Heaven's Eyes

by Jason A Anderson

  “Yes sir,” the officer agreed.

  Turning from the frozen image on the screen, Taylor motioned to the open door and the foreboding hall beyond. The four men hurried to the far end in silence.

  As they emerged into the upstairs office reception area, they came to a stop.

  “My researchers were able to get some information on the runes you photographed,” Nick remembered.

  “And?” Taylor asked, trying in vain to hide the eagerness from his voice.

  Shaking his head, Nick hesitated. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes from the bloody hallway they had recently exited. “The ones they could find have to do with ‘summoning’ and ‘resurrection’. And they’re thousands of years old.”

  Mendez grabbed Nick’s shoulder and turned him to face the detective. “Now, you listen to me. We deal in facts, not fantasy–” He was interrupted by the imposing figure of Alexander moving to impose himself between them.

  Nick held up a hand to forestall his aide. “You saw the same footage we did, didn’t you Detective?”

  But it was Mendez’s partner that calmed him down. “Easy, George. I’m inclined to let Mr. James offer his opinion, keeping in mind what we saw and who we hauled in last night,” Taylor pointed out.

  Mendez growled deep from his throat, but backed off.

  Nick blinked at the barrel-chested sound and turned to Taylor. The glint in his eyes hinted at an oncoming wise-crack, but the sternness of the detective’s expression gave him pause.

  “What happened last night?” Nick asked.

  Taylor gestured toward the exit and waited until all four of them were back outside before saying anything further.

  “We hauled in a young man for trying to skip out on his bill at a local diner.”

  Shrugging, Nick said, “That seems kind’a harsh. Couldn’t you just ticket him?”

  Taylor fixed his gaze on Nick. “He also caused some... linens issues with the pie ala mode in his hands. Anyway, when we ran his prints, we got a hit on them.”

  A heavy silence hung between them, which Taylor almost wished had been filled by a thunderclap.

  At last, Nick demanded, “Well?”

  “They’re a perfect match for a ninety-year-old guy that’s been dead for fifty years,” Taylor revealed.

  Another long silence went by, then Nick began to laugh out loud. Taylor and Mendez scowled at him and Alexander didn’t try to hide the smirk on his face.

  At long last, Nick finally laughed himself calm again. Taylor’s expression caused him to hesitate. He looked between the two detectives, finally asking, “You’re serious?”

  “Very,” Mendez muttered.

  The conviction in the Detective’s tone sobered Nick. A thought occurred to him. “My secretary, Amy, called me this morning. Apparently, there’s been numerous ‘sightings’ around the country: people that were presumed dead, up and walking around. We’re monitoring the reports, but so far there’s no common thread between them.”

  “More ghost stories,” Mendez grumbled.

  Nick glanced up at Alexander, who’d gone back to his poker face.

  “It’s possible,” Alexander said, “that this man they’ve found ties into your theory.”

  He looked out at the cloudy sky, then Nick nodded to himself. Without looking back, he asked, “You still have this guy in custody?”

  “Of course,” Taylor replied.

  Instantly, Nick headed down the entry ramp toward his Cobra, Alexander his ever-present shadow. “Let’s go see him, then,” the entrepreneur called out without looking back.

  The feeling in Nick’s bones was one of dread as they approached the precinct’s interview observation room, dread mixed with apprehension. “You realize what this means, if I’m right,” he said to Alexander, who replied without hesitation, “A continuation of Nightmare Manor.”

  “Of all the things I’d never want to have continued,” Nick muttered, yanking open the door and heading inside. He found himself humming the melody to “Blood On The Waters” by Vein Drain as he walked over to the large window that looked out into the interview room. Facing Nick and Alexander, the young man in question sat quietly; his hands were hand-cuffed to a metal ring welded into the steel tabletop. Short, dark hair, medium build, generic facial features... Nick couldn’t see anything remarkable about the man.

  The door to the interview room opened and Detectives Mendez and Taylor entered.

  The man sat up straight, watching the two men closely.

  Taylor sat in the chair across from him and Mendez took up residence leaning against the wall in one of the shadowy corners of the room.

  “I see here that you’ve waived the right to legal counsel, Mister...” Taylor took a minute to consult the notes in the case file, “Levahn? Is that your real name?”

  Levahn nodded. “I know that what I did was wrong and I won’t ever do it again. And I’ve offered to pay the damage to your clothing.” He talked fast, like he was in a hurry to get his apologies over with.

  The observation room opened and the Chief of Police, Bradshaw, came in. “Did I miss anything?” he asked, shaking Nick’s hand.

  “Nothing more than the obligatory apologies,” Nick replied. He returned his attention to watching Levahn’s face. “This guy hardly seems like a hard-time offender. Is it necessary to keep him cuffed?”

  “I’d be glad to take the cuffs off, once you can explain to me how he has the body of a man that died before you were even born,” Chief Bradshaw offered.

  Nick shook his head, wondering for a moment how old the Chief thought he was. “Weird fluke? Paperwork error?” he suggested.

  “I would have agreed with you before, but pay attention to the rest of what he says.” The Chief sounded worried to Nick.

  From the room beyond the glass, he heard from Taylor, “Okay, Levahn, tell me where you’re from.”

  A short silence was followed by, “My name is Levahn, son of Jabon. My sister is Kenah and her husband is Kiah. I’ve come here from the Lower Glory of Paradise.”

  Nick froze, staring at Levahn. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “Sonofabitch,” Alexander whispered.

  Chief Bradshaw looked at Nick. “Does that ring any bells for you, gentlemen?”

  “We never released those names to the public,” Nick said. “Jake Andrews even changed them for his memoir.”

  “That was my thought, too,” the Chief agreed.

  “Could they have been leaked?” Alexander asked.

  Raising an eyebrow, Bradshaw replied, “Possible, but unlikely. The threat of imprisonment usually keeps people quiet. Plus, Mrs. Andrews’ patient records are confidential, so it couldn’t have come from that direction.” Something in Taylor’s question caught his attention. “Here, listen to this. It gets better.”

  Nick paid close attention as Levahn explained in detail his arrival in Shadow Valley, locating a convenient host body and reviving the decayed corpse. He went on to explain, at the request of the detectives, his relationship to Kenah and Kiah and his desire to “just do some good, the way they had.”

  As the man’s narrative wound down, Nick shook his head in disbelief. “Man, I hate being right sometimes,” he muttered, to which Alexander grunted in agreement.

  Taylor and Mendez left Levahn cuffed to the table and joined the group in the observation room.

  “Well? Didn’t I tell you there was reason to keep him in custody?” Detective Taylor asked.

  “I can see how you’d be concerned about how he learned the details we never released, but I don’t see how that could be grounds to hold him. Other than an irritating misdemeanor, you don’t have anything,” Nick argued.

  From where he stood at the window, Chief Bradshaw interjected, “I’d like to send him to the detention cen
ter in New Amstead. They can evaluate him there. Plus, it’s where Mrs. Andrews was kept, so they may have someone on staff that’s familiar with the case.”

  Nick jumped on the suggestion. “That’s a great idea,” he said. “But before you do that, I have a favor to ask.”

  “A favor? This should be good,” Mendez muttered.

  Bradshaw silenced his men with a stern look. “What kind of favor, Mr. James?”

  Knowing he treaded on thin ice, Nick pushed forward with care. “Release Levahn to me–”

  “Not a chance!” said Mendez.

  “–and I will see if I can find out who his source is. Give me twenty-four hours – wait, better make it forty-eight. Two days and you’ll have him back,” Nick said.

  Chief Bradshaw took some time to think over Nick’s request. He looked back at Levahn through the glass and chewed on the inside of his cheek. At last, he glanced at Nick and said, “Forty-eight hours, then he’s the detention center’s problem. Agreed?”

  Nick held back the half-smile that tried to show on his face. “Thank you,” he said with a nod.

  “But, Chief!” Taylor protested.

  Bradshaw waved Taylor off, dismissing him with, “Get that man outta cuffs and turn him over to Mr. James.”

  “But, Sir–!”

  “You heard me, Detective,” Bradshaw overpowered the protest. “Now!”

  Detective Taylor looked ready to chew nails and spit out staples as he pushed past Nick and Alexander.

  A few minutes later, Nick, Alexander and Levahn stood out on the steps of the precinct building. Alexander had a firm hand around Levahn’s upper arm, quietly waiting for instructions. The silence stretched on for almost a minute, then the aide asked, “So, what’s our next move? Do we have one?”

  “Oh, we have one, but something occurs to me...”

  Alexander waited patiently for Nick to continue.

  “There are three of us,” Nick said, “and the Cobra only seats two.”

  Alexander nodded as he pondered their situation. Then he casually suggested, “The trunk?”

  Nick couldn’t help laughing as he led the way down the precinct steps.

  Contrary to Alexander’s suggestion, Nick did not have Levahn stuffed into the Cobra’s minuscule trunk. The stretched Hummer let the three of them travel in comfort.

  When they had settled into the spacious vehicle and the driver had his instructions, Nick fixed his gaze on Levahn. “So, you are related to Kenah and her husband, Korey,” he said.

  “Korey?” Levahn asked in confusion. “Kenah’s husband’s name is Kiah. You should know that. They talked about you to me, too. You and your quiet, dangerous friend, here.” He motioned to Alexander, watching him from nearby.

  “Really?” Nick asked. “And what would my quiet, dangerous friend’s name be, then?” He was positive Levahn couldn’t have gleaned that from any overheard conversations at the police station.

  Levahn sighed and he replied, “You are Nick James and he is Mister Alexander.” His voice dripped with evident frustration.

  Nick smiled his cocky half-smile and nodded. “Fair enough. Tell you what, you agree to never lie to me and I’ll agree to listen to everything you say and give it fair consideration.”

  Levahn looked between the two men, then nodded his agreement. He looked out the windows as the buildings passed and asked, “Where are we going?”

  “Historic Town Square. I thought you may be interested in seeing where it all went down,” Nick explained.

  Levahn edged forward in his seat. “The place where Nightmare Manor was?”

  “The very same.”

  “How long until we get there?”

  “We have a few minutes. In the meantime, why don’t you sit back, relax, and tell us about where you come from,” Nick suggested. “What is the Lower Glory of Paradise?”

  Accustomed to doing exactly as he was told, Levahn did precisely that. He spent the remaining time of their drive describing eternity in the Afterlife and the nature of the Lower Glory.

  Nick found the narrative fascinating, but noticed that as Levahn spoke, the man really wanted more than he had earned in Mortality and this was his way of getting it. The investigator also knew, as a hard fact, that no one leaves the Afterlife and goes rogue without being noticed by the powers that be.

  Leaving the thought for later, Nick noticed their locale and said, “This is it. We should be pulling into that parking lot shortly.” A three-level concrete parking structure loomed before them. Sure enough, the Hummer slowed and turned into the enveloping darkness of the ground level.

  The three men waited for the Hummer to slow to a stop before piling out on their own.

  Looking around, Nick realized they stood near what had been the back entrance to Nightmare Manor. The annex building was gone, turned into a lovely outdoor garden. Even so, he couldn’t help seeing the building as it had been: its windows blacked out, darkness swathing the whole place in shadows – despite the floodlights sweeping the night sky – and hundreds of people waiting in line to get inside. Without the thumping rhythm of the haunted house’s soundtrack, the area felt so quiet it almost seemed abandoned.

  “It’s not as I expected.” Levahn’s disappointed comment drew Nick out of his memories.

  Tossing a glance up at Alexander, Nick said, “I haven’t been here in a long time. I’d heard that it had been renovated and all things Nightmare Manorish were gone. I guess part of me didn’t believe it.”

  Levahn took a step forward, his eyes still surveying the back side of the town square. “Kenah let me see into one of her memories once. She remembered it in vivid detail.”

  “That’s convenient,” Alexander muttered, his voice carrying to both men.

  Nick smiled despite himself, then touched Levahn’s shoulder. “We should go. I’d like to see where you got your body from,” he requested.

  Levahn shrugged. “I’m not sure. I wasn’t paying attention when I got here.”

  Nodding, Nick turned Levahn and headed them back to the Hummer. “Luckily, damage like what you did trying to get out of that crypt doesn’t go unnoticed. I got the address from Detective Taylor before we left. Shouldn’t be a problem to find.”

  Chapter 37

  “Disrespected Dead”

  Located near the southern edge of Shadow Valley, Lundberg Cemetery stood apart from the farms and estates on the south end of town.

  The bright yellow SUV limo looked out of place slowly rolling down the main thoroughfare which divided the cemetery into halves. It crawled to a halt near the back entrance, which was closest to the stone pathway leading to the mausoleum.

  Nick looked around them as he climbed out and waited for Alex and Levahn to join him. “Nice place. Quiet,” he observed.

  Beside him, Levahn commented, “It’s a lot more peaceful now than when I was last here.”

  “Stormy weather and the dead rising from the grave may have something to do with that,” was Alexander’s sarcastic comeback.

  “You know, of course, that you can’t stay here,” Nick pointed out as they walked back to the mausoleum. “They’re going to send someone to retrieve you. You know that, right?”

  “Of course,” Levahn replied as if it didn’t mean anything to him. “My goal is to try and do something good, to improve my place in the Afterlife, before that happens.”

  Nick watched Levahn, pondering the rogue’s response. Finally, he asked, “Is that even possible?”

  Levahn shrugged and led the two men into the cool shade of the mausoleum. They walked back to the far end, where a large piece of plywood covered the hole Levahn had made in the wall. On a piece of paper stapled to the center of the plywood was typed the name “Orson Cain”.

  Looking around them, Alexander commented, “I would have expec
ted more going on. Some crime scene tape or the crime lab guys or something.”

  Nick about jumped in surprise when a man’s voice said, “Came and went, all of them”, from behind them all. There stood an old man, white hair and cold, blue eyes, in gray coveralls with the cemetery name embroidered on the right breast. “Didn’t find nothing, so they left. I cleaned the place up and did what mending I could.” He tottered toward them a few steps. “You family?”

  Nick and Alexander shook their heads, but Levahn replied, “In a matter of speaking. People tell me I’m the spitting image of Orson. Thought I’d come pay my respects.”

  The groundskeeper smiled a sad smile. “I’m sorry this has happened. We won’t have the replacement stone for a couple days, but I made sure no one could poke around. People these days, they don’t respect the dead like they used to.”

  Levahn stepped up and patted the short old man on the shoulder. “You’ve done your best and that’s good enough,” he soothed the groundskeeper, then motioned with his head for Nick and Alexander to follow.

  As they left the mausoleum to its solitude, Nick dialed Amy’s number on his mobile. “Hey, it’s me.”

  “Good, I was about to call you.”

  “Then my timing’s perfect. What do you need?”

  “You first,” Amy said.

  With a smile, Nick said, “I need you to get anything you can on a local man named Orson Cain. Died about fifty years ago.” He could hear tapping on the other end of the call.

  “Orson Cain... got it. Anything else?”

  “If you can call Taya Andrews at the B-and-B and tell her to meet me with her son over at Jake’s, that’d be great, too.”

  “I assume you’re on your way?”

  “Yes, I’ll be there shortly. Gotta make a quick stop, first. Now, what did you need?”

  “The home office just called. They tagged a regional news report from your area that they thought would interest you. Something about an airliner crash and the only bodies that were found were the children. No adults or teens, but lots of remains. Very sad. And weird....”