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

by Dan Padavona

  Hope raced through Aguilar’s body. She clutched the bars and yanked back, her heels digging into the ground for leverage as her back strained. After she failed to dislodge the bars, she shifted her weight forward and shoved against the cage, arms outstretched and locked at the elbows. No hope. The bars refused to budge.

  A slice of milky light spilled beneath the basement door. Not from the sun. The creep must have turned on the cellar light. Illumination arrowed across the floor and caught Lonnie’s cage. The boy curled on the cold ground, stripped as she was, his body facing away. Was he breathing?

  “Lonnie? Can you hear me?”

  The last time their captor descended into the cells, he brought sandwiches. Something store-bought this time. After he removed the food from the plastic wrappers, Aguilar read Doug’s Deli on the label. The name didn’t ring a bell or help her determine their location. Lonnie, bone thin with his ribcage jutting against his flesh, had eaten his sandwich, while Aguilar refused the meal. Now Lonnie was unresponsive and unmoving. Aguilar worried about poison.

  If it was the last act of her life, she’d free Lonnie and return the child to his father. On her knees, Aguilar assessed the opening at the bottom of the cage, where she slid food trays and the bucket to the kidnapper. Despite her diminutive size, she couldn’t squeeze through the opening. Too small, even for Lonnie. But the opening might allow her to snatch her captor by the leg or injure him. She needed a weapon.

  Amid the suffocating darkness, Lonnie moaned. It was a painful sound, the whimper of a dying animal. She swung her eyes to the child, thankful he was alive, yet terrified he wouldn’t live much longer.

  “What’s wrong, Lonnie? Tell me where you hurt.”

  The child squirmed and kicked out as though battling monsters in a dream. Then he rolled to his side and faced Aguilar. The shaft of basement light caught the child’s face, and Aguilar gasped. He was dying.

  “Lonnie, look at me. I need you to keep your eyes open and stay awake.”

  “It hurts.”

  “What hurts?”

  “My tummy.”

  Aguilar scurried to the bars and averted his gaze from the dead student splayed in the center cell.

  “When did the pain start?”

  “I don’t know,” Lonnie said, clenching his eyes as tears leaked down his cheeks.

  “Try to remember. Was it after you ate?”

  He bobbed his head. The son-of-a-bitch poisoned the boy. Now she couldn’t trust the food he brought them. They’d starve if the poison didn’t kill them first.

  “If you’re sick and have to throw up, it’s okay. That will get the bad stuff out of your stomach.”

  Whatever life trauma drove the creep to hurt people, it wasn’t a valid excuse. There was no greater crime than harming a child. Lonnie rubbed his eyes.

  “Did he poison Scott?”

  The boy shook his head.

  “Scott talked back to him, so he . . .”

  The words trailed off. Aguilar swallowed.

  “He unlocked Scott’s cage?”

  “Yeah, because Scott wanted to fight him. Scott thought he could win, but the man hurt him. He hurt Scott until he stopped breathing.”

  So it was possible to goad the psycho. Lonnie must have noticed the idea floating behind Aguilar’s eyes. The boy struggled to his knees and grabbed the bars, staring at her with pleading eyes.

  “He’ll kill you too. He’s too strong. Nobody can win against him.”

  “Lonnie, I’m a deputy with the Nightshade County Sheriff’s Department.”

  Hearing her own words shot a wave of confident energy through Aguilar’s body. The night the creep fooled Aguilar and shot her with the Taser, she’d planned to quit. It occurred to her that the Avery Neal dream hadn’t afflicted her since the kidnapping. Perhaps real nightmares superseded the pretend ones. Escaping this hellhole with Lonnie gave Aguilar a sense of purpose, reminded her of why she’d become a sheriff’s deputy. Until the world was safe from sickos like their abductor, she wouldn’t rest.

  “I’m not afraid of him. He can’t hurt me.”

  “Yes, he can. He hurt Scott, and Scott’s a boy.”

  Aguilar lifted her head and found Lonnie’s silhouette in the dark. She wore a wry smile.

  “Women are as strong as men, Lonnie. Don’t worry about me. The next time he visits, I’ll make him angry. I haven’t decided what I’ll do yet, but I need to force him to enter my cell.”

  “He put his hands around Scott’s neck and squeezed. Scott wasn’t strong enough. I don’t want him to hurt you. You can’t beat him.”

  Aguilar’s gaze fell to the broken college student. She wouldn’t die in front of Lonnie. And she refused to let the creep best her.

  “Please, don’t make him angry,” the boy wept.

  “Stay strong for me.” She straightened her back and repeated her words. “I’m a deputy with the Nightshade County Sheriff’s Department. And I won’t stop fighting until you’re home with your daddy.”

  40

  Chelsey lowered the visor to block out the morning sun. She parked a block from Gerald Burke’s residence and observed people moving about the neighborhood. A man wearing headphones and running sneakers power-walked along the curb. Two women in yoga pants and sweatshirts chatted as they walked their dogs.

  An idea fluttered through her head. There were two kidnappers loose in Nightshade County—the psycho who murdered people in the Great Lakes region and New England, and the person who captured Harmony Santos. She’d read Agent Bell’s profile of the killer—a malignant narcissist who considered the world beneath him. Gerald Burke fit the bill. Harmony’s old boyfriend claimed she’d settled when she married Lawrence Santos. It was obvious Burke never got over Harmony. But would he kidnap his old girlfriend and commit murder?

  And there was still the matter of the wedding photographs. Every time she examined the pictures, she sensed eyes on Harmony. Chelsey searched for Gerald Burke in the photos. But she never found Chelsey’s old boyfriend glaring at her as Lawrence claimed. What was she missing?

  Chelsey stepped from the car and locked the doors with the key fob. When the women in yoga pants approached, they allowed the dogs to sniff Chelsey and say hello. Chelsey knelt and patted their heads.

  “Beautiful dogs. What are their names?”

  “This is Dunes,” the woman on the left said, stroking the dog’s fur. The dog was an unidentifiable mix—black lab, but smaller.

  “And Cujo,” her friend said, holding the brown-coated beagle at the end of the leash.

  The name made Chelsey chuckle. She recalled the infamous monster dog from the Stephen King novel.

  “I take it you live in the neighborhood.”

  “We’re neighbors,” Cujo’s mother said, pointing toward a Tudor and Cape Cod across the street from Gerald Burke’s house. “Are you buying the Baumann House? It’s a tremendous deal, if you like a large yard.”

  The friend shook her head.

  “I wouldn’t. Clint barely keeps up with our lawn. I can’t imagine how he’d maintain a half-acre. But people keep coming by to check out the Baumann place.”

  Chelsey removed a card from her wallet.

  “Actually, I’m a private investigator.” The neighbors shared a wary glance. “Don’t worry. None of your neighbors are in trouble. I’m searching for someone. A woman. Perhaps she came around four years ago.”

  The neighbors dug in their heels as the dogs tried to drag them down the street. Chelsey swiped through the images on her phone and located a picture of Harmony Santos.

  “Here she is,” Chelsey said, holding the phone up.

  Dunes’s mother scrunched her face in concentration before she shook her head.

  “Sorry, she doesn’t look familiar. Are you sure you have the correct neighborhood? We know everybody on the block.”

  Cujo’s mother bent over to study the picture. She tapped a fingernail against Chelsey’s phone.

  “I’ve seen her.”

 
; Chelsey stiffened.

  “Where?”

  “It was a long time ago. Probably four years, like you said. She visited my neighbor across the street. Mr. Burke.”

  The woman’s mouth twisted on Burke’s name.

  “So you know Gerald Burke?”

  “Can’t say we’re cordial, but he comes and goes. He’s not the most neighborly person on the block.”

  “You can say that again,” her friend said in agreement.

  Chelsey found another picture of Harmony Santos, this one from her wedding day.

  “Do you recall seeing her on any other occasion?”

  “No, just once. Not that I’m a busy-body. I assumed she was dating Mr. Burke, but I never saw her after that.”

  Chelsey questioned the women for another minute before leaving them with business cards and a request to call if they remembered anything else about Harmony Santos. She continued down the road, her body buzzing with excitement. Harmony Santos had visited Gerald Burke around the time of her wedding. Had she cheated on Lawrence?

  Chelsey waited until she reached Gerald Burke’s house before looking behind her. The women disappeared around the corner with their dogs. Next door, a lawn contractor drove a mower, the roar of the engine loud enough to cloak Chelsey’s footsteps. With nobody paying attention, Chelsey slipped around Burke’s house and followed the path toward his backyard. The driveway was empty. Burke was at work and wasn’t due home until this afternoon.

  A hedgerow blocked the neighbor’s view. Hunched over, Chelsey sneaked along the house and peeked through windows. The dining room held a cabinet stocked with fine china. She moved to the next window and stopped. A first-story bedroom. Chelsey stood on tiptoe and peered inside, squinting until her eyes picked out the bed and dresser. The window was open to the screen, the translucent curtains open halfway. An antique dresser lay against the far wall. The king-size bed took up half the room.

  It was the bedside table that drew Chelsey’s attention. She recognized Harmony Santos in the framed photograph. The woman appeared several years younger than she’d been in the wedding photos. The picture must have been taken during college when Burke dated Harmony. So Burke still carried a torch for his old girlfriend. Keeping a photograph for that long pointed toward obsession. Chelsey wondered if Burke kidnapped Harmony because she refused to leave Lawrence.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  Chelsey yelped and spun around. Gerald Burke glared down at her, his hands curled into fists.

  “Oh, Mr. Burke. I knocked, but you didn’t answer.”

  “So you sneaked around my house and stared into my window?”

  “No, I was just—”

  Burke took a dangerous step toward Chelsey. She felt the furious heat rippling off his body.

  “Did you find what you were looking for, Ms. Byrd?”

  “Tell me about the photograph.”

  “What photograph?”

  “Of Harmony Santos. You keep it next to your bed.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “You claimed you had nothing to do with Harmony’s disappearance, and you broke up during college. Yet you kept her photo. That’s a little strange, don’t you think?”

  Another step closer.

  “Harmony and I were meant to be together. She never should have married that loser. Harmony was never happier than when we dated.”

  “Did you kidnap Harmony Santos when she refused to leave Lawrence?”

  “You’re sick. Get off my property before I call the police.”

  “I have witnesses from your neighborhood who saw Harmony at your house four years ago. Did you have an affair with Harmony?”

  “You’ve got it all wrong. I never hurt Harmony. She needed protection.”

  “From who? Lawrence?”

  Burke placed his hands atop his head and walked in a circle, his eyes angled toward the sky.

  “I don’t know who the guy was.”

  “That’s convenient. Why wouldn’t Harmony seek protection from her fiancé?”

  “Probably because I could protect her better than the wimp who gave her a ring.”

  Chelsey wasn’t sure she believed Burke.

  “Tell me everything.”

  Gerald Burke folded his arms and leaned against the wall, eyes squeezed shut.

  “Harmony returned to college after her wedding. She was working toward her masters, taking classes part time.”

  “Lawrence Santos didn’t mention this.”

  “Because she didn’t tell him.” When Chelsey lifted an eyebrow, Burke sighed. “Harmony worried Lawrence couldn’t support them and she’d end up the breadwinner. I guess she didn’t want to embarrass Lawrence. She only took one class that spring. Harmony intended to go full time the following fall.”

  “What college?”

  “Kane Grove University.”

  “You said Harmony needed protection. From who?”

  Burke lowered his voice.

  “She wasn’t sure.”

  “Come on, Mr. Burke. Give me more than that.”

  “A guy started following Harmony. She never got a good look at his face, but Harmony was pretty sure he had blonde hair. He kept appearing. Sometimes in the quad, other times in the parking lot. At first, she blew it off as coincidence. Then she saw him outside the grocery store in Poplar Corners. What are the odds some guy from Kane Grove University would pop up in that cow town? That’s when she came to me.”

  “What did you do?”

  “The next day, I followed Harmony to school and ensured nobody bothered her. After that, she never saw the guy again.” Burke puffed out his chest. “I scared him off.”

  If Burke was telling the truth, Harmony had a stalker.

  41

  Two hours had passed since sunset. Darren wondered if they were wasting time.

  “You got anything, LeVar?”

  After a second of silence, LeVar replied over the radio.

  “That’s a negative. Nothing out here but mosquitoes the size of bats.”

  “All right. Let’s give it another fifteen minutes before we call it a night.”

  Darren placed the radio on his hip and scanned the woods through his binoculars. He sat in his Silverado in the public park, where Lonnie McKinney had encountered the stranger. The door was open, the field lit by fireflies as night sounds encompassed the dark. The playground equipment slumbered at the far end of the field, shadowed and silent. Twice he stopped the binoculars when the trees rustled. Both times, an animal scampered into the woods.

  He set the binoculars on the seat and turned the laptop to face him. The screen showed an animated image of Poplar Corners from a few hundred feet above ground level. Video displayed a bird’s-eye view of the town as the drone drifted over forest and backyards. The pictures fascinated Darren, though they hadn’t spotted the so-called ghost yet. He worried the stories of a Peeping Tom staring through windows were legends or gross over-exaggerations. But years as a police officer taught Darren to remain patient. The chaos usually started after officers let their guards down.

  The clock read eleven. He yawned and picked up the radio.

  “How are you holding up, Scout?”

  Scout Mourning sat inside LeVar’s Chrysler Limited on the opposite side of the meadow with her mother and Serena Hopkins. They’d parked on the access road behind the neighborhood where Lawrence Santos lived.

  “Trying to keep the drone in the air.”

  “You’re doing a terrific job. The pictures are amazing.”

  “Hold on. I’m taking the drone over the neighborhood again.”

  The radio went silent as Scout concentrated on flying the drone. He watched the woods until footsteps approached the truck. A flashlight swept across his eyes as Raven climbed into the cab.

  “See anything out there?”

  “Nope. It appears the ghost took the night off.”

  Darren didn’t like Raven hunting
through the park on her own. He only agreed after she promised to keep her radio on at all times and never leave the park grounds. The problem was, once she wandered several steps from the truck, she disappeared into the night. Darren let out a relieved breath now that she’d returned.

  “Scout’s flying the drone over the neighborhood,” he said, rotating the laptop so Raven could watch. “I told her to stick to the area between the meadow and the backyards. If our Peeping Tom shows his face, that’s where we’ll catch him.”

  “Is LeVar still in the meadow?”

  “Yeah, and complaining about the bugs.”

  “Can’t take a city kid to the country.”

  They resumed their watch. Nothing moved in the park as the clock ticked toward midnight. If the ghost didn’t appear soon, Darren would call off the search. He didn’t feel right about keeping everyone up late.

  “Darren, there’s someone in the field.”

  Darren sat up and turned up the radio.

  “Come again, LeVar.”

  “Someone’s out here. Between the Santos house and the meadow.”

  “Scout, are you copying this?”

  “I’m redirecting the drone now,” Scout said.

  “Keep the drone above the trees. Don’t spook our target.”

  Darren and Raven stared at the screen as though watching a tense scene from a suspense movie. The drone swept over the meadow and shot toward the Santos home. Grass and field flew by as the drone whistled over Poplar Corners, invisible except for an occasional flash of red light. Houses passed in a blur before the drone slowed. Now it hovered over Lawrence Santos’s backyard.

  “She’s damn good at flying that thing,” Raven said.

  “You can say that again.”

  Darren bent forward and squinted his eyes. An aluminum shed stood along the fence line between the Santos property and the meadow. He was about to ask LeVar if he was sure someone was sneaking around the property when a silhouette slipped through the yard. Raven enlarged the picture.

  “What was that?”