The Black Knight Chronicles (Book 4): Paint it Black

by John G. Hartness

  “That’s vigilante justice!”

  “And some days that’s the only kind of justice there is. Look, Sabrina, that little spider in his web of dreams went into the heads of who knows how many humans and stole their dreams. Then he sold those dreams to other magicians to be used in God-knows-what. And when he stole all the dreams they could ever have, he sold them off to be cooked into stew by goblins! How do you think you’re going to explain that to a judge so the bench will understand just how heinous trafficking in raw materials is? Would anyone believe us? Can we even tie our guy to the disappearance with only the word of very shaken victims? You think they’ll hold up to a cross? You think they’ll sleep nights ever again if our guy is still alive?”

  Memories came flooding back to me as I talked to her: hanging there waiting for Abdullah to cut off more bits of me to throw in the pot, listening to Greg screaming as the sadistic little goblin worked on him, the look in Elizabeth’s eyes when she woke up in the Dream King’s tent, the bookcase full of heads in the back of that tent—no books anywhere—just shelf after shelf of heads magically preserved to look almost alive, except for the look of horror on the faces and the missing eyes.

  I put my hands on Sabrina’s shoulders and looked her in the eyes. We both knew I couldn’t mojo her, so it was just to make a point. “Sabrina, this guy is giving people to monsters. That makes him a monster. And we don’t try monsters in a court of law. We kill them. This time the monster happens to be human, but only on the outside. On the inside, this bastard is as evil as any demon, ghoul, or beast that we’ve ever faced. And we have to put him down, once and for all.” I looked her in the eye again, trying to see some hint of agreement.

  “You with me?” I asked.

  “I don’t know yet. But I’m not going to say no. That’s as good as you get right now.”

  “I can live with that. Now let’s get these people home. Their ride’s here.”

  Sabrina began to move, then looked back at me.

  “I know, you can’t hear anything yet. You will.” A few seconds later the sound of gravel grew louder, and Sabrina shook her head at me.

  I went back to where the traumatized couple was sitting on our sofa. “The police are here to take you to the station for some questions, then home. Sabrina’s right that you shouldn’t have anything to worry about, but I’m sending Abby with you just in case.”

  “Why me?” Abby protested. “I wanted to help kill the bad guy!”

  “I know you did, but it’s his fault that goblins ate parts of me and Greg, so we get dibs. Sorry.” She thought about that for a second, then nodded. “I promise to bring you a present if he’s got anything good lying around.”

  “Oooh, that’s good. Remember, I want a puppy!”

  “Not on your life, chicklet.” I hugged her and whispered in her ear, “Keep sharp. If this asshat makes an appearance, don’t screw around with him. Put two in his face and then decapitate him.”

  “But he’s human, right?” she whispered back to me.

  “Who know what kind of upgrades he got from the Dream King. Don’t take any chances.”

  “Deal.” Abby led the couple up the stairs, and in a few seconds I heard feet coming down.

  Sabrina came over to me and said, “I’ve got to go with them to the station. Even with McDaniel running blocker for this, I’m going to have to do some fancy footwork to keep the feds off your back.”

  “Give me until the morning, and then they can come in guns blazing. If we can’t settle this thing by then, we’ve got bigger problems.”

  “Where are you going? Do we know where this guy lives?”

  “Not yet, but we’ll find him. Track Greg’s cell if you need to find us.”

  “Why his cell?”

  “Because I broke mine again.”

  We stood there, looking at each other for what felt like a year. Finally I said it. “You know I’d never hurt you, right?”

  “I know.” She didn’t quite look in my eyes as she said it.

  “Sabrina, I don’t know where we’re going, but I just want you to know . . .”

  “I know.” This time she looked in my eyes, and what I saw there was a mirror for what I felt—a little scared, a lot worried about the future, but either crazy in love or damn close to it.

  “Okay. Well, let’s talk after this is all settled. Figure some stuff out,” I said.

  “I can live with that.” She took a step, then turned around and threw her arms around my neck. Our lips met, and it was better than the first time I tasted blood after being turned. It was even better than drinking faerie blood, and that stuff is amazing. I felt her warmth flow into me all the way to my toes, and as she stood there wrapping her arms around me, I almost felt alive again. After our little scene in Milandra’s palace, my head was all in knots about Sabrina, but the rest of me knew exactly how I felt about her. And apparently, with that kiss, a few parts of her were still into me, too.

  Sabrina pulled back and looked me in the eye. “Don’t get dead. I need you in one piece.”

  “I’m already dead, but I’ll try to not get any deader.”

  “I’d appreciate it.” Then she leaned in and gave me another quick kiss, just a brief meeting of our lips, but the tingle it sent down my everything was intense. I watched her walk to the stairs, then she stopped and turned back to look at Greg.

  “If anything happens to him, I’m putting a stake somewhere the sun doesn’t shine, Knightwood.” Then she turned and walked up the stairs.

  Greg looked over at me and said, “Dude, I’m a little scared of your girlfriend.”

  I looked back at him and said, “Dude, sometimes I’m a little scared of my girlfriend, and I’m pretty sure she likes me. No telling what she’d do to you.”

  Then there were male footsteps on the stairs, and I snapped to attention. I wasn’t expecting anyone to come back in, so Officer Nester found himself with a Glock leveled at his face when he stepped into the room.

  “What are you doing here, Officer?” I asked without moving the pistol.

  “I brought Detective Law’s car keys. And I’m here to help finish things.”

  “I don’t remember asking for your help.”

  “You didn’t, but I can be useful. And I haven’t spilled the beans on you guys so far, have I?”

  “Spilled the beans? Who says that? What are you, Officer Howdy Doody?” I asked, looking at the kid.

  “I’ll be Officer Fozzie the Bear if I need to, but let me help. This is why I became a cop, this is what I’ve dedicated my whole life to doing.” He looked so sincere I couldn’t help it. I put my arm around his shoulders and walked him over to the sofa.

  I sat down next to him and said, “Look, kid. I know this is important to you. But you’ve got too much tied up in this thing, which is why I can’t have you around. When people are too close to a situation, they miss things. And with the kind of fights we get into, if you miss something, there’s a good chance you’re going to end up dead. Or worse. And trust me, I’ve seen what ‘or worse’ looks like.”

  He sat there for a minute, then looked at me, eyes cold. “Is it worse than lying awake every night listening to your mother cry because her baby girl’s gone missing and she doesn’t know what happened to her? Is it worse than watching your father drink himself to death while you’re still in high school because his wife cries every time the phone rings? Is it worse than dedicating twenty years of your life to something, only to be told that you can’t take the last two steps to get there because it might be too dangerous? If you can tell me how anything is worse than that, I’ll go home.”

  I couldn’t. He had me, and he knew it. I’m a sucker for the whole unfulfilled destiny thing, and it sounded like his sister had it in spades. I was just about to open my mouth and tell him that he could ride along when Greg spoke up.

  “Officer, was your sister with anyone when she was abducted?” Greg asked from his computer command center.

  “Yes. She was with her be
st friend from school, Jenny. They were going to the mall to try on shoes. At least that’s what they’d told our parents. I don’t know if they were meeting people, or what. But they left school and were never seen at the mall. Jenny’s car was found at school that night when they didn’t make it home.”

  “It checks out, Jimmy. I’ve got a Lisa Nester and a Jenny Grant among the list of missing persons taken in 1991. There were sixteen abducted between South Meck High School and SouthPark Mall.”

  “Pretty swanky part of town for kids to go missing,” I mused. “Why don’t I remember anything about it on the news?”

  “Jimmy, we were seniors in high school. All we were thinking about was graduating, moving out, going to Myrtle Beach that summer—”

  “And all the parties we’d be going to at Clemson that fall. Yeah, that makes sense. All right, Nester, you can come along. But I hope to hell you brought a change of clothes. We are not riding around town with Deputy Dawg in the backseat.”

  “I figured. I’ll get changed.” He ran up the stairs, and I heard the front door slam. A few seconds later he was back, clumping toward the bathroom to get changed.

  “So . . . are we good?” I asked.

  Greg didn’t turn around. He didn’t say anything for a long time, but finally he sighed and said, “Yeah, we’re good. It’s just been a lot, you know? Seeing my sister again after all these years, getting pieces of myself chewed on by goblins, drinking faeries to heal, watching you and Sabrina do whatever it is you’re doing, Abby . . .”

  “You know I’d take it back if I could, right?”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s just . . .”

  “A lot. Yeah, I know.” I walked over to where Greg’s enormous monitor hung on the wall. He had a map of Charlotte displayed there with dots of different colors blinking all over the town. “Okay, Boy Wonder, feel free to explain how we’re going to narrow our search from the entire Charlotte metro area and find this jerkoff before he takes someone else.”

  “Or kills someone he’s already taken,” Greg added. “I’ve done a geographic profile of his victims. You can look at the map and see that they were all taken from high-traffic areas in a couple of sections of town. It seems like his preferred hunting grounds are the SouthPark and Cotswold areas. He’s taken several victims from the parking deck at SouthPark, but never more than one set per abduction period.”

  “And since that’s where he took the Carmichaels from, he probably won’t go back there this soon.”

  “Exactly. If I add the sequence in which he hit each area into the profile, you’ll find that he took his first victim near the Cotswold shopping center, then the next pair in the SouthPark garage, then his third and final set each time came from a movie theatre.”

  “But they closed the movie theatre at SouthPark.”

  “Yes, but they opened the new one at Phillips Place,” Greg replied.

  “Which is less than a mile from SouthPark Mall,” I said.

  “Still well within the kidnapper’s comfort zone.”

  “Do you think that he’ll be more nervous since he’s taking someone from a new place?” Officer Nester asked from the stairs.

  Greg swiveled around in his chair to face the young cop. “I don’t know if he’ll be more nervous, but I definitely think he’ll have spent some time scouting the area. We should show the sketch to the kids at the ticket window, and ask them if they’ve seen a white van with no windows cruising the parking lot recently.”

  “Yeah, because there aren’t a lot of blue-collar types hanging out at Phillips Place,” I agreed. “Let’s roll, kids.”

  Chapter 25

  IT TOOK US BETTER than half an hour to get across town from our place in the university area north of town to Phillips Place, down by SouthPark. Phillips Place is one of those sparkling new “mixed-use” developments, which means that when they get home from their soul-sucking job at the bank, the yuppies don’t have to leave the neighborhood to do anything they want. Condos are sprinkled around high-end retail shops, and shiny grocery stores offer the latest organic whatever in the windows. The limited parking is heavily populated with Mercedes and Beamers, and in the middle of the day you could sit for hours and watch the trophy wives walk by with their trophy dogs in tow.

  Fortunately for Greg and I, it wasn’t the middle of the day, but the sun had just set and the place was jam-packed with people. We stood out a little in our work clothes of long coats, ass-kicking boots, and sunglasses, but I was used to getting weird looks from people. Officer Nester didn’t seem bothered by it either, but then I remembered that he was used to getting stared at because of his badge. We took a couple laps around the parking lot looking for both a place to put Greg’s newest acquisition—a candy-apple red 1973 El Camino SS with a 454 V8 and Hydra-Matic tranny. The damn thing sounded like a thunderstorm on wheels, but it would move like a bat out of hell. Of course, fitting three dudes in the front seat of an El Camino took almost all the cool out of the car, but I made Nester ride bitch, so we survived.

  We didn’t spot a white panel van in the parking deck, so we took copies of the sketch and split up to check out the different businesses. If anyone had been loitering around looking anything but rich and snobby, someone would have noticed. Greg checked out the movie theatre, while I headed to Dean & DeLuca. The upscale market and coffee shop had a wine bar attached, so I started there. I flagged down a cocktail waitress with a nametag that read “Cindy” and showed her the sketch.

  “Cindy, I’m a private investigator working with the police on a string of kidnappings. We think this man might be looking for his next victims in this area. Have you seen him?”

  She took a step or two back and shook her head. “No, I haven’t seen him. What does he drive, maybe I’ve seen his car?”

  “He drives a white van with no windows and a ladder rack on top. Have you seen anything like that?”

  “I’m sorry, but they’ve been doing construction over at the hotel, so there are a lot of those kinds of vans driving through here lately. Wish I could help!” She backed away hurriedly and dashed back inside. I went back to the car in time to see Greg leaving the theatre.

  “Anything?” I asked.

  “Nothing. One—the quality of movie theatre employee has gone to shit since I ran the candy counter.”

  “You mean two decades ago?”

  “Yes, but that’s beside the point. Two—these little morons couldn’t be pried away from texting, Facebooking, or Angry Birds long enough to know if they’d sold a ticket to Freddy, Jason, and the thing from Predator!”

  “Well, then I guess it’s good you brought me along, isn’t it?” Nester asked, walking up with a huge grin.

  “Spill it, Little Boy Blue,” I growled.

  He didn’t stop grinning. “After you guys took the good spots, I looked around and saw the women at the salon standing out front having a smoke break and gabbing. I walked up to them and asked if they’d been busy lately. After listening to them bitch about having no business for the past week, I showed them the sketch.”

  “And?” Greg asked.

  “Nothing. But when I asked about a van, they remembered seeing one parked right in front of Via Veneto for three days this week. One girl thought it was strange, because they never let service vehicles park out front, so she wrote down the plate number.”

  “Tell me you got it,” I said, barely letting myself hope he’d actually pulled it off.

  “Not only did I get it, but I’ve already called in, run a check on it, and gotten the address. It’s on Red Fox Lane, off Sharon Amity.”

  “Right between here and Cotswold Mall,” Greg added.

  “We can be there in less than ten minutes,” Nester said, but I already had the door open for him to slide into the car. “Come on, I found the address. I still gotta ride in the middle?”

  “Until you’ve been dead at least a decade, you’re still low man on the totem pole,” I replied, bowing to the door. “Your chariot awaits.”

 
; RED FOX LANE was a quiet city street. Nice houses, clean lawns, moderately expensive cars, but nothing too flashy floating around. There was nothing about the neighborhood that screamed, “Serial Kidnapper Living Here.” Which was probably what made the place appealing to a serial kidnapper. We found the house quickly enough, then parked the El Camino a couple blocks away. My ride had serious badass capacity, but the car was for shit on stealthy approaches. Some things you just can’t do with a 454 Big Block, and sneak up on somebody was one of those things.

  I took point, with Nester behind me and Greg as rear guard. The problem wasn’t that I trusted Nester less; I put Greg at the back of the pack so that when the inevitable happened and he tripped over something, no one would trip over him. I just hoped that he got the whole falling down thing out of the way quickly, before we were close enough for the suspect to hear us swearing.

  Nester filled us in on the suspect on the way over. Richard Asa was a retired electrician, which explained the van. He was an oddity in Charlotte these days, a native Charlottean. Never married, no relatives that Nester could find a record of, no church affiliation, no social groups, nothing. Basically, he was a hermit these days. His house was a standard ranch three-bedroom affair, but we were more interested in the shed he’d built back in the late eighties. Set almost a hundred yards back from the house in a neighborhood where most of the lots aren’t anywhere near that long, tax records showed an outbuilding of six hundred square feet. If he had anybody tucked away, that’s where they’d be. Or at least where they’d been.

  Starting our search with the shed had the added bonus of avoiding our little threshold problem. Storage buildings weren’t an issue for us, but we had to be invited into homes or permanent dwellings. If Asa was in the house, either Nester was going to have to take him down alone or we’d have to wrangle an invitation. And with us in full tactical gear, I didn’t see an invitation forthcoming.