Leighton Jones Mysteries Box Set

by N. M. Brown

  Chapter Ten

  As he drove along the twisting road of Old Mill Way in his old Nissan, Leighton was lost in thought. The earlier heat of the afternoon was finally beginning to ebb and the groaning air conditioner no longer had to struggle to keep the car cool. Leighton had deliberately chosen to slip off the busier road home and meander out to the north-east fringes of the city where buildings were sparse and the roadside was often fringed by misshapen cacti and sun-bleached trees. In some areas, patches of wild grasses grew like forests of golden spears. This route offered a substantial contrast to the packed highways which locked up the city roads at key times of the day. This was because quite often some minor collision would mean that the sluggish traffic would eventually grind to a frustrated halt, leaving officers like Leighton and his colleagues to sort out the chaos.

  Thankfully, this was a more relaxed journey for Leighton, one in which he would be given some privacy. Out here he didn’t need to control his thoughts or appear to be coping.

  Whilst the relaxed voice wafting through the stereo droned on about deep breaths and melting muscles, he was lost in a fog of thought. He was thinking about Annie and wondering how he could possibly make things better for her, though perhaps he never could. A child needed a mother – especially a little girl. How could an unstable cop dad possibly fill the gap? There was little chance of him finding a partner again. Not after how badly he let Heather down.

  At the start, before the dark days consumed Heather entirely, things had been good – at least he thought they had. For a couple of years, Leighton and Heather had simply been a young couple lost in the bliss of possibility. In his fading memories those lost days had been warm, and their shared future had seemed filled with possibilities. He had been a rookie cop and she had been taking a correspondence class to teach kindergarten. Throughout those youthful seasons, they had spent countless afternoons at the harbour and beach, often sharing a towel and enjoying the soft proximity of each other. But even then, there had been occasional moments when Heather would grew quiet and distant. She would stare at the ocean, mute and unreachable. If Leighton tried to get her to speak about it, Heather would talk vaguely of sometimes feeling trapped in her own life. Leighton – who was happy with their life – could not understand.

  Then, when Annie had eventually been born, things had begun to change much more dramatically. It wasn’t a gradual slide, but rather a sudden shift from light to dark. He had watched the light go out in Heather’s eyes. In a matter of months life became an unbearable burden for Heather, who retreated increasingly into herself until – eventually – she vanished entirely. Leighton had wanted desperately to help Heather, but it had felt like he was often reaching into an abyss. He had taken a six-month leave of absence to raise Annie and try to help Heather, but in the end she had spent every day in bed sleeping or facing the wall. The silence between them grew and eventually turned to resentment.

  Over the next five years, Heather found the presence of her husband to be an endless irritation, his constant attempts to soothe her were an unwelcome intrusion. Leighton, without any other coping strategies, busied himself entirely with his daughter and his work. He knew even then that it wasn’t the right approach, but then he wasn’t sure what the right approach would be.

  When Heather could no longer bear sharing her bleak home with her husband, she booked a yellow cab and moved out into her elderly parents’ home. It was a three-and-a-half-hour drive away. Leighton – struggling to raise a five-year-old, had hoped she was doing this to give herself breathing space to get better.

  He had been wrong. Three months after moving into the house on Primrose Avenue, Heather – who refused to answer any calls or come out of her room when Leighton brought Annie to visit – took a fatal dose of sleeping pills. There was no suicide note or explanation.

  The loss had broken him; as a man and a husband he had failed. His wife had drifted out of existence, and he felt that he had allowed it to happen. This left his daughter without a mother, and stuck with a dysfunctional father.

  And yet this single fact – his sole responsibility – made it necessary for him to somehow make things okay for Annie. If it had been his fault that things were bad, it was also his duty to put things right. That was his only means of redemption.

  Now, in the absence of anyone else to share the roles, Leighton stared through his windshield and figured he would have to commit to learning how to braid hair and paint nails, and make it through.

  It was then, when Leighton was caught up in his critique of his inadequate parenting that it happened.

  The figure of what appeared to be a child, if that was what the apparition was, burst suddenly out of the tall grass at the side of the road and ran blindly across the road in front of his car.

  In that instant, Leighton saw nothing more than a momentary orange blur in the shape of a child – there for a moment, then gone. In instinctive response, he slammed on the brakes of his car. It skidded to a squealing halt on the hot road surface. The momentum threw him forward, his seatbelt digging painfully into one shoulder. Leighton let out a deep sigh, and his hands, still fastened on the wheel, began to tremble.

  ‘Jesus,’ he muttered.

  Having managed to coax one hand off the wheel, Leighton switched on his hazard lights, and unclipped his seatbelt. He then opened the door and climbed out into the warm evening air. The road and the surrounding area were so quiet he could hear the faint hushing sound of the restless surf, punctuated by the chirrup of bugs in the grass. Wandering around the car, Leighton peered into the long grass, door handle-high, at the side of his car. It had been less than a minute since the child had slipped into the grass, yet the area appeared undisturbed. Leighton took a cautious step into the dusty wilderness and called out across the parched landscape.

  ‘Hey, kid, are you okay? Is someone with you?’ Leighton’s deep voice carried on the warm evening air.

  He waited for a moment, standing on the road, listening intently and staring out into the panorama of grass and trees stretching toward the rocky distant hills.

  ‘Can you hear me, kid?’ he yelled, and held his hand up to shield his eyes from the low afternoon sun.

  There was no answer other than the slow ripple of the needle grass and the relentless creak and whirr of the hidden oblivious insects.

  Staring into the wilderness, Leighton wondered for a moment if he had somehow imagined the child. Perhaps she was something his mind had conjured up from a mixture of tiredness and a relaxation cassette. He knew from experience that a tried mind could create all sorts of images. He had once pulled a guy from a near fatal car wreck, who had swerved off the road to avoid a white tiger in the middle of the road. Two other eye-witnesses had confirmed that the road had been entirely empty, and the driver confessed that he had been driving with almost no sleep for two days – attempting to drive non-stop from Mexico to Portland for a family wedding. Despite this clear explanation for the hallucination, the driver still insisted that the white tiger had been real.

  Leighton knew that the mind could do some strange things, but in this instance Leighton wasn’t entirely convinced that his girl had been imaginary. Even in the minutes after she had gone, he could still see the shape of her in shorts and T-shirt, vanishing into the grass. The image of this small figure seemed to remain locked in his mind like a small ghost. It was simply as if she had been there for a moment, then vanished.

  Eventually, a bird screeched somewhere in the sky above Leighton, pulling him from his confused thoughts. He turned from the deserted location and climbed back into his car. Whatever the story was with the kid, it didn’t look like she was coming back. Leighton figured she was probably some local girl involved in a game with a bunch of other kids who would soon be roaming the area trying to find her. In any case, he had his own little girl at home to think of.

  Reaching down to the jangling bunch of keys, Leighton started the engine, pushed the stick to drive and moved away from Old Mill Way.


  Chapter Eleven

  The stranger on the opposite side of the road had been so caught up in his pursuit of the child that he almost blindly followed her out of the scrubland and straight into the path of the cop. This had been a situation he had never had to manage before – none of the others had ever escaped, and so he was functioning entirely on a combination of panic, rage and desperation. Luckily, the vehicle abandoned in the middle of the road was bright red – glaring through the yellow grass like an oversized Coke can – otherwise he might never have noticed it. If he had raced out of his hiding place, he would surely have risked being caught. There was nothing to explain stumbling out of the grass moments after the girl. Instead, the stranger – who had been close to catching up with the girl as she hurried towards the road – had instinctively stopped when he heard the sudden squeal of skidding tyres.

  At first, he had suspected that the car had hit her. That would, of course, be the worst of all outcomes. All his effort and planning would be wasted if the girl simply ended up dead at the hands of somebody else – somebody who wouldn’t actually savour the experience like he would.

  However, if she was smeared into a bloody streak on the hot road, it would at least mean that the girl would no longer pose any risk to him. There was of course a more problematic possibility. The car may have hit the girl, but not killed her. If that was true then she would be able to describe his real appearance and his car… It was therefore important that he find out exactly what the situation was, before he decided on a course of action.

  When the stranger realized that the car had stopped, he slunk instinctively back from the roadside and crouched down amongst the clumps of concealing grass. This position afforded him a view of the road, without the risk of being seen by the driver.

  For a moment, the stranger considered retreating entirely, creeping backwards through the grass, but then he realized that the cop wasn’t actually moving. He had his back to the stranger and was looking out into the field in the direction the girl had run. The fact the cop was looking away from the stranger was a bonus, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t about to turn around, and if he did that he would be looking directly at him.

  The stranger let out his breath steadily and quietly. Blocked from crossing by the cop, he gradually lowered himself forward to his knees, placed his hand on the dusty ground and then lay down on his belly. Breathing silently like some hideous reptile, he watched the cop from between the brittle stalks. At that point, his attempt to remain invisible was still not required; the cop was just standing with his back to the stranger peering into the countryside on the opposite side of the road. For one moment, he had thought the cop would turn around and look in the stranger’s direction, but he didn’t. Instead he just continued peering out in the wilderness. Perhaps he hadn’t actually seen the kid – that would explain his behaviour.

  Eventually, the cop climbed back into the car and drove off. The stranger did not get up straight away. Instead he remained lying on his belly in the dust, breathing and watching. He knew how to be patient. In many ways, through all the years and all of his crimes, he enjoyed the waiting more than the action. It was the delicious excitement of possibility. This was simply a resting moment. With every passing second, he knew that the kid was getting further away, but he also knew that eventually she would grow tired, and he would outrun her.

  Once the cop had driven away, the stranger remained lying on his chest in the dust for several minutes. He liked this proximity to the ground, the sensation of the heat of the earth warming his chest. It felt as if he belonged down there more than in the awkward upright world, with its quivering morality and fragile laws. The creatures that crawled and wriggled through the dusty ground could live as they pleased, take what they wanted without fear of judgment or punishment. He didn’t understand why humans had to impose rules for themselves that went against the natural world. As far as he was concerned, life on earth involved billions of creatures attacking and killing every second of the day for all of history. It was natural. It was normal. And he was part of it.

  Once he was confident that the cop wasn’t going to be coming back, the stranger grunted and slowly got back to his feet. He then stepped silently out of the grass on to the warm road. He looked both ways and then, once he was satisfied that no other cars were around, he stared deep into the golden grass on the opposite side of the road. After gazing into the shifting blades for a moment, he licked his lips and ran suddenly forward into the wilderness. Within a few moments, the stranger had vanished into the hot landscape.

  Chapter Twelve

  Breathing heavily, Tina stopped, turned around and looked uncertainly back in the vague direction of the road she had just crossed. Her desperation had kept forcing her onwards without any real sense of direction or purpose. At one point she had sensed that somebody was behind her – not necessarily close enough to hear properly, but the occasional crack of dried twigs seemed increasingly with regularity, forcing Tina to run onward again. This time, however, the journey had been harder. Her legs felt weak and her mouth was dry. Each step forward felt like it drained more of her energy. Yet, she had no choice, unless she was willing to go back inside the stifling trunk of the stranger’s car. So she ran.

  She had barely noticed the road until it was too late. Unable to stop, she had simply hurtled blindly forwards, propelled like a tumbling rock rolling downhill. And, as she burst out of the corn, the red car had almost hit her, she was sure of that. Despite the shock of that momentary brush with death, it still had not been enough to slow her down. She had continued running deep into the rough terrain until she was eventually swallowed by the landscape. Now she had stopped, Tina found herself surrounded by dry looking bushes and tufts of tall grass on all sides. From somewhere not too far behind, Tina heard the sound of a car door slam shut, like a gunshot, then a male voice called towards her.

  ‘Hey, kid, are you okay? Is someone with you?’

  The man’s voice was not the same as the stranger’s. He sounded different, normal – as if he might even help. In that moment, part of her desperately wanted to hurry through the dust to that comforting voice. The problem had been that she had run too well. If she had been even a few feet closer to the roadside, Tina would have been able to see that the man calling to her was actually wearing a black police uniform. Perhaps then she would have found the confidence to call back to him. But instead, Tina was too far away to see anything through the long grass. She also remembered how the stranger had been able to change his voice when he needed to. This realization made her turn away from the direction of the car and the man, and suddenly run deeper into the unfamiliar landscape. Her fear propelled her forwards, travelling further away from civilization. Rather than running towards some actual destination, Tina simply ran instinctively to escape from the threat.

  Minutes later, Tina fell; tumbling painfully on to the dusty ground. Dried cactus needles stuck into her hands and knees and peppered her grazed skin. Unable to fight the inevitable tears that followed, Tina scrambled to her feet and continued running, her vision blurred, her limbs stinging. The combination of tears and exertion made breathing difficult.

  All she wanted was to be held in her mom’s soothing embrace, but she knew that was not going to happen unless she kept going. Pushing herself onwards, she ran and ran until she had no energy left and her sides were aching. Her hair hung around her face in sweaty strands, smearing the dust on her cheeks into dark streaks. By then she was too tired to even look around, and so she was initially unaware of the fact that the terrain around her had changed from flat grasslands to long sloping hills that stretched the length of the horizon. Tina knew that she had to find somebody to help her, and that climbing high up on to the slope would increase the chance of seeing somebody. Perhaps from that vantage point she might even see a house, or –even better – a familiar person. She knew that Suzy’s dad often went hiking and mountain biking at the weekends, so, Tina thought she might even meet him.
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br />   So, with bleeding knees and craving fluids, the small girl in the orange T-shirt began wandering on to the sloping hills on the north-east side of Oceanside. By that point in her journey she was six miles away from the nearest house, and moving further away from it with every small step.

  Chapter Thirteen

  By the time he pulled up his car into the child-minder’s drive, Leighton had almost forgotten about the kid on the road entirely. Instead, he was concerned about the smear of dried blood on his hand. After switching off the engine, he leaned across the passenger seat to the glove box and removed a packet of Wet Ones. He pulled a couple of tissues from the pack, and cleaned his hands. Before he had finished, the door of the house opened and Annie appeared. She was smiling and waving. Annie was clearly eager to get out of the doorway, but Maria Carrera was stuffing something into the back of her backpack. Leighton returned the infectious smile, and climbed out of the car.

  ‘Hey, baby,’ he said to Annie as the child-minder helped her down the steps. When she reached the bottom, Annie raced to Leighton who scooped her up and kissed her soft face.

  ‘Hi, Daddy!’ she said and then frowned at the scrape on his forehead. ‘You got hurt.’

  ‘It’s okay, pumpkin – it’s just a little scratch,’ he said.

  ‘Does it hurt?’

  ‘No, baby. Your daddy’s made of tough stuff.’

  Annie traced a small finger over around the edges of the injury. ‘I don’t want you to be hurt,’ she said.

  ‘I know,’ Leighton said and kissed her forehead. ‘But I’m okay. Now let’s get you into the car.’

  As he opened the rear door, and Annie clambered into her rainbow patterned booster seat, Leighton turned his attention to the child-minder.