Polar Day
Ink Smith Publishing
www.ink-smith.com
Polar Day
By Julie Flanders
Copyright 2014 by Julie Flanders
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The final approval for this literary material is granted by the author.
eBook Edition U.S.A, 2014
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-939156-64-8
Ink Smith Publishing
710 S. Myrtle Ave Suite 209
Monrovia, CA 91016
www.inksmith.com
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 1
Fairbanks, Alaska
May 23, 2013
Max Fugate jogged down Wendell Avenue and took a right into Griffin Park, passing under the moose antler arch at the entrance. He made a quick right again and increased his speed as he ran along the park’s paved jogging trail. A light breeze played through his thinning black hair, and he could hear the “kaanc kanc” calls of the Mallard ducks that came to Fairbanks every spring and stayed throughout the summer. He could hardly blame them. Even now, when Fairbanks was experiencing a record-breaking heat wave, the likes of which Max had never seen, there was nothing like Alaska in the summer.
Streetlights lined the park trail, but there was no need for them during the summer season. Despite the fact that he had lived in Alaska all his life, Max never tired of watching the sun just start to set as he enjoyed his late night runs. Knowing that it would rise again in just a few short hours was magical to him. He could never understand why some Alaskans complained about the long summer days. He never wanted them to end. The only complaint he had about the summer was the annual infestation of mosquitoes. But even they weren’t bothering him now. He still had a few weeks left to enjoy the peaceful and glorious weather before the winged pests reached their noisy peak in June and July.
He smiled as he passed a pole with a sign advertising next month's Midnight Sun baseball game at Growden Memorial Park. The game had been a summer solstice tradition since the early 1900s, and Max hadn’t missed a year since he was thirteen and the flu had forced him to stay home. This year, the Alaska Goldpanners would be taking on the Chugiak Chinooks and the game would begin at its normal time of 10:35 PM. To Max’s knowledge, the game had never needed to be postponed or delayed because of darkness. The sun always stuck around until the last out was in the books.
Max hoped he could talk Kris into going to the game with him this year. If they were going to make it as a couple, they had to find some common interests. If Kris didn’t like baseball, Max was fairly certain the relationship would come to an end. There was only so much he could let slide.
He slowed to a jog and pricked his ears at an unfamiliar noise behind him. Or was it in front of him? Was it footsteps? It wasn’t unusual to find another runner savoring the beautiful May weather in the park. But it didn't sound like footsteps. Max glanced around him but couldn't identify the sound.
He felt an odd sensation and increased his speed back up to a run. While he didn't know what he had heard, he could say with certainty that he didn't like the feeling it gave him. Slowing his pace again, Max turned around and jogged backwards as he looked for the source of the noise. He saw nothing. There was no one behind him but, as he turned back to face the front, he saw a man ahead of him on the trail. Wearing a Seattle Mariners baseball hat over strands of dark brown hair, the man stood still and stared directly at Max. He looked familiar, like someone Max had seen at the hospital.
“Do I know you?” Max asked.
The man vanished without giving an answer.
Max closed his eyes briefly and focused on steadying his breathing. Was he seeing things? When he opened his eyes again, the man was nowhere to be seen. How could a person disappear that quickly? Max shook his head and scoffed at himself, knowing he was being foolish. There hadn't been anyone ahead of him on the trail. The setting sun had obviously played a trick on his eyes. Max forced himself to ignore the question that niggled at him as he continued to run. If he had merely imagined the man in front of him, how, and for that manner why, had he managed to see the Mariners' logo so clearly?
Max came to a startled halt as he ran straight into something that blocked his way on the trail. But there was nothing in front of him. Breathing heavily, he raised his hand out in front of him and felt a solid mass directly in his path. It felt like a man's chest....
“What's going on?” Max said, trying to keep the rising fear out of his voice. “Is this someone's idea of a prank?”
Max looked to his left and right as the skin on the back of his neck stood on end. He saw no one.
“Who's...”
Max couldn't finish his question before an unseen hand gripped his throat and began to squeeze. He gasped for air as he brought his hands to his throat and clawed at nothing. He heard a chuckle as the fingers around his throat tightened and threatened to crush his windpipe.
As suddenly as the invisible terror had grabbed him, it eased the pressure on this throat and pushed him into the grass alongside the trail. Max coughed and gulped in air as he tried to get his bearings. He screamed for help, praying someone was around to hear him.
No one was. And even if they had been, no one could have made it to Max in time.
Before he could stand up, Max felt a prickly sensation on his arms as a wave of intense heat washed over him. At the same time, he heard the voice of a man chanting in a foreign language. His nose twitched as his nostrils picked up the scent of fire. Was something burning in the park? Still clutching his throat, Max glanced around but saw no signs of smoke. The wind rustled through the trees but Max could not feel its cooling breeze. He could feel nothing but heat. And he still heard the strange and unintel
ligible chanting.
Max struggled to stand but froze in place as he noticed tendrils of smoke rising from his arms. He once again heard the chuckle of his unseen assailant before catching another glimpse of dark hair underneath a Mariners hat.
Max yelled for help and heard his own voice echoing around the empty park. Wisps of smoke emerged from his legs and a spark ignited into flame on his arm. He collapsed back on the ground as something in his brain remembered the fire instructions he had received as a child during fire safety week at school. Stop, drop and roll.
Max rolled in the grass but the flames continued to erupt on his body. He screamed in terror as his legs and feet burst into flames. He brought burning hands to his chest and tried to rip off his burning t-shirt, but the flames merely jumped to his face and head.
Within seconds, the sounds of the fire had engulfed Max's screams. While his body burned, sparks from the flames leapt into the darkening sky. The fire burned a circle in the grass around Max's body. The last thing Max ever saw was the figure of a dark haired man standing over him, watching him burn.
Five minutes later, the fire collapsed into itself and dissolved into smoldering embers in the parched dirt. Nothing remained of Max Fugate but a charred and grotesque husk of a human body.
****
Chapter 2
Jamie closed the door of his apartment behind him and caught his breath as he leaned against it. He struggled to contain his excitement over the successful execution of his plan; of his dream. He had done it. And it was all just the beginning.
He knew he had made the right decision in kicking off his plan on the sacred day of May 23. It had made the whole experience even more exhilarating. That exhilaration hadn't lessened now that he was home, as he could still smell the delicious scent of fire and the aroma of burning flesh in his nostrils. It was more intoxicating than any drug could ever be.
Walking to his bedroom, he took off his Mariners cap and set it on top of his faux wood dresser. He knew that he had not succeeded 100 percent and that his victim had caught glimpses of him prior to his triumph, but what concern was that now? It wasn't as if the man was around to identify him. And he had made certain that no one else was on the jogging trail. No one alive had seen him, he was sure of it.
After his precious flames had burned his victim to little more than a skeleton, Jamie had quickly hidden the charred remains in the brush among the trees that lined the jogging trail, covering the corpse with as many branches and leaves as he could find. He didn’t want his first victim discovered just yet. The discovery would have much more impact later in the summer.
He smiled now as he sat down on his bed and kicked off his shoes. His breathing had finally returned to normal and he was able to review the night's events with an objective eye. No, he hadn't been perfect, but that was to be expected. He was still learning and growing stronger. No opening night is without glitches. But he had performed well enough to know his show was going to last quite a while.
Jamie headed towards his bathroom and prepared to take a shower. He hated to wash the smell of the smoke and flames off of him but it had to be done. He would be at work in just a few short hours for the start of another day.
He glanced out his window and watched the sun finally drop beneath the horizon. It was 11:40 PM and the day had ended. What a glorious day it had been.
****
Chapter 3
June 21, 2013
“Can you stop thinking about work for one minute?” Tessa Washington took a sip of her Coke and pushed her sunglasses up on her nose. “We’re here to watch the game,” she said.
“How do you know I’m thinking about work?” Danny Fitzpatrick asked.
“Because it’s obvious. I asked you if you wanted me to get you a Frito pie at the concession stand and you didn’t even respond. Then I noticed Sox was pawing at your leg and you ignored him. I know perfectly well you’re going over our case in your head.”
Danny glanced down at his dog, a medium-sized black mutt with the face of a spaniel and the body of a poodle. “You need something, Sox?” he asked. The dog responded by thumping his tail on the grass.
“Sox is fine,” he said, returning his attention to Tessa. “But God knows I don’t want to miss out on the Frito pie.”
Danny leaned forward in his lawn chair and grabbed his wallet out of the back pocket of his khaki shorts. He took a ten-dollar bill out and held it up to Tessa, a petite African-American woman with a pile of dark brown braids on her head. Dressed to the nines as always, Tessa managed to look stylish whether she was working, going out on the town or sitting on a lawn chair at a baseball game. Tonight she wore a white sheath dress with matching gladiator sandals and a pair of oversized sunglasses.
“I’ll pay since you’re sparing me the torture of standing in line over there,” Danny said, gesturing to the group of children and adults gathered around the stand. “Will this cover it?”
Tessa nodded and grabbed the bill as she stood up from her chair. “Do you want a beer too?”
Danny shook his head. “No, just a Coke.”
Danny had cut back on his drinking in the past few months, but he couldn't deny there were still plenty of days when all he wanted to do after work was go home and drink himself into a stupor. The responsibility of caring for his dog was often the only thing that stopped him. He reached down and scratched Sox’s ears as Tessa walked off towards the stand. “I wasn’t ignoring you, buddy. What’s up?”
Sox licked his hand and rolled onto his back, offering his stomach for Danny to rub.
“I should have guessed it was a belly rub you wanted. What else?”
The dog wiggled in the grass and continued to thump his tail on the ground as Danny scratched his belly.
“I wonder if they sell any dog treats here,” Danny mused. “I should have told Tessa to get you something. Maybe a hot dog.”
Danny was a tall and thin man, with large brown eyes and a mop of matching hair that was in a constantly unkempt state regardless of how often he combed it. In the past year he had taken to wearing a perpetual layer of stubble on his pale face, something he had decided gave him a sophisticated air of masculinity. It was also very convenient since he had hated to shave ever since he hit puberty. Danny had a long nose and wore the strain of his job and the grief of his past on his face, giving him a drawn and melancholy expression. He was a loner who preferred the company of his dog to that of most people.
Danny looked around Growden Memorial Park and had to remind himself that it was already 10:15 at night. The sun remained high in the cloudless blue sky as players for the Alaska Goldpanners and the Chugiak Chinooks prepared for the upcoming game. The temperature was a scorching 85 degrees, as Fairbanks was experiencing a record heat wave that showed no signs of letting up with the arrival of the official summer season.
Tessa had talked Danny into coming with her to this year’s Midnight Sun Baseball Game, a tradition he had heard about ever since moving to Fairbanks. The first pitch would be thrown out in just about 20 minutes and, according to the experts, the sun would set and rise again before the game was over. The game had never required any artificial lighting, as the twilight provided enough light even during the brief time that the sunset.
Danny had completely ignored everything about the game and the Goldpanners, Fairbanks’ semi-professional team, last summer, which had been his first in Alaska. When he’d impulsively moved to Fairbanks from his hometown of Chicago following the murder of his wife, Caroline, Danny had made every effort to ignore anything and everything that could bring him some element of joy. Everything, except alcohol at least.
Baseball had been one of those things he'd ignored. He’d loved the game for as long as he could remember and had been a White Sox fan since childhood. While Caroline had been a Cubs fan, she’d still reluctantly agreed to celebrate the Sox’s 2005 World Series win with him, a win he’d never expected he’d see and which could still make him smile.
Fairbanks, and, fo
r that matter, the state of Alaska, didn’t have any major league sports to call their own. But residents embraced the Goldpanners, a member of the Western Semi-Pro Baseball Association, and regularly filled the stands of Growden Park to cheer them on during the all-too brief Alaskan summer.
Tessa Washington was his closest friend in Fairbanks and now also his partner since he’d left cold cases behind and joined her in homicide following the retirement of her former partner the previous month. Danny had spent most of his adult life as a homicide detective in Chicago but after Caroline's death he swore he'd never work homicide again. He'd changed his mind after growing weary of sifting through cold cases, the majority of which he knew would never be solved and when he had the chance to partner with Tessa. He respected her as a cop as much as he liked her as a person.
Tessa was a baseball fanatic like him and her enthusiasm for the Goldpanners had gradually worn off on Danny. They’d never replace the White Sox for him, but they were fun to watch and provided a great way to enjoy the long summer days and the warm weather that never lasted long enough in Alaska. As long as he remembered to use enough DEET to keep the mosquitoes at bay. Danny had dealt with plenty of mosquitoes in Chicago but he’d never seen anything like the swarms of insects that invaded Fairbanks every summer. He’d been told that Alaska’s mosquitoes were legendary and it wasn’t hard to understand why.
But while he’d grudgingly become a fan of the Goldpanners and even bought an official team t-shirt sporting their customary red and gold colors, he still remembered his beloved White Sox every time he called his dog by name. When he’d adopted the dog from the local animal shelter back in April, he’d known immediately what he’d wanted to call him. While he’d briefly considered Comiskey, after the legendary park where the White Sox had played for most of his life, both Tessa and his on-again, off-again girlfriend Amanda had convinced him of the foolishness of that choice. It hadn’t taken much convincing, and he’d named Sox before he and the dog had returned home to Danny’s apartment after leaving the shelter.
Polar (Book 2): Polar Day Page 1
