HOMECOMING: A thrilling crime mystery full of twists (New York Murder Mysteries Book 4)

by Joshua Brown

  “Then why are you here?” I asked. If anything, pretending that this was all normal was the right move. Go with it and see where it took me.

  Johnny’s presence somehow made sense, both in this situation and with the strange meeting I had with Lizbeth in Central Park. That stone Firefly gave me, a little trinket that meant nothing back then might’ve been so much more now. I wasn’t ready to fully commit, however. For now, it was speculation and a possibility of something more.

  “I’m here to tell you that you should go see your father, Jack. Take it from a man who’s had, fought, and lost to cancer. It’s not an easy thing. It’s a fight for survival, every second another you’re damn thankful for. Your dad? Whatever he happened to do to you, the reason you’re so upset by it all… It’s all washed in the sands of time. But condemning him to a lifetime of wanting and searching, that’s a horrible fate, Jack. I’ve seen it, too. God awful. Truly is,” Johnny got up from the chair.

  He stepped closer to me and winced in pain.

  “Don’t know why I do that,” Johnny snickered. “I can’t feel anything anymore.”

  The snicker turned to a giggle, then a laugh. I felt lost, confused, unable to process anything that was happening. A ghost telling me to visit my dying father? What level of insanity had I reached?

  A strange thought crossed my mind, perhaps Jim Heath pulled the trigger, and these were my last, dying thoughts before death consumed me. It was never documented, and I suppose there wasn’t much reason not to believe it possible. After all, hours ago, I felt dread waking up here – now I was perfectly content with the idea that I might even see my family again.

  Johnny started walking, stepping off the porch and towards the river.

  I followed him.

  “Wait, where are you going?” I asked. He stopped when we reached the riverbank.

  “Your tether’s weak. Always knew I wouldn’t be able to stay long,” Johnny said.

  My tether? That’s what Lizbeth said. Hearing it from a stranger and a friend would be one strange coincidence. Unless this was still some part of my brain playing tricks on me.

  “Johnny, I need to know more about this,” I said.

  Johnny didn’t reply, taking a step forward, until his feet were right up against the water.

  “You’ll find out all you need to, in due time, Jack. There’s no reason to rush things. Take them as they come. Life’s a journey, and death’s not the final destination. That’s all you need to know for now,” he said.

  He turned around to face me before taking a step back. Another followed, and a few more after. Yet, as he walked further into the river, Johnny never sank.

  “Hey, look, I’m walking on water,” Johnny finally said. “I wonder what that means.”

  And with a blink, Johnny was gone.

  As peculiar as the entire series of events was, I didn’t feel unsettled. I felt instead a warmth filling me. Seeing my friend again, however brief, put life into perspective. His words made no sense, yet I was fully aware of what they all meant. Like I was hit with a dose of LSD, far too strong, bringing hallucinations of grandeur.

  I went to bed that night, not afraid but feeling content, ready to take on the world.

  Chapter 14

  Jack

  It was another hot, humid morning when I woke. The sun felt brighter, its piercing rays not easing up, even with the curtains closed. I slept like a baby and woke before my alarms. Unlike the last few days, there was no plane overhead, no birds mocking me from their trees.

  Only me and a deathly quiet world. More comforting than the noise, but still eerie in its own right. A sensation of something bad’s about to happen consumed me, and I suppose in some ways that wasn’t wrong.

  I decided it was time to bite the bullet, after all. Whatever happened the night before with Johnny, be it real or my conscience playing up on me, I decided to follow through with visiting my family. I sent Ruby a message telling her to set everything up for that night if the day allowed for it.

  I planned on spending the day at the sheriff’s office, trying to make any breaks possible. For the first time, in far too long, I was alone on a case and felt hopeless. Though it’d only been a few days, it felt like an eternity had passed. I knew Aaron was hard at work, trying to find whatever he could on Lynne Sawyer and Jim Heath, but the news couldn’t come quick enough.

  Worse still, I didn’t even know where to look. I supposed having Rodney (and Freddy if he was lingering around for some reason) to bounce ideas off was a good thing. They weren’t exactly prime officers of the law, which made it harder, but they were something.

  Somehow, I felt like Johnny Ortega’s ghostly apparition might’ve been better company than the both of them combined. For the short while I knew him, he struck me as a man who had his head screwed on right. Wise beyond his years, though I guess limited time walking the earth would do that to a man.

  Being on a clock, you didn’t have years to age and sacrifice. There was the here and now to do everything you wanted. Hell, if I was given six months to live, I’d probably cram in eighty years of living to make sure I experienced everything I dreamed of.

  I pulled myself out of bed and started getting ready for the day. As luck would have it, I barely had time to get dressed and have my morning coffee before Freddy Cochran gave me a call.

  “Jack, how soon can you get down here? We have something from Lynne Sawyer’s autopsy,” he said as I answered the call.

  “I’m all but ready, can be down in a couple of minutes,” I replied, already pulling my coat on. Those words were music to my ears.

  “Good, we’ll speak more then,” Freddy cut the call. A man of few words when he wanted to be, only it came when I didn’t like it. I’d have much preferred knowing what I was walking into rather than ambling along in my own suspicions.

  Whatever they found clearly wasn’t enough to point a finger at anyone. If it was, Freddy would surely be more insistent that I hurry. But even a little was better than nothing.

  I chugged the last of my coffee, burning my tongue. A hiss of annoyance escaped my lips before getting in my car and driving down the street to the sheriff’s department. It took longer than expected, with the town seemingly in an uproar and taking to the streets, even this early in the morning.

  As I drove by, I saw someone standing on his soapbox, leading the charge in some archaic crusade to find Lynne Sawyer’s killer. I even stopped a while, rolled down my window, and listened.

  “Our streets run red with the blood of that innocent woman. Whoever’s cruelty and malice delivered her death’s cruel kiss will be caught and reprimanded for their actions. We, the people of Priest River, must stand together and hold strong in this fight. We cannot back down. We cannot let vile tyranny keep us pressed,” he said.

  God damn brainwashing, that’s what it was. The speaker who stood on high tried rallying the troops in preparation for some oncoming war. I swallowed hard, realizing that meant Jim Heath might be in actual trouble. It seemed most of Priest River pegged him as the killer, and soon enough, with numbers on their side, they’d strike.

  Our window was closing – be it him or not. But damn well, if it was Jim Heath, I’d rather see him behind bars, that butchered at the hands of a mob.

  I drove on, stopping at the sheriff’s department.

  “Sent Rodney out for coffee and breakfast. Hope you like donuts,” Freddy said as I stepped through, setting down the newspaper he was reading. “A bit of a cliché, I know, but gotta get something in us.”

  “Sure, they’re just fine,” I replied. I didn’t care about food right then. I’d have been fine with a few cigarettes and coffee. Not the healthiest start to the day, but that was my breakfast of champions back in New York. “You see the army forming out in the street?”

  “Uh-huh, but I don’t think they’re much to worry about. There’s something new every weak, and that Buster Scott likes causing a ruckus. Never follows through with nothing, though. So, I don’t suppos
e we really gotta concern ourselves with their little rabble-rousing,” Freddy said.

  I liked the enthusiasm, but it still left me worried. Men like this Buster Scott had a way of manipulating the people. There wasn’t a single reason to listen or believe a thing he said, and yet they always did. It was only a matter of time until Buster pointed a finger and sent those who followed him into a panic, fighting for salvation.

  For now, I’d take Freddy at his word. Focusing on the case, bringing it to a close, dealt with that problem altogether.

  Freddy got to his feet and walked over to the sheriff’s desk at the back of the room. He got behind it, shuffling through a few of the drawers, pulling out a small box. The bottom half of the box was brown, with a greenish top. Written on the side was the case file number, the item number, and a few other details of the officer and coroner who made the discovery.

  “Got it from the coroner this morning,” Freddy set it down on the table. “I don’t know what to make of it, Jack. Maybe you’ve got some ideas.”

  I lifted the box and opened the top. Inside, enclosed in a plastic forensic bag, a golden trinket waited. On the highest point, an eagle flapped its wings, with a green stone held in in the wings arch. It lowered on a short chain to what looked like a pendant, with a sunstone encased by gold. Finally, one last chain held a nearly see-through gem.

  “Looks like something that belongs on a necklace,” I said after my brief inspection.

  “That was my thoughts. But they found it lodged in Lynne Sawyer’s throat pipe, and I’m guessing she didn’t mistake it for food,” Freddy replied.

  An image of her jawless face flashed across my mind, leaving my gut unsettled. Now I’d definitely forego breakfast for coffee and cigarettes.

  I took my camera out and snapped a few pictures of the trinket. I planned on sending them back to Aaron for further inspection after speaking with Freddy a little longer. Once I had a good few, from top to bottom, I handed the box back.

  “Where do you even start to look?” I thought out loud. My reason for coming in was to bounce ideas off Rodney and Freddy, and it was as good a time as any to start. “It’s always easier to suspect someone close to the victim, but she’s from out of town, right? Do you know anyone that came with her?”

  “A few of them came together, sure. They’re all scattered around Newport and Priest River, but they’re just some investment group that builds up these small areas and makes them more accessible to the general public. The mayor gave us all a rundown of what’s gonna happen a few months ago, and the town looked mighty pleased with it all. Don’t see why business partners would care to kill when they’ve all been playing this game for years together,” Freddy shrugged.

  “That’s the wrong way of thinking,” my hand instinctively reached to my chin and stroked it. “Why not wait until you’re in a small town? Especially one that’s desolate and remote? If someone managed to catch wind of Jim Heath being hated around here, they’d have an easy out. Blame shifted away just long enough for them to escape.”

  While I spoke, Rodney came through the door. The smell of coffee and donuts instantly filled the cramped sheriff’s office. My belly, still uneasy from the flash of Lynne’s face, only got more agitated by the scent.

  “Morning, Jack.”

  “Rodney,” I replied.

  “Now, what are you saying, Jack? You think it might be one of those investors?” Freddy cocked a brow, ignoring Rodney’s return.

  “It’s as good a guess as any, right? We can’t throw ourselves down one road and hope for the best. The least we can do is go speak to them and see.”

  “Alright, I’ll put in a few calls and set it up. Suppose you’re right, it can’t hurt to cover a few more bases,” Freddy said, already lifting the telephone, fingers tapping away at the numbers.

  I wasn’t oblivious to the fact that this town didn’t have the best police force, but the lack of common sense among them was staggering.

  “You want a donut, Jack?” Rodney asked, holding out the box of a dozen towards me.

  I shook my head, grabbing a cup of coffee out of the tray. “No thanks, pal. Had a big breakfast before I got here. Tell the old man I’m going for a walk to clear my head. I’ve got a few calls to make.”

  “Sure thing,” Rodney said, setting the donuts down on the table. Freddy already spoke to someone on the other end of the phone but grabbed a treat anyway and took a bite.

  I stepped outside, an unlit cigarette loosely placed between my lips. Down the street, the congregation of people listening to Buster Scott started disbanding.

  I saw an opportunity there and walked briskly towards them. A few remained, talking to Buster about how he was an inspiration to the people of Priest River. What a joke.

  “Buster Scott?” I called his name, walking right to the front of the crowd. Like the investors, Buster was as good a suspect as any. Years of brainwashing the people into believing his preaching gave Buster free reign to do what he pleased, only to have the people on his side.

  I didn’t know a thing about him, but I wasn’t about to let an opportunity to question pass me up.

  “Yeah, that’s me,” he replied. He was an older man but looked good for his age. He wore a fancy black suit, red tie, and white shirt. He had chubby cheeks on a thin frame and striking white hair. I could see he shaved that morning, and yet, a dark grey ring of his beard ran across his face. “How can I help you?”

  His voice was gruff, almost constantly breaking. Reminded me of Nick Nolte.

  “I was driving by this morning and heard part of your speech. Wanted to stop in and ask you a couple of questions,” I said.

  The small group of people around gave me this dirty look like I was on their radar just by being suspicious of Buster. God damn cultist mentality.

  “The blue Camaro. Yeah, I saw you stopping by, had to admire the beauty of your vehicle. Sure thing, I’ll answer a few questions. But I’ve got to ask, on whose authority do I have to answer?”

  “Detective Jack Mercer,” I said, getting my badge out of my pocket and flashing it to him. “Look, it’s nothing serious. You just look like a man who has his finger on the pulse, and you might be able to help me in this active investigation.”

  “How can I help you then, detective?” he asked, tugging at his lapels.

  “Is there anything you can tell me about Lynne Sawyer’s murder? Or rather, why you feel invested enough to speak about it?”

  “It’s harrowing times in this little town of ours. I speak about it because I fear for the city. I’m just trying to set their minds at ease, remove the burden from their minds,” Buster replied.

  “Isn’t that the police’s job? At the very least, the mayor?” I questioned.

  “Sure, sure, but I don’t see them getting out and trying. Do you?” Buster gesture that we walk, and I followed him away from the group.

  “We all know the town’s already tense. Don’t you think that something like this might cause more alarm than good? The sheriff’s department is doing all they can to bring the criminal to justice. We don’t give out unnecessary information so that the people don’t feel like they’re next on the chopping block,” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Don’t you think that’s what speeches about danger will do? Send them into panic….”

  “Why, I never thought about that. I don’t suppose they would, no. I’m just a man of the people, trying to make these tough times easier, Mister Mercer. Don’t mean no harm by it,” Buster walked with me all the way to his car, leaning against the hood.

  “And yet, you know, if there was any harm meant, those people would follow your beck and call.”

  Buster burst out laughing. “Yeah, I suppose they would. There isn’t really any reason for me to do that, now is there? As you said, the sheriff’s department’s got this under control.”

  Like Jim, Buster felt like a dead end. He didn’t strike me as a nervous man. He spoke with confidence, not malice. It was worth a shot anyway. “Look, I’
m just trying to look out for the people, same as you. If they get hot-headed, innocent people might get hurt. And when a man like you holds a lot of weight around here, someone might get the wrong idea. Understand what I’m getting at?”

  “I do. You’re telling me to hold my tongue so that some of the less… mentality gifted don’t go out and hurt themselves. That right?”

  I didn’t reply.

  “I’m not going to hold my tongue if that’s what you’re expecting, Mister Mercer. But I won’t be inciting no violence, neither. There you go, alright?” Buster added.

  “Good, that’s all I wanted to hear,” I replied.

  “But don’t think the people hang on my every word either,” Buster spoke again while he got into his car. “If that sheriff Stern doesn’t start getting ahead of this thing, these people will go out on their own. Your window is closing. Mob mentality is always at the foreground of every civilization, it’s only easier to hit with fewer people.”

  I watched Buster drive off.

  He wasn’t wrong, either, and I think that’s what scared me most.

  Chapter 15

  Jack

  My phone rang on the short walk back to the sheriff’s department. It was Aaron. After speaking with Buster, I got so lost in thought that I forgot all about wanting to call him.

  But things just always have a way of lining up.

  “Just the man I wanted to speak to,” I answered.

  “Hey, boss,” Aaron replied. “I got the information you were looking for on Lynne Sawyer and Jim Heath.”

  “Good, I’ve got a little more myself. I’m going to be sending through a few pictures. I need you to find out what the thing in them is,” I said. “But what have you got for me?”

  “Sure thing. I’ll get on that right after the call then,” Aaron said. I heard the heavy clacking of his keyboard before he continued speaking. “So, Jim Heath was a bit of a dead-end. I found a social work profile, but that’s about it. Got laid off from a job in Washington in an unfair dismissal. He worked in some law firm, and they railed him in court.”