by Jason Davis
“Have you sent off the second body?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shake her head. He looked at her.
“No, we haven’t gotten it up yet. The shaft isn’t easy to navigate. They’re setting up a lift now, so we should have it up in less than a half-hour. Hanson was just about to go down. I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything else you needed.”
“Okay. Just let me know when we have that body off and if it’s one of the two missing kids.”
Let me know so I can drop that on Alletto. Just what had the chief caught him doing with that kid that made him kill them both? Or had he been killing the chief and the kids saw him? Yes, I can see how that makes more sense. You finally get the permanent position by getting rid of your boss, eh, Alletto? He’s old, a widower, no one will miss him. Just get rid of him and move on. The kids must have been playing around up here, saw you, and you did what with them? Did you just kill them? It’s hard to say what dirty thoughts went through sick minds nowadays.
He watched as she walked away. She seemed like a good kid, a good worker. She wasn't Eddie, whom he had dealt with a few times before, but that might be a good thing. Eddie never filled him with too much confidence. There hadn’t been any mistakes yet, but Jim wasn’t sure if the mistakes were there and nobody knew about them. He’d seen Palmer around occasionally, glad to get the chance to work with someone new.
It was also nice to admire her ass as she headed away from him. She must workout quite a bit. Her tush had a nice shape to it.
As she disappeared into the trees, he turned away, his lip curving up in that little smirk he loved to flash the ladies on a Friday night.
He really didn’t have much to do until Alletto showed up. It was just a waiting game on forensics and body identification now. There were no witnesses for him to question, the closest person being interviewed when the boy had first gone missing. It wasn't so much that she claimed not to have seen anything, but according to the county deputy who talked to her, the old coot was nuts, blind as a bat, and could barely get out of the chair, let alone be outside and see something happening halfway down the block. The rest of the land around the slag pile was empty lots, so anything he would normally do at this point in the investigation would be a waste of time.
A car drove by slowly. Two kids, both teenagers, stared at him as they inched past. He watched them, then turned away when he saw they turned into the Taylor’s driveway. Probably more people who wanted to give her their condolences. Jim was sure news had gotten around that they had found a body. No one knew it was the chief yet, so people probably assumed it was the boy.
Was that a good or bad thing? Which would be worse? Not knowing if your son were dead, or not knowing what happened to him or where he was? He’d never had children, so he would never know.
He decided to make his way back up to the mineshaft. He doubted there would be much physical evidence, but you never knew. Sure, Alletto was a cop from the city, so he had a decent background, but that was just it. He was a city boy, so he might have overlooked something in the woods. It would be hard to identify something in such a popular area. There was so much garbage scattered throughout the woods, tagging something that might be involved with the crime would be nearly impossible. At this point, though, it was better than nothing.
Besides, he wouldn’t mind watching Palmer’s ass end as she bent over to collect evidence. Since he just so happened to forget to bring any evidence bags, he’d have to ask her to pick it up for him. He’d need to make sure to find as much evidence as he could.
* * * *
Rob wasn't sure which had taken longer…the drive to the café or sitting in his car once he got there, trying to calm down. He wished the drive had been longer because he still heard Robyn's voice ringing through his ears. Just what in the hell did she even know, thinking and feeling he needed counseling?
When he was a cop in Chicago, he used to have to deal with many sick and deranged individuals. Each night, every call had its own fun story behind it. Of course, it was only fun now that they were all in the past, but at the time…
Such as when he stared down the barrel of a service revolver, the man taking it from another officer…naked. The man had been streaking when the rookie had chased him down. He was certifiable, but Rob listened as he rambled on about how his clothes had come alive and tried to eat him.
No, Rob didn't need counseling. Men like that needed it. Rob just had shit he had to deal with. There was no need for him to go to some crack just so she could tell him how messed up shit was. Besides, there was no way the doc would believe half the crap he'd been through. He'd start talking about the military cover-up, how he’d been locked away in quarantine for six weeks, or about that thing possessing people two years ago. Yeah, he'd find himself in a padded room.
His knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel, he sat for nearly fifteen minutes in the parking stall on the side street a half-block from the café. It had only taken him five minutes to drive there. When he first pulled in, he turned the car off. It had now started getting cold in the unheated vehicle.
He had to let it go.
So why couldn’t he? He felt himself giving in to the frustration, wanting to just close his eyes and slam his head against the steering wheel. Instead, he found himself reaching for the handle, opening the door.
“Okay,” he breathed out, trying to convince himself.
He was almost to the small café before he realized he had left the house without a jacket. He barely noticed the cold air, pushing it out of his mind. If he didn’t think about it, it didn’t exist.
He went into the building, the sudden rush of hot air suffocating him. He scanned the room. There were what he guessed to be the usual patrons…the older senior citizens brigade who sat at various tables. The café was what anyone would expect. It had a long counter made with that cheap fake wood and marble topper. Along the other side of the place were booths, brown leather seats with white tables. The walls were wood paneling, which had to be the cheapest option whenever anyone remodeled. It was meant to make the place look quaint, but had the opposite, trailer park feel.
The place smelled of grease. He felt like when he placed his order, it would be covered in it with more on the side. He had no regrets about never having gone in there because he didn’t feel like he was missing much.
Sitting in one of the booths halfway down was a very kind-looking elderly man, gray hair covering his head, a large mustache making his mouth disappear. It seemed like something from a time long ago, and the man had somehow never changed it. He wore large, thick glasses that seemed to cover most his face and sat on top of his large nose. For all of this, the man looked like he was really short and sitting in an oversized booth, like a child sitting alone. To the side of him sat a large dog. It was a very odd site, but Rob had a feeling this was the man he was there to meet. He waved Rob over.
Rob walked up to the booth, holding out his hand. “Hi. I’m Rob Alletto.”
The man stood, barely coming up past Rob’s stomach. He took the offered hand, then motioned for him to sit.
“Hey. Thanks for meeting me,” the man said, sitting across from him. Rob knew he recognized him from somewhere, but the man didn't introduce himself, acting like Rob should already know who he was.
“No problem. So, what’s this about?”
“Well, I suppose you’ve heard about Chief Winston passing away.”
That’s putting it mildly, Rob thought, shifting in his seat.
He did not want to be in a situation where he was pressured to give out information. While the man didn’t look like it, there was always the chance he was a reporter. Even if it were just for the small paper that came out once a month, him saying anything would still get out to others. If it didn’t go into the local paper, a reporter could still send it up to the larger towns, getting it into their daily circulation.
“That’s one way to put it,” he finally responded.
“Well, I know
it’s soon and all, but we would like to offer you his job on a temporary basis.”
Rob sat back, surprised. “We?”
“Me and the city council.”
It suddenly clicked where Rob had seen the man. He couldn’t quite remember the name, though. He tried picturing the signs he’d seen around town. He knew it started with an “A”. A…A…A.C. He was sure those were his initials. He would have to play along, but he now knew this man was the mayor.
“Well, isn’t there some sort of election?”
“There will be one, but Winston had another year on his term. We don’t feel it would be a good time to try and do a special election, so we want you to take his place…for now.”
Rob couldn’t believe how cheery the man seemed. He was talking about someone who had just been killed. While there was a seriousness to him, the smile never truly left the corner of what Rob could see of his mouth. There was a twinkle in the man’s eyes, too.
“Well, yeah, I can definitely fill the position.”
“Good. Thank you.”
Aidan. Aidan Coontz.
Rob didn’t know why it suddenly came to him as the man looked away, staring off to look at the wall, as though he were looking past it to the town outside. It reminded Rob of the picture on the political sign. The man had this…out of place quality to him. However, his exaggerated kindness won over Rob’s skeptical nature.
“Dan was a good man. He wasn’t from around here and never really fit in, but I think that’s what made him a good chief. Not meaning that you won’t,” Aidan said as he turned back to look at Rob, his cheeks flushing. “I mean, you have a family, but you’re not from here… Oh, what do I mean?”
“Hey, hun. Can I get your order?”
Rob was glad for the distraction. He turned and saw the waitress was a younger woman with short dark hair and a pleasant smile. She wasn’t one of those overly thin women who seemed to be everywhere, but more of a classic, homely shape. He couldn’t help but return her smile.
“I’m not sure I’m staying, I have another meeting to get to in a few minutes.”
“Oh, you got time,” the mayor said, then looked at the waitress. “He’ll just take a chicken and egg sandwich, wrapped up to go. Make sure to put it on the city’s dime.” He winked at Rob. He didn’t want to correct him that Standard was nice, but it was barely large enough to even be considered a town, let alone a city.
When the waitress walked away, Rob realized she hadn’t written anything down. Then he saw the sadness creep into the mayor’s expression, the twinkle fading a little in those eyes as he turned to look at Rob.
“I’m sorry. That was Dan’s usual. You know, I barely knew the man. I’ve only been mayor for a little under a year and had never talked to him before that. Still, he was a fixture in this town.” A sad smile spread out from under the long mustache. “Be a good man, will you?”
Rob nodded, not really knowing what to say. “I try to be.”
“I guess that’s all we can ask.”
CHAPTER 24
It felt like Rob had been in there far longer than he had, but he was glad to be back out in the cool air. There hadn’t been anything wrong with it, but it just felt too cramped for him. Sure, he was used to a big city, bustling with life all around him, so cramped was a part of everyday life. But this was a different kind of cramped. People weren’t crowding him. Life was. This small town he had come to hide in, to keep his family safe in, had started enveloping him, making him realize it wasn’t as safe as he thought it would be.
At one point, it had felt like the walls around him were closing in and he had to take deep breaths to keep from getting up and rushing out of the restaurant. When his breakfast sandwich came, which he had never truly wanted to begin with, although he was hungry, he had hurried with his goodbyes.
Now he was back out in the cool morning air, holding the little bag the waitress had brought him. The flower shop was to his left, its open sign almost glowing in the morning gloom. It felt like his beacon in the storm. He turned, his feet taking a step in that direction, but there was still that part in him resisting going to see her.
He needed go to the slag pile. The café had been abuzz about all the police in town. The area was cordoned off as they investigated, not letting anyone up there, so everyone was full of curiosity. People had come over to their table to ask him questions; others talked so loudly, he could overhear their conversations. The slag pile was the center of attention. He should see what everyone was talking about. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the right to be there. The officer in charge wanted him there to ask him some questions.
He took another step, his car in the other direction. He had parked not too far from Father William’s church, and he was more than a little curious as to what the priest had called him about this morning. Father William was a good man, having been there a time or two when Rob needed advice. He’d also helped him more than he would like to admit last year when all that stuff had gone on. He had been there when Rob got out of quarantine, helping him deal with the anger. He was always there for them. Rob really should repay that.
Rob knew he wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. He wasn’t one to be found at church on Sunday mornings, or evenings, or during the week, or any other time he could avoid it. To him, church often felt like going to the dentist. Something that was painful, something he’d like to try to avoid.
Rob didn’t have anything against religion, or the Catholic faith for that matter. He had been raised on it. He had no issues with the ideals, but some of the rules seemed to be a little against what he felt was right. So while he respected the man, he felt like he would just celebrate his own beliefs in his own way. It was just a gut feeling, and he never wavered in his own feelings as to what was right.
Besides, Robyn had talked him into going to the non-denominational church on Main Street. Pastor Thomas was likeable enough, and the sermons were easier to sit through. Sometimes Rob even enjoyed it. He often felt uncomfortable going to one church while being friends with a man from another, but Father William never seemed to resent Rob for it. Oh, he made the occasional comment about how he would like to see Rob there on Sundays, but it was often said with a smile and a wink.
Rob hadn’t realized it, but he had turned away from the flower shop when he started thinking about Father William. Hadn’t even paid attention until he stood in front of the large cathedral doors to the massive gothic building. The woodwork was lavish in a way common to the faith.
Last time he had actually stepped into this building had been nearly two years ago. Since then, they only usually saw each other in passing or if the priest just randomly decided to visit their house. Last time Rob had been in there was when other people had been killed. It was strange. The only time he seemed to enter there was in times of great death. He pushed the negative thoughts away as he entered.
“Hello?” he said, listening to the echo.
“You’re really going to just walk into a church and start yelling ‘hello’?”
Rob spun and saw Father William standing behind him.
He was greeted with that warm smile he had come to expect on the priest’s face. It radiated from his whole being. There was a twinkle that made his blue eyes sparkle, warming the room. Rob understood why so many in his congregation loved this man. He was still a newer member of the town, much like Rob, but he had been welcomed much faster. The town had embraced him, and it was hard to find anyone who could imagine the priest not being a part of the community.
Rob immediately found himself returning the younger man’s smile. “I’m sorry, Father.”
“You are forgiven.” Father William motioned Rob over to the pew closest to them. “Besides, I called you. It was rude of me not to be sitting around, waiting. I mean, I should have just stood by the door all day, waiting for you to come in whenever you got here. How impolite for me to go outside and change the sign.”
“Anything good?” Rob asked, glad for the chan
ce to quickly get off the subject of how crass he could be.
“‘Jesus was the first Avenger.’”
A smirk lifted Rob’s mouth. “Really? Isn’t that a little too…modern?”
“I know nothing of what you are talking about. I’m more surprised you know it.”
“I have a son.” The priest smiled as they both sat. “Every time I look out the window, I see him flying around the back yard, arms out, zooming off to fight some villain. Who knows who they all are.”
“Well, it gets people into the seats.”
“Thought the message was supposed to do that.”
“Oh, the sermon is what gets them to leave.”
“Well, someone woke up on the cynical side of the bed this morning.”
“Well, we all have our dark days. When the world goes gray, it brings out the worst in us.”
Rob looked around, finding it hard to keep looking into the man’s eyes. He had asked him to come see him. It had better not just be about being at church on Sunday. This should have been put off until later. He really needed to get up to the coal dump.
Her luscious breasts, the round nipples, his tongue just touching the tip of one areola before he nibbled at it. He felt her heat against his, and he burned to pull her closer.
He had to shake his head. The images of her were getting stronger. He just wanted to grab and kiss her.
“Rob?”
“What?” He shook his head again, feeling as if he had to work to get his breathing back under control.
“You seemed to step away for a minute there.”
“Yeah. Sorry about that.”
“No problem. I called you here and there I go, babbling on again.” He tapped his fingers along the back of the pew and turned so he wasn’t meeting Rob’s watchful eye. “I was hoping you would look into Pastor Amery’s disappearance.”
“What? Wait. I did get a call about that yesterday. There’s a lot going on, but the state guys are involved, so it’s being looked into.”