A Long Way Down

by Edward Kendrick

  “She doesn’t…” Daw scowled.

  “Doesn’t know where to find you?”

  “No.” Daw dropped down on the sofa. After a long pause, he said, “It was fractured, not broken, so I didn’t go to the emergency room. Not that I would have if it had been broken. I ran, instead.”

  “From…your mother?”

  Daw shook his head. “Step-mom. She was a raging alcoholic. Of course Pop was no saint when it came down to it, but when he drank too much he got morose and passed out. She got vicious. When she did it was scary because she was a big woman. Almost bigger than Pop. I was sixteen when it happened.”

  When he went quiet, Jon said, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

  “You said I should let it out, so I will. They fought, a lot, even when they were sober, and a lot of it was over me. She hated me. Wanted me out of the house. ‘He’s nothing but trouble’ was her excuse.” Daw glanced at Jon. “I wasn’t. I got decent grades in school, held a part time job in the evenings. Hell, I was barely there except to eat and sleep. I even studied at the library rather than go home. She still wasn’t happy.”

  Daw got up suddenly, going to the window. Jon had the feeling he was trying to marshal his thoughts.

  “It was a hot night, like it’s been here this week. Not that that matters, I guess. Anyway, I came home from work and walked into the mother of all arguments. Pop was on the sofa. My step-mom was standing over him, screaming at the top of her lungs about how he’d promised her the finest things in life when they got married and what did she end up with? An old house, a car that should have been scrapped years ago, and a worthless step-son. Then, she slapped him—and he sat there and took it, so she hit him again. I wasn’t having any of that. I told him to fight back.”

  Daw finally turned to look at Jon. “That really pissed her off. She picked up an empty beer bottle, there were a lot of them sitting there, and raised it over her head. ‘Come on, wimp,’ she screamed. ‘Do it. Fight back.’” Daw swallowed hard. “He just stared up at her, too out of it to do anything, I think. So I tried to grab it. She was too fast. She cracked it over my wrist. I mean really cracked it. It and my wrist. Shit, it hurt, and she laughed as she grabbed another bottle. ‘Get out of here before I kill him and you,’ she yelled. I believed her, so I ran.” He wiped a hand over his face. “Like a coward, I ran.”

  Jon went to him, wrapping him in a loose embrace. “You weren’t a coward,” he said quietly. “You were in pain, you believed her threat, and you did what you had to, to save him and yourself.”

  “I guess I know that, now, but then…I snuck back the next morning after spending the night in a park. He was passed out on the sofa. I checked. He was still breathing. I found her passed out in their bedroom. I crammed some clothes in my backpack, and stuff from the bathroom. My wrist was swollen all to hell and gone so I wrapped it in an elastic bandage I found in the medicine cabinet. I left Pop a note, telling him I wouldn’t be back, and took off for good. Been on the streets ever since, until someone decided to put an end to that, and me.”

  Releasing his hold on Daw, Jon nodded toward the sofa. When they were seated, he asked, “Feeling any better?”

  Daw smiled sadly. “Not sure ‘better’ is the right word, but getting it out helped. I’ve never told anyone the whole story until now. Thanks for listening.”

  “Hey, not a problem. I’m a good listener, at least according to Brody. Don’t always know the answers. Hell, I rarely do, but I know getting something off your chest helps.”

  “Yeah.” Daw glanced at the book Jon had put down. “How long before I can pick one up so I can read?”

  “Not for a while, I’m afraid. Lighter stuff comes first, like pencils and dust cloths.”

  “Dust cloths?”

  Jon grinned. “You think elves come in to keep this place clean and neat?”

  “I hadn’t really thought about it. I’d even be willing to do that to help out until I have to move on.”

  “You know,” Jon said, nodding. “We’ve got two laptops, although it will still be a little while before you can use them. I bet Gene or Van can set it up so you can read books online.”

  “And check my Facebook page?” Daw smirked.

  “Tell me you’re joking.”

  “What do you think? I wanted one when I was in high school, but Pop couldn’t afford to buy a computer and I was damned if I’d use the one at the library to set it up.”

  “Makes sense.” Rather than starting to read, again, Jon went to get one of the laptops, got on line, and found a movie they could watch. They had barely finished it, and begun looking for another one, when everyone appeared.

  Russ plopped down next to Daw, eagerly telling him about the movie they’d seen. While Daw listened patiently, Jon got up, going over to Brody when he lifted an eyebrow in question.

  “He opened up,” Jon said quietly. “I think it helped. I’ll tell you later.”

  Van, Gene, Tonio, and Kurt headed upstairs, discussing the movie as they did.

  “We should get to bed, too,” Brody said. “Daw, I’ll get you sheets for your bed.”

  “Gee, luxury,” Daw replied, chuckling.

  “What about me?” Russ asked.

  “You get the sofa, kid, like last night,” Daw told him.

  “But…” Russ glanced up the stairs.

  “Nope. Get that out of your head right now. I sleep alone.”

  Russ’s shoulders slumped, but he didn’t protest.

  “Come on,” Brody said, beckoning to Daw, and they left the living room.

  “Give him time,” Jon said when Russ gazed disconsolately after them.

  “Yeah, right. By the time he sees me as more than the kid tagging around after him it’ll be too late. You guys will find out who killed us and we’ll be gone to wherever, and probably not together.”

  “Possible, of course, but don’t give up hope. It could be a while before that happens, if it does. We’re searching for a needle in a haystack.”

  Russ brightened at that thought. “So, maybe, we’ll be here forever? I could live with that.”

  Jon grinned. “Or something.”

  It took a second for Russ to get why he’d said that. “Yeah, wrong word for us, but still.” He stretched out on the sofa, one arm under his head. “I’ll see you in the morning, I guess.”

  “Yep. Sleep well,” Jon replied before going upstairs.

  Chapter 6

  Mike had very little spare time to search for what he would consider questionable deaths of homeless men or women. Part of the problem was he had to expand his search outside of the homicide department’s records after he found there weren’t any comparable deaths in its files that had been tagged as possible murders, including Daw and Russ’s.

  Knowing he needed help, he contacted Rosalyn, one of the assistant medical examiners with whom he had a decent working relationship. At first she called him crazy, then relented when he pointedly said that someone had be a voice for the homeless, as too many of them had no known family.

  “You find anything at all that suggests a fall off a roof was more than it initially seemed and I’ll be forever in your debt,” he said, giving her a winning smile.

  “You better believe it,” she retorted. “Do you know how many deaths there are on any given day that aren’t obviously murder?”

  “More than I want to think about,” he replied. “At least I gave you a parameter.”

  She sighed. “True. That should help. It will take a while, but I’ll get a list to you.”

  “Thank you!”

  He told Sage that evening, at which point Sage paid a visit to the carriage house to let the ghosts know.

  “If I were a decent hacker,” Gene said.

  Van chuckled. “But you’re not and I have the feeling all the ME’s records are so well secured even Mitnick or Anonymous couldn’t breach them.”

  “Who?” Russ asked, which led to Van and Gene using several websites to give hi
m a rundown on some of the more famous hackers.

  When Sage told Mike, he found it amusing. “But it would be great if they could get in. Not,” he added, “that I would suggest to Rosalyn that she give me the codes so they could help. I don’t think she’d agree.”

  “Especially when you told her they’re ghosts.”

  “Yeah. She’d put my name in for a psych evaluation. Even Lieutenant Price would be hard pressed to keep that from happening, and he knows about them.”

  * * * *

  It was Wednesday before Rosalyn got back to Mike with the list he wanted.

  “I eliminated the ones where someone saw it happen and could state categorically that the victim was alone when they went over,” she said as she handed him a sheaf of papers. “Strangely enough, that happened with the majority of them. The others? Who knows?” She grinned. “That’s up to you to find out.”

  Of course, Mike didn’t tell her he was giving the information to a handful of ghosts—which he had Sage do that evening. “They don’t need me right now. Brody knows what to look for, and I’m betting Van and Gene do, too. They can handle it without my input,” was his explanation when Sage asked.

  * * * *

  “First things first,” Brody said after Sage left and the group congregated in the office. “We have to go through these.” There were eleven reports, each one relating to one of the questionable deaths. He scanned the information before he gave his friends who could hold them one or two sheets of paper, keeping the last two for himself because they were for Daw and Russ—not by name but he recognized the building locations.

  Van got pencils which he handed out, telling them to underline any pertinent information, “Especially locations, and the time of day if it’s there.”

  “While we sit and twiddle our thumbs,” Russ whispered sourly to Daw.

  “Nope,” Brody replied, having overheard him. “Guys, when you’re finished with a report, put it on the counter. Daw and Russ can look and then tell me if they recognize a name, if there is one, or a photo.”

  “Why does it matter?” Daw asked.

  “You and Russ knew each other. If one of you knows some of the other victims, presuming they are that rather than their death being an un-witnessed accident, it might let us know if the killer has a specific agenda.”

  “The chances we know any of them are slim to none,” Russ put in.

  “Exactly, so if there is a connection I want to know. If not, then we’ve got a serial killer on our hands,” Brody replied.

  The ghosts set to work. As each report landed on the counter Daw and Russ studied the pictures. “These are morgue shots, aren’t they?” Russ commented and shuddered. He didn’t sound too happy at the idea, as the first photo was his. Brody told him they were, and pointed out that only two of the victims had carried ID, meaning they had known identities.

  “I’m not too surprised, if they were runaways like me,” Daw said. “No fucking way did I have anything on me the cops could have used to contact my family.” He got a nod of agreement from Russ.

  Van turned on his laptop, created a new file, and then began entering the information from the reports. “I’m going to make two lists to start with,” he said. “One by location and then map each one, and the other by their estimated ages.”

  “Why ages?” Kurt asked.

  “So we know if there’s a type the killer’s targeting. If they run the gamut from late teens to men in their fifties or sixties, then we can figure he’s going after anyone who’s homeless and was unlucky enough to crash on a rooftop.”

  “Look at their build, too,” Gene suggested. “Daw isn’t small, height-wise, but he’s no heavyweight, either. Unless our guy is a behemoth, picking someone up to throw them off a roof wouldn’t be easy if the vic was over, say, a hundred and seventy tops.”

  “And what homeless person who’s been on the streets for a while is?” Daw said sardonically.

  “Not true,” Russ replied. “I’ve seen some guys who were kinda scary just because they were big.”

  “Kid, to you anyone over five-ten and one-fifty would be big,” Daw teased. He got a raised finger in reply.

  “Okay, using height and weight as parameters, for now I’m eliminating these three,” Van said, running a line through the information on the men in question. “Anyone object?”

  Brody and Daw peered over his shoulder then agreed with him.

  “Now to map the death sites.” Van brought up a map of the city, copied it to his photo program, and set to work.

  “Interesting,” Brody said when he’d finished. “We knew you and Russ died within four blocks of to each other, Daw. Now we have four more within a ten-block radius, making six altogether.”

  “And two halfway across town,” Tonio commented, tapping the screen. “Can we eliminate them?”

  “For the moment,” Brody replied. “We’ll get back to them if we think they’re part of this.”

  “Like test cases?” Tonio asked.

  “Exactly.”

  Van highlighted the six victims, including Daw and Russ, before saying, “There’s one who was approximately nineteen, that would be you, Russ, two that the ME figured was in the twenty to twenty-one age range, one around twenty-five, Daw at twenty-six she estimated, and she was right, and the last one was around his age or a bit older.”

  “So he’s going after younger men,” Jon said. “And no women, apparently. Isn’t it strange that none of the bodies are female?”

  “These are deaths with no witnesses,” Brody replied. “There could be dozens of girls who jumped or fell and someone saw them.”

  “Ah, okay.”

  “If we’re on the right track, though, it means the killer is only targeting men—young men,” Gene said.

  Van nodded, his concentration back on the files. “I thought I was right. The murders are all spaced a week-and-a-half to two weeks apart, for whatever that means.”

  “Our killer is a creature of habit,” Jon said. “Timing, age, method, yeah, he’s got all the earmarks of a serial killer, from what little I know about them.”

  Brody agreed. “Now, we have to visit the sites and hope that at least of couple of their ghosts are still hanging around and saw something.”

  * * * *

  Brody broke them into two groups—him, Van, Tonio, and Kurt in one, Gene, Jon, Daw, and Russ in the other. His logic, he explained, being that there would be two in each group with some detection experience. “Not that there will be any evidence left at this point, I suspect, but who knows.”

  “Finding a ghost, if any are still around, could be all the evidence we need. That is, if they remember anything about their killer,” Jon pointed out.

  “The big ‘if’ at this point,” Van said, getting nods from the others.

  “Okay, let’s hit it,” Brody said and he and his group took off.

  “Ready?” Jon asked, looking specifically at Russ.

  “Yes,” Russ replied, reaching for Daw’s hand. He knew he could fly on his own, but connecting physically with Daw made it easier.

  Daw lifted an eyebrow but didn’t pull his hand away.

  Moments later the four ghosts were above the carriage house, flying toward their first destination, a six-story parking garage.

  “What kind of idiot would crash up here?” Daw said when they landed. He pointed to the cars which filled most of the designated spaces on the roof.

  Gene nodded to the entry ramp. “The sign says this is long-term parking only, so it seems to me it might be relatively safe.” He walked to the edge of the roof that overlooked the alley between the garage and the building next door. “This is where he went over,” he said.

  “If it was me, I’d have crashed in that alcove beside the elevator,” Russ commented in reply to Daw’s question. “You’d be pretty much out of sight. Of course, if I was smart—” he leaned over the parapet, “—I’d have been down one story. Yeah, it’s not the roof, but damned close and a fall from there would be just
as bad.”

  “He’s got a point,” Jon said. He turned slowly. “There’s no one up here, living or dead, so we might as well go down and check it out.”

  They did, with the same result. If the victim’s ghost had originally stuck around after his murder, he must have discovered he could leave, and done so.

  The same held true at the other places they visited, which had Daw grumbling, “This is ridiculous. We could check every damned roof in the city and still come up with bupkus.”

  “Calm down,” Russ said, softly enough he hoped only Daw would hear. “Getting pissed isn’t going to change anything.”

  Daw eyed him bleakly. “Yes, oh great and wise one. Nothing will do that and we’ll be stuck here until the end of time.”

  “Would that be so bad? We have friends, here, and they don’t seem too upset that they haven’t moved on.” Russ tentatively put his hands on Daw’s waist, certain he’d pull away. When he didn’t, Russ continued his thought. “Who knows where we’ll end up, if we find the killer? Maybe there’s nothing out there but a big, dark, lonely void.”

  “He has a point,” said Jon, who obviously had been eavesdropping. “The whole thing is a crap shoot, and you might roll snake eyes. If you get the choice, and like you said, that might not happen, stick around. If we don’t find your killer—” he shrugged, “—well, either way, you’ve got people who care about you, which could be more than you’d have up there.” He waved his hand toward the heavens.

  “Or down there,” Gene added, joining the conversation. He pointed to the ground and grinned. “It’s supposed to be damned hot in Hell.”

  Daw finally smiled. “That is a selling point to sticking around.” He directed his gaze to Russ. “You’re right; I do have friends, especially you. There’s a lot to be said for that.”

  Jon winked at Gene, getting a nod in return, and then said, “How about we head home. Maybe Brody and the others were luckier than us.”

  They hadn’t been, as Jon and the others found out when everyone had congregated in the office.