Bad Land

by Jonathan Yanez

  “I will.”

  Marshall threw down a few dollars and left the diner, angrier than he thought he should be. Deep down he knew Joseph had his best interests in mind, but the thought of her sent him into a tailspin every time. It was a memory he had worked for years to bury, and when it did surface, all he felt was anger and bitterness.

  Marshall opened his car door and slammed it shut harder than he intended. The engine roared to life and Marshall sped through the streets toward his apartment. The sky was dark now, matching Marshall’s own mood.

  Why did he have to mention her? Why did he have to bring her up? This had nothing to do with her.

  Marshall was still struggling to silence his memories as he pulled up to his apartment building and walked toward his door on the bottom floor. The complex was well groomed and taken care of on a weekly basis. It boasted a swimming pool and all the units were air-conditioned. Marshall had moved in almost two years ago. His promotion to being a full time reporter had come at the perfect time, just as he was graduating from college and looking for a place to live.

  George was barking as Marshall walked to his door, his deep beagle howl shattering the quiet night. George was a great dog and other than a handful of instances when he had cause too, never barked. Marshall quickened his pace, unlocked his door, and stepped inside.

  The apartment was dark except for the moonlight that came in the windows. George was barking like he had a vendetta. His growls were coming from the opposite side of the apartment, where a sliding glass door opened onto a small patio.

  “George?” Marshall called out as he flipped on lights on his way to see where his roommate was directing his anger. “George, what’s wrong?”

  Even before he saw George he felt his skin prickle. His hair stood up straight as he caught the first glimpse of his dog and the shadow outside.

  Chapter 4

  George’s hackles were raised as he stared out the sliding glass door. Outside was dark. The moon was partially hidden by clouds. Marshall squinted to get a better look at the shadow like thing that crouched on his patio. Marshall forced himself closer. It’s just your imagination—there’s nothing there. It’s the shadows. Calm down, don’t panic.

  Marshall stood next to George now. Blinking, he looked at the area in the corner of the patio where he had first seen the shadow, but there was nothing there. Marshall wasn’t much of a decorator, and all that stood on the small patio were George’s food, a water bowl, and a few dog toys.

  Still, Marshall could feel a presence, like he was being watched. Like someone or something was measuring him. He fought back the fear and instead squatted down and stroked George’s soft fur. “Hey, buddy, it’s okay. There’s nothing out there. It’s just you and me.”

  Marshall took a deep breath and switched on the patio light. The bulb sliced through the darkness, revealing an empty backyard. George stopped barking and Marshall unlocked the sliding door and both of them stepped into the cool night.

  George had stopped making noise, but ran around the patio like an animal possessed, nose pointed to the ground. Animal instinct had taken over and years of genetic perfection were put to good use as the beagle searched for a scent. He made sniffling sounds Marshall would have thought funny had the circumstances been different.

  Marshall released a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding as he turned. Nothing seemed out of place. There were no signs of disturbance and the feeling he had that someone was watching him was gone.

  You’re freaking yourself out. There was never anything here. George probably saw a mouse or maybe a possum.

  As he was about to go inside, Marshall stopped and looked closer at the corner of the patio where he thought he had seen the shadow. The ground in the corner had once been grass, but after multiple run ins with George, it had been dug and churned into soft, dark brown dirt. In the dirt was a shoe print that didn’t belong to Marshall.

  It was probably some kid that threw his ball over the fence. Even if it was a burglar, he wouldn’t get past George. He knows better now.

  Marshall walked over to the slider and the small built in doggy door he had put in for George. There were no signs of break-in and the doggy door was built for a beagle’s small body. There was no chance anyone could have gotten through. The idea of a killer midget entering through the small opening crossed Marshall’s mind for a split second before he dismissed the thought and looked over to make sure George was okay.

  Sure enough, the beagle was fine. He still patrolled the patio, wet nose to the ground. Marshall closed the sliding glass door, leaving the doggy door open for George. It was getting late and he wanted to make an early appearance at the Hermes tomorrow. He worked better in the morning and he didn’t mind getting there early to keep his mind clear of distractions.

  Marshall thought about calling the police, but besides a footprint and a shadow, he didn’t really have a lot to go on. Deciding against the idea, he opened his refrigerator. He knew he needed something to eat, even though he didn’t actually feel hungry. The inside of his refrigerator was almost completely bare. There was half a box of pizza from a few nights ago, random condiments like jelly, mustard, and hot sauce, and some milk that was quickly approaching its expiration date.

  Marshall grabbed a few slices of cold pizza and the hot sauce as panting and padding paws reached his ears. George was apparently over his excitement and was now sitting staring at Marshall and his pizza.

  Marshall glanced outside to make sure George still had food in his bowl. Sure enough, his black and red bowl with the words “Kujo” was still half full. “You’re not really hungry, are you? You just want my pizza.”

  George panted and his head moved like he was nodding in agreement. Marshall quickly polished off the two pieces but saved the crust for George. George grabbed the two pieces like they were gold and immediately took them over to his blanket in the family room, settled down, and began devouring his treats.

  Marshall walked past his roommate to his room. He undressed and jumped in the shower, thinking about what he now knew.

  There was no reason to doubt Joseph, and if he accepted what his friend had said as fact, it was clear someone was trying to cover up the real reason for the young girl’s death. Joseph had said she had been drained of her blood from slits across her wrists and ankles.

  It was like she had been bled dry, but why? Who would want to do that to her? Why did they want her blood? Marshall shut off the water and dried himself with a thick towel.

  It was clear the police weren’t going to do any more than announce the “official” cause of death. If anyone was going to find the truth, it had to be him. He decided that the next morning he would hit the pavement and visit the scene where Barbara had died. Maybe there would be something there that would provide another piece to the puzzle. Maybe someone had seen something.

  Marshall put on his pajamas and got in bed. It was a restless night. As soon as Marshall did fall asleep, however, he wished he hadn’t.

  Chapter 5

  He woke before his alarm clock. Sitting bolt upright in his bed, he tried to remember the nightmare that had plagued him all night long. It remained just out of reach. Marshall glanced at his alarm clock: it read six o’clock. The sun was just lighting the dark sky and Marshall decided to get up rather than try and fall back to sleep. From waking to sitting in his car took no more than thirty minutes.

  George sat beside him as the two pulled out into the chilly morning. Marshall had decided to first go to the police station to ensure that the case was, in fact, closed, and see if he could talk to the detective in charge of the case. The two roommates pulled up to the precinct. Marshall strapped on George’s black leather leash and they climbed the steps of the building. The precinct was a large gray building located in the center of downtown. You could tell efforts had been taken to make the place look inviting; there were flagpoles, statues, and a fountain in the front. But they had all failed—the building was still as intimidating as ever.


  Marshall opened the door and made his way through the halls to Lieutenant Tom Lloyd’s desk. He nodded and smiled at numerous officers he had come to know and respect during his time at the Hermes. Soon enough he caught sight of the burly middle-aged officer sitting at his desk, drinking coffee and glancing through the morning paper.

  Tom put down the paper and didn’t even bother to rise from his chair. “Marshall.”

  “Tom, you don’t look too happy to see me. Look, I even brought George today.” George wagged his tail and took a few steps over to the man, inviting a few pets.

  Tom managed a smile but didn’t reach out to play with George. “You’re here about the girl, aren’t you?”

  Marshall nodded.

  “I told you, Marshall. It’s been solved. Stay out of this one. She was hit by a car and dragged down the road. I have the official coroner’s report here on my desk. It was a hit and run, case closed. Look for yourself if you don’t believe me.” Tom handed a manila folder to Marshall.

  Marshall took the folder and thumbed through the report. Everything was just like both Joseph and the Lieutenant had said. The case was closed and the official coroner’s report said that Barbara Summers was killed by the impact of a vehicle.

  “You’re right, it’s all there.” Marshall handed the folder back to the Lieutenant. “Who was the detective in charge of the investigation? I mean, that has to be some kind of record, right? A case opened and closed in one day?”

  Tom gave him a disapproving look but finally admitted defeat. “Okay, I can tell you’re going to keep this up until you do your own personal examination, so I’ll tell you. Detective Lanner was given the assignment and closed the case.”

  Marshall’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. Detective John Lanner had been suspended from work for alcohol abuse and was widely known for his temper and unconventional means of upholding the law. “He’s back? I mean, from his leave?”

  Tom nodded.

  “Well, okay then, Tom. Thanks for the help.”

  “Marshall, are you sure you’re not doing this because this young girl was close in age to—”

  “No, Tom. I’m not. This has nothing to do with her.”

  The uncharacteristic edge in his voice made Tom close his mouth.

  Marshall turned from the Lieutenant’s desk, George at his heels. It was the second time in just as many days that people were bringing up her memory. He was reminded of the saying, “You can never escape your past.” Well, that might be true, but he could ignore it until he stopped remembering.

  Marshall stormed past desks and offices as he made his way to Detective Lanner’s office. The door was open and the big man sat behind his desk, hunched over a pile of paperwork. Marshall knocked on the door. Lanner looked up, gray piercing eyes locking onto Marshall. “What do you want?”

  “Can I come in? I have a few questions.”

  “What about?”

  Marshall took this as an invitation to walk into the office, although he still hadn’t officially been welcomed. “You were the lead detective on Barbara Summers’ death yesterday. You opened and closed the case in one day. Don’t you think that was a bit rash? I mean, how much investigative work could you have done in one day?”

  The large man eyed Marshall like he was an alien. Lanner was built like a linebacker, with blond hair he combed to the side and a nose that looked like it had been broken more than its fair share of times. “Not that I need to explain anything to you, but it was an easy case. The precinct tends to hand you those when you first get back to work from a forced leave of absence.”

  Marshall was shocked by the man’s blunt honesty. Lanner caught the look on Marshall’s face and grinned. “I have nothing to hide. I’m not trying to impress you or anyone else. The girl got hit by a car. Hit and runs are almost impossible to track if there are no witnesses. Case closed.”

  “And you’re sure she died of a hit and run?”

  “Yeah, that’s what the report said. I asked around and there were no witnesses to say different.”

  “You interviewed her friends and family?”

  Irritation became more apparent in the Detective’s voice. “Yes. You may be surprised to know that I do understand how to do my job. She had no family, and no one that wanted to cause her harm.”

  The men were both interrupted by George’s loud sniffing around the office as he made the best out of the length of leash he was given. Lanner was the first to snap back. “Is that all? I have a lot to do. You can imagine being away for alcohol abuse has put my career behind a few years.”

  Marshall knew he wasn’t going to get anymore out of the Detective. It seemed like Lanner was content with the job he’d done and there was no pushing the man into reopening the case. “Yes, thank you.”

  Lanner went back to work without a good-bye as Marshall and George left the room. “Well, that was absolutely no help,” he whispered to George.

  The two made their way back through the precinct and to the car. Marshall knew the exact location of the canyon Barbara’s body had been found in from the pictures he had seen on the news. He turned his car away from the Hermes and headed toward Wakan Canyon.

  Chapter 6

  Marshall rolled down the window for George and his beagle ears flapped in the wind. Morning traffic was at its peak, and once again Marshall found himself forced to sit in traffic and endure California’s renowned bad drivers. The cream of the crop was an elderly man who could barely see above the steering wheel and a diva applying generous amounts of makeup as she changed lanes and chatted on the phone with one hand. When they finally did reach the canyon, Marshall drove his car along the curvy one lane road and searched for the area where Barbara’s body had been found.

  The road was uneven and Marshall had to wonder what Barbara was doing walking a road like this at any hour, let alone at night. Every house they passed was run down, and most of them were fenced or gated off with Beware of Dog signs and trespassing warnings.

  Marshall had grown up in the area, so he was no stranger to the canyon, but he had never given it a second glance while passing through. He had never really noticed the unkempt lawns, the bar-like gates in front of almost every house, or the general foreboding feeling that pervaded the area. Marshall passed a few cars as the morning traffic died down and came to a stop near the curve in the road where Barbara’s body had first been discovered.

  The canyon was located on the outskirts of the county. The road was beaten, and besides the few houses that were found on either side of the street, dispersed seemingly at will, there was nothing to see. The road served to connect two cities, but was more of a local short cut than a well traveled highway. It spanned three miles, with side roads leading off deeper into the canyon every so often. At night it was poorly lit by a few wooden, outdated streetlights.

  He put the car in park, and with a second thought, decided to bring George along. The beagle happily leaped at the opportunity and his short paws padded beside Marshall as the two made their way along the shoulder of the road.

  The pavement was dark gray and cracked, the shoulders of the road made out of hard packed dirt. The exact area where the body had been found was almost located dead center in the canyon. Marshall was certain he had found the right spot when dark black spatterings on the gravel road met his eyes. The spots were undoubtedly patches of dried blood.

  George tugged at his leash as he sniffed the ground, pulling Marshall nearer to the death scene. Marshall kept him back, well clear of the road and dried patches of blood. Marshall shielded his eyes with his free hand as he looked up and down the lonely street. There were no houses nearby, just dirt and rough looking shrubbery. Marshall walked up and down his side of the road, then crossed it and walked up and down the opposite end.

  What would have caused a young girl to be out here by herself in the middle of the night? Had her car broken down? No, there was no mention of that in the report.

  Besides the dry patches of blood, there was nothing
to go on. No paths in the underbrush, no footprints or clues that Marshall could see. Nothing. The only option he had left was to see if anyone in the area had noticed anything peculiar that night. Maybe someone had seen something out of the ordinary. Even if Detective Lanner had questioned the residents like he said, maybe someone would tell Marshall something they were too afraid to tell the police.

  There were only four houses that stood remotely close to the area… three further up the road and one near where he had parked his car. Marshall decided to try the three that stood together first.

  The closest house was anything but inviting, with tall weeds and an almost non-existent paint job. Marshall gently knocked on the door. There was no response. He rang the doorbell and waited. Nothing. Just as he was about to turn and walk away, the door handle turned and clicked. An old woman looked at him from behind a mess of dark gray and black hair. The hair fell down almost like a curtain, hiding most of the woman’s face.

  Marshall fought to regain his composure as George let out a low growl deep in his chest. “Oh, hello. My name is Marshall. I’m with the local town newspaper, the Hermes.” Marshall extended a hand but the woman just looked at it as though she had never shaken hands before.

  Marshall drew back his extended palm as the old women opened her toothless mouth. “What is it that you want? You know I have No Trespassing signs on my fence.”

  “Oh, right. I just had a few questions about the young girl that was found dead yesterday mor—”

  The old woman shut the door in his face before he could even finish the word. Marshall frowned. Apparently he had struck some kind of chord. The woman had to know something to react in such a rude manner. He knocked on the door again and again but the woman wouldn’t answer. After what felt like an eternity, he looked at George. “Well, that’s 0 for 1, buddy. Let’s hit the next house.”

  But the next dilapidated building was no better than the first. If it was possible, this house looked in even worse condition than the one before. The house was leaning to one side like it would buckle in on itself at any moment. No one came to the door despite the numerous knocks and doorbell rings. George was backing away from the door and pulling on his leash in the direction away from the house.