“We made one of those in Boy Scouts,” Jack said.
“Ours didn’t look as good.” Chandler chuckled at the memory.
They walked over to it. “There’s a blanket.” Jack shined the light under the branches. The blanket was neatly folded into a square. Jack lifted one corner; the ground underneath was dry. “Someone’s definitely sleeping here.”
Chandler accidentally kicked a beer can with his foot, and when it rolled over, he saw that someone had cut it open and placed a candle inside. “Listen…whoever that is could still be around. Are you done?”
What if the killer was camped here? Jack stared out into the dark woods. It was a warm evening, but the skin on the back of his neck felt cold. He scanned the shadows but didn’t see anyone.
Somewhere off to the left, a branch snapped.
Chandler ducked down. Jack shined the light toward the sound.
“Crap,” Chandler whispered. “This is probably some crazy homeless guy’s bed.”
Jack ignored him and headed toward the sound.
“No, no, no,” Chandler whispered through clenched teeth. “No chasing crazy people in the woods at night. That’s like a top-ten rule.”
Jack stopped and swept the flashlight beam in a wide arc, but the woods appeared empty. He snapped off the flashlight.
“Hey!” Chandler jumped. “Turn it back on, Einstein.”
“Shh.” Jack closed his eyes tightly and let them adjust. When he opened them, he started to move. At the base of a large maple tree, he stopped and listened.
The woods were quiet. Even the faint car noises were blocked by the trees. The canopy of leaves hid the moon, but soft shafts of light streamed down in places. A deep, earthy smell rose up.
From behind him came a loud snap followed by a thud. “Get back here or I’m gonna beat you,” Chandler grumbled.
“If someone was here, they’re gone now,” Jack said. He turned the flashlight on and walked back. “Do you want to hold the flashlight?”
“No, I’d just like to see. Why the hell did you shut the light off?”
“If someone was out there, they could see me because of the flashlight. I was just trying to even the odds.”
They followed the trail back out of the woods the way they came in, but Jack stopped before they climbed back up the slope. He stared back at the pond and tried to drive the picture of Stacy lying under the murky water out of his head. “They dumped her like trash,” he said.
Chandler nodded.
They walked back to the paved path and turned toward the parking lot.
“I can’t wait till we get NODs,” Jack said.
“What’s a NOD?”
“Night vision goggles.”
“Aren’t those NVGs?”
“That’s what noobs call them,” Jack said. “The guys in the field call them NODs. Night Optical Devices.”
“How do you know this stuff?” Chandler stopped at a bench.
“Google. Aren’t you reading? Lingo is how people block access to outsiders—in any field. I’m not getting into the Army and looking like a dope because I don’t know what NOD means.”
“Hey, you!” A man came storming toward the bench carrying two green trash bags. “Get the hell off my bench!”
Chandler immediately jumped up, while Jack spun around and assumed a defensive position—right foot back, knees bent, hands up.
The man was a little shorter than Jack, about five eleven, and wore a long coat despite the summer heat. He gave them both an icy glare as he scurried down the slope and stopped next to the bench. His black hair shot out in all directions and yellow teeth snarled beneath a bushy, unkempt beard.
“That’s my bench.” He pointed to where Chandler had just been sitting.
“Sorry,” Chandler mumbled. He brushed off the back of his pants.
“Do you sit here all the time?” Jack asked.
“What the hell kind of question is that?” the man grumbled.
“I was—”
“Nobody can just sit in one place all the time. You’ve got to get up once in a while.” The man pointed toward the dark area of the path. “I had to move over here since that smart-ass broke my light.”
A group of three men in running outfits jogged over the hill and raced toward them. Jack, Chandler, and their new friend didn’t speak as the runners sped by and disappeared over the next hill.
“Were you here last Thursday?” Jack asked.
“Yeah.” The man’s lip curled to reveal yellowed teeth. “Why?”
Jack stepped closer, trying not to make a face as the man’s body odor stung his nose. “Did you see anything that night?”
“It’ll cost you.” The man stuck his hand out. “Man’s gotta eat.”
“He’s not going to pay you to answer questions,” Chandler said.
“Then he’s gettin’ no answers.” The man stepped back. His trash bags crinkled and shook.
Jack pulled out a five-dollar bill. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“Honest Murray. That’s what everybody calls me. Why would I lie?”
“To get five bucks,” Chandler muttered.
Jack held out the bill and Murray snatched it from his hand. “A woman was attacked at the next bench,” Jack said. “Did you see anything?”
“Nope. Keep your nose out of other people’s business and it won’t get broke. I live by that.”
“You sure you didn’t see anything? It happened just right down there.” Jack pointed.
Murray raised himself up on his toes. “It’s dark. I didn’t see nothing.”
“Did you hear anything?” Jack’s patience had come to an end.
“Nope. I saw nothin’ and I ain’t heard nothin’ neither.”
“That wasn’t worth five bucks.”
“You want me to lie? You paid for the answers and I gave them. No take backsies.”
“Do you know anyone who says they saw anything?” Jack asked. “You know, you’re a sharp guy, maybe you overheard people talking, or someone told you something?”
The man glanced around nervously and shook his head. “Nope.”
Jack stood straighter. He was sure that Murray knew more than he was letting on. Despite the odor, he moved closer. “You can tell me,” Jack said. “Somebody else saw something. It’s worth another buck.”
Murray cast a nervous glance over at Chandler. Jack held his hand low and motioned for Chandler to move back. Chandler huffed but he walked a few feet away.
Murray held out his hand and waited until Jack gave him the dollar. Then, like a kid sharing a secret, Murray leaned in close, his eyes darting around. He put his face next to Jack’s and whispered, “Lonny said Vlad was really mad. He thinks Vlad saw something.”
“Vlad?” Jack kept his voice down.
“Yeah, Vlad. He’s scary. Lonny said he got even scarier.”
“Who’s Lonny?”
“My friend. He’s at the shelter tonight.”
“Does Lonny know that Vlad saw something?”
Murray shrugged. “All Lonny said was, ‘I think Vlad saw the guy.’”
“Where do we find Vlad?”
Murray’s eyes bulged. “Don’t talk to Vlad! You can’t, no one can. Only Lonny, but even he…” He backed away. “Don’t say I said nothin’!”
Jack held up his hand. “I won’t say anything.”
“You can’t. Snitches get stitches. I didn’t tell you nothin’.”
“You didn’t say a word.” Jack slowly shook his head.
Murray exhaled. “I don’t want him to get mad at me.”
“I won’t say anything,” Jack assured him. “Can you just tell me what Vlad looks like?”
Murray shook his head. His whole body trembled. He stepped back again.
“I need to know what he looks like,” said Jack, “so…I can avoid him.”
“Oh.” Murray seemed to relax. “Why didn’t you say so? He’s my size, but he has big shoulders.” Murray held his hands out wide. “He wears an
old camouflage jacket. He’s Spanish or maybe some kind of Native American. Long black hair. Real long, down to the middle of his back. But don’t say I said nothin’.” Murray’s eyes scanned the darkness.
“I won’t. Where does he normally hang out? So I don’t go there accidentally,” Jack added quickly.
“Do you know the old maintenance building on the east side?”
“With a big chain-link fence around it?”
“That’s the one. It’s all closed up. Vlad’s around there at night.”
“What about during the day?”
Murray’s voice rose. “Vlad only comes out at night. That’s why we call him Vlad.”
Chandler walked over. “Like Vlad the Impaler? Like Dracula the vampire?”
Murray nodded nervously. “Be sure you stay away from him. Everyone does.”
“We will,” Jack said. “Thanks.”
Murray clutched his bags to his chest and sat down on his bench.
Jack handed Chandler the flashlight. “Come on.” He hurried off to the east.
“The car’s back that way,” Chandler said, jogging to catch up.
“I know,” Jack said. “I want to make one more quick stop before we head back.”
Chandler stopped abruptly. “Don’t even say it. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m hunting Dracula with you.”
18
Dracula
“I’m out of my mind for letting you talk me into coming here,” Chandler muttered.
The old maintenance building had seen better days; the roof sagged and weeds grew everywhere. It was surrounded by a rusted chain-link fence and the gate was closed with a chain wrapped around a thick metal pole.
Jack counted as he inhaled. “One. Two. Three. Four.” He counted again as he exhaled.
“What are you doing?” Chandler asked.
“Breath control. Navy SEALs do it before a mission. It calms them down.”
“What—are you freaked out?”
“Kinda. Aren’t you?” Jack pulled the gate open as far as the chain would allow. The creaking metal sounded incredibly loud, like a horror-movie sound effect, but undeterred, he started to squeeze through.
“Hold on there, Captain Crazy.” Chandler’s hand on Jack’s arm tightened into a vise grip. “I’m nervous enough being in Hamilton Park at night and talking to scary homeless people. There’s no way I’m going into that…dungeon, to try to find a guy they call Vlad. C’mon, that’s just buggin’.”
“It’s just a nickname.”
“People get nicknames for a reason. Remember Farty Frank?”
Jack laughed.
“It’s not funny, Jack.” But Chandler let him go, and Jack shimmied through the gate.
“Come on,” Jack said. “Farty’s one of the funniest nicknames ever.”
“I’m just giving you an example. Forget him. Boomer? They call him Boomer because he likes to smash stuff. Maybe they call this guy Vlad because he likes to suck people’s blood. How do you know Dracula didn’t kill Stacy?”
“Well…I don’t. But I need to talk to him. I don’t want to, but he might know something. Besides, I have to learn how to do this. I’m not going to run away just because I’m scared.”
Chandler pointed to his chest. “I am. So call me a chicken and put feathers on my butt.”
“Come on. You heard Murray. The guy only comes out at night.”
“Yeah, because he’s crazy,” Chandler huffed.
Chandler spun in a circle. “What is wrong with you?” he whispered fiercely. “Whenever I go out with you, I end up with two choices and they both suck. Now I have to pick between going into Dracula’s lair or walking home and leaving you here?”
The two friends stared at each other through the fence. Jack knew Chandler was just being smart and cautious, but Jack also knew he’d have to go to the edge if he was going to find out who really killed Stacy. So he didn’t blink.
“You’re right. Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Chandler rattled the chain-link fence separating them. “Do you see all the No Trespassing signs? If we get busted for anything before basic training, they’ll kick us straight out of the Army before we even start. Why are you doing this?”
“This guy—”
Chandler grabbed the fence with both hands and the whole thing shook. “I’m not talking about him. I’m talking about you. You’re going full throttle. You keep pushing this hard, you’re going to blow up.”
“I’m fine.”
“No.” Chandler shook his head. “There’s something more. It’s like you’re trying to prove something.”
Chandler was right about that. Jack had been looking for justification his whole life. Not for his actions, but for his being. Some proof he wasn’t worthless.
But Chandler was wrong if he thought Jack was going to stop.
“Give me the flashlight.” Jack held out his hand.
“No. It’s dark out here too.”
“You’ve got the full moon for a night-light, you big baby.” Jack waggled his hand, reaching. “Give it to me.”
Chandler passed the flashlight through the fence. “Fine. I hope it goes out.”
Jack left Chandler behind and approached the building, listening carefully to every sound. He shined the light along the front of the one-story brick building. The little windows, which resembled the slots in a cabin, were made out of thick glass. He couldn’t see through.
On one side of the building, two cement steps led up to a metal door. He looked back over his shoulder at the gate, where Chandler stood with his back to him, arms crossed.
Jack wiped his dry lips with the back of his hand while a hundred reasons not to go into the building scrolled through his head. But none of those objections could drive from his mind the question he needed answered: Did Vlad witness Stacy’s murder?
The soft voice of reason whispered in his head, Walk away. Most people would heed their own advice, but Jack was haunted by that phrase. “Walk away, like she did,” he muttered softly. “Give up on you, like she did.”
Jack’s whole body trembled, not with fear but fury, as he climbed the steps. His hand had just touched the doorknob when he heard the gate behind him rattle. The attacker, revisiting the scene? He turned and swept the flashlight toward the gate. He heard Chandler curse and mutter. When he saw Chandler, the reluctant vampire slayer, stuck halfway through the gate, he smiled.
“Another fine mess you’ve gotten me into.” Chandler huffed and puffed as he pulled himself through the opening.
Jack suppressed a laugh. “Thanks for the backup.”
“I didn’t feel like explaining to Aunt Haddie that Dracula ate you.”
“Dracula doesn’t eat you, he sucks your blood out and turns you into a vampire.” Jack shined the light in Chandler’s face.
Chandler squinted and pushed the flashlight toward the door. “Oh, that’s so much more comforting.”
“Boy, you sure are crabby when you need a nappy.”
“Yes, I’m tired and hungry because you dragged me all over the park.”
Jack reached into his pocket. “Here.”
“What is it?” Chandler’s eyes lit up. “A candy bar?”
“It’s a protein bar. That’s to keep you quiet.” Jack turned back to the door. “I haven’t tried the door yet. I bet it’s locked.”
To his surprise, when he turned the knob, the door creaked open.
“Great,” Chandler muttered. “Better and better.”
“It’s a small building. We’ll just take a look inside.”
Just inside the door was a room empty except for a pile of crud in one corner. Old floorboards ran the length of the room to a dark open doorway, but whatever lay beyond it was past the reach of the flashlight’s beam.
Jack slipped inside, and Chandler, still muttering, followed. The room was musty, and a faint smell of oil hung in the air.
A crinkling noise made Jack jump.
Chandler held up the pr
otein bar with a huge chunk gone. “This is pretty good,” he whispered. “Chocolate chip?”
Jack shook his head and walked softly forward. “Hello?”
“Shh!” Chandler snapped.
“We want him to come out.”
“I don’t. Anyway, he’s not here. Let’s go.”
Jack moved toward the open doorway. “Why would the door be unlocked? I want to check the rest of the building.”
“Bad idea,” Chandler grumbled, but he wasn’t going to let Jack go in alone.
The next room had two tables, plus some shelves built into the walls, but otherwise it was as empty as the first room. The third room was just as uninteresting.
There was one door left to check, a closed metal door that looked like it led to a closet. Jack’s flashlight beam reflected off the handle.
“Probably an electrical room,” Jack said. “I’m sure this one is locked.” He grabbed the handle and pulled, and the rusty hinges creaked open. Jack smiled sheepishly. “Okay. Not locked.” He shined the light through the doorway on metal stairs leading down.
Chandler looked over Jack’s shoulder. “Great. You keep guaranteeing that we’re not going to get into any trouble. Boy am I reassured now.”
Sweat rolled down Jack’s back. He peered into the cool, damp darkness that swirled up from below and stung his nostrils with mildew.
“No way,” Chandler whispered fiercely. “Jack, seriously. This is crossing so many sanity lines I can’t tell you. What if the guy we’re looking for is the killer?”
“You can wait here. If something goes south, go get help.”
“That plan sucks.”
Impatient, Jack leaned forward and yelled, “Hello?”
Chandler’s fist flew out and delivered an emphatic criticism to Jack’s shoulder. “Shh!”
“What?” Jack shrugged. “I don’t want to sneak up on him and freak him out.”
“You’re freaking me out. Come on.”
“No. We’re here, and we’re going to check it out.” They descended the stairs to a cement basement that was surprisingly clean and dry. A large metal box stood against one wall, its lid secured by a huge padlock. “That’s electrical.” The flashlight beam swept the rest of the room and stopped on a sleeping mat in the back.
Detective Jack Stratton Box Set Page 66
