by H. P. Bayne
“But you’re not aware of anything specific,” Dez said.
Pip shook his head. “Nope. Sorry. I’ll turn my brain to it, though. Could be some stories are stashed away in there I’ve forgotten about. Get to be my age, you’re lucky to remember your own name some days.”
He uttered a laugh, and Sully felt compelled to join in although he wasn’t finding much funny at the moment. He’d left his sense of humour somewhere out by visitor parking.
“One other thing,” Sully said. “You’ve been here a long time, and you’re aware the place is haunted. I don’t know how much awareness you have of the individual spirits, but I was wondering if any really worry you.”
“I can’t do what you do. I can’t tell one from the next for the most part. But there is one inside I like to call the Walker. I hear him coming sometimes when I’m in there doing a patrol at night. I went looking for him once, thinking it was an intruder. When I didn’t find anything, I knew it was something else entirely. Way I figure it, he’s probably one of the guards who stuck around. Might be he patrols the place, same as I do. Creepy bastard, I’ll tell you that.”
“Did any guards die here?” Sully asked.
“A few. There were riots over the years, plus a couple of them had health emergencies and bit it in here. All told, five guards died on the property. Guess the Walker could be any of them—or none of them, come to that.”
Sully hadn’t seen any correctional officers inside, but that didn’t mean they weren’t around, of course. “Do you have names for any of them?”
“Not on me, but there’s a plaque in the museum area the ministry put up for the ones who died in those couple of riots. When a guard dies bloody, he gets a plaque. Same doesn’t hold true for inmates, whether they had it coming or not.”
Bitterness painted Pip’s statement, and Sully could only imagine what it meant for someone like him. Sure, some inmates brought it down upon themselves, inciting and inviting violence as part of their very makeup. But prison inmates, like other people, weren’t created equal. No doubt there had been many caught in the middle of bloody battles not of their making. Many whose cognitive problems or untreated mental health issues had landed them in here. Did they deserve the same fate as the truly evil?
Sully let the thoughts form then pass. Some problems he could fix, others he couldn’t. Focusing on issues beyond his power to change would do nothing except drive him crazy.
With nothing more he could think to ask Pip, Sully signaled an end to the conversation, thanked Pip and turned to leave. Dez didn’t immediately follow.
“You’re not a big guy,” Dez said to Pip. “How’d you survive in here?”
“Kept my head down, didn’t mouth off. And this may come as a surprise, but I’m good with people. Some of the other lifers would come and talk to me about things getting them down. Couple of guys who got to be buddies of mine were the types others didn’t mess with. Besides, other inmates knew what I’d done to get in here, and I was respected for it. I didn’t need to do anything more than that, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Dez nodded. “Good.”
Pip walked them out of the shop and through the building to the main door. “Tell you, though, lots of people did nasty stuff to survive in here. Sometimes it was doing things that turned their stomachs, sometimes it was turning a blind eye. You can do everything right. You can keep your head down and your nose clean, avoid the gangs, take all the programming they throw at you, treat inmates and guards with respect. Don’t matter in a way. Whatever you did, you came out of here changed. Most days, I can’t even remember the person I was before. It’s like thinking about someone else completely.”
He put his hand out and gripped Sully’s and Dez’s hands in turn. He held the door long enough for them to leave, then turned and disappeared back inside, into the shadows of the building.
9
Dez stuffed his hands in his pockets as he stalked back toward the main building. His shoulders were tight, and he gave them a roll. All it did was reveal further tension, in his neck this time.
“You okay?” Sully asked.
Dez frowned. “I hate this place.”
“Yeah,” Sully said. “Me too.”
“I keep thinking about it—what it must’ve been like coming here, waking up every day to this reality. Every single day—for decades sometimes.” He lowered his head and gave it a shake. “I don’t think I would have lasted a week.”
“Me neither,” Sully said. “Remind me, why is it people actually want to come and spend their holidays here?”
Dez snorted. “I need a reminder of the answer to that one too.”
Ed was waiting for them right inside the main prison building, near enough to the outer door Dez suspected he wasn’t so much trying to be a good host as he was ensuring an escape route should he need one.
As Dez and Sully neared, Ed shoved the door open and greeted them with a hopeful grin.
“Was Pip able to help you out at all?” he asked.
“Not so much,” Dez said. “We still have our work cut out for us.”
As he followed Ed and Sully down the hall and back inside the main areas of the prison, Dez spoke to the back of Ed’s head. “Listen, I know you said you don’t have access to prison records, but I wonder if you might have a contact over in corrections you could speak with. Even a list of those murdered here would help, along with the names of people who were prisoners on death row. We can duck back into the museum you’ve got and write down the names of the guards killed here, but we’ll need a way more detailed list accounting for everyone else murdered.”
Ed turned his head enough to catch Dez’s eye before returning his gaze to the path in front of him. “I’ll do what I can, but don’t hold your breath. Kevin and I asked for those sorts of details when we bought the place. We initially thought we could include lists of names inside each cell of those who’d stayed there, maybe have a bit about what they were in for, that sort of thing. Thought it would give guests a better connection to the place’s history and former residents. We got shut down, like I mentioned earlier. I can’t imagine they’re going to happily turn over the information for the benefit of people here investigating ghosts.”
“You’re right,” Sully said. “Hold off on asking—for the time being, anyway.” He turned and met Dez’s eye. “Maybe Lachlan has a source he can tap.”
Good idea. Dez nodded, shuffling in a few steps closer as they made their way through the seemingly empty prison.
Ed brought them to one of the museum rooms, showing them the plaque Pip had mentioned. Three black-and-white photos of uniformed guards had been included next to brief write-ups of each man. Two had been killed during the same riot, back in 1952. The third had died during an even older riot, in 1936.
No mention was made of the two who’d apparently simply keeled over from health problems while on duty, but Dez didn’t find that a particular surprise.
“You happen to see any of these guys in your travels today?” Dez asked Sully.
Sully shook his head. “Doesn’t mean they’re not here though. We didn’t check the upper tiers. Mind you, it’s just as possible they crossed over already. They probably wouldn’t have the same worries as the prisoners about what comes after. So unless they had something else holding them here…”
“Right,” Dez said. “Sounds like there could be at least one. We’ll have to keep our eyes open.” He rethought what he’d just said. “Or I guess you’ll have to keep your eyes open.”
Dez used his phone to snap a photo of the plaque, ensuring he had the written information in focus. That done, he could think of nothing else to do here for the time being, so he and Sully shook Ed’s hand and took their leave—walking out briskly to avoid Leanna.
“There is something else we can do if none of this helps,” Sully said once they’d slid back into the SUV.
Dez started the vehicle and backed out of the spot. “What’s that?”
“You w
on’t like it, but there are others here I could ask for information.”
Dez braked and stared at Sully. “No. You’re not asking ghosts in a place like this to show you stuff. No way.”
Sully shrugged. “Not high on my list of wants either. Just saying, it might end up being our only option. Face it, Dez, we’ve got more names now than we can possibly research, even if Lachlan hired twelve more people to split things up. And we might not get what we need from corrections officials. If we want to get to the bottom of this and stop what’s been happening, it might be I’ll have to make some difficult choices.”
Dez frowned. With a shake of his head, he returned his eyes to the windshield and removed his foot from the brake, happily putting Pineview in his rearview mirror, at least for the time being.
“We’ve got time,” he said. “Let’s see where we get. Maybe we can solve this thing before even coming back here.”
The niggling feeling inside him said otherwise. Dez did his best to ignore it and drove on.
“You’re joking, right?”
Lachlan’s first words after Dez and Sully finished their briefing with him weren’t promising.
“What?” Dez asked.
Lachlan, seated behind his desk in his office, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. The springs on the beaten-up leather chair creaked as he rocked back and forth, eyes fixed on each of the brothers in turn. “I mean, you’re right. I do have a couple of contacts in corrections, and I have no problem hitting them up for a little info now and again. Maybe if it were one file, I could do that. Maybe even two. But you’re talking thirty-two executed inmates—some of whom might have been hanged unjustly—plus an as-yet-unclear number of murdered prisoners and possibly file information on all other death row residents.
“That’s not just a big ask. It’s massive. There’s no way they’d go for it, and my contacts would laugh me off the phone besides. I can’t ask them to do something so enormous.”
Dez’s face fell. “So you’re saying we need to somehow run down all of those names ourselves? How are we supposed to find detailed information on everyone?”
Lachlan held up a finger. “Not necessarily all of them. Coroner’s office rules have changed a little over time. Used to be they automatically held public inquests on every in-custody death. If so, any information coming out of those inquests will be public record.”
Dez exchanged a glance with Sully. It seemed a good place to start. “Great. So where do we find it?”
Lachlan was already pounding something into his keyboard. “Typically, right here, on their main website.”
Dez and Sully circled the desk to see the monitor, Dez leaning down for a better view. The coroner’s office website did indeed post details of inquest findings and subsequent responses by any agency involved in the file. Problem was, they appeared to be listed alphabetically by name, and there weren’t a whole lot of them, all things considered.
Lachlan picked a letter with multiple names listed and picked through each. By the time he reached the end of the list, he was frowning. “Unfortunately, the site only lists findings from the past few years. Anything older, I guess we’re going to have to make a request.”
“How do we do that?” Sully asked.
“Not a whole lot more easily, I’m afraid. Technically, we do have the right to view the findings, but the government and its agencies have been getting a lot sillier with insisting on freedom-of-information requests. If they want paperwork completed by us, we’re looking at as long as a month before we receive the files—and that’s only if we know what we’re asking for. We can’t simply go into an FOI request by asking to see details on all individuals murdered or executed at Pineview Prison. They’d laugh us off the face of the earth. We’ll need names—which is exactly what we don’t have and part of why we need this.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’ll make some inquiries for you though I suspect you’re going to need to do this the good, old-fashioned way.”
Dez groaned. “Newspaper archives.”
“Afraid so, boys. The not-so-glamourous side of private investigation rears its ugly head yet again.”
Dez rubbed at the corners of his eyes. He was exhausted just thinking about it. “Okay. So I guess we’re stuck at the library then.”
Sully tapped him on the arm. “Not necessarily. I think I have a better idea.”
10
The better idea was a visit to the Kimotan Rapids Tribune, the city’s longest-running news outlet.
Unsurprisingly, since Sully’s girlfriend worked there as a reporter.
“This isn’t a social call,” Dez said as he followed Sully into the building’s main lobby.
Grumpy as he was about the idea of hours of newspaper research, Dez had a hard time not smiling as he scanned Sully’s face. He had the look of a kid waiting his turn in the candy floss line at the fair, anticipation of something great awaiting him once he stepped up to the counter.
“Aww,” Dez said. “You’re cute when you’re in love, you know that?”
“Shut up,” Sully said, no heat in the words.
Sully had texted reporter Sarah Leffler on the way over and now sent a second, presumably letting her know they’d arrived. As they stood in the lobby, being eyed by both the receptionist and a security guard, Sully checked the knot he’d tied his hair into at the base of his skull.
“You look fine,” Dez said. He grinned. “Like I said, cute.”
Sully gave Dez a shove. Were they anywhere less public, this might have proved the impetus for a wrestling match that would end with Sully’s hair in a real state. Instead, Dez settled for a shove back.
Sully had just righted himself when Sarah appeared from behind the reception area. Dez grinned as her pretty face broke into a beaming smile to match Sully’s when she saw him. The two of them didn’t stand on ceremony, enveloping each other in a warm embrace before ending in a peck on the lips. Judging by the expressions on their faces, they both wanted more than a peck.
Dez patted Sarah’s back when she turned to him and wrapped him in a similar, though far less passionate hug.
“Hey, D-man,” she said.
“Hey, girl. How’s the day?” He gave her a light squeeze before releasing her.
“Can’t complain.” She eyed Sully. “Really can’t complain.”
“Good to hear,” Dez said. “Sully and I have plenty to complain about.”
Sarah led them through the lobby, past the grinning receptionist and the unaffected security guard. “Sounds like you’ve got quite a job in front of you.”
“You could say that,” Sully said.
Sarah grinned as she keycarded them through a security door leading into the employees’ area of the building. “Lucky for you, then, you came to the right place. I think I might have a way to make things easier for you.”
Dez exchanged a hopeful glance with Sully before heading through the door Sarah held open.
She led them through the halls until she reached the glass doors leading into the newsroom. Once again, she used her keycard to grant them access, then showed them into what was currently a very busy space. Plenty of desks were filled, and the sounds of typing, conversation, laughter and relatively quiet televisions added to the ambience.
“It’s a bit loud,” Sarah said. “Nearing the end of the day, so people are trying to get their stories filed without getting stuck here on OT.”
A few of Sarah’s coworkers glanced up from their screens as she guided Dez and Sully through the newsroom, a couple of the women offering gleeful waves. Dez imagined Sully was a regular topic of conversation amongst some of the staff around here these days.
Sarah led them into a large room filled with shelves and cabinets, then through to a row of microfiche machines and a lone computer. Dez eyed the microfiche machines with dread so was relieved when Sarah pulled a chair over to the computer.
“Sorry, we only have the one PC in here,” she said. “Ideally, I’d have one for each of you, make
the process faster. This one used to belong to our librarian—when we had a librarian. One of the first jobs they eliminated during the last round of cuts.”
She sat and logged in using her own ID, then brought up an internet page. Sully and Dez stood behind her, viewing the screen over her shoulders.
“This should save you time,” she said. “It’s the search engine we use at work to find background information for our stories. It’s a newspaper archive, and it dates to the start of the paper in the eighteen hundreds.”
She showed them how to fill in an advanced search and asked they make sure to confine themselves to her paper’s archives. “We have to pay for anything over and above that,” she explained. “If I could give you some advice, keep Pineview as a search term in the first box. You can get a little more creative in the second with words like ‘murder’ or’ homicide’ or ‘stabbing’ or whatever else you can think of to describe what you’re looking for. The site searches words used within the story. Problem you might get into is that words like the ones I suggested will also bring up stories about convicted killers sentenced to serve time at Pineview, so it’s not going to be quite as straightforward a process. Make sense?”
Sully nodded. Sarah stood and waved Dez into her chair. She took a cursory glance around, then tugged on Sully’s shirt to draw him to her. Dez grinned as she planted a much deeper kiss on Sully than the one they’d managed in the lobby.
“Nice one,” Dez commented once the two of them pulled apart.
Sarah smacked him lightly on the back. “Watch it, you.”
Dez laughed. He continued chuckling as Sully wobbled slightly once Sarah released his shirt and walked off.
“Shut up,” Sully said as he grabbed a spare chair and dropped a little heavily into it. The order was free of any heat, spoken as it was through a smile.
“Dude, you’re in big trouble here. You know that, right? She’s got you hook, line and sinker.”