Heaven's Eyes

by Jason A Anderson

  “Was that thundering chaos playing when I came in your idea?”

  Shaking his head, Jake said, “This time, no. The A/V guys were testing the audio system before we let anyone in.”

  Grandad nodded to himself and led the way down the footpath to the gravel walkway leading into the arena. He took his time surveying the several hundred seats facing the custom stage, with the mill and granary beyond.

  “You have high hopes of a strong turnout, I see,” Grandad said.

  Jake nodded.

  “Judging by the lines outside of the gates, you may get your wish.”

  “That’s encouraging,” Jake said.

  Grandad turned away from the venue and looked out, past his car, to the rest of the fairgrounds. “Why the founders decided to name this wide spot in the wagon trail Shadow Valley is beyond me.”

  Raising an eyebrow, Jake said, “I never understood why they named the town next door New Amstead.”

  This brought a chuckle from the white-haired old man and he turned a sly eye to his grandson.

  “We used to own all of this, every tree, every rock, every blade of grass. Your roots in these mountains run deep. I agree that we should be doing more to give back to the community. I’ve even thought about donating Hot Springs Canyon to the city.”

  This news astonished Jake.

  “But you said you’d be dead before the family parted with that canyon. It’s where you and Grandmom met.”

  Grandad paused, his eyes still scanning the horizon, as if searching for something just out of sight.

  “I haven’t decided if I’m going to come tonight or not,” Grandad suddenly announced.

  Caught off-guard, Jake managed, “Uh... well, you’re always welcome. I have a spot saved for you up front. You are the Centennial’s benefactor, after all.”

  Grandad shook his head and replied, “No, this is your show. I don’t want to steal your thunder. I’ll probably go back home and watch the storm from the comfort of my living room windows.”

  Jake could understand the appeal. His grandad had abandoned the town of their birth for a high-rise apartment in their only metropolitan neighbor, New Amstead. That left Jake the sole resident of the sprawling family estate.

  “I haven’t seen your parents, so I can only assume they won’t be attending tonight,” Grandad said.

  Jake shook his head and chose not to elaborate. Instead, he said, “Come on, Grandad. Let me show you what you’ll be missing.”

  Without protesting, Grandad Andrews let himself be led down the walkway to the new stage, where Jake then explained with wide gestures and great enthusiasm the myriad of performances and production aspects of the coming night’s festivities. The old man did his best to pay attention, but when Jake launched into an explanation of 3D architectural rendering, he waved his cane in protest.

  “What? Too much?” Jake asked.

  “If you want to show a movie, why not hang a large screen?”

  Jake turned and looked up at the mill and granary, towering over the wide platform.

  “That’s part of the fun, Grandad. We’ve been able to incorporate part of the historical architecture into the presentation. It’s going to be awesome.”

  “Well, take a video of it and send it to me,” Grandad grumbled and headed toward the grandstand exit.

  Jake sighed in frustration and followed.

  When the two of them stood looking down the length of the midway, with its stalls on each side and the large aluminum prefab building at the far end, Grandad pointed and asked, “What’s going on there?”

  Jake smiled, but given his grandfather’s iffy health, he didn’t offer to walk the midway with him.

  “That’s where the museum has set up. One of our celebrity participants, a rocker named Chaz Black, arranged to have several displays from current cinema all the way back to the golden era of silent films, all gathered in one place. We worked with the curator for the Sons of Shadow Valley Pioneers Memorial to create an interactive experience, using the vast collection as the framework for the project.” He couldn’t help but be proud of it.

  “Sounds expensive. I assume you’re not going to charge admission.”

  “Nope, it’s part of the Centennial. Included in the entry fee.”

  “That may be interesting,” Grandad noted, then turned away and began heading back to his conspicuous limo. “Will you be coming to dinner this weekend?”

  “Uh... if I can get away.” Jake wasn’t sure how much of the latest ‘goings on’ his Grandad was aware of. He didn’t relish the idea of having to explain the presence of both of his ex’s and their sons.

  Grandad nodded as his driver opened the door for him.

  “Then I hope to see you there.”

  “Hopefully, I’ll see you before then,” Jake suggested in the off-chance his grandad would take the bait.

  The old man smirked a little, looking at his grandson before getting in.

  “Possibly,” he agreed, getting the last word in before the door closed.

  Jake waved as the massive red machine pulled away, threading its way through the fairgrounds.

  From his concealment nearby, Clovis watched Jake Andrews saying goodbye to the old man. He counted himself lucky that the two had immediately walked into the big arena nearby. It gave the rogue a chance to climb out of the Raptor’s bed and try to mingle with the crowd, such that it was. There wasn’t much of one, yet, but from what he had overheard so far, many, many more people waited to come inside the tall fence. He couldn’t be sure, but this setup reminded him of gladiator battles he had enjoyed during his mortal life.

  Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Clovis headed into the crowd to find someplace to hide.

  As he watched Grandad’s car roll away, Jake gave some thought to what the old man had said about family roots, but before he could think on it long, his phone rang. He retrieved it from an inside jacket pocket.

  “Hello?”

  “Jake Andrews, is that you?” a deep, resonating voice asked.

  “Chaz?” Jake wasn’t sure what kind of party was going on wherever the rocker was, but it sounded raucous.

  “We’re sitting at the front gate, but this dickweed security guard won’t let us in. Some bullshit about the Fair not being open, yet.”

  “Pardon?” Jake asked, plugging his free ear with his remaining thumb. The chaos in the background made it difficult to hear, and he told Chaz the same.

  There was a moment’s pause, then Chaz said, “Yeah, I made a few friends. We’ve got the limo filled to bursting. I need you to come let us in.”

  Jake nodded to himself. Aloud, he said, “Of course. Gimme a minute to get there.”

  “Excellent,” Chaz said, then the phone went quiet.

  Jake shoved his mobile in a jacket pocket and began to push his way through the already bustling midway. If it’s this crowded with Centennial workers, imagine how it’s gonna be when the gates open! He could only speculate in silence.

  At the main gate, Jake found Chaz’s driver standing beside the limo, in a heated discussion with the security guard responsible for keeping Centennial attendees out until the event opened. Jake couldn’t remember the guard’s name, but for his purposes it didn’t matter. As he walked up, he held up both hands to forestall the arguing. When the men had quieted, he turned to the guard, “Let them in. It’s our Guest of Honor...” He glanced at the size of the stretched limo. “And his entourage.”

  The guard looked ready protest, but Jake shook his head before the man could speak, cutting down any argument.

  Scowling, the guard walked over to the gate latch.

  “I apologize for the inconvenience,” Jake said to the driver, who’s only stone-faced acknowledgment was a minute nod before he returned to his place behind the whe
el.

  Jake had to move quicker than he expected as the guard thrust the gate wide open, then stepped into the empty space along the side of the rolling fortress, holding up his hands to bring a halt to the waiting Centennial goers.

  “Sorry, authorized personnel only,” he called out, disdain dripping from every word.

  Cursing under his breath, Jake decided to get the guard’s name and have him fired, then, instead, to have him reassigned. Before he could followup on his plan, the limo stopped beside him and the back door opened on its own.

  “Join us!” Chaz’s voice called from the darkness within.

  Never one to jump at a command, Jake hesitated a few heartbeats, then shrugged and climbed into the limousine. Before he had managed to sit on the leather-clad sofa, the car was moving again. Looking around him, it didn’t take long for his eyes to adjust to the car’s minimal interior lighting, due to the day’s overcast weather. On the main backseat sat Chaz Black, a beautiful young woman under each arm. On the sofa beside the blond woman sat a thin, pale man with bleached white hair that Jake recognized as Chaz’s drummer and reputedly the singer’s oldest friend. He had a lovely woman beside him, as well. Every single seat had someone from Chaz’s retinue. Jake guessed that the group on the sofa had crowded even closer together to make room for him.

  “This will be a more pleasant way to get to the VIP displays,” Chaz said, smiling at Jake’s obvious awkwardness.

  “Much obliged,” Jake said, forcing a smile.

  Chaz turned his attention to the brunette to his left. With a slow, deliberate touch, he ran the back of his fingers along her porcelain skin.

  After settling himself into the limo’s plush sofa running along one side of the automobile, he glanced up to find Chaz’s drummer holding out a glass containing about two inches of brown liquid.

  “Jack ’n Coke,” the man said.

  Nodding, Jake accepted the drink and held it up to the rock band and groupies around him. “To an eventful, successful evening,” he toasted.

  There was a robust chorus of approval, then Jake downed two swallows of the alcohol. The burn was muted a bit by the soda mixer, but he still felt it go all the way down.

  “I wanted to talk to you about the break-in... at Terror-Copia?”

  Breathing deeply, Jake said, “I went to the crime scene myself. I don’t think there’s anything that will keep us from moving forward. It’ll require a little cleanup-”

  “I’m not worried about cleaning it up,” Chaz interrupted. “What I want to know is if you took pictures?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Tell me there are pictures of the location where the bodies were found. I want to try and recreate it!”

  Beside him, Chaz’s drummer laughed, catching Jake’s attention. The man’s pale face looked sickly and less attractive when he smiled.

  Stunned again, Jake took a deep breath, then shook his head. “Uh... I didn’t take any, but I’m sure the Crime Scene Unit took plenty.”

  “Good. Find out what it will take to get copies of those photos.”

  Nodding to the Goth shock-rocker, Jake replied, “Will do.” Becoming more uncomfortable as Chaz began to kiss and bite the neck of the blond bombshell on his other side, he turned his attention out the window. In relief he noted how close they were to their destination. He kept a careful eye out the window and several loud seconds later, said, “We’re here,” as the limo rolled to a stop. Without waiting, Jake handed his empty glass back to the drummer, then in one motion opened the door and emerged into the gloomy afternoon light. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something inside the limo set him on edge and he was glad to be away from it.

  The VIP pavilion was a large covered cement slab nearly the size of a football field. In the past it had played host to local concerts, livestock auctions and property foreclosure auctions. This week, the pavilion housed the display booths for those VIP guests invited to the Centennial. By far the largest display was the one taken up by Guest of Honor Chaz Black. His enormous space now housed his entire portfolio of hand-painted works, estimated to be worth millions. It also displayed over a dozen sculptures that reminded Jake of the work of H. R. Giger. They had an organic, alien feel to them and even though Chaz had assured him they were plenty strong, he had no desire to sit in one of the four dining chairs. They looked alive enough to unnerve him.

  The noise behind him increased as Chaz and his entourage piled out of the black, stretched Chrysler 300C.

  Jake turned to the group and put on his most gracious host face. It felt fake, but no one seemed to notice.

  “We had everything arranged and displayed to your specific detail. They spent a whole day rigging just the lighting.”

  Chaz nodded in agreement, then glanced skyward. “I was assured the weather wouldn’t be a problem.”

  Nodding, Jake motioned to all four of the open-air pavilion’s wide corners. “Corrugated, accordion pocket walls pull out to completely enclose the pavilion. They’ll not only protect everything from inclement weather, but we’ll use them to secure the facility at night, along with assigning two security guards during the dark hours.”

  “Use the guard at the gate,” was Chaz’s sarcastic response. “He seemed to take his job very seriously.”

  With a chuckle, Jake guided them all down one of the side aisles to the center of the pavilion, where Chaz’s collection was set up.

  Disentangling himself from the two clingy women, the large man wandered through the halls of black mesh walls, where his paintings hung. He could see between the paintings and in turn through the mesh to the hall beyond. Jake was right when he said it was set up to his exact specifications.

  Waiting in silence, Jake stole a glance at Chaz’s two women and noticed that neither of them would look at the other, except to glare at her. He could sense sexual competition between them and figured the real beneficiary would be Chaz. That sent his thoughts spinning off in another direction and the image of Shannon, with her daring smile and fire-red hair, filled his mind. He wished he knew what was going on there. Her arrival had come as such a surprise he hadn’t really felt the desire to be hurt or vengeful. For some reason, he felt glad that she and Damon were around. His heart felt lighter inside him when she looked at him, especially when she smiled.

  “It’s perfect.” Chaz’s voice brought him back to the moment.

  With a single nod, Jake said, “I’m glad it works for you.”

  “How soon until the party begins?” Chaz asked, walking over to his young business partner.

  Jake glanced at his wristwatch and replied, “Not long now. As a matter of fact, I should probably check on a few more things before we get started.”

  Chaz agreed, then motioned to the two women waiting anxiously for him. Each hurried over and took her place beside him.

  “I assume we’re free to roam the grounds, even though it’s still a touch early.”

  Jake motioned to the aisle that led out of the VIP pavilion.

  “Have at it,” he agreed with a grin.

  Sparing enough energy to motion to his friends with the hand around the brunette’s shoulders, Chaz Black led the group out into the fairgrounds.

  Chapter 43

  “A Few Steps Behind”

  Trent and Kiah stood outside of Shadow Valley’s police station. There seemed a lot more comings and goings, by Trent’s estimation. The only thing he could think that would cause so much activity in would be the presentation that the police officers were preparing for the Centennial’s First Night.

  “You’re sure Levahn was here?”

  Kiah nodded, glancing at the constant bustle of civil servants.

  “If he would stop moving around, it would be easier to retrieve him.”

  “Yeah, about that, what happened?”

  “My C
alling as a Guardian is new, so I’m not entirely sure. It’s most likely he’s being moved from one location to another. It would explain why I keep feeling that he’s in one place, then another.”

  Trent glared up at the solid front doors to the station. “Too bad he’s not in an area that’s easier to get into.” Then he steeled himself and elbowed Kiah. “Let’s go.”

  Together they crossed Main Street and as casually as possible made their way into the station’s crowded lobby.

  Trent had only seen the police station this busy once before, and that was a night he preferred not to think about. Today, he found his assessment correct. There were people from all of the surrounding areas getting final permit approval, as well as filling out paperwork, asking questions and disputing denied vendor permits.

  Kiah followed Trent as he maneuvered up to the front counter.

  “May I help you?” asked the frazzled Police woman behind the desk.

  Trent had to remind himself to respect the uniform and not let her obvious irritation get to him. “Yeah, we’re wondering if you have a man here named...” He glanced at Kiah, who nodded. “... a man named Cain... Orson Cain.”

  The desk officer eyed the two men and for a moment seemed that she wouldn’t be any help. Then she turned and began typing on her computer. It blipped and bleeped and she watched it perform a search. When it finished launching a couple different search results, she scanned the results.

  “It looks like we were holding a man for questioning using that name, but he’s been given a forty-eight hour release. Are you a family member or legal counsel?” The doubt played out in her voice.

  Trent held up his hands and said, “Nope, just wondering where he was.”

  “If you have any information on this man, I know our detectives would like to speak with you,” the woman said, leaning toward them.

  Kiah shook his head and turned Trent away from the woman.

  “No, officer, no information,” he assured her and then led Trent out of the crowded room.