Hunted: A Suspense Collection

by J. L. Drake

  Cheyenne had been right earlier about not knowing what happens behind closed doors. The neighbors who lived mere meters from Jason and his son could be completely insane, and no one would ever know. Anything could happen behind a closed door. Anything and everything imaginable.

  His cell phone rang out from inside his pocket. He checked the display and found a number he didn’t recognize.

  His heart stopped dead. Another unknown number was calling him. Could it be Abel again? The killer had promised to continue their conversation again on a later date.

  Fingers trembling, he left the bullpen without saying a word. He had no idea why he was so terrified by the man, but he was. The very idea of the faceless killer named Abel made his palms sweat. Much like Ted, he had never in his life feared imaginary villains like the boogeyman. But, in a matter of seconds, he suddenly understood the paralyzing terror that a child felt when told a scary story. Nothing compared to the complete horror that gripped his entire body.

  He answered the phone.

  “Hello?” he said, forcing his voice to be as steady and gruff as it could possibly be.

  “Jason!” A man’s voice. Light-hearted and cheery. “Hey, yourself!”

  All the horror immediately evaporated. Jason still didn’t know who this man was, but he wanted to hug and kiss him simply for not being Abel.

  “Yes, hello?” Jason refocused. “Who is this?”

  “Oh, Jason, always the coy one. Not quite as bright as the world is convinced you are.” Even the insult was said with a cheerful tone, as if he was joking with an old friend.

  The caller laughed exuberantly. A bit too exuberantly. It had a layer of fakeness but seemed jolly enough, as if the man had spent years perfecting the authentic laugh.

  Suddenly, Jason recognized the man.

  “Jason? Ya there?”

  “Oh, I’m here, Jack.”

  Jack Magnum whooped enthusiastically, and added another stage laugh for good measure. “Ah, Jason! You do remember your ole pal!”

  “Do I ever.”

  It had been years since Jason had laid eyes on Jack Magnum. The two had attended Point Loma University together. At the time, Jason and his friend Chris White had been heading down the ministry path, while Jack focused more on cycling through every single female on campus at least twice. “The circle of life,” Jack used to smirk.

  Jack had majored in International Studies, minored in History, and was also renowned for captaining the Point Loma Sea Lions soccer team. He had never been the sharpest knife in the kitchen. As a matter of fact, he was more like the cheap plastic knife that was already snapped in half. Most of the time, it seemed there was nothing in the space between his ears except a few gorgeous models and a couple of soccer balls.

  After graduating from Point Loma, Jack had taken all the arrogant gusto he had acquired from captaining the soccer team and applied it to his everyday life. Somehow, the ex-jock from Northern California grinned and charmed his way up the political ladder, running for and entering the House of Representatives. Jack Magnum the Congressman.

  Jason was surprised to hear that the infamous Jack “Six-Shooter” Magnum considered him an old pal. The two had rarely crossed paths, and even when they did, they had never been more than casual acquaintances. Jason merely knew Jack as the womanizing soccer captain and Jack barely knew Jason at all.

  “So, Jason!” Jack called out in his thick, always-charming voice. “How’s life been treating you lately? You know what I always say…”

  No. Jason actually did not know what Jack always said, but he kept that to himself.

  “If you can’t have what you want, at least want what you have!”

  That phrase had literally nothing to do with their conversation, but Jack sure seemed proud of it.

  He hadn’t changed a bit.

  “Things are great, Jack. Or, should I say, Congressman Magnum. How about things on your side of the playground?”

  “Oh, the sun can’t shine brighter! Rumor has it I will partake in the upcoming presidential election, and I’m considering it. Isn’t that just bonkers?” He laughed…again.

  No doubt Jack himself had started these so-called “rumors.”

  “Anyway, Jason, my boy,” Jack continued, speaking as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “I was touring across my home state, trying to stir up as much positive publicity as I can, and a thought struck me. Like a snowball!”

  Jason wouldn’t mind striking Jack with a snowball right now. “Oh, yeah?” he said, indulging the politician as much as he dared.

  “Yeah! I thought, while I’m here in San Diego—”

  “Uh…” Jason cleared his throat, cutting Congressman Magnum off mid-sentence, which was something no one ever did. “Jack, this is Los Angeles. Y’know, Hollywood, Lala Land?”

  “Right, right!” Jack sighed playfully. “I’ll be in Diego next weekend…As I was saying, I’d like to catch up with one of my oldest buddies. And, since that buddy happens to be L.A.’s brightest and boldest detective, it’d be my honor to treat you to dinner this evening, along with my wife, the Baroness Selena Magnum. I won’t take no for an answer!” he jokingly added before Jason even said anything.

  “Oh, Jack, I—”

  “Please! I insist! Bring a friend of yours if you’d like. It’d be fun to meet my old college buddy’s new friends! Or if you have a special lady,” he snickered. “She and my wife can chat together about clothes and coupons and all that other noise I can’t stand.” Another loud laugh.

  Jason clenched his teeth and unenthusiastically laughed along. Finally, after building up all the bravery he could muster, he said, “Sounds good, Jack. I’d…love that.”

  “Perfect!” The politician couldn’t be happier. Of course, nobody could possibly refuse Jack Magnum. “We’ll meet you at the Cafe la Bohme.” He completely botched the restaurant’s pronunciation. “Eight o’clock, sharp as Excalibur!”

  “All right, Jack. I’ll see you then.” Jason lowered the phone, his ear numb from Jack’s animated voice.

  The voice shouted and managed to get one last sentence in before Jason hung up: “I look forward to meeting your girlfriend—”

  Jason pocketed the phone and staggered back to the bullpen.

  Cheyenne was alone at the table, aimlessly doodling on one of the files. When he entered, she seemed to snap out of a trance, and realized she was drawing on an important document. She dropped the pen as if it shocked her.

  “Smooth. Where’d Garth go?”

  “He shot outta here as soon as he realized you were talking to the one-and-only Jack Magnum. You didn’t sound too happy to hear from him.”

  “Oh,” Jason said, settling back down at the table. “Was my happy act that transparent?”

  “I bet it convinced Jack pretty well. He doesn’t think water is transparent. How’s your old college buddy doing?”

  Jason regretted the day he told her he had attended college with Jack Magnum. She was never going to let him live it down.

  “He’s going to run for president.”

  Cheyenne’s jaw dropped open, then turned into an unbelieving smile. “Seriously? President Magnum? He’d probably assign his dishes to his cabinet instead of people.”

  “And here’s the best part. He asked me out on a date tonight.”

  Her smile grew bigger.

  “And he told me to bring a friend.”

  Her smile disappeared in an instant.

  “No way,” she said, throwing her hands in the air.

  “Cheyenne!” Jason clasped his hands together. “Please, please, please, please! You cannot leave me alone with that man and his wife.”

  “His wife is going? Well, that won’t be so bad…”

  “He called her the Baroness,” he groaned.

  She gasped at the sheer cheesiness of Selena Magnum’s pet name. “Okay, that’s pretty bad.”

  “The Cafe la Bohme. He and the Baroness are buying.”

  Thank God, her eyes brighte
ned. “Cafe la Bohme? That place charges an arm for a crouton.”

  “Jack’s arms are paying tonight, baby.”

  She giggled and sighed. “I’m going to regret this, but sure, Jason. I’ll accompany you.”

  “Save me, is more like it. Thank you very much, Baroness Childers.”

  Cheyenne nodded. “It’s not a problem, my court jester.”

  ***

  “And what will it be for you, sir?”

  The penguin-suited waiter turned to Jason, wearing an expression that suggested either there was a disgusting smell in the air, or he had a nickel shoved up his backside.

  Jack tapped Jason’s arm energetically, his grin about to rip his cheeks.

  “Oh, Jason, get the roast duck. The best duck in town. You can’t get any better than the duck! The roast duck!”

  Jason handed his menu to the server. “I’ll have the crab.”

  The sprawling room where they sat belonged in a European castle rather than on a tourist-packed street corner in L.A. Dozens of dazzling crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, along with rich tapestries, cloths, and other lavish decor that would put Buckingham Palace to shame. It was filled to capacity with candlelit tables and the sort of people who use phrases like “tut, tut” and “hogwash.” The floor’s carpet was softer than Jason’s bed—same with the tablecloths and napkins.

  Jason had met Cheyenne at the restaurant’s entrance beforehand. She, of course, was absolutely beautiful, wearing a midnight-black dress that accentuated her curved body and made her brown eyes pop. Most of the time, she wore casual clothes like jeans and a T-shirt. Formal wear wasn’t her preference, she had told him many times, but at that moment, he couldn’t imagine why—no one in L.A. was more stunning.

  “Gussied up for the Congressman, eh?” he had greeted, smiling.

  “Yeah, yeah.” She offered him one of her arms, which he took. “You look good too, 007.” She began to escort him into the restaurant, both of them sarcastically sticking their noses straight in the air.

  Jack and his wife Selena had already been seated at one of the dining tables. Despite the low lighting, all thirty-two of the congressman’s teeth gleamed flamboyantly as Jason and Cheyenne approached. He bounced to his feet as if they were spring-loaded and wrapped his “old buddy” in a giant bear hug.

  “Just like old times!” Jack had said, overlooking the fact that he and Jason barely knew each other.

  The two couples had now been sitting together at the table for roughly fifteen minutes, which translated to five hours in annoying-conversation time. Jason nearly begged the snooty waiter to stay at the table so that the congressman wouldn’t continue sharing his allegedly “fascinating” stories.

  “Oh,” Jack gleamed after concluding a particularly boring story about one of his camping trips. He tapped a polished, uniquely ornate ring on his right hand, doing his best to subtly show it off. “I heard the most brilliant riddle the other day.”

  Selena Magnum giggled slightly. “He loves his riddles. Can never get enough of them.”

  She was quite gorgeous, especially sitting next to the air-headed Jack. Her soft eyes were open and engaging, and she always smiled. Genuinely smiled, too. Not the phony, over-the-top way her husband smiled. Jason couldn’t help but wonder how this stunning and likable woman ended up with a man who probably needed supervision to tie his shoes.

  “So, listen carefully.” Jack clearly enjoyed having everybody at the table listening to him. He fiddled with the ring again as he thought, then said, “Take it and scratch its head; once was red, is black instead.”

  Nobody spoke. Instead, the detectives both took sips from their delicate-looking goblets. White wine for Cheyenne, and Jason stuck with good old-fashioned H2O.

  Jack chortled in victory. “It’s a match! See, before you use it, the top part is red. But then you light it on fire…”

  “And then it’s black.” Cheyenne smiled politely. “Yes, very clever. I never would’ve gotten that.”

  Jason smirked at her. She had known the answer, he could tell.

  He spoke up, the smile still tugging at his lips. “I’ve got a little riddle, too. Well, more of a brain teaser.”

  “Bring it on, my friend!” Jack said boldly, most likely attempting to impress his wife…or Cheyenne, whom he’d been eyeing since the evening had begun.

  “All right.” Jason readjusted in his chair. “Which is more: the number of Americans who yearly visit the Greek Coliseum in Italy, or the ounces of oxygen that hourly pass through the human heart’s chamber?”

  Jack whistled lowly. “Toughie. Lemme think a bit.” He began to talk silently to himself and tapping his fingers as he did the math in his head.

  Then, a slight voice said, “It’s a trick question.”

  All eyes jumped to Selena. Her head was turned downward, eyes blankly fixed on the table. Jack stared at her, his expression completely unreadable except for his clenched jaw. Her superior intelligence was a tender spot in their relationship, Jason could deduce—after all, a congressman’s wife shouldn’t be cleverer than he.

  She cleared her throat quietly, more to fill the silence than anything. “They’re both zero, right?” Her head rose slightly and she continued. “The Coliseum is Roman, not Greek. A Greek Coliseum in Italy doesn’t exist. And oxygen doesn’t pass through the heart’s chamber.”

  As if Jack’s glare was a muzzle, she clamped her mouth shut and stared at the table again. Jason ignored her husband and leaned in to Selena. The poor thing was close to trembling.

  “You’re right, Selena. That’s the right answer.” He then added, “But what about the heart? I don’t get that part.”

  The woman slowly faced him and Cheyenne. Jack turned his glare away, bringing back his faux air of jolliness.

  “Well,” Selena continued, much to Jack’s discomfort, “when you breathe in air, your blood carries it into your heart. First, the air enters the aorta section of the heart, which sucks out all the oxygen and takes it elsewhere. What’s left is carbon dioxide. Then, the carbon dioxide flows into your heart’s chamber and is pushed back out your mouth. So, oxygen is never in the heart’s chamber. Answer: zero. Nothing. Trick question.”

  Jason smiled and nodded. “Like I said, correct.”

  The sheer phoniness of Jack’s smile made Jason’s skin itch, and he could tell it had the same effect on Selena. She gulped and began twiddling with her fork to avoid looking at her husband.

  Cheyenne piped up. “So, Jack, Jason tells me Pennsylvania Avenue may be in your future?”

  The congressman’s focus turned from his wife to Cheyenne. Selena gave a small smile of thanks.

  “Ah, Jason!” Jack said playfully, back to his good-humored ways, “I told you that in confidence!” He fiddled with his flashy ring again, trying to inconspicuously boast his wealth. “Well, now, Cheyenne, these things are top secret. Definitely not for the public’s ears.”

  They’d take to the streets in horror and panic.

  “But I’ve been hearing other rumors of potential candidates,” Jason spoke, toying with the watery surface of his glass. “Senator Warren from Milwaukee, Governor Boyd of Oklahoma, Senators Henson and Johnson from Maryland. Even Congressman Price from Merced County.”

  Jack let out a sound like a blown tire. “Jeremy Price! I know that guy. About as charismatic as a Jehovah’s Witness with his foot in the door. No way that dingus will ever run for president.”

  People would probably say the exact same thing about you! Again, Jason chose to bite his tongue. Literally.

  “Oh, I’ve got quite a few devotees, fans, supporters. For instance, just this week, one chap sent me a nice note of encouragement with a present. It was a Bible, King Jackson version or something like that. The fellow had a very long name. Alan Bertram Edward Larkin. Strange, right? In the note, he compared me to some Biblical character called Malachi. Even though I have no idea who Malachi is, I’m sure it’s a compliment! Mr. Larkin was so kind in the rest of his let
ter, after all. Oh, and also…”

  The politician didn’t even take a breath. Just kept on smiling. “I flipped the Bible open and it landed on the book of Acts, and…” He couldn’t contain his laughter, even as he tried to stifle it with his hand like a little boy. “I found my favorite verse. Acts 2:15.” He let his mouth open and the laughter fly out. He rocked back and forth, even wiped a tear from his eye.

  Jason pulled the verse from his memory. The years at Point Loma had equipped him well. “Acts 2:15?”

  “You recognize it?” Jack laughed all the more, overjoyed that someone was now in on his joke.

  “Yeah, the apostle Peter is addressing the panicking crowd after the Holy Spirit gives a group of men the ability to speak in different languages. The crowd accuses them of being drunk out of their minds.” He shot Cheyenne an exasperated look, then quoted, “Acts 2:15. ‘These men are not drunk, as it is only nine in the morning.’”

  The laughs just kept coming from Jack. Cheyenne joined Jason in rolling his eyes. That would be Jack’s favorite passage of scripture.

  “So, Mr. Brains,” Jack swooned to Jason, “what’s your favorite verse? Genesis 1:1?”

  “Well, actually I’ve always remembered Romans 12, especially verse two.”

  Jason closed his eyes, and he was in his house eight years earlier, reading from the leather-bound Bible, a pregnant Keri leaning in and telling him which verses were her favorite.

  He continued, “‘Do not conform any longer to the patterns of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Only then will you be able to attest to what God’s will is. His good, pleasing, perfect will.’”

  He stopped and quickly refocused on the present. Murdered people, murdered innocents, murdered Keri. The real world, not some “good, pleasing, perfect” fairy tale the Bible and some so-called God concocted.

  “At least,” he cleared his throat, suddenly embarrassed, “that’s the sort of stuff I remember from the university.” His voice trailed off.

  Jack returned to the conversation, practically shouting. “Hey, Jason. There’s a lot of super-religious Christian people out there, right? So, I could scatter some of those Bible verses throughout my campaign, catch their ear, right? Now, that’s a plan! But my running for office isn’t a done deal. No, no.” Jack smiled at his own thoughts. “For now, my dear Cheyenne, I’ll just say that the job is calling for me,” he flashed an overly sentimental smile at the detectives, “and vice versa.” He winked for good measure. Nice touch.