by Amy Shannon
Fettering Shadows
By
Amy Shannon
Copyright © 2017 by Amy C Shannon
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permissions of the author, except by a review who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine, or journal.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Credits:
Cover Illustration Copyright © 2017
Cover design by Amy Shannon
Introduction
Private Investigator Jake Dalton, a former Texas Ranger, has settled down in a small town in Oklahoma, set in his ways, and creating a new life for himself. Even when his former partner asks for help on some unsolved serial murder cases, he is still focused on what is rather than what was.
Then she walks into his agency and life, and turns it upside down. Dr. Agatha "Aggie" Constantine hires Jake to find her stalker, a stalker who she believes is also the serial killer only known by the name Icarus.
Jake finds himself drawn to Aggie, while also wondering whom he can and can't trust, and pulling in all of his resources and contacts for help. The case that continues to haunt Jake may have just brought more than he bargained for, right to his doorstep, especially when torsos resembling his old case are starting to surface.
1
Jake Dalton unlocked and opened the door to his Agency, Dalton Private Investigations and Security. He flicked on the light switch, but nothing happened. “Goddammit!” he muttered as he shuffled to his desk in the corner of the large, dark room. He practically lived in his agency, so he knew it, blindfolded, or in this case, in the dark. He liked the dark, and preferred the dark, as there seemed to be no light in his days. He stopped before he got to his desk, instinctively grabbing for his holster that rested on his hip. His tall shadow matched his 6’ 4’’ slim, but muscular frame.
“Lights burned out. Didn’t know where your bulbs were,” the familiar hoarse voice followed the shadow that stood up from behind Jake’s desk.
“Aw, goddammit, man. You scared the livin’ crap right outta me.” Jake relaxed and leaned over his desk, pulling on the chain of the small desk lamp. “Not much of a detective, if ya ask me,” he smirked. “And get over here. That there’s my chair.” Jake walked behind his desk, removed his dark suede overcoat, and tossed it on the rack next to the filing cabinet. He dropped his black Stetson in its rightful place on the desk, and then ran his hands over his slicked back, black hair. “Sully, why the hell are you sittin’ in the dark of my office?”
Edward Sullivan, or “Sully” as Jake called him, stood up, displaying his 6-foot stature, and then sat in the chair in front of the desk. “Dalton, there’s another victim,” his naturally hoarse voice, coated with a Texan accent, muttered, as he tossed a purple file folder on the desk. Sully was a born and bred Texan, and being a Texas Ranger was his entire life.
“What’re you talkin’ about?” Jake glanced down at the file, not wanting to even touch it.
“It ain’t gonna bite ya,” Sully snickered.
“Right,” Jake muttered. “What new victim?”
“It’s the same MO as in Austin, but now, he’s here. He left Austin, and came here, right to your new town. Dalton, I know why you left the Rangers, but I’m still in the middle of it. Well, I’ve no choice, working cold cases, ya know? But, I need your help on this. He’s on your turf now,” he spoke clearly and deeply with a strong Texas accent, but that was something that Jake never picked up. But what he did pick up were some of the swagger and sayings that left a Texan’s mouth. Jake was originally from New York, and then North Carolina, and then Georgia, and then Florida, and then Texas, and finally Oklahoma, and that didn’t count his stint during Desert Storm.
“I don’t know what you want from me. I’m no Ranger anymore. I’m not even a Marine anymore. I just sit here, in my little office and get hired now and then. You don’t need my help, Sully. You can cover this, no problem,” he patted his chest pocket and pulled out his cigar pack. He pulled out one slim cigar and rested it on his lips.
Sully leaned forward, offering his lighter, and then lit the cigar. “This town doesn’t look so bad,” he snickered. “And if it’s as small as it looks, the bodies are gonna seem like a pile very shortly.”
“What makes ya think he’s here? I didn’t hear anything yet,” Jake leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up, exposing his worn black cowboy boots.
Sully exposed his Texas Rangers star on his belt as he stood up. He knocked Jake’s feet off the desk. “One, no one is saying a word. The cops are keepin’ it quiet, but the Chief knew ‘nuff to run the MO through ViCap. I grabbed my go-bag and took off here. I’ve met with him this morning.”
“Did you tell him ‘bout me?” Jake stood up. “I’ve ‘nuff issues with Chief Lutz that I don’t need him or his officers breathin’ down my neck. He’ll find a way to blame me, you know. That man, I’ll tell ya, could fall up a tree.”
“He’s somethin’ that takes gettin’ use to. Dalton, you didn’t do this.”
“No, but I bet he followed me here.”
“You’ve been here six years. He just started here. I know it’s him. Maybe he followed someone else here, like one of the girls or whatever. I don’t know why he’s here, but he is. Dalton, the Icarus is back.”
“I’m sure Cap’n Meyers,” he grunted. “Just loved you comin’ out here to consult with me.”
“Dalton, listen carefully, Meyers is gone. Transferred last year. I don’t know what your issues with him are, but he’s gone. We got a new Capt’n, and he’s a good guy. Came in from the Special Investigative Unit. He’s got good creds, ya know. He gave me these cases once we got the new leads about the new dead, dismembered girls, and I told him I was comin’ here, to talk with you.”
“New Cap’n?”
“Lawrence Flynn.”
“Hmm, I’ve heard of him, good man. A straight shooter from what I understand.” Jake flicked the ashes of his cigar in the filled ashtray stand. “Still, I can’t be involved.”
“You need to be,” Sully said. “You can’t just leave it. You know that. What happened to you?”
“You know what happened to me,” Jake stood up and glared at him. “You reckon someone can just do this to me and get away with it? Barton did this to me,” he ran his fingers down the long scar on his left cheek. “He did it to me, and I didn’t stop ‘til he was dead. You know that I lost my cool. I lost my friggin’ job because of it.”
“Dalton, it was friggin’ self-defense. D.A Anderson was just being an ass about it.”
“Doesn’t matter. Elaine left me, couldn’t have a scar-face for a husband. I’m here, in this quiet town where I only get hired for temporary personal security and every once in a while, a cheating spouse or background checks on new employees or whatever. Not many people care about the scar. They usually stare at it, but don’t even take the time to ask. It’s just me here.”
“You live here, too, don’t ya?” Sully watched as Jake calmed his demeanor and sat back in the chair.
“I better put in a new bulb,” he sighed, opening the bottom drawer.
“Dalton, uh, Jake, do you live here?”
“Nah, I live in the house in the back. I lucked out when I bought this place; it used to be a six-seater restaurant with an attached house. I had the house detached,
and made this into two rooms, plus a john. I’m fine.”
Sully looked down at Jake. “Just look at the file. I’m at the B’nB at the edge of Main Street.”
“It’s a diner.” Jake snickered.
“Well, I’m staying on the second floor. Renting a room from the owner, or somethin’.”
“Uh huh, Janice. She’s nice.”
“I know. She says she feeds your every meal,” he chuckled. “What? Don’t glare at me. I asked ‘round about you. I wanted to see if what people thought of you are the same as what you think people think of you. I know you, Dalton. We were partners, remember?”
“Speaking of partners, where is your latest?”
“I’m a lone wolf right now.”
“Seriously?”
“I’m on temporary assignment. I’ve trained ‘nuff youngins to know they wanna move past the mean streets of Texas for some quaint desk job.”
“Or they wanna be Chuck Norris,” Jake snickered.
“We can’t all be Norris,” Sully patted Dalton on the leg and then stood up. “Dalton, look at the file. Meet me for lunch at one at the diner and tell me what ya think. If you still wanna stay out of it, I’ll do this on my own,” he headed out the door, as the sun started to shine its way through the large frosted glass windows of the Agency.
Jake put out his cigar and grabbed the lightbulb.
2
The office was dimly lit, as Jake liked it, even with the new lightbulb in the overhead light. His office was what some would call old school, but he did use a laptop or his cell phone when absolutely necessary. His desk was large, and his files were piled neatly on the desk. The room was filled with filing cabinets and bookcases that were filled with books lying horizontally on top of each other. The books were mainly crime books, forensic books, security books, a few books written by former colleagues or Marines, and then his prized collection of Walt Whitman books and poems. One leather-bound book that stood out and was read the most was Paradise Lost by John Milton. He had a grand eclectic collection and was an avid reader, on print copies only.
Jake paced back and forth, staring at the purple folder that was still unopened and lying on his desk. He muttered incoherently aloud with only a few words such as goddammit, and why me, followed by more incoherent mutterings. Goddammit was one of his favorite words, but he did not usually say why me. He was usually confident, confident that he moved at the right time, confident that people didn’t wanna get close to him, and confident in his work. Confident that the past should be put behind him. He was no longer a Texas Ranger. He was no longer a Marine. Well, once a Marine, always a Marine. So, he was no longer an active duty Marine. “Goddammit,” he muttered clearly a few more times before he walked over to the large antique projector screen that was pulled down against his wall, almost resting on the table below. He tugged lightly on the handle, raising the screen that covered not only the wall but also a map of Austin, Texas.
Red marker circled different areas of the city of Austin, where blue marker outlined the paths between each circle. The Trail of Icarus was handwritten at the bottom of the map. On the table that was under the map against the wall, were three envelopes that he never touched. He put them there when he moved into the office. He always expected this day would come, that someone would walk into his office, with information about Icarus. He just didn’t realize that Icarus would also follow. No one knew Icarus’ true identity, just his profile, and his trail of women’s torsos drenched with wax that was mixed with their own hair on their back. That’s why he gained the pseudonym Icarus. The wax was poured so it resembled wings, like the wax wings of the mythical character, Icarus[1].
Jake opened the envelopes and taped up each of the 15 photos that were in the envelopes. Each photo was of the woman who was found at the red circles. All women were brunettes that had red highlights. All women were petite and for some reason, he added a crude tattoo of a caduceus on their lower back. Jake stepped back as his eyes scanned the map wildly. “Aw, goddammit.”
He walked over to his desk, as his eyes caught himself in the mirror. Why did I even put that there? He remembered hanging it the second day he officially moved into the office. He knew this day would come, but he hoped it would never come. He ran his finger down the long scar on his face. He already felt old and tired and the scar just adds to it. Elaine couldn’t even handle it. Damn that Sully. Got me all wired up. He sat down at the desk and picked up the file. He was about to open it, when his door chimed as the door opened.
He put his feet on the floor and immediately stood up. “Uh, can I help ya?”
She removed her sunglasses and hoodie and quickly looked out the window of the door. “I don’t reckon I was followed.”
“Uh, ma’am, how can I help you?” he went to tip his hat, but then realized he wasn’t wearing his Stetson.
“I reckon so,” she looked around the dim office. “I hope so.”
“Why don’t you start with your name? You can ‘least tell me that.”
“Uh, Dr. Agatha, uh, Aggie Constantine.”
“Doctor, please have a seat,” he hurried behind the chair in front of his desk and held the back of it as she sat down.
“Thanks,” sitting down, she took a deep breath and slowly let it out. She slowly moved her chair slightly at an angle so she could face both Jake, and the door.
“Well, Doc, you can tell me anything you need to,” he emphasized as he sat down behind his desk. He grabbed a yellow legal pad off the neat pile of blank pads and pulled his gold pen out of his pocket. “Take your time. I got all day.”
“I’m sorry,” she lightly fiddled with the zipper on her gray hooded sweatshirt. “Uh, Mr. Dalton.”
“Jake. Please, call me Jake,” he smiled. “I’m sorry it’s so dark in here. Half the bulbs blew out and I only put in the ones I felt were necessary to get me through my day today.”
“It’s all right. I actually prefer it.”
“Ma’am, uh, Doc, are you being followed?”
She hugged herself tightly, “more like stalked,” she sighed. “It’s been this way for years.”
“How can I help?”
Her eyes glanced around the office again, this time focusing on his map of Austin. His path of the Icarus. “I think I may be able to help you,” she continued to focus on the map.
“I don’t understand,” he looked toward her line of sight. “You know somethin’ about Icarus?”
“Oh, that’s what you call him. Icarus?” she looked toward Jake as she stood up.
“It’s just a nickname the Rangers gave him. Uh, the cops, not the baseball team.”
“I figured that,” she lightly smiled. “I was hoping that’s what you meant. Uh, I’m sorry to come here.”
“How did you even know to come here, and what could you help me with?”
“I know who you are, or who you were. I came here for the same reason you did. I’m not your stalker or anything, but I’ve been trying to get away from mine for years. I think that my stalker is your Icarus.”
Jake quickly jumped to his feet and walked over to her. He was about to put his hand on her shoulder when he stopped. She stepped back quickly, her eyes diverting to his face. He put his hands up. “I apologize, Ma’am. I didn’t mean to startle you. Not many people get used to the scar, and I didn’t mean to come right at you.”
“Scar?” she shook her head. “No, that’s not what I was looking at. You look so familiar. I guess I see you better in the light from the street now that you’re standing here. You did come so quickly at me. Made me a little nervous. Sorry. I get that way. I’ve been paranoid for years. It’s part of the territory.”
“You said you knew who I was, and now you say I’m familiar? Wouldn’t I be familiar if you knew me? I’m sorry, Doc, but I don’t know who you are. Should I?”
She took a step forward. “I don’t know if you know me. I don’t know you personally. I’m sorry. I shoulda been clearer. I used to live in Austin. I used to be the c
hief of staff for Travis Memorial. Now, I’m just the local M.E. here in Caddo County. I recognize you from the newspaper in Austin. Your picture was in the paper a lot. As for knowing you were here in Clarksville, I heard a former Texas Ranger owned a security and investigation company. I met another man at the diner last night. He was studying some folders on a serial killer and I recognized a few names of the victims in the paper. I asked him about it, and he said it was your case. I’m sorry.”
“So, you went from being Chief of staff to a local M.E?” He pointed to the chair, waited for her to sit down, and then he sat behind the desk.
“I couldn’t let him scare me outta being a doctor, so I just went in a different direction. I was a Cardiothoracic surgeon and the COS, but now, I’m an M.E. It’s better than nothing, and now, he’s followed me, and I took the long way here.”
“Are you sure this is him? I didn’t think there was a connection of a stalker to a serial killer.”
“You’re a cop, or at least you used to be. You don’t think that serial killers stalk their prey before they go in for the kill?”
He ran his finger down his scar, and sighed heavily. “No, you’re right. I wasn’t even thinkin’. I’m sorry. To be honest, Sully, uh, Ranger Sullivan, dropped this on my lap this morning, but as you can see, I’ve been waiting to catch this guy for a long time. It's the one thing I couldn’t let go of, when I left Austin.”
“So you know Ranger Sullivan?”
“Uh huh, he was my partner ‘til I left six years ago. I left and came here, to start fresh, start somethin’ new, but I carried the case with me.”
“Did Icarus do that to you?”
“The scar?” he dropped his hand, “Nah, it was another perp. I just had to leave, so here I am, small town America. Clarksville, Oklahoma isn’t even on a map,” he chuckled.
“I s’pose, but now Icarus as followed me here.”
“How long have you been here?”
