Walk in Darkness - A Thriller (Jon Stanton Mysteries)

by Victor Methos

  Childs gave a signal indicating, “On my mark,” and SWAT lifted their rifles. Stanton went around the side of the old house across the lawn. A truck was there on the grass, its hood open, parts strewn around it. He stationed himself in front of it and pulled out his sidearm.

  He kept his eyes on the door as he heard Childs knock. Someone yelled, “Who the fuck is it?” from inside the house and Childs gave them the name he had been using. Stanton glanced away for a moment at an object that had caught his eye, something yellow and red with stripes. It didn’t register immediately and so he looked back: a wagon. A child’s wagon.

  “No,” he shouted. “Danny, there’s kids.”

  The door got kicked opened and he heard Childs yell at the top of his lungs. Then more yelling and boots and then someone opened fire.

  Stanton sprinted through the side door, breaking it open with his shoulder. He was in an empty kitchen. He heard more shots from the living room and then crying. He sprinted out of the kitchen and turned down a hallway.

  Peeking out of a room was a young boy, tears streaming down his face. As if happening in slow motion he saw the SWAT officer turn the corner and raise his weapon. Stanton could see from his eyes he didn’t recognize that the boy was not a target. He was going to fire.

  From the door next to the boy’s someone stuck out a gun and fired at the officer. The officer opened with his semi-automatic rifle.

  Stanton leapt in the way, wrapping his arms around the boy, feeling the impact of hot slugs imbed into his flesh as he fell to the floor, covering the boy with his body.

  The gun came out of the room again and the officer fired, hitting the arm. A man fell partially out of the doorway and the SWAT officer shot him just behind the ear; blood spattered over Stanton and the child.

  “Hold your fire!” Childs was shouting. “Hold your fire!”

  Stanton got up to his knees and checked the child, who was hysterical. He stood and saw Childs turn the corner.

  “What the fuck happened?”

  Before he could think or answer, Stanton sprinted at the SWAT officer and tackled him around the waist. The officer brought up his rifle and Stanton swung down with his elbow, catching the officer in the exposed area underneath his helmet on the chin.

  The officer swung with the butt of his rifle and it smashed into Stanton’s jaw, knocking him off and onto his back. The officer jumped up and pointed his weapon at his face. Childs grabbed it and swung it away from him as a round went into the wall less than a foot from Stanton’s face.

  Stanton was about to rise when he noticed something, a sensation on his right side. He looked down to see blood pouring out in between the straps of his vest. He collapsed back down, the world spinning to black.

  11

  Lexi Underwood stepped off the yellow bus near her friend Kalie’s house and waved goodbye to the bus driver. She was thirteen now and her mother allowed her to ride the bus alone, something she hadn’t been allowed to do last year. The other girls had teased her and she never had the chance to sit next to Chad on the ride home. He was tall and cute and played baseball and he’d once let her borrow his pencil in class when she needed it.

  Kalie ran out of her house and her mother shouted for her to be back in an hour.

  “Why weren’t you at school?” Lexi asked.

  “I was sick. But it’s not bad. Just a sore throat.” She looked down the street as the bus turned a corner and disappeared. “They’re having baseball practice at Silver Ridge Park. You wanna go watch?”

  “Who’s gonna be there?”

  “You mean is Chad gonna be there?” she said, grinning.

  “Well is he?”

  “I dunno. Let’s go see.”

  They began walking down the sidewalk and Lexi noticed that her friend was nearly skipping. She had seen her sick before and guessed this wasn’t one of those times.

  “Hey guess what?” Kalie said. “My parents are taking me to Hawaii this summer.”

  “No way.”

  “Yeah. We’re staying with my older sister ‘cause she lives there with her boyfriend. She said she was gonna teach me how to surf and that there’s sharks you can see even from the beach ‘cause they’re so big.”

  “Whoa. I wish I could go to Hawaii.”

  “Why don’t you come?”

  “Would your mom let me?”

  “I’ll ask her. But I heard her talking to my sister and they said they need something to keep me busy so I don’t get into trouble so I’ll tell them if you’re there I won’t get into trouble.”

  Lexi felt excited until she realized there was no way she would be going. Her father had lost his job recently and money was tight. She couldn’t even afford new clothes for school this year and had grown out of her old clothes. Her mother had taken her to a secondhand store and they’d bought one pair of pants and a couple of shirts for just a few dollars.

  She would hear her mom crying at night and her dad would tell her that everything was okay. That they were gonna land on their feet. Lexi had started saving any money she could find. She’d even sold her CD’s and her iPod and now had over a hundred dollars under her mattress. She was going to surprise her mom with it one day when she was crying again.

  “I don’t think I can go.”

  “Why not?”

  “Um, I don’t know, I don’t think my parents will let me.”

  “Who’s that?”

  She saw her friend looking out to the street so she turned and saw a light blue Volkswagen Beetle slowly following them. The windows were dark, too dark to see inside. The car was moving slowly, keeping pace with them.

  She stared at it a long while and it revved its engine and then sped away down the street. It turned right at a stop sign and was gone.

  “Weirdo,” Kalie said. “My mom says a bunch of weirdoes live in the neighborhood. Like drug addicts and stuff.”

  “Where?”

  Tires screeched on the road behind them and the Beetle crept slowly to them again. There was no one else on the street and no cars on the road. It took up the middle of the road, following just a little behind them.

  Then it peeled out, its tires spinning on the pavement, and shot down the street.

  “Leave us alone, asshole, or I’m calling my daddy to kick your ass,” Kalie shouted.

  The Beetle slammed on its brakes. Lexi inadvertently gasped and stopped walking. The two girls stood there and stared at it.

  “If it backs up,” Lexi said, “we need to run.”

  They waited a few more moments and the brake lights on the back of the car turned off and it made another right hand turn at the stop sign.

  The girls stood on the sidewalk and looked behind them to see if it would come back. They waited a long time, but it didn’t come. They turned and started walking toward the park again.

  12

  Stanton woke up in the ambulance. He was calm and didn’t panic and knew where he was. The paramedic talked to him softly and told him what had happened. Stanton could see red and blues flashing from outside and knew that Childs was following them.

  The ER at Scripps was well lit and clean and a trauma nurse came in and spoke to the paramedics for a while. A doctor, or who he guessed was a doctor, came in and examined him about five minutes. The nurse told him that Stanton was a police officer shot on duty and the doctor had her cover some other patients while he spent some more time with him.

  “Dangerous line of work,” the doctor said, leaning over him as he examined the wound on his side.

  “Someone has to do it.”

  The doctor stood up straight, keeping one hand on Stanton’s forearm. He had always been amazed how light a doctor’s touch could be.

  “I think someone’s looking out for you. I’m going to need an x-ray though.”

  Another tech came in twenty minutes later, after the nurse had given him pain medication. Stanton was loopy but understood he was being carted away for x-rays. They placed him in a cramped room and turned and twist
ed him every way, making him hold a lead shield in front of his genitals to minimize the exposure to radiation.

  After the x-rays, he was taken back to his room. It was quiet and he lay staring at the ceiling. The pain meds made him feel light and ethereal, as if he were only half in this world and half in the hereafter.

  He thought of his grandfather and tears came to his eyes. One of his grandfathers had been abusive and an alcoholic, his father’s father. But his mother’s father was a kind and gentle soul. His mother always told him they never had any money growing up because her father owned his own business and would feel bad for the poor who came to him with their hats in hand and he would give them whatever he could.

  “Hello, Brother Stanton.”

  Stanton saw a large man with graying hair standing next to the bed. He had a warm smile on his face and placed his hand over Stanton’s.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Bishop Compton, I’m the Mormon Bishop assigned to this hospital. Eh, you told them when they were filling out your admittance sheet that you’re Mormon.”

  “I am. The doctor didn’t seem to think my injuries were so bad that they had to send down the Bishop.”

  “Actually, you’re going to be just fine. But I’ll let the doctor deal with that.” He pulled up a stool and sat next to him. “How are you otherwise, Brother Stanton?”

  “I’m fine, Bishop. Just a little tired.”

  “They tell me you’re a sex crimes detective. That must be very strenuous work. Would you like to talk about it?”

  “There’s not much to say.”

  “We both know that’s not true. My father was a cop. Nowadays you put in your twenty and retire, become security guards or bailiffs or instructors. My father was a cop in the days when you put in forty years and you walked a beat. No homicide or sex crimes or narcotics. Your beat was your beat and anything that happened there was your responsibility.”

  “He must’ve been a tough guy to deal with that.”

  “Oh he was. But he never showed it. He would keep it inside. The strong, silent type.”

  He nodded. “I’ve always admired the people that could do that. There’s elegance to that type of strength.”

  “Yes, I suppose there is. But my father also died at fifty-seven years old from a heart attack.” He leaned forward. “He would often tell me about cases he was working. There was one that really bothered him. He talked about it for years afterward. Some people had beaten up a blind man for his wallet.” He chuckled. “I swear I never saw my father work as hard as he did that week after it happened. He stayed out till eleven o’clock every night interviewing people that might’ve seen it, asking around the neighborhood, hanging out in areas he thought he could pick something up. He never did catch who did it.”

  Stanton reached for a paper cup on the nightstand and the Bishop took it and handed it to him. He took a long drink and handed it back. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Do you have any cases like that? That bothered you that much?”

  “There was a woman in her twenties … I can’t remember her name. It was right when I started on the force. I was a traffic cop then. I was patrolling this area near La Mesa and I got a call that someone had called in an intoxicated homeless man on the street. I was the closest unit so I was asked to go check it out. I parked and got out and I was walking down the sidewalk and heard something coming from this alley in between two stores. Like clothing shops or something like that.

  “They had told me the homeless man was near those stores. I went over there and looked and someone was underneath a blanket. I called out and told them I was a police officer and asked if they needed help and they just sort of groaned. I leaned down and removed the blanket.”

  “What did you see?”

  “It wasn’t a homeless man. It was the woman, and she was naked. She had bruises and cuts all over her body. Blood was cascading down her chin . . . they had cut out her tongue.”

  The Bishop didn’t say anything. He had a solemn look on his face and he didn’t blink as Stanton looked over to him to see if he was still even listening.

  “I’m sorry, Bishop. I shouldn’t have—”

  “No, it’s all right. I asked. What had happened to her?”

  “She had been kidnapped by two gangsters near her house. They raped her in the back of the van and then cut out her tongue so she couldn’t talk to the cops.”

  The Bishop took a deep breath and sat up. “I can see why that case bothers you.”

  “That’s not why it bothers me.”

  “Oh? Then why does it bother you?”

  “They’d dumped her in that alley. When she was laying there a man walked by and noticed her. She sat up, thinking that he was there to help. The man pulled her farther into the alley, and raped her too. That happened not thirty miles from here, on just a random Tuesday, Bishop.”

  “Did you find the men who did it?”

  “We found the two gangsters, but I never found the man in the alley. It was dark and she was already traumatized; she couldn’t give us much information. We had her typing descriptions on a computer and she did a good job, but we never found him. I still see him sometimes when I close my eyes. I see him standing over the body of that girl as she tries to beg him for help, and I see his eyes light up as he recognizes helplessness.

  “I know I’ll never find him, Bishop. He’s out of my reach. But if I do, if I do there won’t be an arrest. I’m going to put a round in his head and take that darkness off the earth. Even if it means I spend the rest of my life in a cell.”

  The Bishop swallowed. He took Stanton’s hand and squeezed. “Will you pray with me, Brother Stanton?”

  “Yes.”

  The Bishop closed his eyes as Stanton did the same. “Oh Lord, we thank thee for the blessings thou has bestowed upon us. We ask thee to heal the pain and darkness that the adversary has wrought on this earth. We ask for peace in the hearts of those in pain, that they may find thy love in their hearts and that they draw nearer to thee, Father, that thee draw nearer to them. And I ask a special blessing, Father, for Brother Jon Stanton, that he will heal from his afflictions and be filled with thy light. And I say this Father, in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.”

  “Amen.”

  “Brother Stanton, it was a privilege to meet you.”

  “Thank you for seeing me, Bishop.”

  “It was my pleasure. Now I think someone’s been waiting to see you.”

  The Bishop stepped out and said something and Childs walked in. He sat down on the stool and stared at Stanton like he was a ghost.

  “You mind as well be prayin’ to Santa Claus cause ain’t no one up there to listen to us.”

  “Can’t hurt anything to try.”

  Childs exhaled. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Danny.”

  “Yes it was. I should’a cleared that house. I shouldn’t a went in guns blazing like some fucking Western.”

  “You couldn’t have known there’d be kids in the house.”

  He exhaled loudly. “Well, the doctor says you’re good. The shot lodged between the Kevlar and your skin and wrapped around your back. Tore up the flesh pretty good and you’re gonna have a scar, but nothing serious. Didn’t penetrate more than an eighth of an inch. Probably hurt like a sonofabitch though, huh?”

  “Detective Stanton?”

  A young man in a button-down shirt and a cap walked in. He had documents in his hand.

  “Yes?”

  “These are for you.”

  He handed Stanton a few documents and then turned to leave. “Consider yourself served.”

  Childs looked to the man and then the documents. It dawned on him what was happening. Before Stanton could say anything, he was on his feet and had the man by the collar. He slammed him up against the counter.

  “Here, motherfucker? You gonna serve him here!”

  “This is where they told me he’d be,” the man said, his voic
e trembling.

  “Who? Who told you?”

  “The receptionist at the police station.”

  Childs shoved him into the counter one more time and then let him go. The man ran out of the room and nearly knocked over the IV that was set up next to the bed.

  Childs turned toward Stanton. “What is it?”

  Stanton closed the documents and placed them on the table next to the bed. “They’re a summons and complaint. The police force, the county, and me, are being sued for the death of Darrell Putnam.”

  13

  Danielle was waiting for him when Stanton stepped out of his hospital room and into the corridor. Childs was helping him and he let go as she came over and slipped his arm over her shoulders.

  She was wearing a black long-sleeve shirt and camo pants, her long blond hair clipped in the back. She wasn’t wearing any make-up but she looked more beautiful than he could remember.

  “You have a nasty habit of standing in the way of bullets.”

  “It’s my magnetic personality.”

  She grimaced. “Oh, that’s terrible. You are just not funny.”

  “I’m hilarious. The world just isn’t ready for my humor.”

  They walked to the reception desk and checked out. He filled his prescriptions at the pharmacy on the main floor and as they waited, she held his hand. When they got out to the car she helped him in and then hopped into the driver’s seat.

  “I’ve never seen a woman own a Mustang. Seems like a guy car.”

  “Guys don’t know how to handle a lady like this.”

  The car backed up and she peeled out of the hospital parking lot and onto 5th Avenue before turning onto Washington Street. The traffic was heavy and she sped in between cars and at one point turned on her red and blues and sped along the shoulder.