Peaches and Skinner’s bickering pulled her out of her imagination and back to the front of Michael's house. The detectives were walking back to the front of the home.
Skinner shook his head in disbelief. “Not every cop is a corrupted cuss like yourself, Peaches.”
“So let’s wait for a court order while a man is killed. I’m fine with that,” Peaches said sarcastically.
“If we break in there, everything we find will be inadmissible,” Skinner spoke as if talking to a child.
Peaches put his hands in his pockets and turned to the building with a half-grin. “If we find Troy inside, no one will care that we bent the rules.”
Skinner scoffed. “I’m just going to forget you said that, and that you brought a suspect to the crime scene.”
Peaches glared at him. “You saw her work. You can’t look at that and think that she’s not special.”
“I got out of that room as fast as I could, and I don’t regret it,” Skinner replied. “Go back to the hospital, Peaches. Gable and I will get the court order and do this the proper way.”
“Good luck with that,” Peaches replied and headed back to the car. He let out a sigh when he reached Ellie. “How are you feeling?”
Ellie glanced over his shoulder and met eyes with Skinner. “He still doesn’t trust me?”
“Even less than normal, I’m afraid.” Peaches replied and blinked a few times. It seemed like his head wound was acting up again. “Watching you paint it, uh, scared him.”
“It scares me,” Ellie admitted and then refocused on the task at hand. “I may have a lead. Did you take a picture of the art room?”
Peaches replied with a cheeky smile. He pulled out his cellphone and scrolled through his recent photos and videos. Some showed Ellie with her eyes rolled back and two brushes in her hand. There were multiple videos of her blackout moment. Ellie shuddered when she looked at them. It was like she was staring at a possessed version of herself.
Peaches took about fifty photos of the art room to complete a 360-degree profile. He swiped his thumb between the various photos of the mural, the dead bird, and Troy. At the middle of the bunch, he had a random shot of Ellie sleeping on the floor.
Ellie turned to him and gave him a look.
Peaches took the hint and reluctantly deleted it. “I only took it for research purposes.”
“It’s weird,” Ellie said bluntly and turned her attention back to the phone. It went without saying, but the more she spent time with Peaches, the farther he was from his golden boy facade. When she first saw him in the bullpen, he sat on the edge of his seat with perfect posture, the perfect smile, and the perfect 5 o’clock shadow. Though he still had all those things, she had to agree with Skinner that Peaches wasn’t as straight-edged as he appeared. Troy had called him a snake, and Ellie was reminded of the Garden of Eden. The serpent was probably kind and beautiful too.
Ellie pointed at the screen. “There.”
Peaches scrolled back a photo, showing an image of the hooded men’s feet on the right side of the room. Using her fingers, Ellie zoomed in the touch screen. The camera was surprisingly high quality. She enhanced to the boot shoe where she had imagined the blood droplets. Just like her photographic memory, she saw the address. It was a little blurry. Thankfully, Peaches had an app to clear that up.
The address was for an old pub on the outskirts of the city. Ellie recognized it in passing but had never had the need to go to that part of town. It was near the Connecticut River and on the wrong side of the tracks, so to say. There was a message on the boot, written in fine print.
“Only bring the detective, Ellie,” it read. “Or your mural will come true.”
Ellie realized that she had painted the boot around it, seeing how the hooded man had not shown up after the blackout.
“What are you thinking?” she whispered to Peaches.
The two of them glanced at Skinner, who was on the phone with the courthouse.
Skinner noticed them watching him and put his hand over the phone. “They’re processing the court order now. See, Peaches? It pays to play by the rules.”
“I’m glad for you, Skinner.” Peaches replied. “It’s a shame I have to go back to the hospital.”
“Good,” Skinner replied. “Maybe they’ll fix that brain of yours. Give you a little common sense. Rewire you so you’re not blinded by a pretty face.” Skinner gave Ellie a look, hinting that she was the pretty face.
Peaches just smiled at him. “I’ll see you soon. Be sure to send flowers and a sympathy card. Hospitals can get rather lonely.”
Ellie ducked into the driver's seat while Peaches walked around the passenger side. Officer Gable gave them a curt nod as they pulled away from Michael’s house.
“I hope they tell us what they find,” Ellie thought aloud, watching Skinner in the rearview. He had returned to the phone conversation.
“They will.” Peaches leaned back in the passenger seat and rested his hands on his belly. His navy-blue blazer was open and he had a white button up underneath. Apart from the bandage wrapped around his head, he looked sharp.
Ellie found it hard to take her eye off the bandage. Peaches opened one eye and looked at her. “He gave me a good beating, didn’t he?”
“I’m surprised you’re still moving,” Ellie replied honestly.
Peaches closed his eyes again. “I’m on cloud nine. Those pain meds they gave me--all I can say is wow.”
Ellie deadpanned. “You’re high?”
Peaches smiled to himself and didn’t reply. It seemed that he’d fallen asleep. Ellie’s confidence in this mission dwindled. She put the address into Peaches’s GPS and started that way.
Twelve or more hours had passed the hooded man had left the message. She hoped he was a patient man. Soon, Michael’s home was completely out of view. She’d be lying if she said that she didn’t want to explore the old house with Detective Skinner. Nonetheless, she wasn’t quite sure how much she trusted Andrew’s leads. She found a lack of confidence in her old friend depressing. This was the guy who managed her, boasted about her, who launched her career, and now he was admitting to hurting someone, probably killing them, and then pointed her to a friend that could be a serial killer. Ellie tried to put together how her life had ended up here and still had no answers.
Detective Peaches was asleep the whole way through Northampton. The downtown night crowd was crawling out of their offices to enjoy drinks, laughter, and live entertainment. During Ellie and Troy’s first few weeks in the city, they hit up every bar and every late-night activity they could find. Most of the events blurred into one another, but one night, after watching a play about two star-struck lovers, Troy rented a small canoe and they went down the river under the moonlight. They sipped wine and didn’t talk much. At some point, they started and almost tipped the canoe. Laughing uncontrollably, they took their make-out session to the riverside’s small beach. They lay side by side, their nice clothes ruffled on the earth and their eyes on the vast universe. That was the night Troy turned to her. His hands were shaking. He brought out the ring box he’d shown Ellie a few times before and said the words. “Will you?”
Ellie kept herself from laughing at his nervousness, but then realized how he must’ve felt all the times she’d said “no” to his proposal. Looking into his deep brown eyes, Ellie kissed him and said “yes.” Her emotions were a mix of nervousness, pity, and joy. It was wonderfully stressful, just like the creation of another piece of art. After Troy put on the ring, the two of them held hands and returned their gaze to the stars. In silence, they let the night drift away.
Ellie’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. She would save Troy, she promised herself, even if she had to kill his captor.
Her car drove over the glassy river that snaked up the side of the city. Soon, they were in the slums of the town, which weren’t exactly dreadful in appearance but definitely tiers below what Ellie was accustomed to. She kept an eye out for the address and spotted
an abandoned bar that had windows covered with plywood and no sign to indicate what the place once was. It was a hollow shell. One that Ellie would crack open.
Ellie reached out to shake Peaches’s shoulder, but hesitated when she noticed him thrashing about. It wasn’t as brutal as a seizure, but whatever nightmare he had was giving him the shakes. Suddenly, his eyes burst wide open and he grabbed Ellie’s wrists hard enough to leave handprints.
After two seconds, Peaches came to his senses and let go. He mumbled a weak apology. Ellie thought she should ask him about his dream, but then looked up at the falling sun. She didn’t have to inquire about the demons that haunted her partner, for there were bigger threats that needed to be dealt with.
“Is your gun loaded?” Ellie asked.
Peaches checked the holster clipped to his belt. “Always.”
“Let’s do this,” Ellie opened her door about an inch before Peaches grabbed her arm. She looked back at him, equal parts alarmed and frustrated. She waited for him to speak.
“We need to be smart about this,” Peaches said with dead seriousness. “Neither of us are running on a full tank, and we’re going into his domain.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Ellie replied, slowly prying his fingers from her upper arm.
“Previously, we had the element of surprise,” Peaches reminded her. “This will be different. He might ambush us.”
“Let’s not give him that chance,” Ellie said firmly.
“I don’t think you know what you're asking,” Peaches replied.
Anger flared up in Ellie, more because of the hooded man than the detective. “He’s a killer, Peaches. I’m sick of knowing that he’s out there. That he’s coming to get me.”
Peaches nodded in agreement. “That’s part of the job, but you overcome the fear.”
Do you? Ellie wondered as she looked at the man who was having nightmares not two minutes ago.
“We take him alive,” Peaches declared.
Ellie was past the point of negotiating the moment the man tried to kill her in the barn. Why should she have to play fair when he was coming at her with a gun, knife, and scythe? No more running. No more desperate escapes. Ellie was going to end this tonight.
“Shoot to kill,” she told Detective Peaches and exited the vehicle.
She glanced down both sides of the street. There were sidewalks and dim streetlights. Way down the road, she could see traffic driving down a t-intersection. It seemed like as soon as she started across the street, a fat raindrop plopped on her forehead and snaked down the side of her nose and cheek like a tear. She looked up at the darkening sky and the incoming storm clouds. Peaches joined her.
Neither of them made a comment about the weather or how fitting it was. They started toward the old pub. It was the type of dive where the dockworkers were crushed on a Tuesday. One that sold two-dollar beers and buck-fifty grilled cheese. What brought it to ruin, Ellie didn’t know. She probably would never know its story, and that was okay, because the past concerned her not. It was whatever lay beyond those doors at this moment that frightened her and focused her mind. She thought she would be shaking when she grabbed the door handle, but instead she had cool resolve. The bullet graze on her neck throbbed and the knife cut on her face burned like the point of a hot metal rod was being placed on it.
Ellie let the pain remind her of her adversary. The cuts on her palms reminded her that she failed to split his head with her axe. Not tonight. She had a kitchen knife she had taken from the kitchen rack. It wasn’t the best weapon, but it was something she was familiar with. Same with painting, it was not about the tools but how the artist used them. I’ll go for the neck, Ellie told herself. She didn’t want to risk hitting his rib bone on the way to his heart, seeing how physical strength was not her greatest quality.
When she gave the handle a tug, the door opened without issue. He’s expecting us.
Peaches moved in first. He held his flashlight under his gun and stepped inside. Unlike the rest of the hooded man’s lair, this one was not decorated with mannequins and colorful lights. A lot of it looked how it did when the bar fell into disrepair. There were billiard tables, toppled stools, and a few scotch glasses still on the bar. A few shards of glass from a beer bottle crunched under Peaches’s foot.
He scanned the place with his flashlight. It was almost completely devoid of light because the barred window blocked the outside world. Like most restaurants, the light switch was in the back. Quietly, Ellie closed the door behind her. The soft click of the closing door made her cringe. She kept her knife raised to eye level and followed close behind Peaches. So close, in fact, that she realized she was breathing down his neck. She watched the dark places behind her, feeling the thump of her heart go faster and faster. It was not knowing the hooded man’s whereabouts that had Ellie on edge. As much as she felt calm and collected when she first entered, fear was beginning to weasel its back into her. She was happy that Peaches was very smooth with his motions, because if he were to jump quickly, Ellie feared that she would stab him out of reflex just because his body was so close to her blade. Knowing this fact, she tried to walk sideways, avoiding any sort of flank and friendly fire.
About halfway through the burnt-out dive, a horrid stench filled Ellie’s nose. Though she couldn’t see his expression, by the way Peaches sniffled, he smelled it too.
“What is it?” Ellie asked.
Peaches kept his eyes forward and his flashlight scanning the room.
“Death,” he replied in a way that made Ellie’s skin crawl.
“Troy?” Ellie asked, trying not to sound hopeless but failing.
“We’ll see,” Peaches replied.
Ellie reminded herself to focus on the moment. The farther she went into the old bar the more her heart ached. It was like the hooded man was squeezing it in his gloved hand.
As they reached the bar, the stench of death became intoxicating. Ellie could hardly think, and if she had any food in her stomach, she imagined she would’ve vomited the moment they reached the employee entrance to the kitchen.
Peaches halted at the kitchen door. Ellie bumped into him. Peaches gave the door a kick. The swinging door flopped open and Peaches swiftly moved in, turning his weapon to and fro to check every corner. Ellie watched his moving flashlight on the other side of the small window on the door as it swung steadily. She bit into her lower lip and waited for him to give her the “all-clear” before she entered. Ellie glanced back at the bar around her, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. Part of her wanted to turn on the lights. The other part was glad she had the shadows on her side. She had not been flanked yet, but she knew how crafty her enemy was and also how agile. Her first encounter with the man in apartment 42A, he leapt from building to building in his brave escape.
Ellie checked under the billiard tables and in the dark corners where the bathrooms were. She scanned the booth and the area with the old, wall-mounted phone. She wished that Peaches had a spare light, but Ellie was out of luck. She looked back to the kitchen door, not seeing the detective’s flashlight anymore.
“Peaches?” Ellie whispered. In this quiet, smelly place, her words seemed loud.
Standing on her toes, she peeked through the window on the door. Only blackness.
Ellie tightened her grip around the knife with one hand and pushed the door open with the other. She stepped into the kitchen area. The tile floor was sticky in some parts and slick in others. It was clear that whatever grease or beer had spilled on the floor was never cleaned up.
Ellie moved through the kitchen with quiet, small steps. There were old pots and pans that were hanging over an island consisting of a sink and dishwashers. There were ovens and another sink opposite of the island.
Ellie kept her arms close to her and moved carefully by the various kitchen equipment that spiders and roaches had turned into their homes. Ellie glanced at the ajar pantry door and wondered if that was the source of the stench. She leaned her head in, seeing th
at shelves had been mostly cleared out and there was a nest of fat black roaches on the floor.
Suddenly, the rectangular light fixture overhead blinked to life. The roaches scattered, some of them making a hasty retreat between Ellie’s feet. She glanced up at the humming light. For a moment, it appeared to be the only thing lighting up the entire bar. A second light moved behind Ellie. She swiftly turned back and nearly sliced Peaches’s face. Thankfully, he was standing five feet away.
“Hey!” Peaches recoiled.
Ellie lowered the knife.
“Someone’s jerry-rigged the power box,” Peaches explained with a whisper.
“Did you turn it on?” Ellie asked with concern and looked over his shoulder, not that she could see much of the kitchen.
“I did,” Peaches replied. “I also found the source of the stench.”
He led Ellie to a shut door near the back of the kitchen. The smell was beyond horrible and seemed to seep through the gap around the door’s threshold like some sort of toxic gas. Peaches grabbed the handle and pulled it open. He shined his flashlight down the steps into the basement.
Ellie covered her mouth with her shirt. She watched for movement down below, but couldn’t see anything but the wooden stairs and concrete floor.
Peaches flipped the light switch on the wall. A light flickered on in the basement. Nonetheless, Peaches kept his hands on his gun and flashlight and went down about two steps before he stopped. Ellie peered at him, seeing that his eyelids were clenched tightly. She patted his shoulder.
Stolen Secrets: A Collection Of Riveting Mysteries Page 21
