Chasing Shadows

by Wendy Meadows

  “Me, too, kid,” Pete told Sarah in a nostalgic voice. “Looks like you are I going to be working together again, just like old times.”

  “Yeah,” Sarah said in a worried tone. “Pete, there's something wrong,” she said and glanced over her shoulder at Amanda, Nate, and Harry.

  “Bufford gave me the description of the body. Sounds like your book agent ended up dead in your jeep,” Pete said and took another drink of water. “Yeah, kid, I'd say something is wrong.” Pete focused his eyes on the road. He hated driving at night but when duty called, he responded. His old partner was in danger and he wasn't about to sit by and wait for the sun to rise before hitting the trail. “Talk to me, partner. Tell me everything from the beginning.”

  Hearing Pete call her Partner thrilled Sarah and broke her heart at the same time. Suddenly she felt the stirrings of all her memories from when she was a homicide detective living back in Los Angeles. The cases she had tackled in Alaska were risky and dangerous, but each case had an Alaskan character to them—in a snowy environment that was far away from the hot city streets of Los Angeles. Being outside the bounds of Alaska and caught up in a murder case with Pete at her side again felt oddly natural. It stirred something in her. She swallowed and tried to ignore the butterflies. “It's like this Pete,” Sarah said. “It all started when Rebecca called my cabin in Alaska last week...”

  Sarah's tone worried Amanda. She noticed her best friend had said ‘in Alaska’ instead of ‘at home.’ She sighed and looked down at her hands. “Stay with me, girl,” she whispered. Meanwhile, Sarah had finished giving Pete the details of what they knew so far.

  “Okay, this is bigger than I thought. I'll check J&P Brothers out and shake them down for information,” Pete told Sarah. He slowed down a little, thinking through their strategy. “In the meantime, get yourself to Los Angeles where you belong. Forget about running this case from farm country. Our HQ is my office,” Pete ordered Sarah. “I'm turning my car around and making tracks for the bright lights of Los Angeles. If the killer took the trouble to kill Rebecca and trace you all the way to Prate, they are certainly still in Prate, just waiting for you to make a false move. You’ve got to get out of there for your safety, investigation or no investigation.”

  Sarah bit down on her lip. She knew Pete was right. But Sheriff Bufford was going to be spitting mad in the morning if she didn’t show up to be deputized. Still, Sarah thought, if a killer was playing a sick game with her, it would be better to stand on a level playing field instead of remaining out in the middle of nowhere. “Okay, partner. Amanda and I will leave first light.”

  “If Sheriff Bufford tries to stop you, tell him to give me a call,” Pete told Sarah and spotted an all-night gas station glowing in the dark. He sped into the parking lot, turned sharply to pull back out in the other direction, and raced back toward Los Angeles. “Okay kid, I'm driving back south.”

  “I'll be on the road just as soon as I get a tire for my jeep,” Sarah promised, “I'll be right on your tail.”

  “Good,” Pete said and snatched a cigar out of the car's ashtray and shoved it into the corner of his mouth. “I'll be checking on the studio until you plant your backside in my office.”

  “Also check on a woman named Mrs. Diane Samton. This woman supposedly works for J&P Brothers, Pete. It's the only name I have to go right now. And—”

  “Sniff through the dead woman's office,” Pete said, “yeah, yeah, kid, I know, I know. I already sent people over to her office.”

  “Check her—”

  “Phone records. Yeah, Yeah,” Pete said. “I'm not a wet-behind-the-ears rookie, kid.”

  “I know, Pete,” Sarah replied. “She’s not just some dead woman to me, Pete. Rebecca was a close friend, not just my agent,” she explained. “She deserves the absolute best from us.”

  “Yep,” Pete agreed, “and she's going to get the absolute best. From this point on you're a homicide detective again. I'll pass the paperwork through the department and get you back on course.”

  Sarah felt excitement and fear grip her. “Hey, Pete, I...I don't know. I'm retired.”

  “You just took some time off to go play with some polar bears,” Pete barked. “Now get your butt back home and get back to work Detective Garland!” Pete yelled. “Stay safe, Sarah,” he said in a softer voice, and ended the call abruptly.

  “Love?” Amanda asked.

  Sarah hung up the phone and turned to face Amanda. “June Bug,” she said, “we need to tackle this case from Los Angeles. We're in a strange town with very few resources at our disposal. We don't know this area of the country, the roads, the people or the history. We're vulnerable right now in more ways than one.”

  Amanda understood Sarah's concerns. “You're the boss,” she said and forced a sad smile to her face. “It does seem like the killer wants you to stay away from Los Angeles, so maybe our answers are waiting for us there.”

  Sarah nodded. “Even if we don’t find any answers, at least we'll be on my turf.”

  “Ain't no such thing,” Nate warned Sarah. “Never forget that a person set on harming you can do so anywhere. People who lock their windows and doors become victims in their own homes.”

  “If we stay here, Nate, we're vulnerable,” Sarah pointed out. “I have a dead friend, an unknown killer on the loose, a lazy sheriff insisting I do his job, and a lot of unanswered questions and sharp edges to get around. On top of all of that, I have a plate full of uncertainties that I have to digest. I need to be in a familiar place around faces I know and trust.”

  “I'm someone you know and trust,” Amanda told Sarah. “We're a team, remember?”

  “Of course we are,” Sarah assured Amanda and walked over to her. “We'll always be a team, June Bug. And as a team, our best option is to meet up with Pete in Los Angeles.”

  Amanda looked deeply into Sarah's eyes. She saw urgency and determination burning in a heart that was prepared to fight an unknown enemy. “Okay,” she said and nodded, “we'll meet your friend in Los Angeles if you think that's best.” Amanda looked at Nate. For some reason—a reason she couldn't explain to herself—she didn't want to leave Nate.

  Sarah followed Amanda's eyes with her own. She saw Nate staring at her with eyes that looked straight into her heart. Nate was reading her like a book. “You can fight from here,” he told her with a pleading look.

  “Why?” Sarah asked. “It would be foolish to stay here, Nate. I'm out of my territory in Prate. I don't know anyone and can't depend on the local law enforcement guys. I don't know my way around and—”

  “You have a lot of excuses,” Nate barked at Sarah. “I thought you were smart.”

  “Sarah is smart,” Amanda promised Nate. “She outwitted a very dangerous woman who killed her adoptive father without any sweat at all. Sarah is a firecracker in a pot of oatmeal when it comes to solving murder cases.”

  “Maybe so,” Nate said keeping his eyes locked on Sarah, “but her brain ain't working too smart right now.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Sarah insisted.

  “Your lady friend ended up dead in your jeep and you have no idea why, but all of sudden you're ready to up and leave the crime scene without any answers.”

  “I don't think I'm going to find any answers here in Prate. The sheriff said he found Rebecca's purse in my jeep,” Sarah explained.

  “Yep,” Nate said.

  “Nate, Rebecca's body was left a message by the killer. The killer can hardly be someone from around here, meaning it wouldn’t be useful to stick around and question the locals. I doubt the autopsy report is going to show anything useful and besides, I don't need to be in Prate to receive the report. I can call from Los Angeles—”

  “You said the killer might be warning you to stay away from Los Angeles,” Nate interrupted. “What if the killer is trying to lure you to Los Angeles? Say someone who knows you well enough to bet that you won't back down from this fight? Did your brain ever consider that?”

  Sarah gre
w silent. Her mind was considering many different options. Was the killer somehow connected to the studio? Was the killer an old enemy setting a game for her to play? Was the killer someone who wanted Rebecca dead and wanted to pin the murder on her? Sarah didn't know. All she knew was that the J&P Brothers deal was likely a ploy to lure her back to Los Angeles. Or, so it seemed. But the death of Rebecca and her body being dumped in her jeep that was broken down on the side of a long, rural road in the middle of nowhere made Sarah begin asking many frustrating questions: how did the killer know her location? Where was Rebecca when she called her earlier in the morning? Why did the killer make himself known conducting an obvious attack on the road? Who was the killer? Why was she being targeted? “Maybe you're right, Nate. Maybe the killer set a challenge for me to answer or maybe Rebecca's death was a warning to stay away from Los Angeles.”

  “I thought that in the beginning,” Nate told Sarah, “and even believed it. But then I began thinking about that fancy BMW. Now, the driver of that fancy car was shooting at us but there's not a single bullet hole in my truck. I checked.”

  “So did I,” Sarah added.

  “Seems mighty strange to me that there ain't a single bullet hole,” Nate continued. “It's almost like the killer was toying with us...like he was just having a bit of fun for now. But,” Nate pointed out, “if I had found bullet holes in my truck, then maybe I would believe the killer was warning you to stay away from Los Angeles.”

  “So what you're saying is that because you didn't find any bullets holes…” Amanda rubbed her chin, “that means the killer was sending a message to Sarah that...he was playing some kind of sick game?”

  “Yep,” Nate gave her a thumbs-up.

  Sarah stared into Nate's eyes. “Like a dare?” she asked, testing it out in her mind.

  “Maybe, who knows?” Nate replied. “Either way, the killer wanted you to know he's in control and wants you to run back to the only place you feel in control. My suggestion is to stay around Prate and do Paul's job for him and force the killer to show himself.”

  Sarah felt a cold chill walk down her spine. Nate was speaking the truth. Los Angeles could be a death trap and she could be playing right into the killer’s hands. “Okay, Nate, I'll stick around for a few days,” she promised and focused on Amanda. She saw relief explode in her best friend's eyes. “You didn't want to work on the investigation from Los Angeles, did you?”

  “Not after Rebecca's death,” Amanda confessed. “Love, I trust you and I'll follow you to the big city, but I agree with Nate. I think we need to stay right here and try to draw the killer out into the open.”

  “Smart move,” Harry jumped into the conversation with both feet. “Lead a fly to honey, don’t taunt a bear with vinegar.”

  “I guess I better call Pete,” Sarah said and walked back to the phone. Oh Pete, she thought to herself, I miss you so much...but I am a cop and my gut is telling me to stay out of Los Angeles even though my heart wants to go home. And there's no bullet holes in Nate's truck, not a single one.

  The following morning, Nate drove Sarah and Amanda into the small town of Prate. “This looks like Mayberry from that old show, you know, the Andy Griffith Show?” Amanda looked to her left at the old buildings lining Main Street. “Look at that,” she exclaimed and pointed to an old two-story courthouse at the end of the street on a small but well-manicured lot. “We're in Mayberry.”

  Nate chuckled to himself. His belly was full of pancakes, eggs and coffee and his mind was rested enough to face another day. “I think Mayberry was a tad bigger.”

  Sarah glanced to her right and saw an old hardware store with three run-down trucks parked out front. “What do you think, girl?” she asked Mittens, who was perched in her lap and happily watching out the window. “Could you live in a town like this?” Mittens looked up at Sarah and tilted her head as if considering the question. When Sarah looked out the window again, she spotted an old woman and old man venturing into a thrift shop next to the hardware store. The town felt depressingly empty. Despite its beautiful old courthouse and scenic views, it was a dying town, its few residents just scuttling along in what was left. With all the dark and empty storefronts, Sarah had the feeling that a dark shadow was peering out at them, lurking, watching and waiting. The puppy whined uneasily and looked at Sarah for reassurance. “I didn't think so,” Sarah said, ruffling the puppy’s ears to soothe her.

  “Sheriff's office is in the basement of the courthouse,” Nate said and stopped at a stop sign. He pointed to his left. “That way leads to the grocery store, garage, and some more little businesses.” Nate pointed to his right. “That way leads out of town and into some residential neighborhoods, like the ones we passed driving in.” Nate tossed a thumb over his shoulder. “And of course, that way leads back home.”

  Sarah looked to her left and right. The city of Prate was stretched out like a giant T with a circle around it. “Easy enough,” she said and focused her attention on the courthouse. The courthouse resembled a large log cabin rather than a typical community building. She spotted Sheriff Bufford standing in the parking lot to the left of the courthouse. “Okay Nate, drive us to the courthouse.”

  Nate eased through the stop sign, pulled into the parking lot and parked his truck next to Sheriff Bufford's car. “Nice morning, huh, Paul?”

  Paul glanced up. The sky was warm and blue. “No,” he said testily, and pointed at Sarah. “I received a very unpleasant call last night,” he barked. “It seems your friend Pete isn't happy you're staying in Prate and ordered me to run you out of town.”

  “Oh, Pete,” Sarah moaned.

  Paul marched around to the passenger side door and pointed a finger at Sarah. “I don’t take kindly to city folk calling me and ordering me around at all hours of the night. I have half a mind to agree with your friend. I’ll manage the investigation somehow. Anyway, I’d have a heap less trouble without you outsiders mucking around in town and stirring up trouble.”

  “No,” Sarah said and shook her head.

  “No?” Paul asked and gave Sarah a hard look. “What makes you think it’s your decision?”

  “This is America, Sheriff. I'm free to stay anywhere I choose within the boundaries of the law. I haven't broken any laws, which means I can remain in Prate for as long as I like. Now, unless you’d like to lock me up and have my face and yours smeared across every local paper in the vicinity, and this story on the lips of every local gossip, you better reconsider.”

  Paul gritted his teeth. “I was...wrong to ask for your help. You can stay…but not as a badge, do you understand? And keep your gun secure and mind your p’s and q’s, or I’ll find a reason to bring you in, gossip or no gossip!” Paul yelled and stormed away into the courthouse.

  “Fussy little guss, isn't he?” Amanda asked in a disgusted voice. All she wanted to do was locate her luggage and change into a fresh dress. But unfortunately, Sarah had insisted visiting the courthouse before venturing to the garage to retrieve her jeep. “Love, why did you want to come to the courthouse first?” she asked. “We need fresh clothes and I will die if I cannot get to my deodorant.”

  Sarah opened the passenger side door and stepped out. “If I'm being watched,” she said, “I want them to think I'm not leaving Prate. And I think I am being watched.” Sarah carefully glanced around as she set Mittens down on the sidewalk. “Go use the bathroom, girl.” Mittens walked over to Paul's car and squatted down next to his rear tire. Amanda watched from inside the truck’s cab and stifled a giggle at the puppy’s choice. “Good girl.” As Mittens relieved herself, Sarah continued to walk her eyes around. Nate saw her looking and followed her gaze, too. She searched the courthouse, the open field behind the courthouse, and then allowed her eyes to stroll back down Main Street. And there, all of a sudden, the gray BMW shot out of an alley, raced toward the courthouse, hung a left, and sped away.

  “Get in!” Nate called out to Sarah, readying himself.

  “You're not going to catch that ca
r, Nate,” Sarah said as she watched the BMW vanish from her sight.

  “I know that,” Nate said, “but it ain't going to do us no good just sitting here, either. We might be able to spot him somewhere down the road.”

  “No. He wants us to follow him,” Sarah told Nate. “Come on, let's go in the courthouse.”

  Nate looked down the street and figured Sarah was right. He climbed out of the truck and helped Amanda plant her feet on solid ground. “Thank you, sir,” Amanda said in a worried voice. She turned to Sarah and motioned around town with her right hand. “How did the killer know we would be here of all places, love?”

  “Exactly,” Sarah said and bit down on her lower lip as frustration gripped her heart. She looked directly at the courthouse. “Only person I called this morning was the sheriff.”

  Nate rubbed the back of his neck. “Now wait a minute, Paul might be a stiff piece of wood, but he's an honest man.”

  Sarah heard the sound of screeching tires and craned her neck to the left. She spotted the BMW speeding down the road, preparing to make a second run past the courthouse. “Get down,” she yelled to her companions, dropped down to one knee, yanked out her gun, and began firing at the BMW. Two bullets hit the front windshield of the BMW and it skidded, nearly causing it to smash into a parked truck as the glass spidered into cracks, but the driver regained control at the last second and sped off down a residential street.

  “Not bad,” Nate congratulated Sarah as he stood up.

  “This doesn't make any sense,” Amanda huffed in an angry voice. “Why would they dare make a second pass at us? What kind of game is he playing?”

  “The driver of that car was trying to force us to chase him,” Sarah pointed out. “He was determined. But he won't be back anytime soon, though and—” Sarah heard Paul burst out of the courthouse and race toward them with his gun drawn. His face held a look of fury.

  “What in tarnation—firing your gun in a public environment—what do you—” Paul hollered, sputtering. “Explain yourself or I will arrest you and you will hand over your gun to me.”