Vanishing Point: A Warner & Lopez prequel novel

by Dean Crawford

  ‘Sure, why not. That’s where it was hovering, right? Why not go take a look?’

  The four guys glanced at each other.

  ‘Man, we were warned not to go out there. Folks said locals avoid the place, even the fishermen don’t moor there. They took down all the jetties, everything.’

  ‘Who took them down?’ Ethan asked.

  The man shrugged.

  ‘Local authorities I guess. They don’t want nobody poking around out there. Sheriff told us to stay away from the island, or else.’

  Ethan glanced at Lindsay.

  ‘I’m wondering why they’d do that?’

  ‘Me too,’ she replied as they walked back to the truck to avoid being overheard by the UFO crowd. ‘What are we going to do about it?’

  ‘Right now, we get our heads down. I’m exhausted and no good to you. First light, I’m heading out to that island to see what’s out there. Looks to me like the perfect place for a cult to hide.’

  ***

  XIII

  Kankakee County Sheriff’s Office

  ‘I don’t give a damn, this is important.’

  Lopez stood outside the door to the office, which was located as part of the Sheriff’s Jail Section a few blocks north of the river. The nasal–sounding voice of a secretary replied through a speaker at the armored door.

  ‘We can’t let you in without an appointment. If you’d like to call us on…’

  ‘I already did that, and nobody answers the damned phone?’

  The woman on the desk warbled something about schedules but Lopez was already walking away toward her car.

  The sun was high in a crisp blue dawn sky and although it was cold the bright weather had taken some of the edge off the winter for her. Trouble was, with Ethan already out and clearly not in contact with her, she didn’t know what would happen if he missed his first check in with the court. Ethan had made no attempt to contact her to let her know what the hell was going on, so Lopez had to assume that he had a good reason for it.

  She was about to get into her Corvette and head south for Cairo when she saw a Kankakee Sheriff’s Office cruiser pull into the lot. A big Chevy Tahoe festooned with aerials and equipment, Lopez watched as it pulled in and decided to try again.

  Two sheriffs got out, and found themselves confronted by Lopez.

  ‘Ma’am,’ the older one greeted her, a man with a thick silvery moustache who looked like he’d be as at home riding a horse through the Rockies as driving the Chevy.

  ‘Hi guys,’ she replied with her best and brightest smile. ‘I gotta problem here, can’t seem to get to talk to the sherrif’s office no matter what I try. Do you have a moment?’

  ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘I’m trying to solve a homicide that took place last night on the bridge over the Kankakee.’

  ‘Right,’ the sheriff said, ‘the shooting.’

  ‘That’s the one. Thing is, nothing quite adds up and there’s footage of a man calling 911 before anything had taken place. I got the impression that he may have set the whole show up and we’ve got an innocent man jammed up because of it. Local PD aren’t listening so I thought I’d come to where the real detectives were.’

  The sheriffs glanced at each other. ‘Okay,’ said the older man, his ego suitably massaged, ‘what do you need from us?’

  ‘The CCTV on the bus records the call but not where the caller went, as he fled the scene, again before any shooting had taken place. I want to know if we have any traffic cameras that might be able to identify who he was or where he went. Could be crucial to the case.’

  The sheriff seemed to think about it for a moment, then shrugged.

  ‘Okay, I’ll see what we’ve got. You got a number I can reach you on?’

  Lopez passed her number on to the sheriff, thanked him for his time, and then made her way to her Corvette and climbed in. She dialled a number on her cell and got Honor Creston on the second ring.

  ‘I’ve got one of the Sheriffs on side for possible CCTV footage of the night on the bridge and the surrounding area. Long shot, but maybe something will pop and reveal where our mystery caller went.’

  ‘I thought you were already heading south to figure that out in Cairo?’

  ‘I was, but I want someone else to figure this out too or it’s just me against the machine, y’know? If the sheriff independently finds evidence that Ethan’s being set up, it’ll carry more weight with the district attorney than me pouting and whining.’

  ‘Good call,’ Honor replied. ‘They’d drop the case entirely if that happens, but I don’t know what they might find that would get Ethan off the hook that easy. It’s a long shot, Nicola.’

  ‘Everything about this is a long shot right now,’ Lopez replied. ‘I’m gonna high tail it down to Cairo and take a look around. If Ethan decides he’s not gonna show up by noon today at the court house in Kankakee he’s gonna have half the state come down on him.’

  ‘You think he’d run?’

  Lopez shook her head.

  ‘No, I think he’s staying and fighting, but he’s not gonna be able to do that while locked up. He’ll avoid arrest until he figures this out, and that’s gonna look real bad. I’ll call as soon as I hear anything else.’

  *

  Cairo, Illinois

  ‘Shouldn’t we, y’know, wait for nightfall or something?’

  Ethan was standing on the edge of a spit of land completely concealed from the town of Cairo by broad fields and dense forests lining the banks of the Mississippi River. The previous night they had found a small motel in Cairo that looked as though it was on its last legs, paid almost nothing for two rooms and no questions asked. Despite their fears there were no roach infestations in the rooms, and after jail it seemed like a four–star hotel to Ethan as he got his head down after a much needed barbeque rib platter in the near–deserted town’s only remaining grill.

  Now, the sun was up and Ethan knew that he was running out of time.

  ‘I normally would, but we don’t have long before the state police start lookin’ for me. Listen, I need you to stay in Cairo and keep your head down. It’s not a safe town so don’t go cruising around, maybe drive north a few miles and wait it out.’

  ‘I didn’t drive all the way down here to just sit on my hands and do nothing.’

  ‘I didn’t agree to help you just to have to watch your back as well as mine,’ Ethan replied. ‘I’m the one on the hook for homicide here, remember? You need to keep your distance from me in case this all goes south.’

  ‘I’m into you for fifty thousand bucks if this all goes south, remember?’

  Ethan sighed.

  ‘Yeah, and if you drop off the radar then you’ll be seen as an accomplice, an accessory to the crime with the bail being an empty gesture to get me on the road. They won’t care that we never met before yesterday morning.’

  Lindsay fumed and folded her arms across her chest in protest as Ethan pushed the battered row–boat they had found into the water. Although old and sunbleached, the paint peeling off in flakes from her bow, the little boat remained watertight.

  ‘I’ll contact you as soon as I can,’ Ethan said as he pushed off the shore and aimed at the island out in the channel. ‘Just stay outta trouble, and I’ll find Ben if he’s here.’

  Lindsay did not reply as Ethan grabbed a simple paddle and began propelling himself out into the Mississipi’s languid green waters. On his back was a pack containing water, a compass, a flash light and a Mylar sheet in case he had to rough it overnight on the island without shelter.

  The island of Angelo Towhead was close enough to the mainland that in high water its back channel was a dangerous series of white–water rapids that churned by the mainland, caused by a wrap–around rock dike at the island’s north end. Ethan had not been able to do much research on the location but he did know that it was used by campers and tourists in the summer, broad sand bars and beaches on the northern end inviting folks as they sailed by on touring holida
ys. In winter, however, the island remained supposedly deserted. Quie how a cult could survive undetected out here he wasn’t sure, but right now it seemed like the most promising lead and the mysterious light in the sky from the night before had piqued Ethan’s curiosity.

  The river dikes were notched, and Ethan had noted the presence of a sandbar below the second dike that was both out of sight of the main channel and close to the mainland. Powered boats could easily make supply trips under cover of darkness to anyone using the island as a hideaway, although Ethan could not make the crossing using the boat he’d found due to the strength of the mighty river’s flow.

  Instead he had launched north of the towbar, below the first dike, and now drifted down current while rowing to cross the channel. Here, he was also out of sight of local tows and other traffic using the main channel, and the silence between the island and the mainland suddenly hit him as though it were a physical thing. Lindsay had vanished from the spit of land, and all he could hear was the water lapping against the paddle as he guided the boat. He saw no birds, no fish in the water, nothing to suggest that there was anything alive on the island as he closed in on the sandbar.

  He let the boat drift alongside the island until the sandbar was almost at an end, where it joined the main island’s forests. Just before he slid past with the current, Ethan drove the paddle into the water and with a few brisk rows he drove the boat’s bow into the sand. He hopped out and dragged the boat out of the water, then pulled it up the shore between driftwood and scattered debris until he was able to conceal it within the treeline.

  Ethan stood for a moment and glanced across the back channel. The silence here seemed even more oppressive than it had on the mainland. Ethan pulled a bottle of water out of his backpack and took a long pull as he studied the shoreline. The most likely point of crossing for regular traffic was a half mile south of his position, and a quick glance at the sky told him that he didn’t have long before noon. It wouldn’t take long for the state police to track him down here, and then he’d be back in cuffs and back in jail to face Ferraga and his thugs.

  Ethan turned, pulled his back pack tighter onto his shoulders and then set off into the mysterious silence. Within moments he was swallowed by the treeline and vanished from view.

  ***

  XIV

  Cairo, Illinois

  Lopez stood outside the Cairo City Police Department, the municipal building’s grand name more than deceiving. It was a single storey building on a small lot that contained both the local PD and the Mayor’s office. Alongside was the Cairo Fire Department. Both buildings looked well maintained, but Lopez had doubted that she would get an appointment with the mayor at such short notice.

  In fact, he’d answered the phone himself, and asked her to come right down.

  Mayor Russell was a jovial, exuberant African–American with an infectious enthusiasm that contrasted sharply with the run–down remains of the town that he ran. Lopez got past the preamble of asking how things were going in Cairo as the Mayor led her into his office and shut the door behind her.

  As he sat down, Lopez asked him a random question. ‘You had a busy morning, mayor?’

  ‘Not so much,’ Russell replied, more’s the pity. There’s so much to do here and no money to do it.’

  ‘You know a Pamela Thomas?’

  The mayor glanced up and to the left in thought. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Never mind,’ Lopez replied. ‘Mayor, I’ve got very little time left to prevent my partner from becoming the subject of a manhunt for a crime that I know he didn’t commit,’ she said. ‘Is there anything you can tell me about the rumors of a cult operating somewhere down here in Cairo.’

  The major raised an eyebrow. This time he glanced up and to the right.

  ‘What kind of cult?’

  Lopez was used to seeing liars, the kind of people she often dragged back to jail willing to say absolutely anything in order to avoid more time behind bars. She had been the subject of attempted bribes, marriage proposals, you name it. The signs, when seen so often, became easy to pick up on: a glance up to one side or another, a by–product of the brain activating one lobe or another in the act of thought. Look up to the left, and most folks were using the recall area of the brain. Look up to the right, they were using the imagination area: dodging a question or preparing to lie. Lopez’s question about the fictional Pamela Thomas had been to establish which way the Mayor glanced when thinking about telling the truth.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Lopez said in reply, watching the mayor closely. ‘So, the story goes there’s a cult down here than recruits down–and–outs, supposedly performs medical procedures on them of some kind. We got a couple of John Does in the morgue way up in the south side that show evidence of what’s being called Trans–Humanism, deliberate modifications to the human body to enhance performance.’

  Now, the mayor did look mystified, but he also looked scared. She saw him swallow slightly, his eyes glazing for a moment as though he were thinking about something else.

  ‘Enhancement, you mean like drugs?’

  ‘I mean like implants, surgical enhancements.’

  The mayor stared at her for a long moment like a deer caught in headlights, and then his jovial persona seemed to reassert itself and he sat back in his chair and smiled.

  ‘Ma’am, folks down here don’t have two dimes to rub together most times. Unlike most cities we don’t have a drug problem, mostly ‘cause nobody can afford the habit. The idea that there would be anyone, least of all a cult, operating like that down here is ridiculous. Besides, I don’t hear anything about cults much. Since the factories closed, here and across the river, most all the town people have moved on. We only have about two thousand on the census, and none of them live in communes of any kind.’

  ‘Folks living in a commune wouldn’t appear on the census,’ Lopez replied reasonably. ‘My partner is on bail and he travelled here. I think that he’s onto something that will clear his name or at least draw reasonable doubt on his arrest, but the town’s so quiet that it’s hard to figure anything out.’

  Mayor Russell folded his hands before him on his desk and sighed.

  ‘I don’t know what to say to you,’ he replied. ‘This town can barely support itself. The last grocery store we had closed recently. If we lose the elementary school then that’s it, it’s game over and Cairo will cease to exist. Folks don’t want to come down here because there’s nothing left. Why the hell would a cult, or commune, set up shop here?’

  ‘To stay out of sight,’ Lopez said. ‘Especially if they’re up to no good.’

  The mayor shrugged.

  ‘Then they’re out of sight, even to me,’ he chuckled. ‘I’m sorry about what’s happened to your partner but this is out of my jurisdiction, especially if he’s been bailed from Kankakee. I hope that you find what you’re looking for, ma’am.’

  Lopez smiled and thanked the mayor, then stood up and shook his hand. She walked out of his office and closed the door behind her, convinced now that he was hiding something. As she turned toward the exit, she saw a police officer standing against the wall as though waiting his turn to speak to the mayor. Instead, he pushed off the wall and walked alongside her.

  ‘I heard what you were talking about in there,’ he whispered.

  She looked up at him sharply. Tall, pale skinned and young to be wearing the uniform, the officer seemed to be afraid of speaking to her.

  ‘You were listening in?’

  ‘Quietly,’ the officer hissed as they walked past the front desk.

  He opened the door for her, and directed her to the right so that they wouldn’t cross the parking lot in front of the mayor’s office window. Lopez walked out into the late–morning sunshine as the officer spoke quickly.

  ‘Officer Robert Henley,’ he introduced himself, ‘my old man was an officer here and I carried on the tradition. I don’t like what’s been happening here all these years.’

  ‘All these year
s?’ Lopez asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ Henley replied, ‘with the cult.’

  Lopez was all ears. ‘Tell me.’

  Henley glanced around them. As ever, Cairo was deserted.

  ‘Couple thousand people here, most of ‘em below the poverty line, most of ‘em without jobs. This town should have sunk without trace a decade ago, but it’s still here.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So, the money’s coming in from somewhere. Government funding to Cairo was cut years ago. Jeez, they didn’t even finish demolition jobs they’d started under the previous administration’s budget. I don’t blame them, the writing’s on the wall here but something doesn’t add up.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like the fact that the mayor and the Chief of Police here have homes out of town that they can’t possibly afford, over in Charlseton. They don’t talk about it much, but I know that neither I nor my father could’ve afforded places there on our salaries. Then there’s the cars and the boats they own, investments, you name it.’

  Lopez heard alarm bells ringing through her head.

  ‘The mayor was lying to me in there, I know that, but I don’t know what it is that he’s protecting.’

  ‘How do you know that he was lying to you?’

  ‘I didn’t tell him that Ethan was jailed in Kankakee, yet he told me so. He must have already known about it, so why would a mayor down here in Cairo know about a homicide arrest in Kankakee?’

  The officer nodded. ‘Someone told him about it.’

  ‘You got any idea who?’

  ‘I got a lot of ideas, but nothing concrete I can tell you. About all I can say is that there’s definitely a cult out there somewhere south of Cairo, that they’ve been there for forty years and that wherever they go, strange lights seem to follow them.’

  Lopez stared at the officer. ‘Lights?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Henley replied, ‘this whole thing started just before I was born, during the Piedmont UFO scare back in ‘73.’