Passions of the Dead (A Detective Jackson Mystery/Thriller)

by L. J. Sellers

  Jackson got back in the car, and Evans, seeming disappointed, hustled around to the passenger side. He backed out, leaving Tracy standing there with her head down.

  “Why did you let her off the hook?”

  “She’s not going to help us and we gain nothing by making her more miserable. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be the parent of a heroin addict.” He shuddered at the thought.

  “Where now?”

  “A quick stop at Shane’s dealer.”

  Chapter 28

  They drove west and turned on Almaden. As they neared 8th Avenue, Lori’s muscles tensed and her pulse quickened. “Where are we going?”

  “To Zor’s. He owes me money.”

  “I don’t think we should stop there.”

  Shane snapped his head to stare at her. “Why? Are you worried I’ll get high while I’m in there?”

  “I just have a bad feeling.”

  Shane stroked her hair. “I told you. I’m clean except for methadone and I take it like medicine. You have to have faith in me or this won’t work.”

  “Are you going to buy methadone from Zor?”

  “If he has some.”

  Lori understood how important the methadone was to Shane’s recovery, but she hated the connection to the drug world. It had been much safer when he was dosing at the clinic. “Do they have methadone clinics in Maui?”

  “Of course. Stop worrying.” Shane gave her one of his hundred-watt smiles.

  It didn’t make her happy. A darkness hovered and crept into her bones, making her feel a little ill. Was the dread coming from Shane? Was he using heroin again? Lori didn’t see the signs, but it was still early. He’d only been kicked out of the clinic six weeks ago. She felt guilty for doubting him. This feeling had to be grief; she’d lost her whole family.

  As they neared Zor’s crappy little house, her stomach began to churn. “I feel kind of sick,” Lori said, touching Shane’s shoulder for comfort. “I think I’ll stay in the car.”

  “What kind of sick?”

  “A little nauseated and a little shaky.”

  “You probably need to eat something. They don’t feed you much in the hospital.”

  Shane parked two houses away, per Zor’s standing instructions, and shut off the engine. “You should come in with me and eat a sandwich or something. Zor probably has some Vicodin for your pain too.”

  Lori didn’t want to go inside the dark crowded house, but she didn’t want to be alone either. They both got out of the car and started up the walkway. A sense of déjà vu came over her. She had done this before. She’d walked up this path with the grass growing wild around the crumbling red-brick steps. Lori turned to Shane. “Have I been here with you before?”

  He gave her a look she couldn’t read. “No, babe. I quit coming here after I enrolled in the clinic.”

  As Shane knocked on the door, a vague memory slipped into her conscious. She had stopped here that night on her way home from work, but why? The scene in her brain expanded and Lori remembered being in the car with Shane at one point. Yet he’d just said they didn’t come here together.

  Zor answered the door and looked surprised to see Lori. “Shane, good to see you’re okay. Hey, Lori.”

  Zor rolled back in his wheelchair and let them in. As they passed him, Lori saw Shane give Zor some kind of hand signal. What was that about? She stared at Shane, hoping he would explain, but he flashed her a smile and scooted toward the kitchen. “Have you got some bread? Lori needs to put something in her stomach.”

  Lori’s legs shook and she couldn’t think straight. The dark dread gripped her entire body. She wanted to bolt from the house but there was no point. The dread would stay with her. The bad thing had not happened here. It had happened at home, of course. Someone had brutally murdered her family and tried to kill her too. The memory was coming back in vivid little chunks and she couldn’t stop it. Oh God. Why now? She didn’t want to relive that night.

  Lori plopped on the ratty green couch and closed her eyes against the cluttered space and its permanently closed drapes. The pain medication they’d given her in the hospital must have kept the memory at bay. She hadn’t taken any pills since this morning, and now that horrible night was coming back. Lori called out to Zor, who had followed Shane into the kitchen. “Do you have any Vicodin?”

  Zor turned back. “Sure.” He rolled toward the hallway, stopped, and looked at her with pity. “Oh yeah. You were stabbed. You must be in a lot of pain.”

  “I am.” Her knife wound was a constant source of physical discomfort, but Lori barely noticed anymore. This time her brain needed quieting. Shane came into the living room and handed her a piece of bread folded in half with peanut butter and brown sugar in the middle. Her favorite. “Thanks.” She reached for the snack but couldn’t stomach the idea of eating it. “I’ll get a baggie and save it for later.”

  “Okay, babe.” Shane followed Zor down the hall. Lori noticed the gun still in his pocket. Was Zor the buyer he had in mind? She shivered again and lay down on the couch. She tried to imagine Maui, blue sky, white beach, and a warm breeze blowing against her skin and making her feel good inside. For a moment she could feel paradise, then the dread pushed it away.

  Lori saw a quick flash of the last time she’d been here. She was upset when she arrived, shaking and crying. Zor had been kind to her. He’d brought her a blanket and gave her a beer. She remembered Zor offering her something else to make her feel better. What had she taken?

  Chapter 29

  Jackson and Evans arrived at Zor’s house moments after McCray did. They parked behind him, and the three detectives pounded up the sidewalk. Jackson gave one loud rap on the door, waited for a count of three, and grabbed the handle. It was locked.

  “Police! Open up or we’re taking the door down.”

  “Hang on. I’ll be right there.” The voice came from deep inside the house and Jackson thought it was Zor’s. Dealers often had company though. Jackson stepped away from the direct line of fire and the other detectives followed.

  After a lengthy wait, the door came open a few inches with the security chain still in place. “What do you want?”

  “We’re looking for Shane Compton.”

  “He’s not here.”

  “Prove it. Let us in.”

  “Why do you want Shane?”

  “We think he’s going to kill his girlfriend.”

  A short hesitation, then, “One of you can come in.”

  The security chain flopped down and the door opened. Zor rolled back and Jackson pushed in. “Have you seen Shane?”

  “He and Lori were here about twenty minutes ago.”

  “Mind if I check the house to see if they’re still here?”

  “Don’t touch anything! Don’t open any drawers.”

  Jackson conducted a fast check of the two small bedrooms and their closets. The house had no garage or storage unit to hide in. Back in the living room he asked, “What happened when Shane and Lori were here?”

  “They made a purchase.”

  “Tell me what drug you sold them.”

  “You can’t make me incriminate myself.” Zor sounded a little less confident.

  Jackson didn’t give a shit about this small-time dealer and he didn’t have time for bullshit either. “Tell me everything about Shane’s visit and we’ll be on our way. Dick around for another minute and I’ll personally drag your ass to jail for obstruction, then send the vice unit out here on a raid.”

  Zor weighed his options. Finally he said, “Shane came here looking for methadone. After a few minutes, Lori started freaking out and they went out to the car.” Zor lit a cigarette, stalling. “They sat out there for ten minutes. When they came back in, they were both freaked out. They’d been crying. They wanted to score more methadone.”

  “Did you sell it to them?”

  “I’m doing my best to tell you what happened without incriminating myself.”

  “Try harder.”

  �
��They were both on their way to getting high when they left the house.”

  “Did they say where they were going?”

  “No, and I didn’t ask.”

  “Do you know where they might go?

  Zor shook his head. “Shane had a gun in his pocket. It’s the only reason I’m telling you this.”

  Oh crap. Where in the hell had Shane acquired a gun? “Did he say anything about it?”

  “When I asked him about it, he said he planned to sell it. I made him take it out to the car. I don’t allow weapons in here.”

  “Good for you.” Jackson resisted rolling his eyes. He was frustrated and anxious to get out of there. “Lori’s life is in danger. Is there anything else you can tell me?”

  “No. Sorry.”

  Jackson squatted next to Zor’s wheelchair where he could look him in the eye. “Your dealing days are over. Vice detectives will be on you and everyone who comes and goes from this house. You might as well find an honest way to make a living or get the hell out of Eugene.”

  Outside, Jackson took a deep breath of lukewarm June air. He would have felt even better if the sky had been clear, but at least he was in the open.

  “What’s the story?” Evans asked. She and McCray were standing on the lawn, making the neighborhood nervous.

  “Shane and Lori left twenty minutes ago and they were both high on methadone.”

  “Lori’s a doper?” McCray looked surprised, an expression Jackson didn’t often see on the seasoned detective.

  “Apparently she is now.”

  “I didn’t think you could get really high on methadone,” Evans said. “It’s supposed to have a slow steady effect.”

  “If you crush the tablets you can.”

  Evans scowled. “Did we ever get Lori’s tox screen?”

  “Not yet. Parker said she would call as soon as she has it.” Jackson was not surprised Lori had turned to drugs. She was grieving, physically wounded, and her boyfriend was an addict. It seemed inevitable. “We need to call everyone connected to this couple and ask where they would go. Evans, call Lori’s friends you’ve been talking to.” He turned to McCray. “Go see Kevin Compton at his business. I’ll call Shane’s sister.”

  Jackson headed for his vehicle and the others followed. “Schak is out at the airport in case the couple tries to get on a plane.” Now that Shane and Lori were loaded, it seemed less likely. Jackson didn’t know what their plan was and it worried him. At the sidewalk, he said, “Zor told me Lori and Shane were freaking out about something. I don’t know what it means, but let’s assume Shane is dangerous and Lori is unpredictable.”

  Jackson drove toward headquarters, thinking it made sense to be in a central location until they had a real lead about where to find the couple. Next to him, Evans was on the phone with one of Lori’s friends. He waited to make his call to Lisa, Shane’s sister.

  Evans clicked her phone shut. “Ashley hasn’t heard from Lori today and I left a message with Jenna.”

  On impulse Jackson turned on Monroe. The bakery where Shane’s sister worked was two blocks away. This time he hoped to get the truth in a face-to-face conversation.

  When he and Evans rushed into the commercial kitchen, Lisa looked up from the table where she was frosting brownies and scowled. Another woman watched as they crossed the room.

  “What do you want now?” Lisa was even less friendly this time.

  “I’m looking for Shane.”

  She looked down at the brownies. “I still haven’t heard from him.”

  “Don’t lie to me. Lives are at stake.”

  Lisa shook her head. “You don’t know Shane.”

  “Maybe you don’t know Shane. Your brother took Lori out of the hospital and now he has gun. We think Lori’s in danger.”

  Lisa’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “A gun? I don’t believe it.”

  “Have you seen him or heard from him?”

  “He called an hour ago and asked to borrow money. I told him I didn’t have it.”

  “Did he say what his plans were?”

  “He said he wanted to get out of town before he got blamed for murders he didn’t commit.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No.” Lisa looked troubled.

  “What are you holding back?”

  “I’m just confused by all of this. And depressed. Will you please stop bothering me at work? I can’t afford to lose my job.”

  On the way out, the comforting smell of brownies baking made Jackson’s stomach growl. He’d missed lunch again.

  “I couldn’t work there,” Evans said as they left the bakery. “I’d get fat.”

  “I’m sure you get used to it.”

  Jackson and Evans stood in the conference room and studied the board.

  “Tyler Gorlock.” The name jumped out at Jackson. “Shane has stayed with Gorlock. Maybe he can tell us something.” He started for the door. “I’m going over to the jail to talk to him. You should run out to Gorlock’s place and see if anyone’s around. Have a patrol unit meet you there for backup.”

  “I’m on it.”

  They charged out of headquarters ten minutes after arriving. Gorlock could be a waste of time, but Jackson had to keep moving, to keep asking and searching. Sitting around would make him crazy. They had been only twenty minutes behind Shane and Lori all day, but without knowing where they were headed next, twenty minutes was the same as an hour…or a day.

  Having committed the crime of holding a police officer hostage, Gorlock had not been matrixed out and was still incarcerated when Jackson arrived. It gave him little comfort to know that’s what it took to be retained for trial.

  He still had to wait fifteen minutes while a sheriff located the inmate and brought him to the interrogation room. Jackson paced in the hall, mentally reviewing everything. This case perplexed him. Engall’s story was a fluke, yet seemed plausible. A drunk stumbling into something so shocking he wasn’t sure it was real until he saw it on the news. Shane’s hair on Carla’s clothes placed him at the crime scene but why had he wiped his prints off the knife and not the bat? How had he come and gone with none of the neighbors seeing him? Shane hadn’t driven there, Jackson reasoned. The cousin also spent enough time at the house, no one would think twice about seeing him.

  What had sent him into a murderous rage though? Shane was bitter about his father’s brain damage and blamed Jared Walker for it, but was it enough? Or as Evans had pointed out, if Lori’s parents had tried to keep their daughter from seeing Shane, that may have been the catalyst, especially if Shane was high at the time. If Lori and Nick had tried to protect their parents, they could have been caught up in Shane’s drug-induced onslaught.

  A middle-aged deputy reeking of tobacco led Gorlock to where Jackson waited. “Do you want him cuffed?” the deputy asked.

  “Yes.” Gorlock had taken a police officer hostage, and Jackson suspected he was reckless enough to try it again. The sheriff clicked the wrist locks, leaving Gorlock’s hands in front of his body, and led the prisoner into a sickly green room about the size of a walk-in closet.

  Jackson sat at the scarred wooden table and decided he wouldn’t waste more than ten minutes here. “I need to find Shane Compton. Where would he hide out with his girlfriend?”

  Gorlock quickly calculated the situation. “What are you offering in exchange?”

  “I’ll tell the jury you helped track down a killer.”

  Gorlock let out a scoffing sound. “I want a decent plea bargain.”

  “That’s up to the district attorney.”

  “Get him in here.”

  “If you help us find Shane, I’ll work with the DA to reduce your charges.” Not a chance in hell.

  “I want a promise I won’t be charged with crimes against a police officer.” Gorlock’s voice held little hope.

  Jackson shook his head. “Lori Walker’s life is in danger, you prick. If you don’t help me, I’ll make a point to testify about what a cold bastard you
are at every parole board hearing for the rest of your life.” Jackson stood to leave.

  Gorlock was silent. Jackson opened the door and motioned for the guard. As the sheriff led the inmate out, Gorlock tossed back, “Try Alton Baker Park. Shane likes to feed the ducks. Back when he was really strung out, he would sleep in the bushes near the concert stage if he couldn’t find anywhere else to crash.”

  Chapter 30

  Four days earlier, Sunday, May 31

  Lori walked away from her customers, shaking. They were so rude. Every nerve in her body wanted to run screaming out the door. You can do this, she coached herself. The coaching had become a mantra. Sometimes her head was so filled with self-talk she forgot what she was supposed to be doing and didn’t bring the extra napkins or the side of ranch dressing. That only made things worse. She looked at the clock: 7:38. Her shift was almost over. She would make it through one more day in this hellhole. This morning, when she missed the old guy with the little dog and failed to give him his dollar, she knew this day would be a nightmare. Lori prayed they would not seat her station with another customer in the next twelve minutes. After 7:45, the closing servers had to take all the tables.

  Lori took another round of sodas to the rude family in the corner, then started her sidework. With a sense of urgency, she hustled around cleaning and filling and praying to not be seated and to not encounter Greg. At 7:42, Lori watched in horror as the hostess sat five college boys in the corner booth. Oh fuck. Lori went in search of Jaylene, one of the closers.

  “Will you take the guys they just seated? I really need to get out of here.”

  Jaylene kept making salads and didn’t even look at her. “I can’t. I’m too busy.”

  “It’s five cute guys. You know it will be a good tip.”

  “You take ’em. I’m slammed.”

  “If I get them started, will you take the ticket?”

  “No.” Jaylene gave her a bitchy look. “Just do your job.”