But that Detective Stanton has gone the way of VCR’s and Beta. The new Detective Stanton is a killing machine.
The Sandman Kidnappings held this city by the throat for months and we thought we could put another win in Stanton’s column with the identification of Darrell Putnam, an unemployed iron worker that lived with his mother, as the culprit. Detective Stanton chased him down like a bloodhound, resulting in his death.
Only problem is, he didn’t do it.
This paper has obtained internal memoranda from the SDPD relating to the ongoing investigation of the Sandman cases. To put it bluntly folks, Stanton killed the wrong guy. The Sandman cases are still unsolved.
Not a month later, the death of Angie Aviary has rocked the sleepy city out of its stupor. A housewife and mother of three, Angie was shot numerous times by members of the police department led by Detective Stanton while hosting a party for her children.
This has to stop.
We cannot have a maniac with the right to carry a gun and a badge murder two innocent people and then get away with it. Eventually, he will get what’s coming to him. But in the meantime, are we supposed to suffer through botched investigations and murders?
This reporter says, “Hell NO.”
Write the police chief, the commissioner, the mayor, the governor, your legislators, your congressmen, hell, write your old teachers and priests. Write anybody that will listen that we will not tolerate cops murdering innocent civilians in the city any longer.
Calvin put the paper down and placed his hands behind his head as he looked to the ceiling. The editorial, no doubt, was filled with half-truths and misdirection and he wouldn’t have cared about it except for a single line: The Sandman cases are still unsolved.
Calvin ran that line through his head over and over until it made him sick. Darrell Putnam had been the guy. What had they found that made them think otherwise?
He jumped out of bed and went to the computer the family shared in what used to be a den but was now just a room they kept their clutter in. Calvin sat down in the rusted office chair and opened Google Chrome. He searched for Jonathan Stanton and found several articles about him relating to closed cases.
He had solved cases no one thought solvable. There were even a few cold case homicides, one almost twenty-five years old. A few articles talked briefly about his personal life. One mentioned that he was an avid surfer.
There was an old black and white photo of him at a crime scene in a wooded area. Calvin stared at the photo a long time, burning every curve and surface of his face into his mind.
After reading for nearly an hour, he turned the computer off and leaned back in the seat. There was a poster up of Led Zepplin, a concert no one in his family had gone to.
The Sandman cases are still unsolved.
Calvin took a deep breath and stood up to get to his car. He was going to have to meet Jonathan Stanton.
35
Stanton arrived at the seafood restaurant on the beach some time in the evening. Several luxury cars were parked near the entrance and a young kid was acting as the valet though he didn’t have any ID or a uniform.
Stanton went inside and found it packed. The restaurant had a window for every table and the sunshine and fresh sea air came through the screens of the open windows. The wait staff was by and large young but friendly enough. Stanton saw Danielle sitting by herself near the back and he walked to her.
There was a lot up on the walls. Most of it was old black and white photos of fishing expeditions, nets, fishing rods, snow shoes, and a few sharks and swordfish courtesy of the owner who was an avid fisherman. Danielle was taking it all in passively without any real interest.
Stanton sat across from her without a word and she pushed the Diet Coke she had ordered for him across the table. He took a sip and cleared his throat.
“We can’t see each other anymore,” he said.
She stared at him a moment before simply replying, “Why not?”
“I’m getting back together with my wife. I quit the force today and I just want to put this side of my life away. I’m enormously fond of you, Dani, you know that. But I need to be with my wife and kids.”
She dipped her straw in her drink and it came back out glistening and wet. “To be honest, I kinda thought this was over. You didn’t seem as interested anymore. I think you still care about me, but you’re just not interested in me.”
“I don’t know if that’s what it is. But I know I can’t be with you anymore.”
She reached across the table and caressed his hand. “Spend tonight with me.”
“It wouldn’t be right.” He pulled away. “I’m sorry.” He stood up to leave.
“Where are you going?”
“Better to make a clean break, for both of us I think. Take care of yourself.”
Stanton left the restaurant and glanced back only once when he was near the exit. She was looking down absently at the table and then pulled out her cell phone to call someone. Stanton waited and watched through the glass on the outside. He saw her start to cry, and then hang up. He knew who was on the other end of that phone.
Stanton walked into Ransom’s office with the secretary shouting behind him that she was going to have him arrested. He stood in front of the desk and Ransom looked up from the reports he was reading, peering at him over his reading glasses.
“Let’s talk,” Stanton said.
“It’s all right, Michelle.”
When the secretary left, Stanton sat down. He had never been in this office before and did a quick take, noticing the bare walls.
“What do you want with Danielle?”
“My relationship with Detective Porter is no concern of yours.”
“What do you have over her? Is it drugs?”
“That, and some other things.”
“What other things?”
“You’re no longer a member of this department, remember? I can’t just go around letting skeletons out of the closet on my detectives to the general public.”
“She hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“How the hell would you know? Besides, what are you so worried about? You’ve got a wife and kids you’re returning to.”
“I want you to leave her alone.”
“Or what, Jon? You gonna kill me too?”
“No, I would never physically harm you. But everyone’s got dirt. I still have a lot of friends here and in the media. I’ll find that dirt.”
Ransom grew visibly angry, his face flushing red. “Get the fuck outta my office.”
He stood up and walked to the door. “There’s going to be a reckoning, Talano. Wickedness can’t hide forever.”
36
Calvin sat in the sand at Ocean Beach Park and snacked on some vegetables and flavored water. In high school, rather than going to class, he used to come to the beach and surf. But the atmosphere was far different than what he remembered.
There was something darker to it now. There’d been fights and turf disputes when he was younger, but they were usually settled with fists and then everybody went out for beers afterward, the loser having to buy the winner his drinks for the night.
Now it seemed as if a fistfight could easily turn into a gunfight and most of the surfers kept away from each other and didn’t interact quite as much. There was a sense that violence could erupt at any moment and one couldn’t get too friendly with anyone who could be a potential enemy.
His cell phone rang and the ID said, Karen Lofgren.
“Hey, Karen.”
“Hi. They said you were sick. You doin’ okay?”
“I’m fine. Just didn’t feel like coming in today.”
“Well what’re you doing?”
“Just hanging out on the beach.”
“What beach?”
“OB.”
“I’m off in ten. I’ll be down.”
“I’m not really—”
She hung up before he could respond. He put the phone down and scanned the bea
ch again for the face he had memorized. There was no sign of him. Calvin had done an investigative search for him at Filefinders1.net and had found his current address. This was the closest beach near his house that had decent waves.
He lay back in the sand, pulled his sunglasses down, and fell asleep.
Calvin was woken a little later with a cold sensation running down his chest. He jumped up and grabbed the hand that was near him, twisting the wrist.
“Ow, Calvin! That hurts.”
He flipped off his sunglasses and saw Karen holding a cold can of soda. He let go of her hand.
“Why would you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Don’t ever surprise me, Karen.”
“Someone took their asshole pills today.” She sat down next to him. “That really hurt.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was you.”
“Why didn’t you answer my texts?”
“I was asleep. How was work?”
“Pain in the ass. How was lying around on the beach all day?”
“Tough, but someone’s gotta do it.”
She looked out over the water. “So you gonna teach me how to surf or what?”
He smiled. “All right. Let’s go rent some boards.”
The day went by quickly and soon the sun began to set. Calvin had spent the entire time with Karen out on the open ocean. They had taken a break for a leisurely meal of hamburgers and fries at a shack nearby and then had an afternoon nap on towels laid out over the hot sand.
They went on the water one more time and paddled far from shore. They were alone at this point and the waves had died down. The ocean was cool and Calvin ran his fingers over the surface.
“Hey Calvin?”
“Yeah?” he said, watching the sunlight flicker off of his fingers dipped into the sea.
“How come we never . . . I mean, it seems like you should’a asked me out by now.”
“Asked you out? What are we in Leave it to Beaver? You wanna go steady?”
“Don’t be a prick. You know what I mean.”
“Yeah. I don’t know, how come you never asked me out?”
“‘Cause that’s not how you’re supposed to do it.”
“Oh, Ms. Feminism still likes the man to do all the work, huh?”
“It’s just nice.”
“Okay, well, Karen, would you like to go out with me tonight?”
“Yes, Calvin, I would.”
“Let’s head back then, I need to go shower.”
They paddled back to shore and Calvin told her he would pick her up around nine. There was a party one of their mutual friends was having and they would show up together. He got into his car and headed home.
As he came to a stop in front of his house, he checked his watch: 6:11 P.M. His father wouldn’t be home yet. He never came home before eight. There was enough time to shower, change, and go for some rest at his own place.
When he walked in, his mother was waiting for him in the living room. Her arms were crossed and she was sitting on the couch with an open Bible next to her.
“Where you been?”
“Work.”
She grabbed the Bible and flung it at his face. He got his hands up in time and it impacted against his forearms.
“You lie to me boy?”
“I’m not lying.”
“Some whore from your work called here and asked where you were.”
“I was at work, mama,” he said, looking down to the floor.
“You was not at work.” She jumped up and got in his face. “Were you with that whore that called? Answer me boy. Were you with that whore?” She slapped him across the face. “Were you with that whore?”
“She’s not a whore, mama.”
“Oh, excuse me. I’m sorry then that I called her one. That was inappropriate of me.” She turned around and then swung back, scraping the jewelry on her wrist across his face and opening a cut. “You spendin’ time with whores and then you come to my house and lie to me? Wait till your father gets home, he’s gonna deal with you. Now you go wait in the cellar for him.”
“No,” he whispered.
“What did you say?”
“I said no, mama. I’m not goin’.”
She grabbed his hair and pulled him down far enough that she could bash her fist against the back of his head. There was a lamp nearby and she picked it up and hit him over the head with it but it didn’t break.
“No mama! Stop!”
She was screaming and pounding the lamp against his head until it shattered. Calvin, dizzied and bleeding, came up with a hook that impacted against her jaw and sent her flying against the wall.
His mother lay unconscious on the ground, stirring lightly as she moaned. He had felt her jaw against his fist and knew he’d broken it. His little brothers were standing in the hallway watching, and he looked to them and said, “Call daddy to come down.”
Calvin left the home and shut the door behind him, tears streaming down his face. His mama was on the floor hurt and he opened the door again and thought about running to her but stopped himself. When she woke up, she wouldn’t want to see him.
Despite everything, he ran to her and turned her over and saw the limpness of her jaw and the deep red of her cheek.
“Mama, I’m sorry mama. Mama please wake up, wake up.” He turned to his brothers. “Call 911.”
Calvin held her in his arms until the ambulance arrived. The paramedics loaded her onto a gurney and took her out. Her eyes were opening and closing and they thought she might be having a seizure. Calvin jumped into the ambulance and rode with her down to the hospital. He saw her peer at him through eyes that were filled with hatred, but then she closed them and they didn’t open again until they got to the ER.
He waited outside of her room. The doctor eventually came out, a slim woman with a British accent. Her brunette hair was peppered gray and she placed a pen into her pocket before coming and standing in front of him.
“Are you a relative?”
“Son.”
“Well, your mother is going to be fine. She took quite an impact but there’s no permanent damage. The jaw’s broken and needs to be wired shut but in six weeks or so she’ll be right as rain. She just needs some rest and ibuprofen for the swelling.”
Calvin put his face in his hands, mostly to wipe the tears that wouldn’t stop streaming.
“Good, good.” He rose. “I’m going to have my father come pick her up.”
“So what happened to her exactly? She wouldn’t say.”
“I don’t know. I came home and found her unconscious. She has epilepsy and sometimes she falls.”
“Huh. Well, regardless, she’s going to be fine.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
Calvin left the hospital and sat on a bench just outside the emergency room exit. The wind was blowing through the leaves of the nearby trees and a plane was going by overhead. He listened to the rumble of the engines until they faded away to nothing and then rose and went to his car. There was only one place in the world he wanted to be right now.
As he drove along I-5 he pulled out his cell phone and dialed his father.
“Yeah.”
“Hey, Daddy.”
“What is it, Cal. I’m really busy right now.”
“Mom’s in the hospital.”
“For what?”
“I think she fell. I don’t know.”
“Fell where?”
“At the house. Anyway, I told them that you would pick her up. I have to go on a date and I can’t do it.”
“You have to go on a date rather than take care of your injured mother?”
“I just . . . I can’t see her right now.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Calvin, did you do something to your mother?”
“No.”
“We talked about this, Cal. Do you remember? We talked about the dark urges.”
“No I didn’t do that. I . . . I have to go.”
He hu
ng up the phone as his father kept talking and threw it on the passenger seat. The tears had started again and they were making his vision blurry. He wiped his eyes with the back of his arm and continued down the interstate all the way to Martin Luther King Junior Freeway and got off near 32nd Street.
Calvin drove past a dump and up a winding hill packed tightly with homes. The houses were decrepit, almost decaying, but the residents of this area were proud and rebellious. Tibetan flags hung on many porches and Prius’ were parked in a lot of driveways. Many of the residents here were college students, and many more were illegal immigrants. It was close to the Mexican border and by and large law enforcement left people alone here.
He pulled into the underground parking lot of the apartment complex and parked in his stall. There were only fifteen spaces and the lot was empty except for two other cars. He got out and took the stairs to the third floor of the complex.
The paint on the walls was chipping and the carpets were stained beyond cleaning. But because most of the residents were illegal, the landlord left you alone. Rent of $95 was due every week and Calvin sent them cash in the mail with a note indicating what apartment it was for. They didn’t even ask for ID to sign a lease since most residents wouldn’t be able to produce one.
His apartment was 355 and he unlocked the door and stepped inside. The air was stale and he opened all the windows. They were all guarded with steel bars and he stood in the front room and let the breeze come over him.
The bars cast dark shadows across the floor and he grew claustrophobic. He turned away from them and walked to the kitchen. In the dining room area was a large metal table. Though the surface was stainless steel and polished to a shine with bleach, the surrounding carpets were speckled with dark black stains. There were chain restraints on either end of the table and in a toolbox in the corner were saws and knives, hammers, pliers and a blowtorch. A car battery with small clips was underneath the table.
He opened the fridge and took out a Gatorade, taking several long swigs before putting the bottle back and walking to the bathroom.
Walk in Darkness - A Thriller (Jon Stanton Mysteries) Page 15