Angel in the Shadows (Jaxon Malone)

by Mary May

  Sloan turned her around until she was facing him again. Tipping her chin up with a finger, he spoke in a firm voice. “Don’t ever apologize for caring, Jaxon. Not ever. Not to me or anyone else. What this world needs is more people to care like you do.”

  Giving him a watery smile, Jaxon sniffled and wiped her eyes. “Thanks, but if you tell anyone that you saw me cry, I will lie through my teeth after I kick your kneecaps.”

  Ruffling her mop of dark curls, Sloan laughed. “Your secret is safe with me. No one would believe me anyway.”

  “Mrs. Wallace? My name is Detective Malone and this is my partner Detective Sloan. Can we speak to you privately, please?” No matter how many times, she could never get past seeing the faces of the parents go from unsuspecting to horror in the blink of an eye. Noah Wallace’s mother was no different. She opened her door with a friendly smile that went from concerned at hearing their names and titles to being white with fear. Looking back at Sloan briefly for much-needed moral support, Jaxon followed Mrs. Wallace into a sitting area filled with overstuffed couches and chairs placed in front of a wide-screened television. Family pictures on the walls showed Noah and who Jaxon guessed were his siblings in various poses. They all looked like happy, well-adjusted kids.

  So, what made Noah decide to do something so foolish as trying Hell Hash? Jaxon wondered.

  “Would you like some tea or coffee, Detectives? It would only take a moment.”

  Jaxon started to shake her head no, but Sloan spoke up and said that coffee would be much appreciated. Once Mrs. Wallace had left the room to go make the coffee, she looked at Sloan questioningly.

  “She knows we are going to tell her something bad. This will give her a moment to gather her strength.”

  “Oh. I didn’t think of that,” Jaxon murmured.

  All too soon Mrs. Wallace returned, carrying a tray with three china cups and a pretty china coffee urn. “Here we are. Now do you take sugar or cream in your coffee?” The tremble of her hand gave away the fact that she knew this wasn’t a social call.

  “I take mine black and just add enough cream and sugar to Detective Malone’s to make a pie, ma’am,” Sloan said with a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Once they were all seated and sipping their coffee, Jaxon knew it was time to deliver the news of her son. She looked once more to the picture of Noah hugging a large black Labrador retriever. His mother noticed the direction of her gaze.

  “That’s my son Noah and his therapy dog Higgins.”

  Jaxon looked over to Sloan who was clearly thinking the same thing she was. Where was the dog now?

  “Therapy dog?” Jaxon questioned.

  “Yes, Noah is autistic. He becomes extremely nervous around strangers and in crowds. Higgins helps him to stay calm. I’m expecting Noah back soon. He goes to tutoring every afternoon. I homeschool him for the most part, but he is taking some computer classes. Computers are one thing that I know nothing about.”

  “What time does he leave for his tutoring classes?” Sloan asked her.

  “Oh, usually not until noon or so, but today he left around eleven thirty. He said he wanted to get some snacks from the store down the street.” She gave them a smile. “I think he has a little crush on Monica; that’s his tutor’s daughter.”

  Sloan gave Jaxon a small nod. It was time. Placing her coffee cup on the table, Jaxon took a deep breath.

  “Mrs. Wallace, that is the reason why we are here today. Noah was found in the park. It appears he had a drug overdose. I’m sorry, but he didn’t make it,” she finished in a rush.

  Noah’s mother sat in silence, blinking rapidly, clearly in shock. “I’m sorry, but what you’re saying doesn’t make any sense! Noah is at his tutoring lesson that’s over on West and Main. That’s miles away from the park. Besides, he would never do any kind of drugs. Don’t you understand? That would involve him speaking to strangers…he doesn’t do that. There has to be a mistake.”

  Sloan reached in his pocket and pulled out Noah’s wallet, handing it to his mother. “Mrs. Wallace, we will need you to come down and identify the body, but there wasn’t a mistake. We found Noah’s wallet still in his backpack. That’s how we found your address.”

  Jaxon felt her heart breaking as Mrs. Wallace held her son’s wallet, running her fingers softly over the worn leather as if she were touching him. “Can we call someone for you? Perhaps your husband?” she offered.

  “Yes! I will call Adam. He can make sense of this; I’m sure of it.” Jumping up, she quickly walked back into the kitchen where they could hear her explaining everything to her husband; then she came back into the living room looking much more composed. “Adam will be here shortly. He will get to the bottom of this. I don’t know who the poor child is that you found or how he came to be in possession of Noah’s wallet, but it simply isn’t possible that it would be my son. Higgins would be there. He was trained to never leave Noah’s side. So, you see how this really is impossible, don’t you?”

  “Why don’t you call the tutor? Let’s see if Noah made it there today. If he did, then we can at least establish a timeline of his whereabouts.”

  Sloan nodded in agreement at Jaxon’s suggestion to Mrs. Wallace. She hated for her to get her hopes up when Jaxon knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that her son wasn’t coming home. After she had seen the pictures on the wall, she knew it was Noah. She had no idea where the dog was. Perhaps he had gotten scared off?

  Once more they waited while she went to make the phone call. This time she came back with tears in her eyes. “They said he never showed up this afternoon. I just don’t understand any of this!” she said as she raised her hands to her trembling lips. Sloan got up and put his arm around her shoulders as he gently led her to her seat. A couple of minutes later they heard a car door slam outside and Jaxon figured it was Mr. Wallace. Moments later the front door opened and a black streak ran through the living room, hitting the stairs at full speed. Mrs. Wallace jumped up with a huge smile on her face. “There is Higgins! Noah! Noah!” She called her son’s name as Mr. Wallace came into the living room.

  “Laura? I found Higgins outside. Where is Noah? What’s going on?” He stood next to his wife as she absorbed the news that Noah wasn’t with him.

  “These detectives, they said…they said… that Noah…Oh, Adam!” then she dissolved into tears as her husband folded her into his arms then looked to Sloan and Jaxon for an explanation.

  “Mr. Wallace, I am Detective Malone and this is Detective Sloan. I’m so sorry to tell you that we found your son’s body this afternoon in Windom Park. It appears as if he died from a drug overdose. His wallet was still in his backpack, which is how we found his name and address. We will need you to come down and make an official identification of the body, but after seeing your family pictures, I’m sure it’s Noah.”

  Mr. Wallace nodded his head that he understood, but the pain on his face kept him from speaking. Jaxon heard clicking on the hardwood floor then felt a warm muzzle nuzzle her left hand. Looking down, she saw Higgins sitting on the floor next to her staring up at her with his big dark doggy eyes as if he too needed her to explain where Noah was.

  Before they left, Sloan asked if he could pray for the family. Jaxon stood there with the group with her head bowed and her jaw open in surprise.

  Chapter 4

  Jaxon and Sloan left after making sure that Mr. Wallace understood where he needed to go to identify Noah. Sloan slid in behind the steering wheel after scooting the seat back as far as it would go. Normally Jaxon would pitch a fit if anyone else drove her squad car, but she didn’t have it in her to care at the moment. She needed time to process everything. Sloan seemed to understand and drove in silence back to the station.

  When they reached the station, Jaxon grabbed his arm to stop him from getting out of the car.

  “I thought you said you wasn’t religious?” she asked while looking at him with narrowed eyes.

  Sloan glanced down to where her hand still held his arm in a tight
grip. Releasing her hold on his arm, she reached up and removed his sunglasses. She needed to see his eyes for the conversation. His strange eyes looked at her seriously.

  “I’m not ‘religious,’ Jaxon. I have a personal relationship with Christ; there is a difference.”

  “My grandmother said the same thing and she had the warm heart of a snake. I need to know just how often you plan on pulling stunts like you did back there with the Wallace’s.”

  “Stunts? Oh, you must be talking about praying. Did that bother you?”

  Jaxon sat back in her seat then turned her head to look out the window, avoiding Sloan’s all-knowing, gaze. Pulling off his glasses had been a mistake. Those freaky eyes of his saw entirely too much.

  “Jaxon? Did my praying with the Wallace’s bother you?” he asked again.

  Huffing out a breath, Jaxon glanced back at him. “No…yes… I don’t know! Maybe?”

  Sloan put his glasses back on his face, causing Jaxon to sigh in relief.

  “Was it the act itself or the fact that you didn’t know I was going to do it that bothered you?”

  “Both, I guess. Religion and I don’t have a very nice history, if you want to know the truth,” she admitted.

  “I think I see that. Why don’t you tell me some of your history? Maybe I can help,” Sloan offered.

  Jaxon barked out a short laugh. “Sloan, I don’t think God himself could fix the problem that I have with religion or religious people.”

  “Alright then, how about I tell you about me if you don’t want to talk about you.” He paused as if gathering his thoughts. “Here is my take on the difference between what people call ‘religion’ and what I have. Religion is based on rules and regulations. It has very little, if any, room for mercy or compassion or even love. Religion is hard to follow and even harder to maintain because it’s all one-sided. I’m not sure how much you know of the Bible, but the religious teachers of that time are the very ones that Jesus fought against. They are also the ones that had him put to death for his radical teachings.”

  “Whoa…hang on. I thought religion was what Jesus wanted…Isn’t that what he was about? Follow me or else?”

  Sloan considered her question before answering. “Yes and no. Jesus wants you to follow him so he can lead you to the good things in life and help you through the hard times. He also knows that without him all is lost. How much of the Bible have you actually read yourself?”

  “Not a lot and most of what I did read was forced on me so I don’t remember much,” she admitted.

  “Tell you what, why don’t you read the book of Matthew? It’s the first book in the New Testament. I think if you do that you will start to understand the difference between living your life for Christ or being religious.”

  “I didn’t intend for this to become a Bible study thing,” Jaxon said with a mulish expression.

  Sloan gave a careless shrug of his wide shoulders. “I thought you wanted answers. My mistake. Are you ready to go in?” Without giving her a chance to answer, he got out and walked into the building.

  They were making their way back to their desks when Mollie came running up from the basement where her lab was located. Excitement was written all over her face as she waved the white feather under Jaxon’s nose that she clearly had swiped from Jaxon’s desk drawer and did a little happy dance.

  “Guess what? Guess WHAT?” she asked Jaxon before she looked up at Sloan and stopped moving altogether. “Whoa…who is the skyscraper with feet?”

  “Mollie--Sloan. Sloan--Mollie. Jaxon quickly made the introductions. She wanted to know what Mollie had found out.

  “So, what did you find out?”

  “Where did you get that?”

  Sloan and Jaxon spoke at the same time. Mollie looked from one to the other unsure who to answer first.

  “Do you know what it is, Sloan?” Jaxon asked while watching him closely.

  Sloan took the feather, flipping it over in his hand a few times. “I’m no scientist, but my guess would be a really large feather?”

  “Yes! That’s what I was finally able to conclude! It is a real feather; it’s not synthetic at all. It’s totally organic, although I still don’t know what bird it came from,” she explained with a big grin.

  “What makes you so sure it came from a bird?” Sloan asked

  Mollie gave Jaxon an “is he serious?” look.

  Jaxon shrugged. “I’ve come to learn that with Sloan he is always serious.” She glanced up at the man in question. “So, if not a bird, what else could it have come from? Around here birds or fowl are pretty much it in the feather-carrying department.”

  Sloan shook his head. “I’m sure you’re right. It was just a question. I’m going to go check on something. I will catch you later.” And with that he walked off to parts unknown.

  Mollie watched him until he disappeared. Raising her eyebrows high on her forehead, she slowly turned her head and looked at Jaxon, who immediately snorted in laughter.

  “Hey, I know…ok? I don’t get to pick them.”

  Mollie laughed at Jaxon’s pained expression. “Well, I just wanted you to know that I have started to crack the case of the mystery feather just a little bit. Give it back and I will continue to work my magic.” She looked at Jaxon expectantly.

  “What?”

  “Give me the feather.”

  “I don’t have the feather. I never did, at least not today. You gave it to…Sloan! He must still have it!” Spinning around, Jaxon took off in a fast sprint in the direction Sloan took. Shoving her way through the glass doors at the front of the building, she looked both ways down the busy street but there wasn’t a tall white-haired man anywhere in sight.

  Later that night Jaxon beat on Sloan’s apartment door. She had found his current address and when he didn’t show back up at work she went looking for him. After beating loud enough on his door to raise the dead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her lock-picking tools. She had the door open and was inside his apartment in under a minute. Using her flashlight, she walked through the living room then his kitchen, bedroom and bathroom before coming back to stand by the door with a look of disbelief. There wasn’t a single thing in this apartment other than the furniture that most likely came with it. No clothing, no food, no toiletry items. No junk mail, no trash in the trash cans. It was spotlessly clean and, more importantly, it smelled vacant. There were no lingering food odors or the smell of soap or aftershave. Nothing whatsoever to indicate that someone lived here. Yet per his file, Sloan had lived here for more than six months.

  “Just who are you?” she whispered. Apparently, the apartment had no answers to give her.

  The ringing of her phone hours later woke Jaxon up. Groping around in the dark, she finally found it and brought it to her ear. “Hello?” she mumbled as she scooted up in bed.

  “Jaxon? It’s Commander Rawlings; I need you to meet me at 778 Manchester. It’s down in the warehouse district. Do you know where it is?”

  Jaxon nodded then remembering she was on the phone she answered, “Yeah, I think so. What’s happened?”

  “We think we have found where they are making Hell Hash,” he answered; then the line went dead. Jaxon jumped out of bed, shoving her legs into the first pair of jeans she laid her hands on. Pulling on a navy-blue sweatshirt, she grabbed her boots. Everyone teased her about wearing the black military combat boots, but they added a good two inches to her height and they hurt like hades when she smashed them into whatever criminal she was fighting with. Lacing them up tight, she ran her fingers through her dark curls, grabbed her keys, sidearm and her flashlight and was out the door.

  Pulling up to the address, she saw a crowd of people standing in groups. Getting out, she punched the lock button on her car before heading over to where Commander Rawlings was standing. He nodded his head briefly in her direction when she walked up.

  “All right, people, this could be the break we have been waiting for. You all know that we have not been ab
le to get our hands on the drug called Hell Hash. All we have seen is the devastation it leaves behind. Thanks to an anonymous tip, we very well may be able to catch who is making this and stop production. Please enter the building with extreme caution.”

  Jaxon fell in line behind three other officers as they made their way to the building. She couldn’t help but scan the area for Sloan. Surely the Commander called him in on this, too. The thought had no more run through her mind when she saw his unmistakable form striding across the parking lot toward her. Jaxon wrestled with her conflicting emotions. Part of her wanted to ignore him; another part wanted to confront him about his empty apartment and the missing feather, and the fact that she knew he had been watching her prior to being hired at the police station. But when he caught up with her, she did neither.

  “Hi, sorry I’m late.” He offered no explanation, just the apology.

  Jaxon smiled briefly then filled him in as they walked toward the warehouse. She had far too many unanswered questions where Sloan was concerned to be overly chatty with the guy now.

  They entered a warehouse that looked like any other of the hundreds of warehouses in the city. It was a three-storied open design with a few walled-off rooms, leaving most of the space open and easy to search. Jaxon walked to the fourth room, reaching out to try the door handle and finding it unlocked. She slowly pushed the door open, pausing for a second to turn on her flashlight. When the bright halogen light filled the room, Jaxon recoiled backwards in horror at the grisly scene before her.

  Swallowing hard to keep down the bile that was rising in her throat, Jaxon moved her flashlight carefully around the room. It showed every sign of being used by the occult. Blood was smeared all over the walls and bowls of it were stashed in the corners. Mounds of decaying flesh were in small piles in the corners of the room. Weird symbols were drawn on the floor around a pentagram. Words in some unknown language were written on the wall under more symbols. On a table against the back wall there were glass jars and tubing, along with baggies and a scale. At least she knew what that was. Someone was making some type of drug. Most likely Hell Hash like Rawlings had said. Glancing up at Sloan, she saw his jaw tighten in anger as he looked at the symbols on the floor.