Chasing Shadows

by Wendy Meadows

  “Salt, cayenne pepper and ground hamburger meat,” Nate said in a proud voice. “Old Nate knows how to make his cabbage stew just right.”

  “Cayenne pepper?” Amanda asked and looked at Sarah with worried eyes.

  Sarah winced. An old timer like Nate was likely to add more than just a dash of cayenne pepper to his cooking. “Uh…sounds good. By the way, you do have some more of that delicious tea, right?”

  Nate read Sarah's and Amanda's worried faces. He let out a loud chuckle. “Old Nate isn't going to set you ladies on fire. I went easy on the cayenne pepper, don't worry.”

  Sarah and Amanda breathed a sigh of relief. But when Nate served them lunch, their faces turned hot as the red pepper seasoning and their mouths spit out fire. “Hot...hot,” Sarah shrieked on the first bite and grabbed her cold glass of tea.

  “On fire,” Amanda cried and went for her glass of tea, too.

  Nate sampled the cabbage stew. “Why, I can barely taste any cayenne at all,” he said and shook his head. “Folks just don't know how to eat,” he said and took a big bite of cabbage and chased it down with a bite of cornbread. He grinned at them. “Chase it with cornbread, ladies, it helps to tame the fire better than tea.”

  Sarah wiped tears from her eyes and drained her glass of tea anyway. “Whew,” she breathed, “if my mind wasn't clear before, it is now.”

  “On fire,” Amanda continued to cry and finished off her tea, ignoring Nate in her panic. “More tea...more tea.” Sarah quickly refilled Amanda's glass as Nate mumbled to himself.

  Don Street jumped up onto the hood of the gray BMW he had pulled under a thick stand of trees and examined Sarah's cell phone. “Okay, Detective Garland, let's see who is going to be my next victim,” he hissed and began searching through the phone's contact list. Conrad's name appeared.

  Chapter Six

  Sarah walked into the courthouse with Amanda and Nate feeling as if her mouth was going to turn into ashes. But concern over her scorched mouth quickly fled when a fat, uniformed man with a rude expression on his face marched out of Sheriff Bufford's office and slammed the door. The man eyed Sarah and slowly rested his hand on a gun sitting on his hip. “You the woman detective?” he asked in a gruff voice.

  “I'm Detective Sarah Garland, yes,” Sarah said and examined the man's name tag which was hanging crooked on his brown uniform. “Deputy Jones?”

  “That's my name,” Heath Jones said and checked Amanda and Nate out. “Nate, why are you dealing with the likes of them?”

  Nate pointed at Heath's baggy, unshaven jowls and the telling bloom of busted capillaries on his nose. “You've been drinking again, Heath. Shame on you. Your daddy was a fine preacher, son, and you ain't doing nothing to honor his name.”

  Heath raised his right hand and felt his face. Shame entered his eyes. “Yeah, well, life's tough sometimes,” he said and tossed a stiff thumb at Sheriff Bufford's office. “You have a…visitor...waiting for you...Detective,” Heath said in an acid voice and walked off down the long hallway.

  Sarah looked at the closed office door with apprehension. “You two,” she whispered, “get down the hallway and stay out of sight.”

  “No way,” Amanda whispered back. “We're a team.”

  “That's why I want you out of sight,” Sarah whispered in a quick voice. “Now go.”

  Nate took Amanda's arm. “Move,” he ordered her and ran Amanda down the hallway and ducked behind a soda machine.

  Sarah took out her gun, bravely drew in a breath, and then walked into the office. She saw a young man and her heart nearly stopped.

  Don Street was sitting behind Paul's desk with his feet propped up. He looked just like Paul had described, minus the baseball cap. “I thought it was time for us to finally meet,” he said in a voice that made Sarah's skin turn cold.

  “Maybe,” Sarah replied keeping her gun at her right side. “Who are you?”

  “Close the door,” he ordered Sarah and threw a pencil lazily at the door so that it stuck, point-first, into the wall.

  Sarah kicked the door shut with her right foot. “Who are you?” she demanded.

  “You're not a bad shot with that gun,” the kid told Sarah, ignoring her question as he grabbed a paperclip and began fiddling with it. “You nearly took my head off.”

  “That's what I was aiming for.”

  Don made a sour face at Sarah. “You think you're real smart, don't you,” he hissed.

  “I figured out a few things,” Sarah said, examining the young man’s face. He was so young, but his face was tough, soulless and covered with acne scars wherever there wasn’t an angry-looking pustule. His eyes were vicious and evil—Sarah could barely stand to look him in the eye. She was afraid to see what was behind those eyes.

  “Yeah, I kinda made a mess of things, didn't I?” Don asked and threw the paperclip in his hand down onto the desk and snatched up a pen. “Your friend Rebecca...man, she caused me some real problems. I thought I played her real cool, too...guess I messed up.”

  “Guess you did,” Sarah agreed. Being face to face with the killer, it finally dawned on her that she was dealing with an insane death-hungry killer trapped in the mind of a nineteen-year-old kid who still couldn't get a date. No wonder the case threw piles of confusion into her lap. She wasn't dealing with a seasoned killer who controlled every little detail down to the last drop of blood. No, she was dealing with an amateur who assumed he had complete power but was dripping mistakes all over the trail. Sarah noticed the easy, faint ego of assumed brilliance glowing in Don's eyes—the kind of cheap brilliance bought with technology instead of nurtured over years of life experience. The dim gleam she saw in Don's eyes was a brilliance that was arrogant, over-confident and uncontrolled. It was clear Don Street assumed he was above everyone, was smarter than everyone, and controlled everyone. His dangerous delusions were matched with a quick, ill temper fomenting in a homicidal mind. A kid controlled by deadly madness, anger, and a deranged sense of revenge was a dangerous mixture.

  She absorbed all this, and let the silence linger for a second more. “Who are you?” she asked him again.

  “Let's find out who you know first,” Don told Sarah as he threw the pen down, reached into the right pocket of his leather jacket, and yanked out Sarah's cell phone. “Thanks for the gift,” he grinned. “Lot of nice people you have on your contact list, too.”

  “You've been tracking my cell phone,” Sarah said, keeping her voice calm.

  “People are so stupid,” Don hissed at Sarah. “Every cell phone can be tracked by the FBI, CIA, and NSA. They have access to through a secret backdoor in the operating system, and through the hardware, and so do I. Your cell phone is nothing but a stupid tracking device. What, did Little Miss Detective think that when she turned off her phone no one was listening?”

  “I assumed you tracked my cell phone.” Her mind was racing but she kept a poker face.

  “You assumed right,” Don said and tossed Sarah's phone down onto the desk. “You can have it back. I have the information I want.”

  Sarah resisted the urge to shoot Don. Even though he was a killer he was still a kid in her eyes. “You were trying to find me?”

  “Almost caught up to you, too,” Don said in an angry voice. “Found your jeep empty with a flat on the side of the road...that's when your friend tried to make a run for it...I had to kill her...I wasn't planning to, not then, anyway. Stupid thing to do. Really messed my plan up.”

  Sarah had activated her training in interrogation techniques without Don knowing. She understood how to make a person talk and get vital information without triggering their paranoia. She also knew how to roll the dice and take different gambits with each question and then return to a vital detail when they were least expecting it. “Why were you trying to find me? Why not just wait until I arrived in Los Angeles?”

  “Because of your stupid friend!” Don growled. “She messed everything up, cop!” Don stared into Sarah's eyes with fury roiling through him. “I
know she tipped you off.”

  “Maybe she did,” Sarah said in a calm attempt to manipulate Don.

  “Don't play stupid with me, cop. Your friend Rebecca tipped you off after she discovered who Diane Samton was. Man, was it stupid for me to use that name. I didn't think some dumb lady who worked with lame writers would ever kick such a random name back into the light,” Don told Sarah. “Guess you live and learn.”

  “Rebecca was a smart—no, a brilliant woman.” She let her expression turn passionate, knowing he was hungry for these petty moments of triumph.

  “She's a dead woman now,” Don grinned at Sarah. His voice got more intense as he tried to pinpoint her with his stare. “She tried to run...bad mistake. I ran her down…” he paused, savoring the anguish he thought he read on Sarah’s face. He wanted to make it hurt. “But she couldn’t escape. And I taught her just who Don Smart really is.”

  “Don Smart?” Sarah asked.

  Don stared at Sarah and realized the fatal mistake he had just made. “Listen, cop, I'm not here to make nice with you. Yeah, I messed up pretty bad.”

  “You had me thinking I was dealing with a pro,” Sarah said, her voice heating. She let him hear a small tremor in her voice, though she kept a steel core of control behind the facade. “You killed my friend. You fired blanks at me—”

  “I didn't fire blanks at you, stupid,” Don said and shook his head at Sarah. “Are you for real? I tried to shoot the truck you were riding in off the road. I was aiming for the driver.”

  “I didn't find any bullet holes in the truck.”

  “I never said I was a great shot, cop,” Don said and rolled his eyes. “I'm dealing with a real Einstein here.”

  Could it be that Don was speaking the truth and every single shot he fired at Nate's truck missed? Surely, Sarah thought, at least one bullet would have struck the truck. Don’s face was speaking the truth to her, though. The boy fired real bullets at Nate's truck, but happened to be a lousy shot. Sarah shook her head at this fact. Dealing with a nineteen-year-old killer wasn't going to be simple. Her mind was trained to deal with adult killers, but now she was dealing with a messy kid who had her thoughts running a confusing maze filled with one dead end after another. “Okay, so you're not a pro,” Sarah told Don, deliberately trying to insult his ego.

  “Oh, I'm a pro, cop,” Don snapped. “I'm way smarter than you'll ever be. So what if you caught the Back Alley Killer. That guy was a real loser.” Don stared at Sarah with lifeless eyes. “You think you're so clever, don't you? Oh, everybody drooled all over you when you caught the Back Alley Killer, didn't they? Detective Sarah Garland was a big hero and everybody wanted to meet the famous women detective from Los Angeles.”

  “I was just doing my job.”

  “Don't feed me that garbage,” Don hissed. “I watched a bunch of old news footage, cop. I saw how you were soaking up the attention, standing so pretty, smiling for the camera, answering this question or that question in your fake cop voice.”

  “Don—”

  “Don't call me by my name, cop. You're not worthy,” Don warned Sarah.

  Sarah knew that Don had some dangerous plan formed in his sick mind, otherwise the kid wouldn't have allowed himself to be cornered in Paul's office. “What do you want from me?”

  “Why don't you ask my dad what he wants? We can just dig up his grave and ask his body! After all, his murder was the one single murder you didn't solve, right?” Don snatched his feet off the desk and stomped the floor. “That's right, Ms. Famous, you let one case slip through your hands, didn't you? But nobody knows that now, do they? Nah, no way, Detective Garland's record is spotless!”

  “I never claimed my record was spotless. I tried everything within my power to find out who killed—”

  “Don't you ever speak his name!” Don yelled and cast his eyes at the office door. “I guess I better keep my voice down, huh? You're the only cop I want in this office. That dumb deputy actually believed I was your son. He might not like finding out the truth.”

  Sarah glanced over her shoulder and then looked back at Don. “When I worked on that case, no one at J&P Brothers would speak to me. I chased down every lead I could and ended up with zero. I was finally ordered to place the case in the cold files and move on.”

  “Sure you were,” Don said with cold eyes, “because you failed. You failed a good man.”

  Sarah quickly began putting a few facts together in her mind. “You would have been around ten years old if I remember correctly.”

  “Good memory,” Don replied and threw his hands together in sarcastic, brief applause. Sarah glanced down at Don’s hands and saw that his fingernails were badly chewed.

  “I didn't know your dad,” she said in a careful voice. “I'm sorry he was killed.”

  “Take your apologizes and shove it, cop.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Sarah asked and allowed her voice to show fake irritation. “I was assigned to a case, I did everything in my power to find the killer, I failed, and was forced to move on. It happens.”

  “Not to my dad it doesn't,” Don fired at Sarah. “Nobody moves on. That’s a lie. Nobody moved nowhere.” He shook his head. “You're going back to that rat-infested studio to solve my father’s murder, is that clear? If you don't,” Don's eyes turned darker than ever, “I'll make you suffer real bad, cop. Don't think I can't, either. I tracked you down, didn't I? I found you in Alaska. I found out that you've been writing a bunch of lies under a fake name, too. I found out that you were connected to that annoying woman who messed up my plan.” Don glared at Sarah. “That's when a plan started to form in my mind, you see...a brilliant plan. I needed you to return to Los Angeles real bad, cop, and I created a way to make it happen. Didn’t I.”

  Sarah shook her head. “Do you really believe that after all these years the person who killed your dad is still at J&P Brothers?”

  “Yes,” Don told Sarah and nodded with dark fervor. “I know who killed him, too. That person is dead now, unfortunately. Your job is to go back, prove it, and wrap up the case...give my dad peace...the peace he deserves...the peace my mom deserves. I made it real easy for you. All you have to do is find the body and wrap up the case.”

  “I'm afraid I don't understand,” Sarah said and pretended to sound dumb.

  “Oh, you're a real Einstein,” Don complained.

  “I'm just confused, that's all,” Sarah replied.

  “And you call yourself a cop,” Don griped. “Do I have to spell everything out for you?”

  “I guess you do, genius,” Sarah replied, deliberately pushing Don.

  Don's face knotted up. “Don't push it, cop,” he warned Sarah. “I hacked your records without breaking a sweat. I hacked your cell phone, your bank records, your business records, the works, cop. It’s not even hard. The computer world is jammed full of nerds that I can't stand. That’s why I’m studying to be a veterinarian instead…you can trust an animal, but you can't trust people,” he snarled.

  Sarah made a few mental notes and focused Don back on her original question. “How were you planning to get me to reopen the case? I would have found out that J&P Brothers weren't interested in my books and Rebecca would—”

  “Exactly,” Don grinned. “You would have found out that you were lured back to your old stomping grounds under false pretenses and demanded an answer. Which means you would have stuck your nose into J&P Brothers’ business again and those two bruised fruits would have figured you were attempting to reopen my dad's case.”

  “Only an amateur bases his plan on so many assumptions. J&P Brothers pressured a lot of powerful people to have your dad's case closed and forgotten. I'm banned from their studio. If I dared come within ten feet of the main gate I would be arrested.”

  “Not if you received a phone call about a dead body,” Don smirked. “What would J&P Brothers do then, huh?”

  Sarah could see Don felt proud of himself. She almost felt sorry for the kid. “Don, your plan is full of too many
holes,” she said in a steady voice. “How do you know I would have even wasted my time with J&P Brothers after I found the truth? I might have turned around and gone home. And even if you called me and tipped me off about where to find a dead body, so what?”

  Don stared at Sarah. “Listen—”

  “No, you listen,” Sarah snapped. “I'm not a homicide detective anymore. I can't just walk into a major studio and reopen a closed murder investigation. Even if you tipped me off I would have called a detective who was on the force.”

  Don listened as Sarah slashed his plan to shreds. “You—”

  “You shut up and listen,” Sarah snapped again. “Maybe in your sick, twisted mind your plan was brilliant. And maybe your nerdy computer hacking skills made you feel overconfident. But the truth is, your plan was weak, stupid and pointless. And because of that, an innocent women had to die because she managed to connect a few dots.”

  “Your friend called J&P Studios and started asking too many questions. My mom didn't like that—” Don stopped speaking.

  “So your mother works at J&P Brothers?” Sarah asked.

  Don balled his hands into two tight fists and struck Paul's desk. “Enough,” he hissed and stood up. “Here’s the deal, cop,” he said and reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a cell phone.

  “I'm not interested in making a call,” Sarah said, waiting.

  Don held up the cell phone. “I sent every name on the contact list in your phone to a secure e-mail. That e-mail is monitored by my mother.” Don lowered the cell phone. “My mother doesn't work at J&P Brothers, cop. My mother, well, let's just say has some dirt on those two old prunes, and they are willing to let my mother have her way.”

  “Your mother wants revenge for her husband's death?”

  “You bet she does,” Don said, “and she got it because I killed the man who murdered my dad.”