Passions of the Dead (A Detective Jackson Mystery/Thriller)

by L. J. Sellers

  “No. That’s crazy. Why?” Lori didn’t understand. Rita tapped her shoulder and signaled she was going out for coffee.

  “They found my fingerprints on the bat.”

  “We play softball together. Did you tell them that?”

  “It doesn’t matter; they don’t believe me. They see me as a drug addict. To them I’m a criminal just like rapists and murderers.”

  “Why are you in the hospital?”

  “My tooth is abscessed and the infection made me feverish. I took advantage of that and got myself transferred.”

  “I want to see you. I mean, we’re still friends, right?”

  “Lori, I love you. I think we should get the hell out of here. Go to Maui like we planned.”

  Shane wanted to be with her! A surge of pleasure found its way through her wounded soul. “I would like that. I’m getting released tomorrow.”

  “We can’t wait. The police will eventually realize I’m not in jail. We have to go now.”

  Lori was frightened and excited at the same time. Why not? She had nothing to live for here in Eugene anymore. “What about money? I have five hundred saved but it’s not enough.”

  “I’ll find the money. Just be ready when I get there. The nurse is here. Gotta go.”

  Lori’s blood pulsed with life. She had something to look forward to.

  Rain battered their car on the quick drive to the hospital, but it cleared by the time they walked out of the parking garage. Jackson had no idea where Shane would be in the building. They started with the information desk in the lobby. The volunteer smiled brightly as they walked up. After a quick look in the computer, she told them Shane was on the third floor in the ICU. He and Evans headed for the elevator.

  “IV antibiotics sounds serious,” Evans commented.

  “It could be. Drug users are prone to nasty infections because their immune systems are ruined.” Jackson pressed the button. “They can die from an infected flea bite.”

  “Let’s hope not. I’d hate to see Engall get the death penalty because the real perps are all dead.”

  “Don’t feel too sorry for Engall. He’s an irresponsible cheat and a worthless drunk, at best, and a possible killer, at worst. He’ll probably plead out when Slonecker gets hold of him.”

  They hurried off the elevator and turned right as instructed. Daylight filled the wide hallway between the wings, then disappeared as they rounded the corner into the ICU area. Jackson noticed a young couple and a middle-aged woman in the waiting area, but no patrol officer. Damn! Someone was supposed to be protecting Lori. How hard was it to stay in the area and screen visitors?

  They followed a guy in scrubs through the double swinging doors. Jackson glanced in the rooms as they passed but didn’t see his suspect. An older male was behind the counter at the nurses’ station. He finished his task on the computer before looking up.

  “We’re here to see Shane Compton.”

  “Are you family members?”

  “Detectives Jackson and Evans with the Eugene Police Department.”

  The nurse looked at his monitor, then said, “Room 413.” He gestured for them to keep heading down the hall. “It’s on the left toward the end.”

  They found the room and its sliding pleated door was closed. Jackson pushed it open and rushed in. The bed was empty. The door to the bathroom stood open, and it was empty too. Behind him Evans said, “This is not good.”

  They hustled back to the center station and this time Jackson didn’t wait for the nurse’s attention. “Alert security to watch for a missing patient. He’s about six feet tall, broad shouldered but skinny, with blond hair and green eyes.”

  “What do you mean missing?”

  “He’s not in his room.”

  “He could have gone to the lounge.” The nurse scowled. “He’s probably too weak to want to leave the hospital. Is he a criminal?”

  “He’s a suspect in a homicide.” Jackson lost his patience. “Alert security now.” He turned to Evans. “Call in an attempt-to-locate, then search this entire wing. I’m going to check with Lori.” Jackson hustled down the hall, going around a kitchen worker with a food cart. He had half a hope Shane would be visiting his girlfriend.

  The room was empty. No Shane. No Lori. No Aunt Rita. He checked the bathroom just to be thorough.

  At the nurses’ station he said, “Lori Walker is missing too.”

  A nurse in yellow scrubs said, “Lori was transferred to another room yesterday. She’s recovering nicely and may go home soon.

  “Where?”

  “Second floor. Room 112.”

  “Tell Detective Evans I’m headed there.” He walked quickly through the ICU, then broke into a jog as he exited the swinging doors.

  Jackson took the stairs to save time. He pounded down the cement steps and his still-healing incision felt every thud. He slowed a little when he entered the busy ward below. A young stocky patrol officer was seated in the waiting area, but his eyes were closed. They popped open as Jackson walked up.

  “How’s Lori Walker?”

  The officer jumped to his feet. “She’s fine, sir. Her aunt is in with her now.” He held out his hand. “Officer Ray Garrick. I took your crime scene workshop last year.”

  “I remember you.” Jackson shook his hand. “Have you seen a young male patient go through here this morning? Blond, six feet tall, broad-shouldered and skinny?”

  Garrick blinked, then cleared his throat. “He came through about twenty minutes ago. He was wearing a hospital gown, so I thought he belonged on the ward.”

  “He’s a suspect in the Walker murders.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “If you see him again, stop him.” Jackson started for the open ward. His heart pounded with fear of what he would discover.

  The bed in room 112 was empty and Rita Altman was on the phone, talking excitedly. She looked up, said, “Gotta go,” then clicked her phone shut. “I’m glad you’re here. Lori is missing and I’m worried sick.”

  “When did you see her last?” Jackson already knew the answer.

  “Maybe around 9:30. She asked me to go out and get her a copy of Entertainment Weekly and a Snickers bar. When I got back, she was gone.” Rita’s voice bordered on hysteria. “Do you think the killer came back for her? Why would he take her?”

  “I think she’s with her cousin Shane. Do you know where they might go?”

  “What do you mean ‘go’?” The aunt registered more confusion. “Why would Lori leave with Shane? She was supposed to come home with me tomorrow.”

  Rita apparently didn’t know the cousins were romantically involved. Jackson repeated his question. “Where would they go together?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe to Shane’s parents’ house.” Her lips trembled and a tear rolled down her cheek. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

  “I’m not sure but I have to find them. Lori might be in danger.”

  Evans burst into the room. “Lori’s gone too? What the hell?”

  Jackson eased away from Rita, not wanting her to hear his theories. “Best case scenario, Shane is scared about being charged with murder so he’s on the run and taking his girlfriend.” He and Evans strode into the hall. “Worst case scenario, Shane is the killer and plans to silence Lori as a witness.”

  “If Lori doesn’t remember that night, maybe she’s safe for now.” Evans looked around at the layout. “How did they get out past the patrol officer?”

  “I’m not sure it matters right now.”

  The nurse at the computer in the hallway offered, “They could have gone out through the surgical area, then crossed over on the physicians’ skywalk.”

  “Let’s go,” Jackson said. “We’re only fifteen minutes behind. They could still be in the facility.” He handed the nurse several business cards. “This has my cell phone. Give one to Officer Garrick and one to the head of security. I want to be updated on the search of the hospital. First, take us to the surgery area and show us the wa
y out.”

  As they started off, Evans said, “Should we call the other team members?”

  “Let’s search the building and parking garage first. Shane is sick and Lori is wounded. They may not get far.”

  The nurse led them through another set of double doors, into an area where the lights were brighter and the temperature cooler. The hospital personnel wore blue scrubs, mouth masks, and hair coverings. Jackson stopped once to ask a doctor if he had seen the patients, but after getting only a peculiar look, he decided to skip the effort.

  Even following this route was likely a waste of time, except they would end up in the garage where his cruiser was parked. They might also get lucky and find the couple still in the parkade. Would they leave on foot or would Compton steal a car? Shane hadn’t been arrested in more than a year, but if he was using again and running from the law, anything was possible.

  As they hurried through the skybridge over Hilyard Street, Jackson called headquarters. “Have you had any reports of a stolen car near the hospital?”

  “Let me check.” After a moment, the desk officer said, “No. Do you want me to call you if one comes in?”

  “Please. Would you also call the DMV and find out if Shane Compton has a vehicle registered to him?”

  The skybridge connected to a medical building across the street where outpatient surgeries were conducted. Doctors, nurses, and CNAs hustled in and out of rooms, yanking open curtains and chatting with patients in white-and-blue-print hospital gowns. Many looked up as Jackson and Evans strode through, but no one tried to question or stop them.

  As they passed the admitting desk, Evans trotted over and said, “We’re looking for two young patients, a male and a female, eighteen and twenty. They came through here ten or fifteen minutes ago. Did you see them?

  The administrative aide looked confused. “What do you mean came through? They didn’t check in with me if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “They would have just passed by, probably in a hurry.”

  The aide shook her head.

  Why would anyone notice patients walking through a hospital?

  “Any reports of anything stolen? Like a jacket or car keys?”

  “No.”

  They hurried forward, glancing into rooms and opening doors. They searched the public bathrooms and found no sign the couple had been there. Beyond the elevators were automatic doors leading to daylight and the top level of the adjacent parking garage. Jackson and Evans went in separate directions to scan the perimeter, then they each took two rows and jogged from vehicle to vehicle, glancing in to see if Lori and Shane were hiding. Even though it had to be done, Jackson instinctively knew it was a waste of time. The couple had most likely boarded the elevators and quickly traveled to street level. From there, Shane probably called a friend or they walked a few blocks to the university area where he probably knew people.

  Still moving along and peeking into cars, Jackson called McCray, who didn’t pick up. He left a message: “Shane Compton and Lori Walker have both left the hospital. We assume they’re together and Lori could be in danger. Evans and I are headed to Zor’s, the dealer on 8th Avenue where we picked up Shane. Call me when you get this message.”

  Next he called Schak, who picked up and said, “What’s going on? I heard the attempt-to-locate for Shane and Lori.”

  “They’re both missing from the hospital and we think Lori is in danger.”

  “Oh shit. Poor girl. What are the assignments?”

  Jackson checked the last car in the row and turned back. “Evans is still with me, and we’ll question Shane’s mother and his dealer. Will you check the Walker house? Lori may go home to get clothes or one of the family cars. Is Quince at his desk?”

  “No, but he’s around here somewhere.”

  “After you check the Walker house, head out to the airport. When you see Quince, tell him to call me.”

  “Will do.” After a pause, Schak said, “I thought Compton was in jail.”

  “He developed an infection and they transferred him to the hospital. The sheriffs released him because it was the easiest thing to do.”

  “Ah shit.”

  “If you see any sign they’ve been to the Walker house, let me know.”

  Jackson clicked off as Evans jogged up, looking pink-cheeked and excited.

  “What did you find?”

  “A sleeping toddler in the back of a car. Idiot parents. I’ve got the plate number. Let’s notify security and get a patrol unit out here.”

  Ten minutes later, they were in his cruiser, headed west toward Almaden. Jackson mentally looked back over the investigation and wondered what he’d missed, because he hadn’t seen this coming at all. After the home invasion on Stratmore and the connection to Roy Engall, he’d put Shane on the back burner as a viable suspect. That had been a mistake. What could he have done differently? Trump up phony charges against Shane to keep him in jail? Jackson had still not accepted the reality of only violent offenders staying incarcerated until their court date.

  “Stop blaming yourself,” Evans said. “Engall was in the Walker house the night of the murders, and he was connected to the home invasion perps. We all thought he was going to confess.”

  “How do you know what I’m thinking?” Jackson was both irritated and amused.

  “One, you’re shaking your head. Two, you always think you could have conducted a better investigation.”

  “It’s always true. For every investigation, not just mine. That’s how we get better at this, by examining mistakes.” They passed Garfield Street, then West 11th changed to two-way, congested traffic. Jackson wanted to pop out the siren and get everyone the hell out of his way, but he didn’t.

  “What are we supposed to do?” Evans lamented. “We can’t hold suspects for more than a day without charging them. Booking them into jail is a waste of time; they could walk out three hours later. And we don’t have the resources to put a tail on every suspect in every investigation. It’s fucked up.”

  Jackson agreed but kept quiet. Doing police work in Eugene had gotten harder and harder over the years. Left-leaning citizens complained about everything. They were outraged when officers shot and killed an emotionally unstable young woman with a knife. The department responded by buying Tasers and starting a trial program to test their effectiveness. When officers used the Tasers, citizens complained and filed lawsuits. It was fucked up.

  The ring of his cell phone cut into his thoughts. “Jackson here.”

  “It’s the front desk at headquarters. Shane Compton has a ’92 Toyota Nissan pickup registered to him. Color, white. His registration expired two months ago and he hasn’t renewed it.”

  “Thanks. Call the vehicle into the state police. Give them Shane Compton’s and Lori Walker’s descriptions. Read the stats from the attempt-to-locate I called in earlier.” He clicked off the phone, wondering if he had covered all the possibilities.

  “Do you think Shane’s parents will protect him?”

  “I believe they already are. Neither Tracy nor Kevin has called me back.”

  “It’s a triple homicide.” Evans’ voice was excited again.

  “They don’t believe their son could have done it. It’s parental blindness. All parents suffer from it.”

  “Another reason not to have children.”

  Jackson turned left on City View and raced up the empty street. His cell phone rang, and he was glad his ear bud was already in place. It was now illegal in the state to drive and talk on anything but a hands-free unit. And it had always been reckless, even when he did it.

  “This is Kevin Compton returning your call.” Kevin spoke slowly, his brain dysfunction obvious even over the phone.

  “Have you seen or heard from Shane today?”

  “No. I thought he was in jail.” Voices buzzed in the background, meaning Kevin was likely at his business.

  “Shane was transferred to the hospital, then he and Lori–”

  “Shane was in the hos
pital?” Despite his flat tone, Kevin sounded worried.

  If their suspect was not keeping in touch with his parents, it was a sign he was deep into drug use again. “Shane developed an infection while he was in jail. They transferred him to the hospital, then released him. If he’s on the move now, he’s probably doing okay.”

  “Not necessarily. He could die if he doesn’t take all the antibiotics.”

  Jackson thought Kevin was probably overreacting. Meanwhile, he had bigger concerns. “We think Lori Walker is with him. Do you know where they might go?”

  There was a long silence. Finally Kevin said, “I think Shane and Lori have feelings for each other.”

  “Do you know where they might go?”

  “Lori has her heart set on moving to Maui.”

  “Do they have money for plane tickets?”

  Kevin wasn’t listening. Jackson could hear someone talking to him in the background. After a moment, Kevin said, “I have to go,” and hung up.

  “Any ideas?” Evans asked.

  Jackson turned up Brittany Street and braked to miss a cat. “Kevin says Lori wants to move to Maui.”

  “I don’t see them coming up with the money for tickets, but I’ll call the airport anyway.”

  “Might as well alert the train and bus stations too.”

  The Compton house came into view on the right and Jackson slowed, then parked on the street out of its line of sight. He didn’t want to spook Shane and have them bolt out the back. If they were even here.

  “If no one answers, can we justify going in?” Excitement flared in Evans’ voice.

  She’s still such a rookie, Jackson thought. “We are going in. A woman’s life is in danger.” He shut off the engine and they climbed out. The neighborhood was quiet, except for the sound of young kids playing somewhere in the distance.

  He and Evans trotted up the sidewalk toward the big brown house. No cars were in the driveway and they didn’t see any activity, but it didn’t mean Shane and Lori weren’t hiding in the house.

  Jackson cut across the lawn at a diagonal, not wanting to be seen from the front window. Images from yesterday’s hostage situation flashed in his mind and he instinctively brought his hand up to his weapon. He had no reason to think Shane was armed, but that kind of thinking had almost cost Officer Whitstone her life yesterday. Behind him Evans said softly, “Should I go around back?”