Sick Man

by Paul Spencer

  Shit, talk about a bad day. I tried to clear my mind enough to figure it out. The last thing I remembered, I had been getting out of my car to meet Tony at Holman’s. The killer must have been hiding outside my apartment, waiting for me to come home. But why was I still alive? Why didn’t he kill me there and then? Surely that had to be easier than abducting me in broad daylight.

  We turned again, and the floor started bouncing more vigorously. Gravel rattled against the underside of the van. Where were we going? How long had I been out cold? I still hadn’t figured anything out when the van stopped a couple of minutes later. The sudden silence loomed like a threat. I breathed softly, listening for any clues. A front door opened and closed, then I heard footsteps in gravel getting closer. Some more metallic rattling, then the door opposite me slid open.

  The same guy who had broken into my apartment stood silhouetted against the light, still wearing the knitted cap and sunglasses. There was no longer any doubt in my mind. He had to be the killer. He pointed a gun at me and took a step back from the door.

  “Out,” he said.

  For a brief moment I thought about charging him, but I knew he could put half a dozen holes in me before I made it halfway there. I used my arms and butt to slide across the van floor, then hang my legs over the side. I stopped there, hoping he’d come within kicking range. It didn’t work. He took a couple more steps back and waved the gun at me.

  “Out, I said.”

  I stood up. We were at the bottom of a small quarry. By the look of the rusted-out truck trailer right behind the killer, the quarry hadn’t been used in a while. Back when Portland still had a building industry, there were plenty of these type of aggregate quarries out past the south east edge of the city. Now most of them were just big abandoned holes in the ground. This wasn’t looking good.

  “Over there,” he said, and gestured to the right with the gun. I looked at my bound ankles, then raised my eyebrows at him.

  “Don’t be stupid. Jump. Stop when I tell you to.”

  I did as I was told, careful not to topple over.

  “Stop there,” he said. “On your knees, facing me. Chin up.”

  I knelt down slowly. He came closer, an arm’s length away, then quickly reached out and ripped my duct tape gag off. It stung like a slap. I shook my head and took a deep breath in through my mouth.

  “What do you want?” I said.

  “You know what I want. Where are they?”

  “Maybe it’s the knock on the head, but I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t waste my time. Where are they?”

  “Where is what? I’m serious. I have no idea what you want from me.”

  “Your records, asshole. The medical files.”

  I was about to protest my ignorance again when I caught a hint of movement out of the corner of my eye. Time to stall.

  “Medical file? Whose medical file? I’ve got a lot of them.”

  “You know whose file.”

  “No, really, I don’t,” I said, trying to track the movement as subtly as possible. “Whose medical file are you looking for? I’m assuming you mean one of my ex-clients. I kept some of my records, but I destroyed a lot. I couldn’t afford to store them. I’m not sure whose records I still have. We could go search through them, if you like.”

  While I spoke, I saw Tony peer out from behind a boulder near the rusted-out trailer, a gun in his hand. He gestured towards the trailer, then made waving motions. Not the best sign language I’d ever seen, but I guessed he wanted a distraction.

  I tried to fake rolling my eyes back in my head, then toppled over sideways. I thrashed around in the dirt as though I was having a seizure, making as much noise as I could.

  “What are you doing? Stop that!” the killer shouted. I kept writhing around, trying to edge closer to him as I did. I opened my eyes narrowly, in time to see Tony race over and tackle him. As the two of them pitched forward, I swung my legs up to kick out at the killer. I caught his arm, and his gun went flying. He scrambled to his feet and ran towards the van.

  “Stop!” Tony shouted, but to no avail.

  The killer ran around the side of the van. Tony tried to chase him, but he tripped over me and fell forward. I heard the van door slam and the engine start. Tony scrambled up onto his knees and fired a shot. It zinged off the van door as the wheels burst into life and spat gravel at us. Tony fired two more shots, but the van peeled off down the gravel entrance road unscathed.

  “Son of a bitch!” Tony said.

  We sat there in the dirt and looked at each other, both breathing hard.

  “Stay still,” Tony said. He took out a knife and cut away the duct tape binding my ankles and feet. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. My head hurts, but I’ll be fine.” I rubbed my wrists where the tape had been. “Thanks, man. You saved my life. How did you find us?”

  “I just got out of my car when that dude attacked you. I went back to get my gun. Then he took off, so I got in my car and followed.”

  “Thank God you did.” I took my phone out. No service. “Where are we?”

  “A couple miles south of Estacada.”

  “Okay, let’s get back to civilization. I need to give Detective Buchanan a call.”

  Chapter 29 – No Going Back

  By the time we reached the outskirts of Estacada, my phone showed a couple of bars. I was about to call Buchanan when I noticed that I had voicemail from Casey. I played it.

  “Mick, call me when you get this message. Detective Buchanan just called me. They’ve found new evidence, and they want you to turn yourself in. They’re going to charge you with both murders.”

  “Tony, pull over,” I said. “You need to hear this.”

  He pulled to the side of the road and killed the motor. I put my phone on speaker and played the message again. Tony’s eyes went wide. When the message ended, I took my phone off speaker and hit the call back button.

  “Casey, it’s Mick Wray. I just got your message. What the hell is going on?”

  “Before we go any further, are you calling from your cell phone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hang up now. The cops will be tracing it. Find another phone and call me back.”

  I hung up and looked at Tony. “Can I borrow your phone?”

  “Sure, man.” He handed it to me, and I called Casey.

  “I’m back. Now can you tell me what’s going on? What’s this about new evidence?”

  “According to Buchanan, they got a warrant and tossed your apartment again. They say they found a gun under your kitchen sink. They claim it’s the one that was used in both murders.”

  “That’s not possible,” I said. Then it hit me. “Actually, it is. I know exactly how it got there. Look, I’ve got to go. The cops might be tracing this phone too. I’ll call you again soon.”

  I hung up and handed the phone back to Tony.

  “You know when our friend broke into my apartment?” I said. “He didn’t come to take anything. He came to put something there.” I told him about the gun.

  “Jesus Christ!” he said. “But they have the video, right? They know that guy could have planted it.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Finding the gun at my place is more than enough for them to arrest me, and you can forget bail in a double murder. We wouldn’t even get to talk about the video until it came to trial a year from now.”

  “What now?” he said.

  I had no answer. Planting the gun at my place turned the stakes up to eleven. Larsen was coming at me from every angle, and I couldn’t go to the cops for help. Unless I could take him down myself, I was screwed.

  “I’m out of options. I can’t turn myself in. I’ve got to lay low until I crack this thing.”

  “You’re crossing the Rubicon, Mick. If you go down that road, there’s no going back. How are you going to do it?”

  “I know what I need to do, but I haven’t figured out the how part yet. First thing is I need
to get my hands on Larsen’s file. Now that I know the secret is in his medical records, it’s time to go through them with a fine-toothed comb. I can’t go to your place, though, in case the cops are watching it. And I can’t go home, for the same reason. So we need to figure out how to get the medical records out of your place, and I need to find a place to stay.”

  “Leave the medical records to me. I know how I’ll get them out. First, we have to find you somewhere to hole up.”

  “No, first I need a new phone. You do, too. Let’s stop in Estacada and see what we can find.”

  Tony started the car and drove us into Estacada. We cruised the downtown blocks, looking for a cell phone store. Estacada was like the land that time forgot. Old brick buildings lined the streets, with men in overalls leaning on rusty pickup trucks angle-parked in front. I wasn’t convinced that they’d even heard of cell phones here, never mind selling them. But eventually we found a small electronics store, and we paid cash for a couple of prepaid burner phones.

  “Where are you gonna stay, man?” Tony said, as we drove back out of town.

  “I don’t know.”

  “How about Linda? Do you think she’d let you stay at her place?”

  “I wouldn’t ask her.”

  “Come on. This is your life here.”

  “No. No way.”

  “What is wrong with you? It’s not like you’re asking her to marry you.”

  “Christ, don’t push me, okay?”

  Tony didn’t say anything. He just raised his eyebrows and went back to watching the road.

  I didn’t want to ask Linda to let me stay at her place so soon after what happened with Robin, and I was pissed at Tony for bringing it up. But he was right. I was out of options. I checked her number on my old phone, then dialed it on the new one.

  “Linda, it’s Mick.”

  “Hi Mick,” she said. “Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

  I had completely forgotten about our dinner plans. “Yes, of course. Look, I need to ask you a huge favor. Can I stay at your place for a couple of days, sleep on your couch or something?”

  “Wow, that’s forward,” she said.

  “Yeah, I know how it sounds, but it’s really not like that. It’s a long story.”

  “Tell me a short version of the long story.”

  “Okay. I got fired today, then someone tried to kill me, and now I can’t go home because Larsen planted a gun in my apartment and the cops have a warrant out for my arrest.”

  “Oh my God! Are you all right?”

  “I’ve got a sore head and a few scrapes, but I’ll live,” I said. “But there’s good news. I know what Larsen wants from me. His medical records. The answer is in them somewhere.”

  “One day I’m going to write a book about you, and it will make me rich. Yes, you can stay here. I’ll even make dinner tonight. When will you be here?”

  “Maybe an hour, maybe two,” I said. “Text your address to this number.”

  “Okay, be careful,” she said, and hung up.

  I called Casey again.

  “Casey, it’s Mick.”

  “Mick, are you on a safe phone?”

  “Yeah, I just bought this one. You need to tell me more about what’s going on.”

  “I don’t know much more than what I told you. Buchanan called me. They got a warrant to search your place again this morning, and apparently they found a gun. Preliminary ballistics report says it’s a match for the weapon used to kill both Aaron Jones and Elder Robbins. He called me to tell me that they have a warrant for your arrest.”

  “How the hell did they get a search warrant? They’ve already searched my place.”

  “Buchanan didn’t say. I’m guessing they used the old anonymous tip excuse.”

  I thought about Larsen and my visitor. “Yeah, and I’ll bet I know who called in the tip.”

  “That doesn’t do us any good, even if you’re right. Buchanan wants you to turn yourself in today.”

  “I’m not going to do that.”

  “I thought you might say that.”

  “Look, I think I know how to figure this case out, but I need some time. Is there any way you can stall them?”

  “I can’t stop them from looking for you, but I might be able to slow them down. I can challenge the warrant, claim that it arose from an unconstitutional search. I’ll use the video of the intruder to challenge the original search warrant, argue that it was obviously tainted. If I can show that they didn’t tell the judge about the video, it’ll tie things up for a few days. That mostly affects the DA’s office, but the DAs will need Buchanan and Malone’s time to work through it. It’s not much, but it might distract them.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Any suggestions?”

  “Probably not,” she said. “As your attorney, I cannot advise you to pursue an unlawful course of action.” I could almost hear a smile in her voice.

  “Then I guess I’ll figure it out for myself. I’ll call you tomorrow, see if there’s any update.”

  I hung up and looked at Tony. “Let’s go to Linda’s place.”

  “Not yet,” he said. “We’re gonna make a stop on the way. If the cops are going full court press, they’ll be looking for my car too. We need a new ride, and some supplies for you. I know a guy who can help.”

  “This isn’t the type of help that’s going to come back to haunt us, is it?”

  “No, man. Javi’s one of the good guys. And besides, he owes me a few favors.”

  “Okay, let’s go see this guy Javi then. It’s not like today could get any worse.”

  Chapter 30 – Gardening Leave

  We drove up through Oregon City and got back on I-205 headed north. Tony avoided the shorter route that would have taken us right by the Servants of Christ church. He didn’t say whether he was being cautious or sparing my feelings, and I didn’t ask. I had too much on my mind.

  I couldn’t figure out why Larsen was so concerned about his medical records. What possible connection could they have to Aaron or Elder Robbins? What could be in them that was worth killing for?

  Early in my career as an attorney, I’d handled some personal injury cases just to help keep the lights on. I’d read a lot of medical files, and I’d come across most of the classics. Teenage abortions, undisclosed STDs, impotence, and many other embarrassing diagnoses. Things you wouldn’t want a jury to hear, things that might even make you mad enough to kill your partner. But never anything that would even remotely justify killing two unrelated people.

  I rested my head against the window, and immediately regretted it as a bump in the road triggered a jolt of pain. Jesus, what a mess. I wanted to press the reset button, to go back to my life as it was two weeks ago. Or better still, ten years ago. Before I got a head full of crazy ideas about saving the world, quit a perfectly good job, and went to law school. Maybe that was wishful thinking, but anything had to be better than now.

  Enough of that self-pitying crap. I had big problems, and sitting there feeling sorry for myself wasn’t going to solve them. There was something bugging me about the cops wanting to arrest me. Sure, they found the gun, but how did they know to look for it? They hadn’t sought a search warrant when they hauled me in over the weekend. Why now? And they had the video of the intruder. Buchanan wasn’t stupid. Malone sure seemed to have a hard-on for me, though. I couldn’t figure out why. Sure, I used to be on the opposite side of the fence. I even cost him some convictions, back in the day. But never anything big.

  “Oh hey,” Tony said, snapping me out of my reverie. “There’s something else I wanted to tell you.”

  “What?”

  “Those cell phone calls to the Servants of Christ. They were from a phone registered to Aaron Jones.”

  “No surprise there.”

  “True, but now we know for sure.”

  “Aaron called the church eight times in the last three months. All those calls came after his si
ster died. Then he ends up dead.”

  “He had to be trying to blackmail Larsen, right?”

  “Well, he had money problems. We know that. So yeah, I’d say blackmail was a good bet.”

  “Larsen doesn’t seem like the sort of guy who would take well to being blackmailed.”

  “Given what happened to Aaron, I’d say you’re right.”

  “But what was he blackmailing Larsen with? What did he have on him?”

  “I don’t know, man. That’s what we need to find out.”

  We drove to a ranch house on a big lot in a Seventies subdivision just north of Mount Scott. There were several cars parked on the lawn in front of the house and to the right side of it, along with a trailer full of yard maintenance equipment. The grass looked like it had not been mowed in months. Tony pulled up out front. The rain had started again, so we hurried to the front door. When Tony rang the bell, the door opened to reveal a giant of a man. He had to be at least three inches taller than me, and a good fifty pounds heavier. He had arms the size of my thighs, and a torso like a wine barrel.

  “Tony!” the big guy said. “It’s great to see you, amigo! Come inside.”

  “Thanks, Javi,” Tony said. “Good to see you too, man.”

  We followed Javi through to the lounge room. “Long time no see,” he said. “You’re never home when I come around. How you been?”

  “It’s a long story,” Tony said. “Javi, I want you to meet a good friend of mine, Mick Wray. Mick, this is Javi Hernandez.”

  “Good to meet you, Mick,” Javi said. “Any friend of Tony’s is a friend of mine.” He offered a huge hand. I took it cautiously, and was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t grind my bones to dust.

  “Good to meet you too,” I said.