Fallen Giant

by Monica Owens

  The dog dipped his head and Levi nodded. He popped open the passenger’s side door and waved to the dog. With only a side glance, the dog climbed up into the truck and sat in the passenger’s seat.

  Levi slammed the door behind him and pinched the top of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Fucking Hound of Hell. This is all I need.” He went around the truck and got in, then got the hell out of Trish’s driveway.

  *****

  Sheriff Grande answered the phone before the secretary could. Magnolia and the surrounding area didn’t have 9-1-1, but the sheriff’s office had an easy emergency number to remember—555-1111. Very rarely did anyone need to use that emergency number, but when that line rang and the sheriff was in the office, he liked to grab the phone call.

  So it was that Grande answered a call from a panicked hiker.

  “Is this the sheriff’s office?”

  “Yes, ma’am, it is,” Grande answered.

  Grande still wasn’t alarmed, even though the woman sounded upset. More than likely she’d seen an armadillo run over and wanted the sheriff to check it out…

  “There’s a body out by Grayvon Pass.”

  The sheriff blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “That rain came out of nowhere so me and my friend hid in one of those caves by Grayvon Pass. After the storm went through we just kept going through the Pass and there was this little bundle of clothes…”

  Grande only listened with half an ear. His heart began to throb, his palms sweat, and his breath came faster. He remembered what the mayor told him. Next time there was a body, get rid of it.

  Get rid of it.

  Grande got the near-hysterical woman off the phone. Told her not to stay, just head on home. She didn’t like that. But somehow the usually tongue-tied Grande got her to agree. Last thing he needed was that woman and her friend hanging around. As it was he’d have to come up with a lie to tell her because she insisted he call her back.

  He replaced the receiver in its cradle. For a moment he just looked at the silent phone. Then he reached out and snagged his hat, plopping it on his head, and shoved his chair back.

  He came out of his office and went to the coffee bar. Jeannie, Magnolia’s long time sheriff’s office secretary, called out to him.

  “That the emergency line?”

  He paused imperceptibly as he poured his coffee. “Yeah.”

  “Was it a real emergency?”

  Jeannie was real nice. Grande had no problem with the woman. But right now she irritated the shit out of him. He was trying real hard to be calm and collected. He didn’t want to seem hurried or upset. Jeannie was making him nervous with her questions and he almost fumbled the creamer.

  “Don’t think so. I’m going to head out to check on it.”

  “People shouldn’t be calling that line if it’s not an emergency,” Jeannie fussed.

  “Right you are, Jeannie.”

  “Need me to go with you, sir?” one of the deputies called.

  Grande’s stomach clenched. “No, Phil, that’s all right. I think a large cat got washed out with the storm.”

  Jeannie wrinkled her nose. “Dead?”

  “Yeah.” Grande screwed the lid on his travel mug. “That’s what the lady said it looked like,” he lied easily. “Better move it out of the way so people won’t be spooked.”

  “That was a crazy rain,” Jeannie agreed.

  “Just a downpour,” Phil answered.

  The phone rang and Jeannie spun away to answer. Phil nodded his head to Grande and the sheriff let out a sigh of relief. He glanced at the boardroom where Trish had been working but it was empty. Another relief. He didn’t think he’d get past Trish as easily as Phil and Jeannie.

  Damn shame about Trish. She was a great detective. Just what this county needed. But the mayor wanted her gone. It didn’t occur to Grande to fight the mayor. Fact was, the mayor owned this whole town. This whole county, really. Grande didn’t have what it took to fight against that. Not this close to retirement.

  He lazily walked out the door, still attempting to remain calm. His squad car sat in the first parking spot, all the windows rolled up to combat the heat and the rain.

  Grande got inside the car and cranked the engine. He powered up the computer on the center console and pulled up the program to begin his call. Here he froze.

  He couldn’t tell anyone he was going out to Grayvon Pass. Hell, if this call had to have a paper trail, it couldn’t be a real one. Luckily Grande had plenty of miles and terrain to choose from. He hunted and pecked his destination out: Wyburn Creek. Grayvon was in the same general direction, just a mile or so further than the old, dried out creek bed. That far out of the town proper, no one would notice he’d gone beyond the place in his notes.

  He’d get rid of the body, as distasteful as that sounded, then he’d head back. All the while he wrote his report in his head. “Body of a big cat washed down from the dunes. Dead for days. Not human.”

  He nodded to himself as he backed the car out. Definitely not human.

  *****

  Colton sat on the couch in his underwear watching cartoons. Levi entered the apartment and squinted at the little boy.

  “You wearing clothes, little man?”

  “It got hot.” Colton shrugged.

  “You weather that storm okay?” Levi asked. He’d come by to check on Colton, of course, but he left the dog outside sitting by the truck. The garage he stayed above had an unlocked side door and Levi went in to find an old bucket to fill with water. He might be a Hound of Hell, but he was still a dog and it was fucking hot.

  “Yeah,” Colton said, his eyes glued on the television. “Electric went off.”

  “I imagine that’s why it got hot,” Levi answered.

  “Yeah.”

  Levi hid a grin at the little boy flopped out on his borrowed couch. He figured they ought to have a talk since it didn’t look like he was going to be staying in town much longer.

  “Hey, Colton, you got a minute?”

  Colton glanced at Levi. The little boy immediately muted the television and got to his feet. Levi couldn’t help but notice how thin the kid was.

  “You eat today?”

  “Yeah. Some cereal.”

  Someone had opened Mr. Thompson’s store and Levi had picked up some things a kid would like. Including the most sugary cereal he could find.

  Levi pulled a chair out at the table and sat down. He waved a hand over another chair and Colton mimicked Levi’s movements. When they were sitting at the table, staring at each other, Levi realized he was in uncharted territory.

  He’d never raised a kid. Never wanted to before. But Colton was different. He was a good kid and he just needed a chance.

  “I have to go home, don’t I?” Colton asked softly.

  “What? Home? No, that’s not…” Levi trailed off, watching the little boy hang his head. “Hey, Colton, no, that’s not what we’re gonna talk about.”

  Colton raised his head and eyed Levi with trepidation.

  “I talked to your mom.”

  Now Colton’s eyes had the sheen of tears in them.

  “We agreed that your mom can’t take care of you like she should.”

  Colton bit his lip and ducked his head again.

  “I’m contacting a lawyer and your mom agreed that she’ll let me have custody of you.” Better to get it all out there. Just…out there. Rip it off like a bandage, so to speak.

  Colton jerked his head up. “My mom doesn’t want me?” he whispered.

  “No, that’s not it…”

  “What does Miss Trish say?”

  “Miss Trish doesn’t have a say in this,” Levi snapped. His fury at Trish had nothing to do with the little boy, but he damn sure couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice. After he said it, he realized his mistake and winced. “Colton, Miss Trish and I had a fight. I’m mad at her, not at you.”

  Too late. The little boy who was always in the way, always made to feel unwanted, unloved,
took Levi’s tone personal. Colton slid off his chair and went to put on his shorts and shirt. He came back over by the table.

  “You have a big house? With a yard?”

  Levi thought about his one bedroom apartment over the pawn shop. “No. Not exactly.”

  “But I have to go? Because my mom doesn’t want me?”

  “Colton…”

  “She doesn’t, does she?”

  Maybe Levi shouldn’t have started this conversation right now. He wasn’t in the right mind for it and Colton sure as hell wasn’t. Plus Levi was making this a hell of a lot harder for the kid.

  “Look, Colton, I talked to her—”

  “I don’t really know you,” Colton interrupted. “I’d rather live with Miss Trish. She promised me that if my mom didn’t want me, I could live with her. Then I could stay close to my mom, but not with her.”

  “Miss Trish isn’t staying here in Magnolia, Colton. She’s going to be leaving too.”

  Wrong. Wrong thing to say. Now tears did well up in Colton’s eyes and his bottom lip quivered. “What? Why wouldn’t she tell me?”

  “Colton—”

  “Why wouldn’t she tell me?” Colton shouted. “She promised that if something happened she’d tell me. She’s not supposed to leave. She’s not supposed to.” The little boy spun away from Levi, raising his forearm to cover his eyes. “She said if my mom let me, I could live with her.”

  “Colton—”

  “I don’t want to leave! I want to stay with my mom! I don’t want to go anywhere with you!” Colton scrubbed his arm across his face and angry tears continued to fall. “I hate you!”

  “Colton.”

  “I hate you!” Colton shouted. Barefoot, angry, the little boy ran to the door. He went out and clambered down the stairs. Levi got up and watched Colton through the window. He’d run into the backyard and climbed the spindly tree back there. When he’d made it up as far as he could go, he stopped and Levi watched his little shoulders shake with sobs.

  “Well, I fucked that up,” Levi muttered. He stepped out onto the landing and whistled for the dog. When the Rottweiler came to the bottom of the stairs, Levi pointed to the creepy tree. “Watch him. Anything happens, start barking. Understand?”

  The dog lowered his head, then took a few steps into the backyard. He sat, facing the tree, and stared at Colton.

  “I can’t believe I have a kid and a dog,” Levi whispered under his breath.

  He went back into the apartment and grabbed his phone. Calls to make, lawyers to contact, bugs to fry.

  Fucking life of a fallen angel.

  *****

  Trish didn’t weep long. Her tears were mostly of annoyance and fury at herself. She definitely wasn’t crying over Levi. Hell no. She was done crying over loser men and their loser attitudes. He thought he could lie to her? Well, Trish had enough liars in her past to make her wary and to know how to ferret out those lies. Not that Levi had made it hard. A freaking fallen angel. Whatever.

  She pulled herself to her feet and immediately locked the door. She wiped her face and took a deep breath, letting it out on a long exhale.

  Time to go to work.

  After a confidence boosting nod to herself, she marched back into her bedroom. The floor was wet, big pools of water from Levi and her, but the thing that made her falter was the bed. Mussed and still smelling of Levi. She still smelled like Levi. Trish pulled the sheet off her body and tossed it on the bed. Tonight she’d sleep on the couch. Tomorrow, she’d burn her comforter, the pillows, the sheets, everything.

  She had three murders to solve. After that, she was getting the hell away from Magnolia, so screw her sheets, the pillows, the comforter, and Levi.

  There was no time for a broken heart.

  *****

  Grayvon Pass held a small canopy of trees between two large outcroppings of rock. Hikers went around or over the rock formations most of the time, but during an abrupt rainstorm, the trees and rocks formed a fairly convenient cover. The Pass was also a favorite among kids who liked to make out, or at least it had been when there were kids in Magnolia to make out.

  The sheriff drove past the area a few times, making sure the hikers that called the body in were nowhere in sight. When he didn’t see anyone, he parked behind a large rock festooned with graffiti art so no one would see his car from the road. In his trunk he had a large flashlight, a shovel, and a tarp. His plan, if he had to have one, was to find this body quickly, dig a shallow grave, and drag whatever was left of whoever this was inside. Then cover it with a tarp, dirt, and rocks and head back to Magnolia. He didn’t even plan on saying anything to the mayor about it.

  Not after having to tell that poor boy’s parents about their son’s death.

  He couldn’t have made Trish do that. As soon as the coroner called with the boy’s name, Grande had headed to the boy’s house. He’d told the parents some story about coyotes, but it was all a lie. Shit, you didn’t just go to someone’s house and tell them their kid was murdered by a serial killer.

  Grande flipped his flashlight on once he entered the Pass. While it wasn’t dark outside yet, the Pass was covered in unusually thick foliage so the area under the rocks was dark. He hiked the shovel higher and crept through the brush, sand, and dirt. Grayvon Pass was at the bottom of a higher rock formation. When it rained, all sorts of debris swept down the rocks and deposited themselves into the Pass. Including snakes and scorpions. Grande kept an eye out.

  Halfway through the Pass, he saw the bundle of clothes.

  There really was no mistaking it. Human body. Not a large cat’s body. Not a coyote’s. A person. Grande could see the arm sticking out of the heap. He wrinkled his nose. Goddammit.

  He sloshed through a few puddles and finally stood over the carcass. Part of a scalp. A leg. Foot. Grande pushed aside a branch to see more. Polyester culottes. Only one person Grande knew wore that shit in the middle of Death Valley in the summer.

  Mrs. Feeney.

  Fuck.

  Grande had his hand on his phone, ready to call the mayor, until he thought about it. Thought real hard. Mrs. Feeney wasn’t well liked. And wasn’t the mayor trying to buy her land? This could be a boon for the mayor…

  But Mrs. Feeney had once had a Mr. Feeney and Feeney-ettes were out there in this world. Was it right to drag this body off and bury it like this? Aside from the moral objection of being the sheriff and all, could Grande do this?

  He sighed and slid his phone back in his pocket. She was already dead. Trish had enough to deal with than to run out here in the middle of the night and deal with Mrs. Feeney’s body. Trish had plenty of evidence from the other three crime scenes to find her man. Nothing from this scene would change that. Grande nodded to himself, decision made.

  He sloshed back out of the puddles and headed to a drier place near one of the rock formations. He set the tarp down, the flashlight on top of it, and heaved another sigh, but this one for a whole new reason. Gonna be a long night.

  He’d just heaved the first load of sand when he heard the footsteps. Grande turned and looked behind him. He squinted into the gathering dusk, but couldn’t see anything. He shrugged and went back to digging.

  “What are you doing?”

  Grande shouted and dropped the shovel. He swiveled around and put a hand over his heart. “Dear God, man, what are you doing? Trying to kill me?”

  The man was tall, almost as tall as that Levi guy. Grande couldn’t see his face. He willed his heart to slow down and bent to grab his flashlight.

  “I asked you a question, Sheriff.”

  Grande straightened slowly. The voice was not familiar and the height of the person meant that this man was not someone from town. He surreptitiously put a hand on the butt of his gun. “Stranger, I don’t think I know you.”

  “You aren’t going to disturb anyone’s slumber, are you?”

  Grande’s heart was by no means going to slow down. In fact, it pounded harder. “What do you know about that?” he as
ked, nodding his head toward where Mrs Feeney lay.

  The man’s face was still shrouded in shadow, but Grande got the distinct impression he smiled. “Oh, I know a lot about that.”

  “And the other bodies?”

  The man’s head dipped. “I’m aware of those, too.”

  Grande gulped and his hands shook. He pulled his gun out, but held it down to his side. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to raise your hands so I can see them.”

  “Please. Call me Olivier.”

  “All right, Mr. Olivier, raise your hands where I can see them.”

  “Just Olivier.” Two pale palms slowly rose on either side of Olivier. “I’m not your murderer.”

  “Well, we’ll have to take this to the station to find out, won’t we?”

  “No, I don’t think we will.”

  Grande felt the danger thick around him. But he had the weapon. So he had the power. “Keep your hands where I can see them and get on the ground.”

  “The ground?”

  “Face down on the ground.”

  Olivier seemed amused. “Sheriff, that’s not something I want to do.”

  “Get on the ground!” Grande yelled.

  The yell echoed off the rock formations and faraway, a coyote howled. Olivier turned his head toward the sound. “Hmm…”

  “Get on the ground,” Grande said again, this time quieter.

  “No, I don’t think I’ll be doing that.”

  “I’ll shoot. Don’t think I won’t.”

  Now the gun shook along with the flashlight. Grande’s hands were slick and he felt the sweat pool under his arms and seep through his uniform. He’d never shot a man before, but he would, he really, really would…

  Olivier took a step forward.

  Grande squeezed the trigger. Once, twice, three times. Four. Olivier still stood. Five. Six. The man named Olivier stood there, arms up, facing the sheriff.

  “Are you quite done?” he asked.

  Grande’s heart leapt in his chest. Terror clutched at his breath. He shot this man. Shot him. Six times. He was still standing, still speaking. “What are you?” Grande whispered as he realized, quite correctly, that Olivier was not normal. He stumbled back a step, the flashlight swinging crazily. The slick plastic slipped through his hand and he dropped it in the sand, the beam shining right into what should be the man’s face.