by Paul Seiple
“Dad’s warming up to it,” Kim said.
“Really?” Terrence asked.
“Well, he thinks we should’ve stayed on the force and kind of done this on the side. But he’s not as adamant about it any longer. I think working on the book with Derek has taken his mind off the change.”
Derek Gallagher was a best-selling author who Sam had known for over thirty years, and only in the last few months had started to like.
“I never thought Sam would get over his problems with Derek,” Terrence said.
Derek had embellished details of one of Sam’s cases involving serial killer Elvin Hayes in a book that brought him fame. It was something Sam swore he could never forgive. But when your enemy becomes your ally in a battle against Darkness, all bets are off. Derek was also part of the curse that brought a demon child to his home.
“Dad loves to tell his stories. I think staying with Derek will be good for him. Or I could be wrong, and they’ll kill each other.”
Terrence laughed. “And how about you?”
“I’m not seeing anything, if that’s what you’re asking,” Kim said.
On a previous case, Kim had learned she could see things others couldn’t, things not of this world. She had also recently had to deal with demons from her past. She didn’t know it, but Terrence’s sudden change of mind about joining Project Specter was an effort to protect her from Darkness.
“I’d hope you’d tell me if you were seeing something,” Terrence said.
“I would. I promise. And I’m fine. I’ve been sleeping much better the last couple of days and haven’t had a smoke since Murmur left,” Kim said.
Murmur was a demon that felt Kim owed it a debt. It tormented her until Project Specter helped free her from its spell.
“I’d like to go at least a month without dealing with another demon. That’s not asking a lot, is it?” Terrence asked.
“I don’t know. I think we may be demon magnets,” Kim said.
Terrence sighed. “Are you not telling me everything about this case Don sent you?”
“No. I am. I mean, there seems to be some really weird shit happening in Cleveland, and usually with weird shit, there’s…”
“A demon,” Terrence said, cutting Kim off.
She laughed. “How long until we get to Don’s?”
“About an hour and a half,” Terrence said.
“I’m going to close my eyes for a few minutes,” Kim said.
“I thought you said you were sleeping better,” Terrence said.
“I am. I’m not used to getting up at five in the morning and going to the gym like someone I know.” Kim smiled. She eased her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.
Terrence lowered the radio volume to barely above a whisper. He watched Kim for a few seconds before turning his attention back to the road. It was nice to see her smile and to rest.
Kim weaved in and out of sleep as “Arthur’s Theme” by Christopher Cross provided a soundtrack. She wondered what it would be like to get caught between the moon and New York City. Christopher told her if it happened the best she could do was fall in love. Kim was falling in love with Terrence. The feelings had been there for a while, but Darkness had occupied most of her mind. Now that she was free, Kim could focus on her feelings. Love was hard for her since losing her mother. The pain of loss, especially from someone she loved, was a feeling Kim never wanted to experience again. But with help from Remi, a reiki master, Kim was learning to feel again.
She never pegged Terrence as the type of guy to listen to yacht rock. He seemed to be more of a nineties Boyz to Men kind of guy.
An image of Terrence sitting on a boat, wearing a captain’s hat and sipping a cocktail while listening to “The Danger Zone” by Kenny Loggins made her smile.
The boat was actually a cruise ship. Kim had flashbacks to The Love Boat. She pictured herself eying Terrence from across the deck in one of the love arcs from the show. She watched Terrence dance without spilling his drink. Sun beat down on the deck causing her to pull the visor she was wearing closer to her eyes.
And then the deck went dark.
Kim lifted the visor and removed her sunglasses. Something glistening even in pitch black darkness caught her eye. It was a different shade of black. It struggled to hold a human form. Kim watched as the shape moved in between people, as if it was looking for someone specific. She tried to open her eyes, but something wouldn’t allow it. Kim wasn’t a stranger to these types of dreams. She knew what they meant. Darkness was calling her again. She knew better than to ignore it.
The shape stopped at two older women, in their late sixties or early seventies, who were playing cards. They weren’t fazed by the sun’s disappearance.
“Watch out,” Kim said.
The women continued to laugh and play cards. The shape heard Kim and turned toward her. She noticed holes where eyes should be. Kim looked deep into the emptiness. A sunken, tragic feeling entered her. It was a mourning she hadn’t felt since the day of her mother’s funeral. Kim wanted to leave the dream. She couldn’t. This was important. She continued to try to convince herself it was just a dream.
The shape turned its attention back to the women. One woman opened her mouth as she spoke. The shape slipped between her lips and disappeared.
Kim tried to stand. She needed to help the woman, but she couldn’t move. She could only watch as the woman grabbed a knife from the table and attacked her friend. Terrence ran over to subdue the woman. She stabbed him in the chest. Terrence fell back. The woman sat on his chest and sank the knife into him again.
“Hey. Are you OK?”
Kim felt a hand on her arm. She jerked free and slammed her head into the passenger window.
“Shit,” she said.
“You were dreaming,” Terrence said.
Kim rubbed the side of her head.
“Nightmare?” Terrence asked.
“Yeah. You were getting stabbed,” Kim said.
“A demon?” Terrence asked.
“No, an old woman,” Kim said.
“If it’s not demons, it's old women attacking me.”
Kim tried to laugh, but the vibration sent waves a pain from her temple through her face. Terrence handed her a bottle of water.
“Is Murmur back?” he asked.
“It’s not Murmur. I don’t know what it is, but I have the feeling we’re going to find out soon enough.”
“Great. Is it too late for me to ghost you?” Terrence asked.
Kim smiled and tried to shake off the feeling of despair. But the emptiness in the eyes of the shadow has imprinted on her.
Six
Noah paced in front of the coffee pot, stopping every so often to spend time on a thought. This was his way of working through crime scenes. He stared at a photo taken from a screenshot of the surveillance video where the mysterious blonde was talking to the tall, hooded man.
“It doesn’t matter how long you wait, it will not get better.”
“Huh?” Noah asked.
“The coffee. It’s as bad as ever.”
Noah laughed. “It’s past two, no caffeine for me, Alvarez.”
“Move aside then. I don’t have any rules for caffeine,” a short, stocky woman with red hair said, pushing Noah away from the coffee.
“You work Southside, don’t you, Mackenzie?” Noah asked.
“All the freaking time,” the short woman said, taking a swig of coffee.
“How about you, Alvarez?” Noah asked.
“I’m there sometimes. Why?” Alvarez asked.
Noah handed Alvarez the photo. “Have you ever seen this guy?”
“About a million of him,” Alvarez said. “Most of the homeless wear hoodies down there.”
“Let me see,” Mackenzie said, sitting her “Fuck Mondays” coffee mug down. It was Thursday. She studied the photo for a few moments. “I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I think we picked that guy up over the summer for indecent exposure.”
Noah and Alvarez shot puzzled looks at Mackenzie.
“Caught him pissing behind the donut shop,” Mackenzie said.
“And you arrested him for that?” Alvarez asked.
“He tried to challenge me to a duel with that thing,” Mackenzie said.
“How long ago?” Noah asked.
“June? Maybe July? I can pull the report,” Mackenzie said. “Be right back.”
“You think this guy had something to do with the explosion?” Alvarez asked.
“I think the blonde did. But since identification is going to take a while, I hope I can find him. Maybe he knows her,” Noah said.
“Angus Thornberry,” Mackenzie said, handing Noah the arrest report. “I can’t believe I didn’t remember that name.” She grabbed her mug and sipped the coffee, leaving bright red imprints of her lips on the lid.
Noah compared the two photos. There wasn’t undeniable proof that Angus Thornberry was the man in the surveillance photo. His mugshot put his height at six-foot-six. He was definitely tall enough. The report said Thornberry weighed one-ninety. He was skinny enough to be the man in the photo.
“Is it him?” Alvarez asked.
“It’s hard to tell,” Noah said.
“Wait, let me see that surveillance photo,” Mackenzie said, snatching it from Noah. She brought it close to her face. “It’s him.”
“How do you know? You can’t see his face,” Noah said.
“Don’t have to. Look,” Mackenzie pointed to the man’s hand. “That’s a tattoo. Thornberry has a tattoo of a moth on the back of his hand.”
It was hard to make out anything other than a dark spot on the back of the hand of the man talking to the blonde. But there was no denying something was there. Noah wasn’t as convinced as Mackenzie, but given the height, weight, and mark on his hand, this was the best place to start.
“Thornberry stays at that camp near the river. A few blocks from Lou’s Diner,” Mackenzie said.
“What are you doing now?” Noah asked.
“I guess I’m taking a ride downtown,” Mackenzie said, pouring the rest of the coffee in the sink.
“How about you?” Noah asked Alvarez.
“Putting off paperwork…” Alvarez said. “… to chauffeur you downtown. "
Mackenzie stepped out of Alvarez’s sedan and gawked at the smoldering remains of the diner.
“Somebody did a job on that place,” she said. “Any word on death toll yet?”
“Nope. Still waiting for the medical examiner to get back with me. She’s got her hands full with this one,” Noah said. He eyed Thornberry’s mugshot before scoping out a group of people huddled next to a shopping cart on the corner of Fifth.
“See him?” Mackenzie asked.
Noah shook his head. Alvarez took the photo and looked at the group. “No one’s tall enough.”
“Well, maybe they know where he is,” Mackenzie said. “Let me see the mugshot. I’ll ask the questions.”
Noah looked at Alvarez. They shrugged their shoulders in unison.
Mackenzie waved as she got closer. The group dispersed in different directions.
“Wait. I’m not here to give you any shit. I have a question. Have you seen Angus today?” Mackenzie held up the photo.
Only one man stopped. He turned to face Mackenzie. “You trying to lock him up again?”
“You know I didn’t want to do that last time. He gave me no choice,” Makenzie said.
“You locked him up for pissing. If you haven’t noticed, we don’t always have the luxury of a bathroom on the streets.”
“I took Thornberry in because he pissed on me,” Mackenzie said. “Now, have you seen him today?”
The man dug his dirty fingers into his unkempt beard and scratched his chin.
“Well?” Mackenzie asked.
The man exhaled deeply. “You’re not locking him up?”
“Nope,” Mackenzie said.
“Why do you want to talk to him?”
“Are you his lawyer now, Dave?” Mackenzie asked.
The man took a step back. “You know my real name?”
“I’m not calling you Beef, Dave. Now, cut the shit, where is Angus?” Mackenzie asked.
Dave ignored the question. “Who are these two?” He squinted. “Wait… I’ve seen you down here before.” He pointed at Alvarez. “You locked up Jody.”
Mackenzie turned to Alvarez. “Dave has a pretty good memory.”
“Better than mine. I don’t remember Jody,” Alvarez said.
“You nabbed him for lifting a PBR from Stop-N-Shop a few years ago,” Dave said.
“OK,” Alvarez said.
“Have you seen Angus today, Dave?” Mackenzie asked. Her words were more strict this time.
Dave threw up his hands. “Fine. I’m just trying to be sociable. Yeah, he was talking to Emma earlier, before the diner went to hell. She gave him a twenty, I think. I’m sure he used it to get tanked. He’s probably passed out by the river.”
“Emma? A tall blonde?” Noah asked. “Is this her?” He handed the picture to Dave.
“Shit. Do you guys film everything we do here?” Dave asked, looking at the photo.
“Is that Emma?” Noah asked.
Dave handed the photo back to Noah. “Yeah, that’s Emma. She helps us out when she can. I think she works at some marketing office a few blocks from here. Wait… was she in the diner?”
“Do you know Emma’s last name?” Noah asked.
“Sorry. We don’t really care about last names down here. She’s got a good heart, though. Is she OK?” Dave asked.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out?” Mackenzie said.
“Angus may know her last name. I doubt it, but who knows. Come on, I’ll take you to his camp,” Dave said before heading through an opening in the brush off the side of the road. “Is Emma in trouble?”
“We just need to locate her,” Noah said.
Dave stopped. Noah sidestepped and almost fell off the path while trying to avoid bumping into him.
“I’m not a snitch. If you can’t tell me what’s going on, I’m not going to help you,” Dave said.
“Is that him?” Alvarez said, pointing to a pair of legs covered in rolled up dirty khakis and Doc Martens peeking out from behind a bush.
“Yep,” Dave said. “I told you he’d be passed out.”
Noah walked around Dave, bent to a knee, and shook Angus. There was no response. Noah shook him harder. Still nothing.
“Does he pass out a lot?” Mackenzie asked.
“He buys a fifth of vodka when Emma gives him money. He has no self-control,” Dave said.
Noah pushed the sleeve of the hoodie up onto Angus’s forearm and checked for a pulse.
“He’s dead,” Noah said.
“I fucking hate cops.”
The words came from Dave, but his voice was much deeper. He grabbed Alvarez’s revolver and shot Mackenzie in the leg. Alvarez lunged for Dave. The gun went off again. The bullet struck Alvarez in the gut. He crumpled in front of Dave, who aimed again at Alvarez. Noah rolled away from Angus and shot Dave in the head before he could put another bullet in Alvarez.
“What the fuck happened?” Mackenzie asked, clutching her leg.
“Are you OK?” Noah asked.
“I think so. It missed the femoral artery,” Mackenzie said.
“Alvarez?” Noah asked, crawling toward his partner.
There was no response. Alvarez was dead.
Seven
Derek Gallagher thumbed through a small journal with a black, creased covered that looked like a spiderweb.
“So, you documented every case?” he asked.
Sam Strode wiped grilled-cheese sandwich crumbs from his mouth. “Yep. Every one.”
“These notes are meticulous,” Derek said.
“You should have thought about taking better notes when you wrote the book on Hayes,” Sam said.
Derek tossed the notebook onto his desk. “I thought we were
past that.”
“We are. I’m just trying to help you be a better writer,” Sam said.
“I’ve written three best sellers. I think I know how to write a book,” Derek said.
“Fiction, maybe, but this is non-fiction,” Sam said.
“My books are all non-fiction,” Derek said.
Sam smiled. “It’s too easy to rile you up, Gallagher.” His phone rang. Sam fumbled with it for too long. The call ended.
“Does Kim answer the phone for you?” Derek asked.
“No. But she finds that Candy Crush game for me. Can you find it?”
Derek laughed as Sam handed him the phone. A voice mail notification popped up as Derek swiped through the apps.
“Ignore that. It’s probably my credit card company calling again to lower my interest rate,” Sam said.
“You don’t give them your information, do you?” Derek asked.
“Yeah. Why? My interest rate is seven percent now,” Sam said.
“Sam, it’s a scam. They are trying to get your personal info,” Derek said.
Sam smiled again and shook his head. “It’s just too easy. See who it was.”
“It’s a 919 area code. Do you know anyone in Raleigh?” Derek asked.
“It’s someone from an oddcast or whatever they’re called about true crime.”
“You mean podcast? It’s called CreepTown. They’ve called me too about the Elvin Hayes story,” Derek said.
“Yep. That’s it. I’m not playing with that fire again. Those little demon kids were assholes,” Sam said.
“I’ve yet to meet a nice demon,” Derek said.
“Good point. Anyway, they want to interview me about Hayes. I’m not really interested,” Sam said.
“It could be good marketing when this book comes out,” Derek said.
“Maybe,” Sam said.
Derek picked up another journal. He flipped to a case dated November 15, 1984. “What about the four boys who went into the woods and were never heard from again?”
Sam took the journal. “This wasn’t really my case. A detective in Wake County was doing a follow up on a potential suspect who had ties to Charlotte. It never amounted to anything. I documented because I documented everything.”