“You’re right. Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Do you see all the no-trespassing signs?” Chandler hit the chain-link fence separating them, and it rattled. “If we get busted for anything before basic training, they’ll kick us straight out of the Army before we even start. Why are you doing this?”
“This guy—”
Chandler grabbed the fence with both hands and the whole thing shook. “I’m not talking about him. I’m talking about you. You’re going full throttle. You keep pushing this hard, you’re going to blow up.”
“I’m fine.”
“No.” Chandler shook his head. “There’s something more. It’s like you’re trying to prove something.”
Jack knew Chandler was right. He’d been looking for justification his whole life. Not for his actions, but for his being. Some proof he wasn’t worthless.
But Chandler was wrong if he thought Jack was going to stop.
“Give me the flashlight.” Jack held out his hand.
“No. It’s dark out here too.”
“You’ve got the full moon for your nightlight, you big baby. Give it to me.” Jack waggled his hand, reaching.
Chandler passed the flashlight through the fence. “Fine. I hope it goes out.”
Jack left Chandler behind and approached the building. Grass poked up through the gravel, which crunched under his feet. He shined the light along the front of the building and was surprised to find no graffiti. The little windows, which resembled the slots in a cabin, were made out of thick glass. He couldn’t see through.
He walked toward the side of the building. Two cement steps led up to a metal door. He looked back over his shoulder at the gate. Chandler stood outside the fence with his back to him and his arms crossed.
Jack wiped his dry lips with the back of his hand. A hundred reasons not to go into the building scrolled through his head. But none of those objections could drive from his mind the question he needed answered: Did Vlad witness Stacy’s murder?
Still, Jack’s legs refused to move. The soft voice of reason whispered in his head. Walk away. But the words had the opposite of their intended effect. Most people would heed their own advice, but Jack was haunted by that phrase. “Walk away like she did,” he muttered softly. “Give up on you like she did.”
Jack’s whole body trembled, not with fear but fury. He climbed the steps.
His hand had just touched the doorknob when he heard the gate behind him rattle. Then he heard Chandler swear. Jack smiled and shined the light on the gate. Chandler was stuck halfway through.
“Another fine mess you’ve gotten me into,” Chandler growled as he pulled himself the rest of the way through.
Jack suppressed a laugh. “Thanks for coming.”
“It’s purely selfish. I didn’t feel like explaining it to Aunt Haddie if Dracula eats you.”
“Dracula doesn’t eat you. He sucks all your blood out.” Jack shined the light in Chandler’s face.
Chandler squinted and pushed the flashlight toward the door. “Oh, that’s so much more comforting.”
“Boy, you sure are crabby when you need a nappy.”
“I’m tired and hungry. You dragged me all over the park.”
Jack reached into his pocket. “Here.”
“What is it?” Chandler’s eyes lit up. “Is it a candy bar?”
“It’s a protein bar. Though after all you ate earlier, I can’t understand how you’re hungry again. But it’s got some fiber in it at least.” Jack handed Chandler the bar and then turned back to the door. “I bet it’s locked anyway.”
He put his hand on the doorknob, and the door creaked open ominously.
“Great,” Chandler muttered. “This is getting better and better.”
“It’s a small building. I’ll just peek inside.”
Jack shined the light through the door. Just inside was a room that was empty apart for a pile of crud in the corner. Old wooden floorboards ran the length of the room to a dark open doorway directly across from the entrance, but whatever lay beyond it was past the reach of the flashlight’s beam.
Jack slipped inside, and Chandler, still muttering, followed. The room had a musty odor, and the faint smell of oil hung in the air.
A crinkling noise made Jack jump.
Chandler held up the protein bar with a huge chunk gone. “This is pretty good,” he whispered.
Jack shook his head and walked softly forward. “Hello?”
“Shh,” Chandler snapped.
“We want him to come out.”
“I don’t. Anyway, he’s not here. Let’s go.”
Jack moved toward the open doorway. “I’ll just check the rest of the building and then we’ll go.”
“Bad idea,” Chandler grumbled, but he followed Jack anyway.
The next room had two tables, plus some shelves built into the walls, but otherwise it was as empty as the first room. The third room they found was just as uninteresting.
There was one door left to check. A closed metal door that looked like it led to a closet. Jack’s flashlight beam reflected off the handle.
“It’s probably an electrical room,” Jack said. “I’m sure it’s locked.” He grabbed the handle and pulled. The door swung open with a loud creak. Jack smiled sheepishly. “Okay. Not locked.”
He shined the light through the doorway. Metal stairs led down.
The musty odor of mildew stung his nostrils, but the cool, damp air that swirled up from the darkness below made Jack’s body stiffen. It felt as though he had opened a tomb.
Chandler looked over Jack’s shoulder. “Great. You keep guaranteeing that we’re not going to get into any trouble. Boy am I reassured now.”
Sweat rolled down Jack’s back. He peered into the darkness.
“No way,” Chandler whispered fiercely. “Jack, seriously. This is crossing so many sanity lines I can’t tell you. What if the guy we’re looking for is the killer?”
“You wait here. If something goes south, go get help.”
“That plan sucks.”
“I’m just going to—”
“Hello?” yelled Chandler, leaning forward. “Hello? We need to ask you a question.”
Jack’s hands flew out and the light danced all over the place. “Shh!”
“What?” Chandler shrugged. “You called out for him a minute ago. I can’t? I don’t want to surprise him and freak him out.”
“You’re freaking me out. Come on.”
They descended the stairs, which led to a cement basement that was surprisingly clean and dry. Jack’s light illuminated a large metal box that stood against one wall, its lid secured by a huge padlock. “That’s electrical.” His flashlight beam swept the rest of the room. It stopped on a sleeping mat in the back.
Chandler moved closer to Jack.
The sleeping mat was nothing more than two blankets on the floor and another on top. If it weren’t for the fact that it was on the ground, it would have looked like a freshly turned-down bed with the top blanket folded back. Near the head of the bed was a stack of aluminum cans, meticulously arranged. The light reflected off the metal and sparkled.
Jack moved closer.
A crinkling behind him made him spin around.
Chandler put the last bit of the protein bar in his mouth and stuffed the wrapper in his pocket. “Sorry.”
Jack shined the light on the stack of cans. “It’s a little stockpile,” he whispered. “They’re not open.”
The flashlight focused on the single can on top of the pile. It was a soda can that had been slit down the middle. A candle had been placed inside.
“Look,” Jack whispered. “That’s the same thing we found in that encampment near where Stacy was killed.”
The flashlight blinked twice and shut off.
Jack chuckled nervously.
“Jack.” Chandler’s voice was low and strained. “If this is a joke, I’m going to kill you. Turn the flashlight on.”
“The batt
eries are dying. Calm down.”
Jack could hear Chandler breathing harder. “Shake the flashlight!”
Jack shook the flashlight and tapped the side with his hand. It lit for one brief moment, but then they were plunged into darkness again.
“Crap!” Chandler’s voice rose.
“It’s okay,” said Jack. “We’ll just feel our way back up.”
From somewhere in the darkness, a man’s voice growled.
Jack’s heart thumped in his chest. Chandler sucked in a breath and held it.
The door at the top of the stairs closed with a loud clang.
19
I’m Looking
Footsteps descended the metal stairs. Jack moved blindly in the dark toward the wall.
“Stop!” yelled a man’s voice.
Jack froze, but only for a second. He tried to calm his breathing as he snuck toward the wall again. “I just wanted to ask you a question,” he said.
“You’re not the police. Why are you here?”
“Listen.” Chandler’s voice was loud. “Our friends are waiting for us outside.”
Jack winced. On the one hand, he knew what Chandler said made sense; but on the other, starting off with a lie was not the way to begin a conversation.
“That’s not true. I watched you come here. You drive a blue Impala.”
Damn.
Jack heard Chandler’s sneakers slide along the cement as he shuffled forward.
“Stop moving,” the man said. “I’m looking.”
“Jack?” Chandler’s voice was even, but Jack heard the fear in it.
“Are you afraid?” the man asked.
Jack felt his heartbeat shift up a gear. Sweat poured down his back. He took another step, and at last his hand touched the wall.
“Stop moving,” the man repeated.
“You can’t see me.” Jack took another step forward as quietly as he could.
“I can hear you,” the man said. “I’m looking. Are you afraid of the dark?” The question hung in the air.
“I got locked in a supply closet when I was a kid,” Jack said. “The light was on a timer. It shut off Friday night at five o’clock.” He continued forward with one hand against the wall, talking fast and loudly to mask the sound of his footsteps. “She didn’t come and get me until three twenty-seven Monday morning. It was this dark the whole time.”
Jack stopped and listened.
“Why did she lock you in the closet?” the man asked.
Jack tried to figure out where the voice was coming from. It echoed off the walls, but he guessed the man was at the base of the stairs. He started talking and moving again. “She wanted to go out, but there was no babysitter, so she locked me in there. I don’t know how long it took, but if you spend enough time in the dark, it stops scaring you.”
“It’s still scaring me,” Chandler muttered.
Jack stopped and listened. His heart pounded in his ears, and that was the only sound he heard.
A flashlight turned on. Hollow dark-brown eyes stared at Jack from only inches away. Jack’s breath stuck in his chest. He blinked rapidly.
“You could trip in the dark.” The man marched around Jack and walked past Chandler. As the flashlight beam lit Chandler’s face, he looked ready to bolt. “I told you I was looking. For my flashlight. Found it. I have another light over here.”
The man lit the candle in the can. In its flickering light, Jack scrutinized him. He appeared to be in his thirties, but his face was weathered and worn. A long black ponytail hung down his back, and he wore an old camouflage jacket.
The man set the homemade lantern down on the stack of cans. “Are you on assignment?”
Jack’s mind raced for an answer to the odd question. “Are we on assignment?” Jack repeated, hoping for more information.
“I heard you outside. You two are in the Army. Are you on assignment?” the man asked again.
Jack hesitated. He didn’t know which way to answer so he replied, “We enlisted.”
“So yeah, we’re in the Army. Thanks for the light.” Chandler gave Jack a look that screamed: Should we run?
Jack shook his head slightly. He looked at the man’s jacket. “Were you in the Army?”
“Marines. I’m still in. I’m on special assignment.” The man snapped to attention and put his hands at his sides. With his shoulders squared, he looked powerful. “Names. Now.”
“Chandler Carter, and he’s Jack Stratton,” Chandler blurted.
The man stepped in front of Jack. “Stratton? I had a teacher named Stratton. Ted Stratton. Math.”
Chandler looked like a man who’d just been pardoned; his whole body relaxed. “That’s Jack’s dad.”
Jack held his breath. For some reason, the fact that this was an old pupil of his father’s brought no comfort. Please don’t be some crazed ex-student my dad flunked. Please don’t be.
“Really?” The man scanned Jack like a drill instructor looking over a fresh recruit. His eyes looked as cold as the cement, almost lifeless. “You’re the son he adopted. He talked about you.”
Jack exhaled. “He did?”
The man seemed to relax somewhat. “Tell him Alex Hernandez said hi. Third period calculus.”
Alex Hernandez? Jack had heard the name before, and he struggled to remember where.
Alex reached out and took two cans from the stack. “Soda?” When he held the can out, the candlelight flickered off his gold wedding band.
Anne. Jack gasped. Anne Hernandez’s story was infamous in Fairfield. Anne was a new bride who was murdered. Brutally. Jack tried to remember details.
Anne’s husband Alex was a soldier…
Jack’s breath came in strained puffs. He had seen a TV show about it years ago. The details were long forgotten, but the images were still raw in his mind. The show had included a reenactment, and actual pictures… it had given him nightmares for weeks. And right now, in this dark cellar, those nightmares felt all too real.
Alex stepped forward and set the cans on the floor. Jack cautiously picked up one. Chandler looked down at the other can as if it were a grenade. Jack glared at him. Chandler scowled back and picked up the can.
“Your dad brought a picture of you into class,” Alex told Jack. “The day after you came home.” He arranged the cans to fill the gaps. “He put the picture on his desk next to the one of his wife. Wait… was it your mom who locked you in the closet? You only said ‘she.’”
“No. No.” Jack shook both his hands in front of himself. Some of his soda spilled. “Sorry,” he muttered as he wiped at the puddle with his sneaker. “That was my…” He struggled for a word. He never called his birth mother anything close to the word ‘mother.’ “That was a different lady. Before I was adopted.”
Alex nodded. He looked up at the ceiling. “I forgot to lock the door. You two shouldn’t be down here. I could lose my command. You need to return to the Tock.”
Chandler nodded. “You’re right. We should go.” He motioned to Jack. “Come on. Back to the Tock we go.”
Jack waved Chandler off. “Can I ask you a question? A woman was attacked Thursday night near the pond. Did you happen to see anything?”
“I was downrange, but I didn’t get that mission.” Alex put the palms of his hands against his eyes.
Chandler waved frantically and pointed toward the stairs.
Ignoring him, Jack continued, “Did you see anyone near the fountain? Talk to anyone?”
“No. I don’t talk to people. I don’t engage. My mission is strictly FO.”
“So you’re a Forward Observer? Recon? Then you must have seen or heard something? You have a bed over there. We found your lean-to.”
“Outpost. That’s my outpost. I already reported in. That’s my mission: watch and report in. Check my report. I only saw a few messengers.”
Chandler grabbed Jack’s shoulder. “We’ll do that. Let’s go look at his report, Jack.”
“Wait.” Jack pulled his arm free. “Near
the fountain? You saw a messenger?”
“It’s in my report. He was fast. They wear civilian clothes but they’re wired to their RO in the Tock. You need to leave now.”
“What did the messenger at the fountain look like?” Jack asked.
“It’s in my report. Blue shorts. Bright-green sneakers. Tall.” Alex stepped forward and snapped to attention. “You need to go.”
Jack held his hand up, palm out. “I just have one more question. Where—”
The veins in Alex’s neck stood out as he drew in a deep breath. “GET OUT NOW!”
In the confined concrete space, the bellow was so loud it caused Jack’s ears to ring. Alex shifted his weight. He looked ready to charge. He was almost Jack’s height, and when he squared his shoulders, he looked strong.
“Sure thing.” Chandler grabbed Jack’s arm and backed up. “Thanks for the soda.”
Jack hesitated, but Chandler pulled again, and finally Jack started to move.
Alex picked up the candle and stared at them as Chandler dragged Jack toward the stairs. In a clear, calm voice he said, “I warned you.” Then he blew the candle out.
They were plunged into darkness.
Chandler shoved Jack ahead of him and up the stairs. Jack’s hand hit the metal door and he shoved. The door creaked open. Jack reached back and grabbed Chandler’s shirt. Pushing and pulling each other, they rushed through the rooms and outside.
The warm night air felt like a cool breeze on Jack’s face. As they hurried toward the fence, the door behind them slammed shut with such force that one of the thick windows on the wall cracked. They both jumped.
Chandler pushed the gate open so Jack could squeeze through. “I told you that was a crazy idea.”
Jack pulled himself through and then tugged on the gate for Chandler. “I totally agree. Going in there was stupid. Sorry. Do you know who that was?”
“Dracula? He said his name was Alex Hernandez. Oh, snap—he’s that Alex Hernandez?” Chandler’s hands went to the sides of his face and his eyes went wide at the realization of who he’d just met. “Damn. His wife was the lady who got slaughtered?”
“Yeah. I didn’t know he knew my dad.”
And Then She Was GONE: A riveting new suspense novel that keeps you guessing until the end Page 18
