The Shadow Cell: A Chilling Psychological Thriller (Wolf Lake Thriller Book 6)

by Dan Padavona

  “Your job is to keep Scout and Mrs. Mourning safe.”

  Serena glanced at Naomi, who shrugged her shoulders. Before LeVar climbed out of the car, Scout grabbed his forearm.

  “No joke this time, LeVar. Be careful.”

  LeVar nodded.

  “Keep your radio on. I’ll contact you if there’s trouble.”

  The grass grew up to LeVar’s knees along the access road. Beyond the meadow, lights shone from the cul-de-sac. Somewhere, a family burned a fire in their backyard. He recalled roasting marshmallows at the state park and wished he was there, instead of crawling through the wilderness and dodging mosquitoes.

  LeVar fought through the meadow and lost sight of the car. A creek gurgled through the clearing, and the first stars flared on the horizon. Animals scurried through the brush as he high-stepped through burdock. His mother’s warning rattled inside his head. Sneaking through a stranger’s backyard brought back unwanted memories from his time with the Harmon Kings gang. How many times had he scouted a rival gang’s territory or walked through the wrong section of town, always wondering if someone centered crosshairs on his head?

  The cul-de-sac lay beyond the meadow. It occurred to LeVar how easy it was to spy on neighbors from here. With a pair of binoculars, it was possible for the ghost to peer into houses and avoid detection. The trees provided a hiding place if someone spotted the Peeping Tom. But there had to be another escape route. A way for the Poplar Corners ghost to vanish.

  LeVar passed behind a Cape Cod with a tall privacy fence. He wasn’t alone in the night.

  The teenager paused and listened to the night sounds. He sensed eyes on his back and swung around. The meadow sprawled before him and stretched toward a patch of forest. LeVar crouched below a shrub, grabbed the radio, and lowered his voice.

  “Someone is out here. You see anybody, Scout?”

  “That’s a negative.”

  LeVar squinted into the dark. His arms prickled a moment before a branch snapped in the forest. It could have been a deer. Or a limb breaking off a tree. Or a Peeping Tom watching him from the woods.

  He bent low and moved through the meadow, his footsteps silent on the soft ground. The closer he walked to the tree line, the more convinced he’d become that someone stood among the trees.

  LeVar slipped into the thicket and stared into the impenetrable dark. A man had been here. He was sure of it.

  Scout’s voice came over the radio.

  “Someone just crossed the access road.”

  LeVar heard the alarmed voices of Naomi and Serena in the background.

  “Get out of there, Scout. Tell my mother to drive.”

  A second later, the engine fired on LeVar’s Chrysler Limited. He sprinted toward the sound, the headlights a beacon guiding him out of the meadow. Scout’s eyes widened in alarm as he burst out of hiding. Serena braked, the car skidding to a halt as Naomi threw the door open. LeVar piled into the backseat. He peeked behind him. A shadow approached the car from behind.

  “Get us out of here.”

  LeVar didn’t have to ask his mother twice.

  29

  Scott walked along the bars. His pupils dilated against the absolute darkness. For the last hour, he’d paced the cage so many times he’d memorized the length and width, sensed the bars before his outstretched hands touched the cold iron. The damp ground chilled his feet. At least the exertion kept the shivers at bay.

  Without a window to the outside world, he didn’t know if it was day or night unless the sicko opened the trapdoor and descended into the subterranean cell. Sometimes, when his abductor entered through the basement, Scott gaged the time of day by the gray light spilling through the entryway.

  His blood boiled. Every eight to twelve hours, the kidnapper visited with food and water. No ransom demands, no promise of release. Scott’s only choice was to relieve himself in a bucket, which he passed beneath the enclosure for disposal. His kidnapper had reduced Scott to an animal.

  The child moaned in the neighboring cell. Scott set his rage aside. Keeping Lonnie safe was his priority.

  “I’m right here, Lonnie. Can you hear my voice?”

  He sensed the boy nodding. The prisoners had bonded during their stay, though Scott didn’t know how long he’d spent inside the cage. One day blended with the next until time lost all meaning. If his captor claimed Scott had been here a month, he’d believe it.

  “I wanna go home.”

  “I know you do, buddy. You will. I promise.” Somewhere in the dark, Lonnie sniffled. Scott reached his hands through the bars into the boy’s cage. “Follow my voice and grab hold of my hands.”

  He flinched with surprise when the boy’s dirt-crusted hands closed over his palms. Scott gave them a gentle squeeze as the boy sobbed.

  “I miss my daddy.”

  “I’m sure you do. You’ll be with him soon once I get us out of here.”

  What kind of maniac kidnapped a child and locked him beneath the ground? Scott wanted to grab his captor and smash his head against the bars. Creeps in their forties didn’t frighten him. Especially losers who struck him with a Taser from behind. Let’s see how tough the guy was without a weapon. He glanced around the cage, his eyes struggling against the black. There had to be a way out of here. An idea occurred to him.

  “Lonnie, we need to make as much noise as possible. We’ll drive him crazy and force him to open the cages.”

  “No,” Lonnie said, moaning. “He’ll hurt you if you make him angry.”

  “He can’t hurt me. Don’t worry. I can take care of myself. I’m not proud to admit it, but I’ve been in my share of fights. This guy is nothing.”

  “Don’t, Scott.”

  Ignoring the boy’s pleading, Scott followed the bars to the back of his cell and located the bucket. The stench made his eyes tear up. He walked it to the front of the cell and slammed the bucket against the bars. As he continued to bash the container against the iron, he yelled. Pretty soon, Lonnie joined in. When the racket gave him a headache, Scott grabbed the bars and shook them. His muscles screamed with exertion. Dirt trickled down from the earthen ceiling and crusted his head and shoulders. His hope surged. He’d loosened the bars.

  Scott shook the bars harder. More grit cascaded into the cage, though it was impossible to see how much damage he’d done.

  “It’s working, Lonnie. I’ll break us out of here.”

  His skin prickled with warning. Something was wrong. He had no warning before the light flicked on inside the cells. The creep stood before him with a maniacal grin on his face. Somehow, he’d entered the cells undetected, prowling through the pitch black. How long had he been there?

  “I warned you not to test me, Scott.”

  “Your cage can’t hold me, scumbag. When I get out of here, I’ll—”

  “Yes, yes. You’ll beat me up. Is that the master plan, college boy? Are you up to the task?”

  “Tough talk. Unlock the cage, and we’ll put your threat to the test.”

  The creep ignored him and wandered to Lonnie’s cell. The child slunk away when their abductor pressed his face against the bars.

  “I expected more from you, Lonnie. I fear Scott is a negative influence. Shall I correct the situation?”

  The creep swung his eyes to Scott with menace. Lonnie leaped out of his crouch and clutched the bars.

  “Please, don’t hurt him. He’s sorry. He won’t do it again.”

  “No, Lonnie,” Scott said, anger reddening his face. “You don’t have to protect me from him. He can’t hurt me without his weapons. What did you bring this time, sicko? A gun? A knife? I don’t see your Taser.”

  The kidnapper rolled his eyes.

  “I don’t require a weapon to control my pet.”

  “Pet? Is that what you called me? Open the goddamn cage.”

  Glaring at Lonnie, the creep knelt before the child’s cell.

  “You can save your friend, Lonnie. The power is yours. Tell me who your father is.”


  Lonnie glanced between Scott and the creep. His forehead creased with confusion.

  “James McKinney?”

  “Wrong answer. I’m your father now. You failed the test, and now Scott must pay.”

  The man rose to his feet and moved with effortless grace toward the neighboring cage. Scott’s body tensed with anticipation. This was too good to be true. He’d goaded the psycho into unlocking the door. The man must have a weapon in his back pocket, some means of protection. Scott didn’t worry. He’d disarm the man first, then smash his puny frame against the bars, pay him back for the misery he’d caused, and steal the key. Soon, he’d free Lonnie and contact the police.

  The creep stood before the door, glaring at Scott through the tops of his eyes. Unhinged. A madman out of a horror movie. Standing naked in the center of the cage, Scott remained calm. He didn’t want to rush the man and risk scaring him off. Better to let the prick think Scott was scared.

  Scott bit his tongue when the key slipped into the lock. This was another taunt. The creep wouldn’t dare unlock the cage and—

  He did.

  The rusty lock shrieked with bloodlust as the door drifted open. To Scott’s shock, the madman peeled off his button-down shirt and tossed it aside. Standing bareback in the cell, the creep twitched his fingers.

  Lonnie screamed when the creep rushed Scott, arms flailing maniacally. Scott held his ground, remaining patient. When the creep came within range, Scott punched him square in his face. The man’s head whipped back. Blood spurted from his nose.

  “You’re a dead man,” Scott growled.

  Scott reached back to throw another punch when the man lunged and wrapped his hands around Scott’s throat. The college student coughed and yanked at the psycho’s hands. Fingers dug into his windpipe and cut off the oxygen. The man’s head fell back and whipped forward, crushing Scott’s nose. To his horror, Scott found himself flat on his back with the madman atop him. Doubt crept into him. His heels dug into the soft earth and lost their purchase. Panicked, he bridged and bucked, but he failed to unseat the creep. Behind him, Lonnie cried and screamed, begging the man not to hurt Scott. This couldn’t be happening.

  Pressing his elbows out, Scott pushed the man’s arms away and broke the stranglehold. Gagging, he swung desperately at the creep. The man dodged the blow with ease and spat in Scott’s face. A fist struck Scott’s temple. The cage spun on an invisible axis as his legs flailed beneath the stronger foe. Still Lonnie cried and pleaded from the next cage. Scott heard the bars shaking, Lonnie’s bucket whipping against the cage.

  The cell grew dark now. The madman crawled up to Scott’s chest and pressed him to the dirt floor. Before Scott threw him off, his kidnapper resumed his stranglehold.

  “I warned you, boy.”

  Scott couldn’t breathe. The more he struggled, the deeper he sank into the chilling earth. Atop him, the madman leered down at his beaten foe with an insane smile.

  “I’m your father. I’m your God.”

  Then Scott saw no more.

  30

  Thomas was waiting inside his office for James McKinney to arrive when Chelsey stopped by the Nightshade County Sheriff’s Department and rapped her knuckles on his door.

  “These are the people I’ve interviewed in the Harmony Santos investigation,” she said, dropping the file on Thomas’s desk.

  Thomas paged through the papers.

  “A red Camaro convertible. You’re right. You don’t find too many of those in Poplar Corners. Lawrence Santos saw this car outside his house before his wife disappeared?”

  “Down the street, yes. I hoped you’d search the database for anyone driving that car in Poplar Corners.”

  “I’ll put Lambert on the case as soon as we finish with Mr. McKinney.” He handed the folder back to Chelsey. “Thank you. I’ll keep these confidential.”

  She held up a hand.

  “These are copies. Keep them. And you don’t need to thank me. The important thing is we catch Lonnie McKinney’s kidnapper.”

  “Agreed, but I appreciate Wolf Lake Consulting cooperating.” Voices from the corridor pulled Thomas’s attention. “That must be James McKinney. Do you want to hang out until we finish the interview?”

  “Can’t. I’m meeting Raven and LeVar at the office in fifteen minutes.”

  Thomas checked the clock.

  “You’d better hurry then. See you at the house for dinner?”

  Chelsey hesitated before answering.

  “Sure.”

  He kissed Chelsey on the cheek and thanked her again for sharing her notes. As she exited the building, he worried he was pressing her too hard. She wasn’t ready to move in with him. He clutched the case file under his arm and closed the office door behind him.

  “You ready?” he asked Lambert as he passed the deputy’s desk.

  “Let’s go.”

  Lambert fixed his hat and rose to follow Thomas. Across the corridor, Aguilar buried her head in paperwork, her pen flying across the page as she scribbled a signature.

  “How about joining us for the McKinney interview, Deputy Aguilar?”

  “No thanks,” Aguilar said without raising her head. “If I hustle, I’ll catch up on this paperwork before my shift ends.”

  It wasn’t like Aguilar to turn him down, let alone skip a crucial interview. Thomas lifted his chin at Lambert.

  “Grab Agents Bell and Gardy. I’ll meet you inside the interview room.” As Lambert strode away, Thomas turned his attention to Aguilar. “You sure everything is okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “It’s not my place to ask, but how are the sessions with Dr. Mandal going?”

  “Wonderful.”

  Thomas removed his hat and rubbed his forehead. Why wouldn’t Aguilar open up to him?

  “My office is always open if you want to talk.”

  “Maybe tomorrow, Sheriff. There’s something we need to discuss.”

  Thomas scrunched his brow. Whatever Aguilar wanted to talk about, it didn’t sound promising.

  “All right, then. I’ll let you know how the interview goes.”

  Agents Bell and Gardy were seated beside Deputy Lambert when Thomas entered the interview room. James McKinney, appearing twenty years older than his age, took an open chair across the table. Thomas shut the door and closed the blinds.

  “Thank you for coming in this afternoon, Mr. McKinney. I’m sorry I asked you to travel from Poplar Corners.”

  “I’ll do anything if it helps you find Lonnie.” Thomas set two water bottles on the table and sat next to Lambert. “Mr. McKinney, I’d like to introduce Agents Scarlett Bell and Neil Gardy with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. And you met Deputy Lambert.”

  Thomas glanced down the table at Agent Bell.

  “Mr. McKinney, do you know Harmony Santos?” Bell asked, opening the folder to her notes.

  McKinney thought for a moment.

  “Harmony Santos. Isn’t that the woman who disappeared a while back?”

  “Four years ago, yes.”

  “I remember her from the news, but I never met her.”

  “How about Lawrence Santos?”

  “Sorry, no. Never met the guy. He’s the husband, right?”

  “Correct.”

  “According to the newspapers, the police suspected him for abducting his wife.”

  “They never proved he took her.”

  Gardy produced a photograph of Lawrence Santos and slid it across the table.

  “Perhaps you’ve seen Mr. Santos around town,” Gardy said.

  McKinney studied the photograph.

  “He looks familiar. I might have passed him in the grocery store. But we’ve never met.”

  Gardy removed a second photograph and passed it to McKinney.

  “How about this man? Ever see him around Poplar Corners?”

  McKinney took a long time before he answered. Thomas glanced at Lambert in question before McKinney spoke.

  “Yeah, I’ve seen him around. Not sur
e who he is, though. Does this have something to do with Lonnie’s kidnapping?”

  McKinney set the photo on the table. Agent Bell tapped her nail on the photograph.

  “That’s Gerald Burke,” she said. “He dated Harmony Santos during college. Where have you seen this man?”

  “Around town. He drives an expensive-looking car.”

  “A red Camaro convertible?” Thomas asked, hoping they’d narrowed the suspect list.

  Lonnie’s father gave Thomas a confused stare.

  “A BMW. What’s this about a Camaro?”

  Not the car they were looking for. Still, Thomas wondered why Gerald Burke was cruising around Poplar Corners. It was possible they were searching for two kidnappers—the man who nabbed Lonnie McKinney, and Harmony Santos’s abductor.

  “Mr. Santos. You ever spot a red Camaro convertible in Poplar Corners?”

  “Never. Did Burke kidnap Harmony Santos? Is he the man Lonnie met in the park?”

  “There’s no evidence Gerald Burke kidnapped anyone. We’re considering all possibilities.”

  Gardy whispered in Bell’s ear. Bell nodded and leaned toward McKinney.

  “Mr. McKinney, did your son say anything that suggested he’d met the man in the park before?”

  “I grilled Lonnie about the stranger. He’d never encountered the man until that day at the park.”

  “Nobody asked questions about Lonnie at the playground or somewhere in public? Someone who acted a little too friendly?”

  “Losing Lonnie was my greatest fear. I would remember if someone asked me about my son.”

  McKinney halted, and the blood drained from his face.

  Agent Gardy tilted his head and said, “You remember someone. Tell us.”

  Lonnie’s father shook his head.

  “Mr. McKinney, what is it?”

  McKinney reached for a water bottle and took a long drink.

  “Last month, Lonnie came into my room crying in the middle of the night. He said the boogeyman was in his closet.” Gardy cocked an eyebrow at Thomas. “I blew it off. You know how kids are at that age. The dark scares them, and their imaginations run wild.”

  “What happened?”