The Shadow Box: Paranormal Suspense and Dark Fantasy Thriller Novels

by Travis Luedke

  “Niece?”

  “I know they don’t have a daughter, so if she’s kin who else could she be?”

  Max pretended to write that down.

  “Is that who you’re looking for?”

  “Maybe… it’s hard to explain.” That wasn’t a lie. He looked up to see her staring at him with the same look she’d had before: suspicion. That was a confusing reaction, as she had as much reason to be suspicious of Max if she was lying as she would were she telling the truth. He was hoping for guilt. He didn’t see any of that.

  “How many teachers do you have?” He really didn’t like using that word to describe any of the instructors at this school, but he didn’t want to offend her.

  “We have two, not including myself.” She smiled. “I teach the Bible class and science.”

  Max suppressed a grin, thinking about what curriculum they must have pass as a science class.

  “Could I speak to them?”

  “You could, but I promise you they’re going to say the same thing I said. We’ve never had a student with that name.” She shook her head and gave him a plastic grin. “Sorry. And I can’t let you speak to the students without—”

  Max interrupted her with a nod. He hadn’t planned to ask. “The church owns that trailer park, doesn’t it?”

  “The church owns several properties,” she explained. “My husband Alex could tell you more about that, but he’s at work. We bought the Hagshead and have used it as an alternative to government housing, especially for small families with children.”

  “Church members?”

  “Of course they receive a preference, but we don’t discriminate against any family in need.”

  “Especially if they have children?”

  She nodded with a smile.

  “But the Winnans don’t have a daughter?”

  Her cheeks flooded and her eyes widened. She looked like she’d been slapped. Max pretended to write something down.

  “How did the Winnans come to live in Hagshead?”

  “We don’t require that a family have a child, they just receive preference.” She seemed a little flustered. If he wasn’t careful, she was going to lock up on him.

  “I understand that. When did the Winnans move into the park?”

  “Oh, I don’t remember that. You’d have to ask Alex or the pastor’s wife, Lindsey. She manages properties.”

  “That’s okay, I’ve already spoken to the Winnans about it.” He glanced at Ree subtly. She still looked flushed but not aggravated. “They moved here from Montana, is that right?”

  “If you’ve already spoken to the Winnans, then you’d know they didn’t have a daughter.” She chuckled and gave him a confused look. “I don’t understand… I don’t understand what you’re looking for.”

  This was not a stupid woman. She could connect dots on her own, if there were any to connect. It was unlikely anything happened to any of the children in this school or the Hagshead without her knowledge. That changed things, and meant that he had to keep his disgust with her in check. Still, it was okay to let on that he had some idea what was going on, just to see if he could force a move.

  “There are some colorful characters in that park,” Max said with a wry grin.

  “You mean the skinheads?” She shook her head. “You know, I don’t approve of those flags, but they’ve got a right to believe whatever they want. This is America, and they have freedom of speech.”

  “I was actually referring to Mrs. Soptik, but since you brought them up… you’re aware of the claim that the skinheads are manufacturing meth in the woods behind the park, right?”

  “You know I don’t think that’s fair.”

  That was unexpected.

  “I’m not racist, but I don’t think it’s fair to assume just because a group of boys shave their heads and hang Confederate flags around that they’re meth dealers.”

  “Well, I’m not assuming. I’m just saying what’s been reported—”

  “It’s ironic, don’t you think, Mr. Hollinsworth—” she mispronounced his last name, probably not on purpose. “That if it was a bunch of colored boys or Mexicans living in one place and someone told you they was selling drugs, you’d just assume it was a racist. But if the boys are white, it’s just fine to accuse them of anything and that ain’t prejudice?”

  Max narrowed his eyes and grinned. She was putting him on the spot and changing the subject. She was clever.

  Max hated this woman.

  “I don’t think that’s really the same thing.”

  “How’s that?”

  Dammit, it was working, but Max couldn’t resist following her tangent.

  “The white supremacist movement is well known for its involvement in the North American meth trade. If a group of Mexicans moved in and put up symbols known for their affiliation with a South American drug cartel, or a group of blacks did the same thing with gang signs… I think it might be fair to assume there might be illegal activity occurring there.”

  “So you agree then?”

  “Ah…well, there is a difference between a group of blacks or Mexican people living together and a group of white people with shaved heads and Aryan symbols living together. I don’t think your example really takes that into account.”

  She shrugged. “I just don’t think it’s fair. But if we thought they were making meth on our land, we’d have the Sherriff out there. We’re not going to have anything like that on our property. I can promise you that.”

  “Well, good to know.” Max closed his notebook. “I guess that’s all I’ve got.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked as he stood.

  Max shrugged and pulled the strap of his bag over his head. “If the girl never went to school here, then you can’t really help me.” He gave her a cool grin as she rose to walk him out. “I guess I’ll just have to look for her somewhere else.”

  He saw himself out. Once he’d returned to his car, Max noticed Ree’s office window faced the parking lot. Through a dusty screen over tinted glass, he saw her using the phone. He hadn’t heard it ring on his way out, so it was likely she’d made a call just after he left the building.

  Max started his car and backed out of the gravel parking lot. He had a phone call of his own to make, but he could wait until he got back to town.

  Chapter Twenty

  “I can’t keep doing this.” Frank shook his head before stuffing a straw in his mouth. “If I die, who’s going to run the bookstore?”

  “Yeah,” Max replied as Frank filled his mouth with soda. “That place does exactly zero business every day.”

  “Pfft! Zero business is a good day. With shoplifters, we usually wind up reporting a negative balance at the end of the day.”

  “How do you even still have a job?”

  Frank shrugged. “We can’t all work for the government, Razor.”

  “Keep your voice down, they have good ears.”

  Frank nodded and leaned against the wall. Max glanced at the photograph in the file and scanned the parking lot. It wasn’t going to be easy to identify the mark from the grainy printed picture, but this vampire was particularly ugly, so he might stand out.

  “How’s James doing?”

  Max shrugged. “He’s not with Jon anymore.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.” He finished his soda and sat the cup on the wall. “Is that who you brought to help out?”

  Max shook his head.

  “Then who?”

  “You’ll see.” Max ran his eyes down the file. He had to squint to read in the dim light. A diesel rumbled by. Dust mixed with the pungent stench of burning truck fuel. Once the giant vehicle passed, its rumble vanished into the choir of idling truck engines parked in the lot.

  “Why do they leave those running?”

  Max shrugged, then realized Frank wasn’t looking at him. “I don’t know.”

  “Seems like it would be a waste of gas.” Frank waited a little while before asking, “Are you sure this is the right tr
uck stop?”

  “They said the Aerial K. It’s the biggest…has the biggest lot, anyway.” He nodded to rows of trucks before going back to his file.

  Frank shook his head. “How do they even do this? Wouldn’t someone notice someone selling a kid? Especially skinheads?”

  “I doubt they send the obvious skinheads to—” Max narrowed his eyes across the lot. “Son of a bitch.” He pointed. Frank followed his finger to a chalk-headed figure crossing the lot several hundred yards away. The pale lights made his head look like a light bulb.

  “Whoa,” Frank put out his hand. “How do you know that isn’t just some bald trucker dude?”

  Max looked at Frank then back out at the lot. He saw a second figure at the end of a truck row. This one had brown hair and a dark leather jacket. Max squinted at him. The brown-haired one nodded and vanished behind a row of parked trucks. “It’s one of them. C’mon.”

  “That guy,” Frank whispered as they crossed the lot. He had to almost whisper right into Max’s ear to be heard over the engines. “Is that your friend?”

  Max put his fingers to his lips and led Frank between a pair of semis. The lot was arranged like a maze, with diesels and tractor-trailers as walls. Once they were a few rows from where the skinhead had disappeared, Max reached behind his back and drew a pistol.

  “Oh, son of a bitch,” Frank groaned.

  Max gave him a dirty look and nodded to keep moving. They stopped at the edge of an alley where the skinhead met with a greasy haired driver.

  The driver wore brown coveralls with grease stains and held a worn notebook. The skinhead was one Max recognized as the human named Leroy. Max pulled Frank around the corner, out of sight. He knew Leroy wasn’t a vamp, but he wasn’t sure about the trucker. If it was who he suspected based on the contacts given in the file from Dwayne, they were dealing with a vampire named Hiram Smith. He’d been Moonshadow’s predecessor’s conduit to the child sex trade, and likely stayed on in that role when the Aryan vampires took over the business.

  “Are we going to kill this guy?” Frank rasped in Max’s ear. It was hard to whisper over the rumble of diesel engines. While their scent was likely masked by the burning fuel fumes, Max wasn’t sure how well Hiram would be able to filter out noise.

  “Maybe,” Max said with a shrug. Frank looked at his gun. “Why did I even bring you?”

  “I don’t know!”

  Max put his fingers to his lips and peered around the corner. Whatever Leroy had come to discuss, he’d finished and was leaving. He disappeared around the corner of a big red truck, and Max felt his pulse quicken. Hiram was just about to turn to his truck when Max emerged from his hiding spot.

  The vampire didn’t take immediate notice of him. People walking around out here wasn’t unusual. He did glance up when Max stopped. When he saw Max’s gun, his lips curled into a smile. He might have thought he was about to be robbed, which would have been hilarious. Max smiled back, things were about to get a lot less funny for one of them.

  Frank stepped out, behind Max. The trucker shook his head at the pair and tucked the worn notebook into the front of his coverall. He licked his lips and put his hands on his hips. Max saw an animal glimmer in his eyes as they reflected the coarse silver light of the lot lamps. Max got a good look at his face and had no doubt of his identity from the matching computer printout photo in the file.

  “Hiram Smith?” Max shouted the name. He probably didn’t have to. The vampire might have heard him in a whisper. Hiram reacted with a scowl to the mention of his name. “I’m going to ask you a few questions. I’m going to ask you to come with me.”

  Hiram laughed. “Are you for real? You a cop?”

  “No.”

  “Why would I go anywhere with you? Why would I answer any of your questions?” He tapped his chest. “Do you have any idea who I am?” it was a rhetorical question. Hiram was powerful enough he could sense Max’s emotions, even from this distance. He’d have known Max and Frank were afraid, and knew what he really was.

  “I’m only going to ask once more,” Max replied, tightening his grip on the pistol. It was a Glock 26, 9mm. It was small enough to hide but powerful enough to take down a vamp if he hit him in the head. Still, most people have a hard time with headshots, especially against a moving target.

  Hiram eyed the piece as though he were weighing the odds.

  “Or what?” He smiled again, this time showing his fangs. He was calling the bluff.

  “Or I’m going to start asking,” came another voice. Hiram spun around to face the interloper. Max’s friend had dark hair like the trucker, though his was clean and he wore a nice leather jacket like a biker. He didn’t look like a biker, more like a movie star playing a biker.

  Hiram seemed to sense something was amiss with Max’s friend right away. He shifted all his attention to the newcomer and drew a fat, blue revolver from his jumper. The lone figure at the end of the truck alley took a single step. Hiram raised the pistol.

  “I’ll fire!”

  “Fire?” said Max’s friend, almost with a laugh. “I’ll teach you about fire.”

  Hiram popped off two shots at Max’s friend’s advance. Two heavy rounds thumped against his friend’s body and echoed off the trailers. Then he was on Hiram in a second, swatting the gun out of Hiram’s hand and planting a bare-knuckle blow in the vamp’s face. Hiram roared in pain and spun on his boots before hitting the ground.

  He spat blood to the dust and tried to turn over. Max’s friend brought back his fist and slammed it into the vampire’s face. Hiram squealed and flipped to the ground. He shuddered as blood poured from his wounds. Max’s enforcer drove his boot into Hiram’s side. The crack of his ribs breaking filled the alley. He moaned and curled into a bloody ball. The stranger was about to kick him again when Max got to him.

  “Whoa, Garrett, you got him!” Garrett stopped and looked up at Max with a grin. “You got him.” Max patted his shoulder.

  “Looks like it. Sorry, I just really like hitting them.”

  “I know you do,” Max said with a smile. “I know.”

  “Hi,” Frank said, holding out his hand. “I’m—”

  “You’re Frank Gones,” Garrett held up his hand but pulled it away when he saw it was still covered with vampire blood. “You work at the bookstore in the mall. We’ve met. You helped me find a copy of Cormac MacCarthy’s The Road a few years ago.”

  “Oh…I don’t remember. Sorry.”

  “I remember things.” Garrett nodded. “I’m Garrett Terago. You can call me Garrett.”

  “And you know Raz…Max, how?”

  Max smiled. “Mutual friend. Remember that girl I told you about last year? Meg Crunk?”

  “Oh, the one you said had a great ass?”

  Max winced and covered his eyes. When he looked up, Garrett was smiling at him, though not completely.

  “Yes, that one… this is her boyfriend.” He gestured to Garrett.

  “Oh…”

  “How is Meg?” Max asked.

  “She’s well, thank you. Enjoying not having to work, I think. How have you been since—the unfortunate…thing?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “How is Sadie?”

  “She’s great. I guess. She knew I was going to see you and wanted me to ask about Aoni’a. Do you know when she might be coming back into town?”

  “Aoni’a is actually with us at the moment, though she’s occupied, so you won’t get to have another threesome with her.”

  “Occupied?” asked Max.

  “It’s a long story,” continued Garrett. “We’ll talk about it at my next birthday party.”

  “We’re doing that again this year?”

  Garrett rolled his eyes. “Yeah, it looks like it.”

  Max could tell it was probably Meg’s idea.

  “Uh, guys?” Frank pointed down at the bloodied vampire. He was beginning to stir.

  “I’ve got this.” Garrett kicked him in the head. His skull cracked and the
vamp fell to the ground in a shuddering mess of blood and spit.

  Frank winced, but Max laughed and looked at Garrett. “So, you brought a truck?”

  “I did,” he replied. “And I brought a bag. And duct tape. Lots of duct tape.”

  “My man.” Max patted Garrett on the back. “He’ll be down for a little bit if you want to pull it around.” Garrett nodded and turned to leave. “Hey, thanks again.”

  “My pleasure.” Garrett walked out of the alley.

  “All right, Max, what is that guy?”

  “I told you, he’s—”

  “No, what is he? He’s not a vampire. He’s stronger than the vampire and those two bullets bounced off him like he was made of stone. What the hell is he and how do you know him?”

  “Do you really want to know?” Max gave him a long, narrow eyed look.

  Frank stared at him for a second and shook his head. Max nodded and looked away.

  “I just want to know if he’s dangerous.”

  “He is.” Max holstered his gun. “But not to us.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “It’s a little tight.”

  “Well, it’s not supposed to be pleasant,” Max replied. Hiram struggled against his bonds. It made the chair creak, but didn’t threaten the rope. Max adjusted the reflective bowl around the florescent light so it hit Hiram in the face. The vamp winced and looked down.

  “What are these?” he moaned and tried to look over his shoulder at the binding.

  “Para-aramid fiber rope,” Garrett answered. Hiram’s head turned at his voice, like he was about to get hit again. Garrett kept his arms crossed over his chest and smiled.

  “They chafe,” the vampire whined. “Very strong.”

  “Also very expensive so try not to struggle.”

  “You afraid I’m going to break them?”

  “No, but your blood leaves stains.”

  Max chuckled. It was just the two of them here with the vampire. Frank didn’t want to participate in what was coming next. Max didn’t blame him. He wasn’t looking forward to it either, but he wasn’t exactly dreading it.