pole. The light’s broken shards of glass were silhouetted against the night sky.
Jack peered around at the darkness. “If I was going to ambush someone, this would be the place. No one would see you. You’d only be visible for a minute when you got to the top of the hill.”
“That sounds like something a predator would do. Do you know if she was raped?”
“They don’t know.”
“Are you sure you want to do this for a living? I don’t know if I could handle it every day.”
“Someone has to.” Jack walked away from the paved path.
“Where are you going?” Chandler asked.
“I want to look around.”
“Now? We couldn’t do this during daylight?”
“No. I’m trying to understand the victim. See what Stacy saw. Understand what she was thinking.”
“You know this is creepy, right?” Chandler’s head swiveled around as he hurried to catch up.
“We found her body over there.” Jack pointed down to the pond.
“I’ll never forget.”
“The path bothers me.”
“The path to the pond? The killer…” Chandler looked quickly around, then lowered his voice. “You know whoever killed Stacy made that path when he dragged her body to the pond.”
“I know. But that’s not the path that’s bugging me. Remember, there was another one.” Jack panned the light across the woods until it landed on an opening in the brush. He walked toward it.
The hum of the patrol car broke the silence. “Cops,” Chandler said. “They’re coming back around.”
Jack snapped the flashlight off. “Get down here so they don’t see you.”
“If we go home, that would solve the problem of them seeing us too, you know.” Chandler hurried down the slope beside Jack. “I can barely see.”
“Shut your eyes for a minute. The moon’s bright enough. You’ll get used to the dark.” Jack looked around. “There’s no reason for anyone to come this way. You saw the state of things down by the pond—even the trash was ancient. If Robyn hadn’t found the handbag, they wouldn’t have located the body for a while.”
Chandler took a step closer to Jack. “What are we doing here again? I still can’t see. Can we come back in the day?”
Jack waited until the sound of the patrol car disappeared, then he turned the flashlight on. He pointed it at the top of the hill. “The killer dragged her over the hill and to the pond.” He traced the path beside the trees with his circle of light. “But where did the killer start from? Was he walking along the path behind her, or was he waiting here?”
“I changed my mind. This is super creepy,” Chandler said.
Jack walked toward the trees.
“Now where are you going?”
“To the trail. The one you were going to explore before we found the body.”
The trail ran into the woods and was hidden by the hill. Branches pulled at Jack’s shirt and the undergrowth got thicker, but then the bushes gave way to a little clearing. As Jack shined the light around at the dense brush cover, he had the feeling of being in a small nest.
“Wait,” Chandler said. “Shine the flashlight back over there again. Directly across from us.”
Jack followed Chandler’s outstretched finger to some bushes on the opposite side of the clearing. As the flashlight’s beam swept over the brush, Jack realized that someone had made a little lean-to shelter. Its backbone was a stout branch stretched between two trees at waist height, and its angled side was made of thin branches that someone had woven together. Leaves covered the outside, camouflaging it.
“We made one of these in Boy Scouts,” Jack said.
“Ours didn’t look as good.” Chandler chuckled at the memory.
They walked over to it. “There’s a blanket there.” Jack shined the light under the branches.
The blanket was neatly folded into a square. Jack lifted one corner of it; the ground underneath was dry. “Someone’s definitely sleeping here.”
Chandler accidentally kicked a beer can with his foot, and when it rolled over, he saw that someone had cut it open and placed a candle inside. “Okay, listen… whoever has been sleeping here could still be around. Are you done?”
What if the killer was camped here? Jack stared out into the dark woods. It was a warm evening, but the skin on the back of his neck felt cold. He scanned the shadows, but he didn’t see anyone.
Somewhere off to the left, a branch snapped.
Chandler ducked down. Jack shined the light toward the sound.
“Crap,” Chandler whispered. “This is probably some overprotective homeless guy’s bed. He could be crazy.”
Jack ignored him and headed toward the sound.
“No, no, no,” Chandler whispered through clenched teeth. “No chasing crazy people in the woods at night. That’s like a top-ten rule.”
Jack stopped and swept the flashlight beam in a wide arc, but the woods appeared empty. He snapped off the flashlight.
“Hey!” Chandler jumped. “Turn it back on, Einstein.”
“Shh.” Jack closed his eyes tightly and let them adjust. When he opened them, he started to move. At the base of a large maple tree, he stopped and listened.
The woods were quiet. Even the faint car noises were blocked by the trees. The canopy of leaves hid the moon, but soft shafts of light streamed down in places. A deep, earthy smell rose up to meet Jack’s nose.
From behind him came a loud snap followed by a thud—and then a string of whispered curses. “Get back here or I’m gonna beat you,” Chandler grumbled.
“If someone was here, they’re gone now,” Jack said. He turned the flashlight on and walked back. “Do you want to hold the flashlight?”
“No, I’d just like to see. Why the hell did you shut the light off?”
“If someone was out there, they could see me because of the flashlight. I was just trying to even the odds.”
They followed the trail back out of the woods the way they came in. But before they climbed back up the slope, Jack stopped. He stared back at the pond and tried to drive the picture of Stacy lying under the murky water out of his head. “They dumped her like trash,” he said.
Chandler nodded.
They walked back to the paved path and turned toward the parking lot.
“I can’t wait till we get NODs,” Jack said.
“What’s a NOD?”
“Night vision goggles.”
“Aren’t those NVGs?”
“That’s what noobs call them,” Jack said. “The guys in the field call them NODs. Night Optical Devices.”
“How do you know this stuff?” Chandler stopped at a bench.
“Google. Aren’t you reading? Lingo is how people block access to outsiders—in any field. I’m not getting into the Army and looking like a dope because I don’t know what SNU means.”
Chandler flopped down on the bench and tied his sneaker lace. “Okay, what’s SNU?” he asked.
“Not much! What’s new with you?” Jack laughed.
Chandler groaned.
“Hey, you!” A man came storming toward the bench carrying two green trash bags. “Get the hell off my bench!”
Chandler immediately jumped up, and Jack spun around and assumed a defensive position—right foot back, knees bent, and hands up.
The man was slightly shorter than Jack and wore a long coat despite the summer heat. His black hair shot out in all directions and his eyes were the kind that seemed to be always open wide. Yellow teeth snarled beneath an unkempt bushy beard. He gave them both an icy glare as he scurried down the slope and stopped next to the bench.
“That’s my bench.” He pointed to where Chandler had just been sitting.
“Sorry,” Chandler mumbled. He brushed off the back of his pants.
“Do you sit here all the time?” Jack asked.
“What the hell kind of question is that?” the man grumbled.
“I was—”
“Nobody can just sit in one place all the time. You’ve got to get up once in a while.” The man pointed toward the dark area of the path. “I had to move over here since that smart-ass broke my light.”
A group of three men jogged over the hill and raced toward them. All three wore running outfits. They didn’t speak, and they moved over as they sped by and disappeared over the next hill.
“Were you here last Thursday?” Jack asked.
“Yeah.” The man’s lip curled to reveal yellowed teeth. “Why?”
Jack stepped closer, trying not to make a face as the man’s body odor stung his nose. “Did you see anything that night?”
“It’ll cost you.” The man stuck his hand out. “Man’s gotta eat.”
“He’s not going to pay you to answer questions,” Chandler said.
“Then he’s gettin’ no answers.” The man stepped back. His trash bags crinkled and shook.
Jack pulled out a five-dollar bill. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“Honest Murray. That’s what everybody calls me. Why would I lie?”
“To get five bucks,” Chandler muttered.
Jack held out the five and Murray snatched it from his hand. “A woman was attacked at the next bench,” Jack said. “Did you see anything?”
“Nope. Keep your nose out of other people’s business and it won’t get broke. I live by that.”
“You sure you didn’t see anything? It happened just right down there.” Jack pointed.
Murray raised himself up on his toes. “It’s dark. I didn’t see nothing.”
“Did you hear anything?” Jack’s patience came to an end.
“Nope. I saw nothin’ and I ain’t heard nothin’ neither.”
“That wasn’t worth five bucks.”
“You want me to lie? You paid for the answers and I gave them. No take backsies.”
“Do you know anyone who says they saw anything?” Jack asked. “You know, you’re a sharp guy, maybe you overheard people talking, or someone told you something?”
The man glanced around nervously and shook his head. “Nope.”
Jack stood straighter. He was sure that Murray knew more than he was letting on. Despite the odor, he moved closer. “You can tell me,” Jack said. “Somebody else saw something. It’s worth another buck.”
Murray cast a nervous glance over at Chandler. Jack held his hand low and motioned for Chandler to move back. Chandler huffed but he walked a few feet away.
Murray held out his hand and waited until Jack gave him the dollar. Then, like a kid sharing a secret, Murray leaned in close, his eyes darting around. He put his face next to Jack’s and whispered, “Lonny said Vlad was really mad. He thinks Vlad saw something.”
“Vlad?” Jack kept his voice down.
“Yeah, Vlad. He’s scary. Lonny said he got even scarier.”
“Who’s Lonny?”
“My friend. He’s at the shelter tonight.”
“Does Lonny know that Vlad saw something?”
Murray shrugged. “That’s all Lonny said. He said, ‘I think Vlad saw the guy.’”
“Where do we find Vlad?”
Murray’s eyes bulged. “Don’t talk to Vlad! No one does. Only Lonny, but even he…” He backed away. “Don’t say I said nothin’!”
Jack held up his hand. “I won’t say anything.”
“You can’t. Snitches get stitches. I didn’t tell you nothin’.”
“You didn’t say a word.” Jack slowly shook his head.
Murray exhaled. “I don’t want Vlad mad at me.”
“I won’t say anything,” Jack assured him. “Can you just tell me what Vlad looks like?”
Murray shook his head. His whole body trembled. He stepped back again.
“I need to know what he looks like,” said Jack, “so… I can avoid him.”
“Oh.” Murray seemed to relax. “Why didn’t you say so? He’s my size but he has big shoulders.” Murray held his hands out wide. “He wears an old camouflage jacket. He’s Spanish or some kind of Native American. Long black hair. Real long, like down to the middle of his back. But don’t say I said nothin’.” Murray’s eyes scanned the darkness.
“I won’t. Where does Vlad normally hang out? So I don’t go there accidentally,” Jack added quickly.
“Do you know the old maintenance building on the east side?”
“With a big chain-link fence around it?”
“That’s the one. It’s all closed up. Vlad’s around there at night.”
“What about during the day?”
Murray’s voice rose. “Vlad only comes out at night. That’s why we call him Vlad.”
Chandler walked over. “Are you saying Vlad? Like Vlad the Impaler? Like Dracula the vampire type Vlad?”
Murray nodded nervously. “Be sure you stay away from him. Everyone does.”
“We will,” Jack said. “Thanks.”
Murray clutched his bags to his chest and sat down on his bench.
Jack handed Chandler the flashlight. “Come on.” He hurried off to the east.
“The car’s back that way,” Chandler said, jogging to catch up.
“I know,” Jack said. “I want to make one more quick stop before we head back.”
Chandler stopped abruptly. “Don’t even say it. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m hunting Dracula with you.”
18
Dracula
“I’m out of my mind for letting you talk me into coming here,” Chandler muttered.
They watched the old maintenance building silhouetted against the night sky. The one-story brick building had seen better days; the roof sagged and weeds grew everywhere. It was surrounded by a rusted chain-link fence. The gate was closed with a chain wrapped arou
nd a thick metal pole.
Jack counted as he inhaled. “One. Two. Three. Four.” He counted again as he exhaled.
“What are you doing?” Chandler asked.
“Breath control. Navy SEALs do it before a mission. It calms them down.”
“What—are you freaked out?”
“Kinda.” Jack pulled the gate open as far as the chain would allow. The creaking metal sounded loud in the stillness of the night. Undeterred, he started to squeeze through.
“Hold on there, Captain Crazy.” Chandler’s hand formed a vise-grip on Jack’s arm. “I’m nervous enough being in Hamilton Park at night and talking to scary homeless people. There’s no way I’m going into a building straight out of a horror movie to try to find a guy they call Vlad.”
“It’s just a nickname, and they only call him that because he only goes out at night.”
“People get nicknames for a reason. Remember Farty Frank?”
Jack laughed.
“It’s not funny, Jack.” But Chandler let him go, and Jack squeezed through the gate.
“Come on,” Jack said. “Farty’s one of the funniest nicknames ever.”
“I’m just giving you an example. Forget him. Boomer? They call him Boomer because he likes to smash stuff. Maybe they call this guy Vlad because he likes to suck people’s blood. How do you know Dracula didn’t kill Stacy himself?”
“Well…” Jack’s face scrunched up. “I don’t. But I need to talk to him. I don’t want to, but he might know something. Besides, I have to learn how to do this. I’m not going to run away just because I’m scared.”
“I am.” Chandler thumped his chest. “Call me a chicken and put feathers on my butt.”
“Come on. You heard Murray. The guy only comes out at night.”
“Yeah, because he’s crazy,” Chandler huffed.
The two friends stared at each other. Jack knew Chandler was just being smart and cautious, but if Jack was going to find out who really killed Stacy, he knew he’d have to go to the edge. So he didn’t blink.
Chandler spun in a circle. “What is wrong with you?” he whispered fiercely. “Whenever I go out with you, I end up with two choices and they both suck. Now I have to pick between going into Dracula’s lair or walking home and leaving you here?”
And Then She Was GONE: A riveting new suspense novel that keeps you guessing until the end Page 17