I hesitated, wanting to argue the point, but I knew he was right. Mandy was looking for Buddy, and I needed to go to the Gast house before the Runner could do irreparable damage.
“I understand, Counselor.”
He gave me a small smile and nodded his head.
“We’ll be in prayer for both of you.”
I headed out the door and down the hall.
CHAPTER 18
I arrived at Jeffrey Gast’s home just as the sun started to sink toward the horizon. Judging from the two SUVs in the driveway, it was a good bet both Jeffrey and his wife were home.
The neighborhood was a typical middle-class construction project. Cookie-cutter houses built in two rows on both sides of the street. The only way to tell one house from the next was to check the landscaping and paint.
The Gast home sat in the middle of the block, its backyard surrounded by chain-link fence. Unfortunately, I didn’t see any evidence of a dog. I was hoping Jeffrey had a pet who might give me a heads-up if a spirit was around. Animals, dogs in particular, are very aware of any spiritual presence.
I’d asked Buddy why he didn’t have a dog, given the advantage he might gain from having a four-legged alarm.
“Actually, I’ve always wanted a dog, but not just any dog will do for a Chaser.”
“Really, why’s that?”
“Most dogs can sense the presence of a spirit, and most dogs will snarl or bark, which is great if you need a warning. However, not all dogs have the ability to discern the difference between good and evil, friend or foe. The sense of when to alert and when to be quiet is what would make a dog truly valuable to a Chaser.”
“Does such a breed exist?”
“I understand some Chasers have found canine companions. It’s not a particular breed though, but a type of dog. It must be in tune with your spirit when on a chase. I’ve heard of German Shepherds, an occasional retriever, even a Chihuahua.”
“A Chihuahua? That’s a pocket pet!”
He’d laughed, and as I remembered his smile, I had to force myself to stay focused. I fought the urge to abandon the stakeout and go look for him. I hadn’t been able to sense Gast was here yet, but I needed to stay put.
I felt the vibration of my cell phone in my pocket. Yes, I remembered to turn off the ringer!
“Hello.”
“Hey, Jack. It’s Mandy.”
“Hi, Mandy. Any news on Buddy?”
“Afraid not. My guys canvassed a three block area around Union Station with no luck.”
“What about the post office across 18th?”
“Yeah, nothing. Why?”
“One of Buddy’s friends mentioned Buddy sometimes went there. Have you called Sarah Daniels?”
“Yes, I gave her an update about an hour ago. What’s doing?”
“I’m on a stakeout. Do you want to join me?”
“Gee, that sounds like fun, but my waistline couldn’t take it.”
It’s well known among cops and P.I.s alike, that stakeout duty is calorie duty. Eating passes the time, and sitting adds the pounds. Stakeouts equaled unwanted weight gain.
I laughed at her. “Your waistline could be on a month-long stakeout and you’d still be trim.”
“Thank you, sir, but the answer is still no. By the way, you owe me dinner.”
“I haven’t forgotten, just too busy to pay up right now.”
“Okay. Talk to you later.”
I hung up. Of course, I knew she wouldn’t join me, or I wouldn’t have asked. Can’t bring her on a chase, even if she would be great at it.
I hunkered down in my seat, watched, and waited.
*******
I jerked awake in my seat. I don’t know how long I was out, but the last time I remembered looking at my watch was one in the morning. I looked again, three-thirty.
I got out of the car, reached into the back seat, and found my thermos of coffee. I poured the remaining few swallows into my mug while scanning the neighborhood. Nothing seemed amiss and I still had no sense of Robert Gast. All the houses were dark, with only an occasional dog barking to break the quiet.
Frustrated, I tossed back the rest of the coffee and threw the thermos back in the car. I wasn’t getting anything accomplished here and Buddy was still missing. I started the car and headed for Union Station.
*******
The streets of a big city are never really empty. I know the movies will show a situation where a main city street is deserted, which is great for the big screen. In real life, people and vehicles are moving around a city at all hours.
Delivery trucks, taxicabs, police officers, newspaper delivery people, and just ordinary folks out late. When I got to the post office near Union Station, I parked on Market Street, took out my sword, and locked up the Ranchero. I walked around the large building, looking for an entrance that would provide some cover. One of the busiest places, especially in the early morning, is a large post office. The mail needs to be dropped, sorted, and prepared for delivery before your local guy or gal can come to your door.
This made finding a way into the post office nearly impossible, even at night. There was an old steel fire escape, as I’d hoped, but the ladder to the ground floor was retracted. Still, it might be a way in.
I was just about ready to leave when my senses stopped me in my tracks. There was a Runner in the area, and not just any Runner—this one was strong. It might have been Harbinger. I couldn’t be sure if I was getting the feeling from the post office building or somewhere else nearby.
Unfortunately, a Chaser can’t pick up if another Chaser is in the area. Naturally, I suspected Harbinger was the Runner I was feeling, but I had no way of knowing if Buddy was with the spirit, or where exactly they might be.
A look at my watch told me I would see the sun soon. Six in the morning and traffic was picking up considerably. I needed food, and to get back to my stakeout, but I was coming back in the late afternoon to find a way up to the third floor.
Even though I couldn’t sense Buddy, my gut told me Harbinger was holding him, which made me a little queasy. I returned to my car and went to find something bland to eat.
Facing Harbinger seemed now to be inevitable, and I felt less than prepared. The Holy Spirit, however, was more than ready. He just hadn’t told me yet.
As usual, I’m always the last to know.
*******
I made it back to Gast’s neighborhood around seven-thirty. Both vehicles were still in the driveway, and I still didn’t sense the Runner.
One thing I’d forgotten to ask Buddy during my training was how these Runners get around. For all I knew, Robert Gast was walking from Troy (a small town north of St. Louis, apparently!) to his brother’s house. I tried to do the math in my head to figure out how long it would take him to get here on foot, but I was too tired. When I see Buddy again, I’m going to have to ask him more about Runners and their method of travel.
The street was waking up and people were going to work. The last wisps of summer were still around and I found myself staring at the colors on the maples and oaks.
Did I mention my concentration tends to wander? Not a strong character trait of a P.I., but I usually overcome it with patience. Anyway, I was marveling at a beautiful red maple when my heart started to pound. He’s here.
I slipped down in my seat a little and tried to keep from being spotted. I knew if he saw me, he would bolt. Secrecy was not one of my weapons now, but I could still surprise him by stealth. I also had to consider the possibility he may be carrying a weapon.
It took less than two minutes to spot him. He jumped the fence into his brother’s backyard, and headed toward the back door. I got out and moved quickly to the other side of the house, sliding along with my back to the wall, until I could see into the backyard.
The serial killer was in physical form, probably how he was carrying the piece of metal pipe in his hand. It would take just one look out the window from someone in the house to ramp up the situation. If I
can cross the Runner over quickly, the Gast’s will put it down to seeing things.
But if the Runner is able to attack someone, injure someone, or talk to one of them, it won’t matter how fast I cross him over. Those people will be taken too. I had to move now.
I stuck my head around the corner once more and Gast was coming towards me. Apparently, he hadn’t found a way inside and was coming around to where I was. I ducked behind a bush in the neighbor’s yard.
I had my sword drawn and watched as he came through the metal gate creeping toward the front of the house. When he got past my position, I launched myself at him, hitting him with a football block to his back.
At the last second, he sensed me, and rolled slightly to one side. He hit the ground with me on top of him, but slipped out from under me, and made it to his feet first. The metal pipe came swinging down, aimed for my head. I tried to block the blow and it struck me on the forearm. Pain flashed through my brain as my arm began to throb.
He lost his balance, the force of his swing tipping him forward, and I drove my foot into his knee. He howled and fell in front of me. My injured arm was of little use, but I scrambled behind him, and wrapped my good arm around his throat. I did my best to keep the pressure on his windpipe as he kicked and flailed beneath me.
The effort to fight me was taking its toll, and he began to return to spirit form. When he started to lose consciousness, his physical manifestation left him completely. I forced my weak arm to take hold of the sword and thrust it into Robert Samuel Gast. With a flash, he was gone.
I collapsed backward, pain flaring as my arm hit the ground. I lay gasping for oxygen until I forced myself to get up and make my way back to the Ranchero. I didn’t want to answer any questions from the neighbors.
I contemplated where to go. It was clear I needed medical attention, but a hospital meant questions, as did calling Mandy. There was one person I knew could doctor me, and honor my need for secrecy. I fired up the Ranchero and headed for former nurse Annie Carter.
CHAPTER 19
By the time I got to my mother’s house, my arm was turning three shades of purple. It throbbed and any movement sent pain shooting into my shoulder.
I parked in the street and made my way to her door. Rain clouds were moving in and a cool wind from the north had caused dropping temperatures. It felt like the first cold rain of fall was coming.
I tried the door—it was locked—and getting my keys back out of my pocket was too painful. I rang the bell.
When she opened the door, she didn’t see my arm, but she could tell something was wrong.
“Jack, what is it?”
I looked down at my arm and her gaze followed mine.
“For Heaven’s sake, what happened? Get in here.”
She opened the door wide for me to come in, paused to look outside as if the person responsible for my arm might be following, and shut the door.
“Did you drive here?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened?”
“Attacked.”
“By what, a Yeti?”
It was funny, but it hurt to laugh, so I kept it to a smile.
“No. A man with a pipe.”
She steered me to a chair in the kitchen and sat me down.
“Rest the arm on the table where I can get a better look at it.”
I did as I was told. “Could I have a drink of water?”
She got a glass from the cupboard, filled it with water, and grabbed some pills from the counter.
“Here, take these.”
I knocked back three pills and drained the glass. She got me a refill and turned her attention to my arm.
“This is gonna hurt.”
My mother is not usually one for understatement, but saying this will hurt is like saying a bullet wound stings. She manipulated my arm, probed the bone, and in the process, made me cry.
“I don’t think it’s broken, but I can’t be sure without an X-ray. We’ll take you to the hospital.”
“No. I came here because I didn’t want to go to the hospital. Is there anything you can do?”
Despite giving me her best ‘don’t be ridiculous’ look, she could see there was no point in arguing.
“It’s a deep-tissue bruise, and possibly a bone bruise too. I can sling it, put ice on it for the swelling, and watch for signs of deterioration. If the wrist starts to swell, you’ll have no choice. It’ll be the hospital or lose it.”
“Okay. Fix me up for now, please.”
“Very well, but I’m not on board with this plan.”
“I know. Thanks anyway.”
*******
It took a little over an hour for her to get me taken care of and sitting semi-comfortably in my dad’s old recliner. The ancient La-Z-Boy was still in decent shape, and I was thankful Mom had refused to get rid of it. It was a relief to be resting, and the ice plus and pills were taking the edge off the pain.
I had just started to doze off when I heard the doorbell. Mom went and answered it, returning a minute later with Mandy in tow. Mandy was in her detective clothes and her expression, as she came around the corner told me more than a mirror could.
“Jack!”
I gave her a half-smile.
“Hi, Mandy. What’s shaking?”
She sat down in the chair next to me and touched my good hand.
“Annie called me. She said you were attacked by a man with a pipe?”
I scowled at my mother. Even though it was nice to have Mandy holding my hand, I had hoped to avoid the questions she was sure to ask.
“Yeah, afraid so. Gave me a pretty nasty bruise on the arm.”
“What happened?”
“I was on the stakeout I told you about when a guy took exception to me being there and used the pipe on me.”
“Who was it? Can you give me a description?”
“Not really. He came and went almost like a ghost.”
“Well, we can still…”
I cut her off.
“No, please. No reports, no investigation.”
Mandy stared at me, frustration etching her face, wanting to argue. She noticed she was touching my hand, withdrew it, and sighed.
“Can I change your mind?”
“Nope. I just want to rest.”
“Fine, have it your way.”
I gave her another half-smile and passed out before I could ask about Buddy.
********
Well, it turns out the aspirin, which is what I thought my mother gave me, was something else. Three days after arriving at Mom’s door, she finally let me come around.
“How long was I out?”
“Three days.”
“Three days! What did you give me?”
She was unfazed by my outrage.
“Percocet.”
I tried to push myself up, forgetting about my arm, and pain shot into my shoulder.
“Ow, ow, ow!”
“Oh, stop being such a baby. Your arm is healing up nicely. It went from purple to green to yellow, but the wrist didn’t swell. It’s unlikely you suffered a break.”
I sat up, more carefully this time, and tried to clear my head.
“Any news on Buddy?”
“Amanda, who has stopped by every day, by the way, said there’s nothing new to report.”
The news didn’t surprise me. Somewhere in my drug-induced fog, I had concluded Buddy was safe, or at least still alive. It seemed likely to me Harbinger was using my mentor to lure me into a confrontation. I had every intention of obliging him.
“Mandy stopped by each day?”
“She did. If you ask me, that girl loves you.”
“It may seem that way, but we’ve been friends a long time, and there’s never been any romantic involvement.”
“Why not? Don’t you like her?”
How did I get into this conversation with my Mom?
“Well, yes I like her, but it’s never been that way.”
“Don’t see why not?�
�
“Can we talk about something else?”
“Okay, like what?”
I looked down at myself. I was in Dad’s old pajamas, upstairs in the guest room, in bed.
“How did I get changed and into this bed? Don’t tell me Mandy helped you!”
“No, of course not. Mr. Danzig next door helped me.”
I started to test my arm, and despite some soreness, it seemed to be in relatively good shape.
“Thanks for taking care of me, Mom.”
“What are mothers for? You’re welcome. You hungry?”
“Starved. Where’s my clothes?”
“In the closet. I’ll see you downstairs.”
After dressing, and polishing off a double helping of Mom’s famous biscuits and gravy, I got in the car and headed for Journey Chapel.
*******
Brother Timmons let me in to the office where Pastor Gary was waiting for me.
“Jack, good to see you. I heard you’d got yourself banged up pretty good. Was it a Runner?”
“It was. I succeeded in crossing him over but not before he got a solid blow in. How did you find out?”
“Sarah Daniels called and let me know.”
The mention of Sarah reminded me I needed to call her. Mandy must have kept her in the loop.
“Do you still sense Buddy Daniels?”
He sat back down behind his desk, crossed his hands, and studied me.
“I do, but he’s weaker than before.”
“Okay, later this afternoon, I’m going after him. I’m pretty sure Harbinger is using Buddy as bait.”
“Bait for what? You?”
“Buddy said Harbinger wants me out of the way. I think he’s waiting for me to come after Buddy.”
“That would mean it’s a trap.”
“Only if I was unsuspecting, but I’m not. I’ll be careful.”
“Where do you think he is?”
“Post office, as you suggested.”
“What can we do?”
CROSSOVER (THE CHASER CHRONICLES Book 1) Page 11