by Sean Black
In her robe and slippers, Eleanor stepped out and called Flint to her. Like most golden retrievers it was usually very friendly. She had always thought of them as the canine equivalent of dolphins. This morning was the exception. The dog hunched its shoulders, lowered its head and let out a low growl.
Eleanor went inside, closed the door, grabbed her phone from the cradle and rang the Shaw home. It diverted to voicemail. She debated calling the local police but felt ridiculous. What was she going to tell them? That the neighbor’s dog was outside, acting strangely?
She went into her bedroom, dressed quickly and went back outside. The dog was gone. She walked toward her neighbors’ house. Surely there would be some rational explanation.
Eleanor had already been a fixture by the time Malik and his family had moved in. They had been good neighbors, kind, polite and helpful, without being over-friendly. Kim, the wife, always invited her over during the holidays, if she wasn’t visiting her daughter in North Carolina, and Malik mowed her lawn, or sent his son, Landon, to do the job. The daughter, Katy, was a darling, always smiling, just the sweetest girl.
To Eleanor, they were the picture-perfect American family. That said, over the past few days she had noticed Malik was a little bit off. Where he would always give her a wave or offer her a ride if he passed her in his car, there had been a couple of occasions recently when he had driven straight past her without even a wave. She had also heard at least one loud argument between him and Kim. It had ended with Kim slamming out of the house, getting into the little sports car Malik had bought her for her last birthday, and speeding away. Eleanor had dismissed it all. Every family had its rough patches.
As she approached the front of the Shaws’ house, nothing seemed out of place. She rang the bell and waited, starting to feel foolish. The dog had probably slipped out of the backyard and back in by now. She doubted they were even awake. She waited a full minute. No one came. She couldn’t see if the family’s cars were in the double garage because the doors were closed.
She rang the bell one more time. This time she held it for a few seconds longer. Still no one appeared. She stepped back onto the lawn and looked up. The blinds were still closed. She looked to her right. The side gate was open. That explained the dog’s escape.
Eleanor went through the gate and walked down the side of the house into the backyard. Nothing seemed out of place here either.
‘Hello?’ she called.
No one answered. Normally she would never have dared walk into a house uninvited. But something was wrong. She just knew.
“Hello?” she called again taking a few more steps inside. That was when she noticed a spot of blood on the floor. It wasn't large, more of a smear than anything, but it reinforced her sense that things were not as they should be.
Eleanor patted her pockets for her cell phone. She usually carried it with her but she had left it at home. She had been going next door for just a few minutes.
That was when she heard the whir of the garage door. Without thinking, she did something that would leave her trembling at the thought of how stupid she’d been, even months after. She turned and moved back toward the front of the house to see who it was.
Thankfully, she wasn’t as fast as she’d been before her hip surgery the previous year. As she made it to the side gate, Malik Shaw’s pick-up was pulling out of the garage, a man alone in the driver’s seat. He was wearing a red wind cheater, just like Malik always wore and had a dark ball cap pulled down low. He must have seen her in the rear-view because he sped up. The Dodge pick-up took off with a squeal of rubber. Eleanor walked back round and went into the house, following her instincts. She found them upstairs.
Sixty seconds later, her stomach lurching, she was calling 911. Four minutes after that the first patrol officer had arrived. Many more followed, along with detectives, a criminalist, the medical examiner and three ambulances, one for each slain member of the perfect family next door. The only person they couldn’t find was Malik.
Part II
26
The black Audi pulled up outside Joanna’s Diner on the main street in Harrisburg. The driver’s door opened, and Ty Johnson got out. He stood there for a moment, scoping out the main street, bloodshot eyes that had shed some tears shielded by dark wrap-around glasses. He was dressed for more than the cold: he was dressed for war.
The pockets on the right side of his jacket were weighed down with coins to conceal the SIG Sauer 229 holstered on his hip.
His first task was to find Malik before the cops did. Then he planned on establishing the truth of what had happened here in Harrisburg, and hold whoever was responsible to account for the death of Kimberley Shaw, and the two children, Landon and Katy – by whatever means it took. And, to make a tough gig even tougher, he knew that he had to make sure that a young boy called Jack Barnes and his mother weren’t added to the list of casualties.
Passers-by skirted him as he stood, boots planted, on the sidewalk. Even in a good mood, Ty had an intimidating presence that went far beyond his size. Right now he was a long way from a good mood.
He pushed through the doors of the diner. The line of people waiting to be seated was ten deep. A guy with a New York accent, most likely some kind of media type, was busy haranguing an exhausted hostess. Looking at her, Ty figured she was doing the job to pay her way through college. She seemed close to tears as the guy continued his tirade.
‘We have been waiting here for fifteen minutes.’
‘I understand that, sir. You’re on the list. As soon as we have a free table, I can seat you.’
‘Fifteen minutes,’ the guy said, flashing his fingers at her, as if she struggled with the concept of basic math.
Ty clamped a hand on the guy’s shoulder, and squeezed hard enough for it to be uncomfortable. He turned his head. Ty pulled his shades down his nose and made eye contact. If there was one thing Ty hated it was self-entitled assholes, like this one, who treated people doing a job for a tenth of what they themselves made as second-class citizens. ‘You’re not on the Upper East Side anymore, Toto. Give those fingers of yours a break before I snap them off.’
The guy started to reply, then thought better of it. His mouth opened and closed. Behind them an attractive blonde woman did a bad job at hiding her smirk. The guy turned to the people he was with. ‘This is bullshit. Let’s go somewhere else.’
As they left, the blonde woman, falling in behind them, made eye contact with Ty. ‘Who are you with? I mean, which organization?’
‘I’m freelance,’ he told her.
‘Well, see you around,’ she said, with a broad smile.
As she hustled back out, Ty looked around for the person he was due to meet. He spotted him sitting by himself at the counter, sipping a cup of coffee while tapping emails into a tablet computer. He was a barrel-chested Hispanic guy in his early fifties, a private detective out of Minneapolis called Luis Salas that Ty’s partner, Ryan Lock, had hired to do some preliminary digging as soon as Ty had heard about the killings.
He saw Ty, slid ten bucks over the counter to cover his check, got up and walked over to him. ‘Let’s talk outside,’ he said.
‘Works for me,’ said Ty, following him through the press of bodies to the door.
They hung a left, heading toward the main college campus. ‘So, what you got?’ Ty asked Salas, as he scanned the street to make sure they weren’t being watched.
‘Not much beyond what’s been hitting the headlines. The cops only have the one suspect, and that’s your boy.’
‘What they going on?’ said Ty.
‘Gun used was a pump-action shotgun that he’d just purchased from a local sporting-goods store.’
‘They have it?’
‘Oh, yeah,’ said Salas. ‘His prints are all over it.’
That didn’t mean much, thought Ty. Because of TV shows, people got all kinds of excited over forensics, but the truth was that there was a lot of room for interpretation. If Malik had bought the gun,
his prints would have been all over it. Someone else had picked it up and used it because they’d wanted to make it look like Malik was responsible for the killings. They would have worn gloves. That meant only one set of prints.
‘How’d it go down?’ Ty asked, bracing himself for the answer.
Salas looked at him. ‘You sure you’re ready to hear this?’
Ty nodded.
‘They were lined up and taken out one by one. Execution style, back of the head. Probably tied up first. They didn't stand a chance..’
Ty swallowed hard. ‘Signs of a struggle?’
‘Plenty,’ said Salas. ‘Lots of blood from her.’
‘What else?’
‘Clincher as far as the cops see it is a neighbor. A Mrs Henshall. Morning after the murders she saw the family dog roaming about. Went to check it out, found the bodies. Seconds later Malik roars out of the garage at top speed. She’s pretty definite. Oh, and she said that she’d heard raised voices a couple of times in the days leading up to it. Him and his wife going at it. Reason she noted it was that they were such a quiet family. Never had a cross word before the past week or so.’
Ty chewed it over. It did sound textbook. Domestic tension, hubby goes out, buys a gun and does something crazy. It happened. Of course, they knew there was a lot more to it, which Lock had kept from Salas. He just wanted the PI to look at the bare bones.
‘You speak to her?’
‘Nope. This is all from the local police.’
‘They say anything else? Were they aware of anything else going on with Malik? Threats to the family? Someone he might have had a run-in with?’
Salas stopped and looked at him. ‘Didn’t say anything like that. Why’d you ask?’
A patrol car rolled past them, the cop in the passenger seat taking a long look before it sped away. Ty noted the markings were those of the campus police department.
Ty traced the car down the street. ‘What’s the deal with the college police? Don’t they have a town police department to cover off campus?’
‘They’re pretty much one and the same. College has ten or so bodies, plus support staff, the town has four. Plus the college cops here are sanctioned state wide.’
‘Off-duty powers?’ Ty asked. Often university cops who had the power of arrest could only exercise it when they were on duty.
‘Same as regular officers. Twenty-four/seven.’
There was something that didn’t fit, thought Ty. His knowledge of university and college law enforcement was fairly superficial, but one thing stood out. Presence of the abnormal, he thought. One of the two things Lock had taught him to seek out in any situation, along with the absence of the normal.
He chose not to ask Salas about it. ‘Got you,’ he said. ‘Thanks for your help.’
Salas seemed to study him for a moment. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Sure,’ said Ty.
‘You think Shaw didn’t do it. How come? Because he’s your friend? I don’t mean to pry, but people can do crazy things, including folks you think you know.’
Ty faced him. ‘We’ll see.’
27
With her eyes on Ty, the young blonde woman stood on the sidewalk and hit the call button on her cell. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It’s definitely him. Yeah, Johnson, the marine.’
She waited for the person at the other end of the line to finish talking. Then she said, ‘No, let’s wait, and see what he does.’
28
A low grey sky hung above the campus buildings, the weather matching the leaden atmosphere of gloom. Students stood around in small groups or walked hurriedly between buildings, heads down. Looking around, Ty could already imagine how easy it would be to catch cabin fever up here. Malik, the ultimate big man on campus, must have been under the microscope the whole time.
A news crew had set up outside the chancellor’s office, a female reporter delivering her commentary straight to camera. She fiddled with her earpiece, her expression sufficiently somber. Ty tuned in long enough to hear her spout the agreed line being fed by the authorities.
‘That’s correct, Joe,’ she said. ‘The authorities are not seeking anyone else in connection with this horrific crime. Former NBA player Malik Shaw is the man everyone here is looking for. He’s believed to be armed and dangerous, and members of the public are warned not to approach him if they see him.’
Ty checked his campus map. The main college covered a lot of ground, almost seventy acres in total. He got his bearings and hung a right toward the building where Malik and the rest of the athletic-department staff had their offices. He pushed through the glass doors and into the lobby. Before he could reach the reception desk, a voice called to him,
‘Hey, buddy, can I help you?’
Ty turned to find a doughy-looking security guard peering at him. From what he’d seen of the town so far, there was a lot of doughy to go around. Ty figured it must be the long winters ‒ all people had to do was eat.
‘Excuse me?’ he said.
The guard waddled over to him. ‘What’s your business here, sir? We’re not allowing anybody who isn’t faculty, staff or student onto campus right now.’
Ty stared at him, a picture of innocence. It was a tough look for Ty to pull off, but he gave it his best shot. ‘Why’s that?’
The guard sighed. ‘Are you a member of faculty or staff? Because you sure aren’t here as a student.’
Ty glanced around. ‘Brother, I don’t know what your deal is, but your little college here is losing points with me fast. I get personally invited up here to take a tour for my son, and I have to deal with this bullshit. You know how many offers this kid has? Florida State. Texas Tech. Duke. Division-one schools. I only came up here as a courtesy to Coach Shaw. We have friends in common. Now, why don’t you and your cracker ass go find him for me before I really lose my temper?’
The guard wilted. ‘Coach Shaw?’
‘That’s what I said, motherfucker. You know who Coach Shaw is, right ‒ Malik Shaw? What? You want me to show you a picture of the man?’
The security guard blinked. ‘You don’t know?’
‘Know what? I know you’re wasting my goddamn time, that’s what I know. Now are you going to let the coach know that I’m here?’
‘Sir, I’m afraid Coach Shaw isn’t available. He’s . . .’
Ty kept scowling as the guard struggled to find the words.
‘Perhaps if you go speak to that lady over there,’ he said eventually, indicating the receptionist. ‘She’ll be able to find someone from his staff.’
‘Oh, okay. So it’s fine that I’m here now?’ Ty said. ‘I’m not breaking any rules being on your precious campus?’
‘No, sir. If you ask at Reception, I’m sure they’ll be able to assist you.’
With a final growl in the guard’s direction, Ty headed over to the desk. He decided to spare the lady behind the desk any embarrassment and asked her to see if one of the coaching staff was available to speak to him.
As she made the call, he continued to stare at the guard until it became too much for the guy and he decided to check the outside of the building for potential intruders. A minute later, a young guy dressed in tan pants and a blue polo shirt with the college crest appeared from a side door.
Ty went over to him quickly so they were out of earshot of anyone else hanging out in the foyer.
‘Sandy said you’re here to see Coach Shaw about your son.’
Ty clamped a giant hand on the assistant’s shoulder, and started walking him out of the foyer toward the door he’d appeared through. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Mike Browne.’
‘Okay, Mike, here’s the deal. I’m an old friend of Malik’s. How long you work with him?’
‘Since he started last year.’
‘You think he did this?’
Ty watched the young man carefully. Any hesitation on his part would give him the true answer.
‘No, sir, I don’t. I didn’t meet his fami
ly much, but I know he loved them.’
‘Good. Me either. Now I need to find him, because if I don’t he ain’t going to make it to a cell, never mind trial. And if that happens this town is going to be in big trouble. So I’m going to need you to help me.’
They pushed through the door into a long corridor. ‘Where’s your office, Mike?’
‘Uh, just here,’ he said. He opened the door, and they walked in.
‘Malik told me about you before all this stuff blew up,’ said Ty, bullshitting furiously.
‘Really?’
‘Oh, yeah. He said you were his great hope on the coaching side. Now, listen, I want to find out what happened. If it turns out it was Malik, I’ll turn him in myself. But I need to know if I can trust you to keep this between us.’
‘I guess. I mean, I don’t believe Coach could have done something like that. Although he did seem pretty stressed out, even after we won the championship.’
Ty took a chair, turned it around and sat down. ‘He say why?’
Mike looked up at the ceiling, obviously trying to dredge his memory. ‘No, he didn’t.’
Ty considered telling him what he knew, but decided against it – at least for now. ‘You know if he discussed any of his problems with anyone else here? Another coach, maybe?’
‘Not that I know of. Mind if I ask you something?’
‘Go ahead,’ said Ty.
‘If Coach Shaw didn’t hurt his family, then who did?’
‘That’s what we need to find out. Before anyone else gets hurt.’
29
Malik crept through the woods at the rear of the house. He’d stayed away from the place. Even now he wasn’t sure he was ready to go back inside. The bodies would be gone, but the images in his head were still there.
He clambered across the fence and dropped down into the yard. Katy’s bike was still out there, propped against the back of the house, gently rusting in the rain, never to be ridden again. He choked at the sight of it. He’d bought it for her two Christmases ago, and for the first few months she had ridden it everywhere. Or everywhere he and Kim had allowed. She had wanted to ride it to school, but Malik had been worried about the traffic. It was the eternal parental dilemma. Knowing you had to let your kids learn how to function in the world, but not wanting to see them get hurt. He had relented in the end. But even then he had found himself following her in the car for the first week, albeit at a discreet distance.