by Brad Hart
Chief Walker’s radio went off up ahead. He picked it up and said something. It was too far off for Logan to hear, but Walker looked upset and shocked. He dropped his arm to his side, hand limply gripping onto the radio. His mouth was agape, and he looked up at the sky as if he was trying to speak but couldn’t get the words out. He squeezed the radio in his grip. He looked like he wanted to crush it. He had obviously just received very bad news from the other side.
“Everybody listen up,” he said and then took a long pause. “I just got a scoop that two more bodies were found thirty miles apart. One on the PCH forty miles south from here, and another seventy miles south from here off the 101.”
“He’s taken his killing somewhere else,” a cop said. “Sick bastard is on a rampage.”
“He left a sign. State police know where he’s headed,” Walker said.
“Where?” Walsh asked.
“It appears that the killer is headed for Los Angeles,” Walked sighed.
“We gotta do something about this,” the same cop said. “This is some sick bullshit.”
“These are out of our jurisdiction. We can only focus on the ones in this county. And we’ve got plenty of those on our hands… More than I ever imagined,” Walker said, sighing again.
Walsh turned to face Logan. Her mouth was hanging open. “So, he’s going to Los Angeles.”
Yes, it was obvious, even without Chief Walker’s affirmation. The killer was driving south, fast on the California 1, picking off victims along the way. No rhyme or reason, no pattern. Only death and destruction.
“He’s going to have a lot of places to hide in a big greasy city like LA,” Logan said.
“Damn,” Walsh said. “I thought we’d nab him here.”
“I’m going to Los Angeles,” Logan said quickly.
“What?”
“I don’t think the killer is operating out of here. I think he might be from LA. I think there’s just as much chance that Brianne Jones was taken in LA as there is that she was taken here. Either that or she was taken somewhere along the way.”
“If she stopped for gas or food.”
“Yes, and it was late,” Logan said.
“But where’s her car?”
“No sign of it anywhere. No reports of the plate being spotted. It’s a 2016 Jaguar F-type, which is nice, but nothing special by California standards, let alone LA standards. It doesn’t stick out very much.”
“So, you’re going to LA now?” She asked.
“Right now.”
“I want to come with you.”
“How? They need you here.”
“Staying here’s not going to bring these people back. And it’s not going to save anyone else as far as I’m concerned. He’s not here anymore, he’s moved on. Apparently, this freak needs to find fresh meat in new cities every day or two.”
“He could come back. Chances are, he will. He was already here at least four days ago when he dropped that body in the Pacific.”
“He’s going up and down, killing people. And now he’s not here. He’s heading for Los Angeles. I’m wasting my time here.”
“You can’t just leave.”
Walsh’s face was blood red. She was furious. Angrier even than Logan. She began to pick at the badge on her chest, fondling and considering it. Logan thought it looked like she wanted to tear it off and then sling it hard into the woods like a baseball pitcher, but she didn’t. She turned and walked to Chief Walker.
Walker was distraught, to say the least. He pulled out a pill bottle and popped a couple into his mouth, crunching them with the back of his teeth and then swallowing hard. He ignored Walsh’s presence for a few moments.
“What is it?”
“Stone is going to Los Angeles.”
“Who?”
“The private investigator.”
“Oh, Logan. Yes, well that’s good because it appears that our killer is on his way there, if he hasn’t arrived already.”
“Chief. I need to go with him.”
He finally looked at her. His eyes looked tired, unsurprised. He looked like he was almost expecting her to say that. Then he shook his head. “No, you can’t. Are you out of your mind, Walsh? Don’t put this on me now. Don’t put this pressure on me.”
“Chief, me staying here isn’t going to solve anything. Please.”
The Chief pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He lit one and took a long pull from it, then he turned his face so that the smoke wouldn’t blow in Walsh’s face. “Sorry,” he said and then forced a tiny smile. “I know I told you I was quitting.”
“It’s not a problem Chief. That’s nothing right now.”
He took another pull and sucked in the smoke. He wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at the dead body. “Los Angeles,” he said in a voice that sounded half asleep. “If you go, then you know this is off the books, right? You won’t be a cop there, not by the book at least.”
“Sir, are you giving me your permission?”
He glanced around. “Unofficially. You’re taking a leave of absence for a day. Maybe two. No one will ask questions, but if they do then that’ll have to be my answer. You messed something up, stubbed your toe and can’t walk. But it won’t come to that, anyway. No one cares, no one will notice. Not with what’s going on right now. But if you get into some kind of trouble… If you do anything you shouldn’t, then I’m not going to come and hold your hand, Walsh. Do you get what I’m saying?”
Walsh said nothing. She nodded her head. Then she turned and walked to Logan who was still standing there. “Let’s go.”
“What?” He said.
“It’s okay. I told him, so let’s go before he changes his mind.”
The two of them drove off in Logan’s rental. They didn’t speak. Logan didn’t know what to say, and he wasn’t in the mood. He was thinking about a couple of things. One, where the hell had Brianne Jones gone missing? He had assumed it had been San Feliz all along, although he had briefly considered the possibility that it had happened along the way.
He had also considered the possibility that she could have been abducted before she even left Los Angeles County, although that hadn’t been his favorite theory. Now, it was looking more and more likely, or at least it was looking as likely as any of the other possibilities.
It could have happened anywhere between San Feliz and Los Angeles. Or she could have gone East without telling her parents. Or she could have gone South. She could have been anywhere. The other question was whether she was alive or dead. There wasn’t a common factor in these killings. So far there had been three bodies discovered in a matter of hours, with one girl missing besides Brianne Jones.
Maybe they were both long gone. The killer could have taken them and killed them elsewhere. He could have dumped their bodies in the Pacific like he had done with the guy.
Logan shuddered, trying to clear his mind. The other thing he was thinking about was that he never worked with a partner, which was looking like it was about to change for the time being. He glanced over at Walsh out of the corner of his eye and considered her.
She was a good cop, that was one thing he could be certain of. Not that he had any say in the matter. He considered himself to be an obsessive detective, but a lousy one. His track record spoke otherwise, but he wasn’t one who liked to praise himself or see things objectively when it came to his own performance in the field. He felt that he could always improve.
Would Walsh get in the way? Possibly. Would she get hurt? There was always the chance of that, especially with a mad killer on the loose. She was a trained cop, however, and an ambitious one at that. Not like the beefy oaf with the uneven mustache he’d met earlier. It was no wonder Walsh had wanted to go to LA with him. She was driven by something, maybe passion for the job. Maybe something else. Logan didn’t ask, because he didn’t want to get too close. When he got too close, people died. Living with superstition wasn’t his style, but he didn’t consider that to be the same thing. It happened too freq
uently to be a coincidence. He had lost people he had grown close to over and over.
He was not going to let that happen again.
“What’s the plan when we get to LA?” Walsh asked.
“Don’t have one. You got any ideas?”
“Not many, but maybe one or two.”
“I’m all ears,” Logan said.
“I think we should go back to her parents’ house. I want to talk to them.”
“We can do that,” Logan said.
They drove on for miles in silence until they reached a scene on the highway that looked like a car accident. It wasn’t.
“What’s going on? Pull off,” Walsh said.
Logan was one step ahead. He pulled behind a string of police cars on the side of the road. The pacific roared beneath them, waves coming in fast. Logan could see there was another car parked in front of the police cars. It didn’t look like there was any damage to it, so an accident was unlikely, especially considering the sheer number of police vehicles that surrounded it.
There was an officer waving traffic by. He stopped and then started to approach Logan and Walsh when they got out of their cars. “Excuse me, this is a police matter, folks, you’ll have to…” His voice died off when he saw Walsh in uniform, and he began to turn an awkward shade of red. “You’re not from our outfit.”
“I’m working on the case in San Feliz,” she said and then brushed past him.
Logan did the same. He could see now that there were perks to having a uniformed officer at his side. It was something he wasn’t used to. Alone, he would have been bullied back into his vehicle. Still, he didn’t know what this was about – if it even was connected to the murders in San Feliz.
He quickly found out that there was no denying the connection.
The vehicle was a big pickup truck. The doors were opened, and Logan could see forensics doing their thing on the inside. They were taking photographs and gathering evidence. There was a large group of officers huddled around the car.
Walsh spoke with them. “Officer Walsh. What happened?”
“Girl got stabbed to death on the beach. That’s what happened,” one of them said, shrugging his shoulders. “Then another girl had the same misfortune shortly after, on the 101. We’re hearing the wounds are like our girl’s. Same blade, so same guy, but that much was already obvious. Wait, you don’t work for us. Who the hell are you?” He scrunched his face up and started to look both defensive and embarrassed.
“I’m out of San Feliz.”
“Jesus,” the guy said, softening right back up again. “You all got hit hard this morning.”
“Looks like everywhere else is starting to get hit too,” Logan said.
“And who are you?”
“Private investigator. I’m searching for a missing girl. Chances are she was taken by the same scumbag who did this,” he pulled his phone from his coat pocket and showed the officer the photograph of Brianne. “Her name’s Brianne Jones. If you see or hear anything, I’d appreciate a call.”
As he went for his business card the cop touched his hand. Logan looked up at the cop’s ugly mug and his jagged teeth. They looked like they needed a good cleaning, along with a few weeks’ worth of flossing before breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He could tell by the guy’s expression that he was about to get an earful of some nonsense about how he didn’t work with private eyes.
“Don’t bother, pal,” he said. “I’ve got enough on my plate as it is. If I see or hear of a missing girl, you’d be the last prick I’d call.”
“Sir, he’s a good detective,” Walsh said, looking shocked.
“Don’t worry about it, Walsh,” Logan said. “Seems like somebody pissed in this big boy’s cereal this morning and he’s just now noticing the after taste. Let’s go.”
“Shouldn’t we see the body?” She said.
“No point. We need to move.”
The cop stared blankly for a moment before he seemed to comprehend what Logan had said, and then his face distorted even more and looked real ugly. His cheeks went red and he scrunched his forehead up so that there were ten wrinkles from his eyebrows to his hairline. His nostrils flared, and his eyes looked as if they were about to burst from the sockets. He looked like a monster, and not a cute one.
Logan turned to go, not in the mood for a fight. The clock was ticking. Surely the guy wouldn’t be that kind of cop, but you never knew. He felt a hand go on his shoulder and then he turned back. The cop’s twisted face had flushed into an almost grotesque shade of purple, as if he was holding his breath and trying not to crap his pants simultaneously.
“If I ever happen to see you again, I’ll beat you to the ground. I’m an officer of the law, and I don’t tolerate disrespect from a citizen… If you could even call yourself a citizen.”
Logan took another step and felt the guy’s hand drop from his shoulder, but then the guy took a step with him and put his hand back where it had been a second before.
“Got it,” Logan said, and took another set of steps. The guy followed.
“Don’t… Walk away from me,” he said.
“Hey, relax,” Walsh said.
She had said the wrong thing. The guy snapped, going blood red and perspiring like he’d just competed in an Olympic marathon. “Don’t tell me to relax down because I’m not going to calm down when someone disrespects me on that level. I’ll tear this Mickey Mouse detective’s damn head off,” he shouted, and then gasped. Then he glanced around and watched to see if anyone was looking. They were, but they turned away as if there was nothing to see. Must have been common behavior for him. They were used to it at that point.
Logan had been a wiseass back to the wrong guy, although the guy had certainly deserved it. But to throw a temper tantrum like a toddler was something Logan hadn’t expected from the man, who otherwise looked professional. Looks could fool anyone, however; Logan had learned that long ago. As clean cut and straight laced as this cop looked, he obviously had some mental problems that hadn’t been noticed when he had passed the background test.
Logan looked at the guy’s nameplate. It read Jameson. He nodded his head. “Understood, Officer. We’ll be on our way now.”
He was about the same size as the guy, but he figured he could take him in a one on one. Not that such a thing would be a smart decision to start, or even participate in if the cop himself started it. He’d been in a fist fight with an officer before, but he’d gotten off lucky because he let himself lose the fight. It had also been unavoidable. If he hadn’t fought back, then he’d have been clobbered to death. So he had thrown some hard punches and blackened both of the cop’s eyes and then wound up himself with a broken nose and busted lip.
He hoped the cop who was eyeballing him at that very moment wasn’t planning anything similar to what had happened back then. He didn’t like fighting with police, even when it was unavoidable. It always led to nasty repercussions and in cases like this, it was best to play it safe and apologize. Time was running out.
“No harm meant, buddy,” Logan mumbled.
He waited until the cop’s eyes softened a bit, and then his twisted grimace turned upright into a shocking smile. He patted Logan on the back like he’d known him for years. “I’m just messing with you all,” he said, bursting into a bizarre series of snorts that Logan guessed was laughter.
“I wasn’t mad,” the cop said. “Honest. I just like to break the ice a little and have some fun.”
Logan’s mouth was hanging open a little bit. Walsh was staring wide-eyed. They both turned slowly and looked at each other, not knowing what to say. It was an awkward moment made worse by the fact that the cop wouldn’t stop staring at them and chuckling as he blushed. Trying to cover for himself. Trying to act like he wasn’t mad. The guy was a grade A asshole, that was for sure.
Logan nodded his head. “Right. Thanks for your help. Let’s go, Walsh.”
They started walking again toward the car.
Then a voice spoke out. “Wher
e you all headed?”
It was the cop. Logan turned. “Down south. Have some work to do.”
The cop started walking toward them. He was still smiling, but it was starting to fade. “You all aren’t going to Los Angeles, are you?”
“Why not? There something wrong with the place?”
“Oh, all sorts of things. But that’s not what I’m referring to.”
“What are you referring to, Officer?” Logan said.
“You all know he’s probably going there. He left a note in the driver’s seat that said, ‘Hollywood bound, he-he-he.’ LAPD isn’t going to be friendly to a cop from another county, and they’re sure as hell not going to be friendly to… You,” he nudged Logan in the chest with the tip of his thumb and started to laugh even harder than before.
“I’m familiar with the cops there. I’ve worked in LA county extensively. More than I like to think about. You’re right about that, officer, but I already know it. It won’t come as a surprise to me.”
“Sure about that?” He said. “They’re going to be in sour spirits and all considering a killer’s headed that way. Truth be told, he’s probably already made it there. Son of a bitch is probably walking down Hollywood Boulevard right as we speak, picking out his next victim.”
“I’m not expecting them to roll out the red carpet for me, if that’s what you’re asking,” Logan looked at the officer, and there was a long pause.
“Come on,” Walsh said.
They got in the car and drove off. The odd cop eyeballed them through the window, but Logan paid it no attention. Walsh shuddered.
“What a creep.”
“Tell me about it,” Logan said. “I don’t know what was wrong with him.”
“Sick that a guy like that could become an officer of the law. If he snapped that easily as us over nothing, then imagine what he could do if he really snapped. Fit the profile of a killer in my eyes, at least.”
“That’s too obvious,” Logan said. “But sometimes the most obvious thing is the answer.”
