“Thanks for the advice, but I’m a happily married man,” Williams said through gritted teeth while dragging the guy forward.
Chase grinned and stood back to let them pass.
Why wouldn’t Abbott give it a rest? He’d been caught.
“Where do you want this?” Carmichael panted.
“Interview room two,” Chase said.
The men manhandled Abbott down the hall and through a narrow doorway to the right. Chase paused at his desk in the open-floored squad room and secured his gun in his desk drawer, then collected a file.
When he entered the interrogation room, Carmichael was holding Abbott’s head pressed to the top of the metal table bolted to the floor, and his arms pinned behind him.
Chase tossed the folder on the table. He unlocked one of Abbott’s handcuffs and quickly fed it through a ring in the center of the tabletop and snapped it closed around his wrist again. Bright red burn scars discolored the man’s hands and wrists.
The moment Carmichael and Williams released him, Abbott lunged forward.
Chase jerked back, and missed being head-butted by inches.
Secured and unable to fight without harming himself, Abbott shouted, “Fucking assholes.”
Williams grabbed him by the back of the shirt and jerked his ass down onto a steel-legged chair.
“Thanks for bringing him in,” Chase said as the patrol officers shuffled out.
“Our pleasure,” Carmichael said. Williams nodded and closed the door.
Chase shucked his Kevlar vest and draped it over the back of a chair. He moved the seat closer to the table and sat down.
He took a moment to study the man across from him. Dark circles ringed mud brown eyes sunk into a gaunt, pale face. Blotchy beard stubble shadowed the lower half of his jaw. His clothes, wrinkled and stained, hung off his bony frame. His hands looked bright red, and as grungy as the rest of him.
Abbott had fought them the entire time, from capture to transport and all the way into the building. Now the fight had drained from him, and he slumped into his seat like a bag of dirty laundry. A rancid smell hung around him like a force field.
“You’re going away on drug and weapons charges, as well as resisting arrest, but there’s more,” Chase said. “We have an eye witness who will identify you as the killer of Tanner Newton. And I can almost guarantee the DA’s going to push for the death penalty.”
“I’m a dead man anyway. Do whatever you like,” Abbott said. He slumped and rested his forehead on the table.
Chase studied the greasy brown strands glued to Abbott’s scalp. After the earlier fight, he had expected more. What the fuck was up with this guy?
Chase opened the file and slid a couple of photographs across the table. “Last night around midnight we responded to a report of a dead body in an alleyway off Bodin Avenue. This is who we found.”
Abbott remained unresponsive for a minute, then two. He lifted his head as if it were almost too heavy to move, and glanced at the photos. He flinched and jerked his face away. His throat worked as he swallowed.
“We know Willy Porter was your partner in the Tanner Newton killing. We don’t know how Willy was killed yet, but it seems he pissed someone off real bad.”
“That’s his problem,” Abbott said. His tone lacked the hard edge his words needed. His body language broadcasted defensiveness and exhaustion.
“Why did you go after Tanner Newton?”
“Newton’s death was an accident. We weren’t after him, we wanted the girl.”
Chase’s brows rose. “Why?”
Abbott rested his head on the desk again. “It don’t matter no more. They’re going to get to me sooner or later.” He remained that way for several moments, then struggled to sit back up. “We were supposed to just shoot her dead, but Willy and I got the idea how we could make some money off of her first. So we planned how we’d take her, dope her up, and set her up in the life.”
“After you’d had your own fun?” Chase asked.
“Well, yeah. I mean—have you seen that chick? She’s a real looker, and I bet she can give good head, too.”
Chase had never met Juliet Templeton, but he had seen photographs of her and the injuries she’d sustained fighting off the two. He thought he’d heard it all, but the idea of the two drug-addicted thugs laying hands on the woman and inviting other men to the party made his gorge rise. He swallowed back the flood of acid and cleared his throat.
“So who wanted you to shoot Juliet Templeton, and why did they choose you two?”
“We’ve done some things for money in the past. We ain’t never killed nobody, but we done other things. I don’t know why they wanted the woman dead, but—” He started to make a placating gesture but his hand was jerked back by the cuff. “Look, when you’re hooked, you’ll do a whole lot of things to get the next hit you wouldn’t think about when you’re straight.”
Abbot sighed and cleared his throat. “I been clean over a month now, and my mind’s clear,” he continued. “I know what we wanted to do to that woman was wrong. So wrong I can’t believe we even talked about it. And I can’t believe we thought we could pull it off. We didn’t count on Newton being so good with his fists, or that Templeton bitch being able to light Willy’s clothes on fire.”
“How the hell did she do that?” Chase hadn’t read anything in the report about that. Had there been evidence of an accelerant at the scene?
“I don’t know, man. Me and Willy were whaling on Newton, and Willy’s pants caught on fire, and he started rolling around on the ground screaming. Once I got the fire put out, we took off. He had blisters all over his legs.”
Tears ran down Abbott’s face, and Chase wondered if it was because he’d been caught, or because he was actually experiencing a moment’s remorse.
“Newton was never supposed to die. The person just wanted Juliet Templeton dead.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, man. They promised me and Willy five thousand dollars. Sent us twenty-five hundred as a deposit, and we was supposed to get the rest after. We spent half of it on cocaine the first two weeks, and then when we realized we was going through the money pretty quick, we decided we’d better kill her fast so we could get the rest. Then we had the bright idea that as long as the girl disappeared, the client wouldn’t care when she died.”
“Who promised you the money?”
“I don’t know. Weed Keller brought us the envelope with the instructions.”
Weed Keller had been shot two weeks ago. The case was still open and unsolved. And now they’d have to look in a different direction, because he might have been killed for an entirely different reason than what they’d first suspected.
Though Superstition was a middle-sized community, drugs were becoming a more and more common problem. And with drugs came the other issues of overdoses and killings over drug turf and drug deals gone bad. And just the stupidity and mayhem associated with people getting high and losing touch with reality. So far those issues were still relatively small. But they did happen.
“Weed Keller is dead, Abbott.”
“Yeah, I heard.” Abbott’s head made a hollow thump as he rested it on the table. “He was the only one who knew who hired us.”
“Who’s after you?”
The man turned his bloodshot gaze to Chase’s face. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
Chase leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “Try me.”
Abbott’s eyes bounced blindly, jerkily around the room. He bit his lip hard, his yellowed teeth leaving reddened indents in his skin. “It isn’t a person, man. It’s a thing, and there’s more than one of them.”
What the fuck? Chase studied the man through narrowed eyes. Abbott had just said he was clean. His pupils were normal, his speech wasn’t slurred, and he seemed lucid.
Was he trying for an insanity defense? Fuck that.
“I told you you wouldn’t believe me.” His eyes teared up and, unable to r
aise his hands, bent his head to rub his face against his grungy shirtsleeve. “I ain’t crazy.”
Chase studied the bloodshot sclera that turned the whites of Abbott’s eyes pink, the dark rings like bruises that encircled them, the trembling exhaustion of his movements. The guy hadn’t been sleeping or eating from the look of him. He’d put up a crazed fight when Chase dragged him from the cheap hotel with Carmichael and Williams’s help. His eyes had darted around the parking lot as though a bogeyman lurked behind every car. The guy was terrified.
“All right. What is it you’re afraid of?”
* * *
The gray shadow form boiled up out of the car trunk and snapped at Miranda. Instinct kicked in and Caleb dove in from the side, slamming the trunk lid down in the midst of the oily gray mist. An unearthly scream rent the air. He rolled off the car, landing crouched in front of Miranda, his arms wide, and poised for battle.
Jerking around, he grasped her arm and dragged her away from the car. “Run, baby! Run!!”
Miranda stumbled into a lope. Caleb clamped an arm around her waist and half-ran, half-carried her around the corner. Midway up the block, he darted into the dark alcove of an apartment entrance. Through the dingy glass in the door, a dull light shone like an amber theatre gel. His arms tightened around her and he touched her lips for silence. He waited, listening. Was it coming? His heart raced. Jesus, what the hell was that?
Miranda trembled against him, her muscles tense. After several moments she asked, “What was it?” Her voice ricocheted off the narrow space, a hoarse whisper.
“I don’t know.” It. Not him. So she’d seen it too. He wasn’t hallucinating. He drew a deep, relieved breath. “It wasn’t a person.”
“No.” She pressed into him. “It tried to bite me.” A shudder ran through her and she burrowed her face into his shoulder.
Her hair brushed his chin and he savored the fresh apple scent of her shampoo. Her breasts pressed into his ribs. Despite the fear-laced adrenaline racing through his veins, it aroused him in an instant.
But it had taken him weeks to get her to relax with him enough to go out. Even joining him for a piece of pie seemed major. He needed to take things slow. And he had to deal with this weird shit first.
“Stay here.” He peeled her away, and, pressing her back into the deepest recesses of the doorway, took a cautious step away.
“Caleb.” She gripped his arm, her fingers digging in.
“I’m just going to look out and see if anything’s out there.” When she continued to hold on, he covered her fingers with his own. “Some time soon, I’d like to spend the night with you, Mandy, but not hiding in a doorway.”
She caught her breath. “Oh…Caleb.”
Rejection wasn’t what he heard in her voice. Sadness? Despair? If only he could see her face. Should he read hope in how slowly she released him? He knew she cared for him.
“Please be careful,” she said.
“I will.” Edging out onto the sidewalk, he looked one way, then the other. The street appeared empty, save for the occasional car passing by. The muggy air captured and held the smell of exhaust. The evenly spaced streetlights cast gray-green shadows on the sidewalks. A couple exited a doorway and strolled by across the street.
“It looks clear, Mandy.” Caleb offered her a hand and smiled when she took it.
Her gaze darted about as she emerged slowly from the alcove. Caleb slipped his arm around her waist. “I think we need to get off the street. Stay close.”
“What do you think it was?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Let’s wait and talk about it once we’re inside The Dish.” He urged her up the street. Every nerve in his body was clamoring with the fight or flight instinct.
The Dish’s sign flashed bright neon pink only fifty feet away, the café nestled back onto a corner lot. A drive on one side made room for the handicapped ramp and access to the back parking lot. As they reached the well-lit parking slots out front on the street, Caleb heaved a sigh of relief. “Stay close, Mandy.” He scanned the area around them.
A Ford Taurus pulled up to the café, and a slightly built silver-haired woman climbed out. She threw up a hand in a dainty wave.
Miranda waved back in acknowledgement. “That’s Mrs. Farley. She comes to the library every Saturday.”
Mrs. Farley’s silvery hair gleamed beneath the row of overhead lights outside of the diner. “Why, Miranda. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out this late,” she said, her attention focused on Caleb with avid curiosity.
Caleb felt Mandy tense with her effort to pull herself together. “I just closed the library, and we thought we’d have a piece of pie before we called it a night.”
Mrs. Farley started up the stairs to the front door. “I had a craving for something sweet, and though I’m not really supposed to indulge, I couldn’t go to sleep. I hope Evelyn has some blueberry pie left. I just love it with vanilla ice cream.”
Caleb reached around Mrs. Farley and opened the door to allow the older woman to precede them into the restaurant. The dinner specials were listed on a white board to the left, as was the selection of the restaurant’s justly famous pies. Mrs. Farley perched on one of the bar stools in front of the counter and a waitress approached her.
Isolated in the back booth, Miranda continued to shiver. Caleb moved to sit beside her and rested an arm along the back of the seat, sharing his warmth. Her eyes lifted to his face for a moment, and color touched her pale cheeks. “Thank you.”
Sherry, the lone waitress who worked the late shift, approached the booth. Her blond hair was twisted up at the crown of her head and held in place with a pencil. Her jeans and top looked a little wilted behind the apron she wore. Though exhaustion weighted her movements, she smiled. “Hey, Caleb. Hey, Miranda. What can I get you?”
Caleb waited for Miranda to answer. “Some water and a piece of peach pie if you have it, Sherry,” she said.
“We still have some.” She focused on Caleb.
“Strawberry-rhubarb with ice cream for me and a cup of coffee.”
“Coming right up.”
Caleb turned to assess Miranda’s condition as soon as Sherry walked away. “Better?” he asked.
“I think I’m starting to calm down.”
“Good.”
“What do you think it was?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. All I saw was something gray exploding up and out of the trunk. It wasn’t there when I had the car at the garage, Mandy. I checked your spare tire to make sure it was okay, and I’d have seen it then.” Had he let it in when he opened the trunk? Was it there because of him?
“It was going to bite me, Caleb.”
“That’s sure what it looked like.”
“Why do you think it was there?”
“I don’t know. But you can’t go back to your car tonight. After we’ve eaten, I’ll walk over to the garage to get my Harley and give you a ride home.”
She nodded. He’d visualized her riding behind him on the motorcycle more than once, but never thought she’d agree. Why had it taken fear to drive her toward him?
“How long have we known each other, Mandy?”
“Since kindergarten.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Of course.”
This wasn’t the time to bring it up, but this barrier she’d erected between them since he returned home from deployment was driving him crazy. He turned her face toward him so he could look into her eyes. “I mean really trust me?”
She studied his features. “Why are you asking?”
“You know how you’ve acted since I got back from Afghanistan.”
She tried to turn her face away, but he held her chin.
She grasped his hand and held it. “It isn’t about you. There are things about me you don’t know. It’s about me, Caleb.”
“I know I’ve changed a lot since high school. We both have but—”
She shook her head in an adamant gesture. “It’s
not you. You’re still the same protective, caring, wonderful friend you’ve always been.”
But he wanted more now, and she knew it.
She bit her lip and swallowed. “I can’t give you what you need. I can’t give anyone—”
“Here’s your pie, guys,” Sherry said as she slid the plates onto the table in front of them and placed their drinks within easy reach.
Miranda was the first one to respond. “Thanks, Sherry.”
“Let me know if I can get you anything else.”
Caleb swallowed back feelings of disappointment and hurt. I can’t give anyone—What had she meant by that? Why couldn’t she? He wasn’t giving up. He’d just rushed her at a time she didn’t need any other pressure.
Miranda’s fingers dug into his arm and her voice wobbled as she whispered, “Caleb—”
He followed her gaze to the door. On the other side of the glass, a gray shadow slithered back and forth, as if seeking a way in. Clutching a takeout bag, Mrs. Farley pushed open the door. Caleb jumped to his feet. The elderly woman walked into and right out the other side of the gray mist.
Chapter 4
Chase sat at his desk and read over what Abbott had said again.
The guy had to be insane. Gray shadow creatures that could tear out your insides. He had to have injected some powerful stuff for him to dream up that crap. Chase’s mouth tightened. Dammit. If he were this guy’s lawyer he’d plead diminished capacity.
But Abbott wasn’t on drugs. He didn’t look or act drugged. But something was certainly going on.
Chase thumbed through his in-box for the coroner’s report on Porter. He and Abbott were partners, or at least they had been until recently. More than likely, they’d both ingested the same drugs.
A large manila envelope captured his attention and he tore it open. Good, he’d look this over and see what the hell was going on. Fifteen minutes later he sat back in his seat. What the hell? He read over the section again. It couldn’t be right.
Deep Within The Shadows (The Superstition Series Book 1) Page 3