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

by L. J. Sellers

  He thought about Whitstone going into the backyard of the Stratmore house by herself. “No.” At the front door Jackson quietly turned the handle. It didn’t budge. Jackson whispered, “I’ll go to the back door. Give me two minutes, then pound and call out Shane’s name.” His thinking was the couple would hear Evans’ voice in front and run out the back, and he would be there to stop them.

  Cutting across the grass, he hurried past the bedroom windows with closed blinds and rounded the corner of the house. A tall gate latched from the inside, but he was able to reach over and let himself in. Jackson paused, listening for a dog, then jogged along the side of the house to the backyard. A giant hot tub blocked his path and he scooted around it, keeping an eye on the sliding glass door. No one seemed to be moving around inside the house. He hugged up against the back wall for protection and waited for Evans to call out. The sickly scent of flowers in bloom tickled his nose.

  He heard pounding and brought up his gun. Evans called, “Shane Compton? It’s Detective Evans. I need to talk to you.”

  No response.

  She called out again, but the house was silent and the back door didn’t budge. Jackson counted to five, then rushed to the sliding door. It had been installed decades ago and the lock mechanism soon gave from upward pressure. As he opened the door, a black cat rushed out. Jackson stepped into the dining room where he had questioned Tracy and Kevin just days ago and knew instinctively the home was empty.

  Chapter 27

  Lori stared at the house where her family had lived and died and started to shiver. “Shane, I can’t go in. Just grab some jeans and few of my favorite shirts.”

  “What about the car keys?”

  “There’s an extra key to the Subaru under the pink pig on the kitchen counter.” Lori pulled the ugly black coat tighter, but her bare legs still felt the cool wind. “Don’t forget to bring my pink Keens.”

  She leaned against the car and looked around at her neighborhood, probably for the last time. She wondered if old woman Rose was peeking through her curtains, watching Lori in the stolen black coat over the hospital gown and wondering what the hell she was up to.

  What am I doing? Lori asked herself again. Getting the hell away from Eugene and starting a new life with the man she loved. What other choice did she have? Stay here with the ghosts of her dead family and be reminded of her grief at every turn? Watch Shane be wrongly convicted of killing them? No, this town held nothing for her now. Their future was in Maui, where it was warm and sunny and beautiful. She already had an apartment and roommate waiting for her. All they had to do was get there.

  Lori glanced back at the pale green house and heard her mother say, You’re a house painter, Jared, and we live in the only place on the street that needs to be painted. Her mother had laughed when she said it. She had never been able to stay pissed at Dad for very long, no matter how he screwed up. Tears rolled down Lori’s cheeks. How could she survive without her mother?

  Shane came out of the house wearing some of her father’s clothes. Another wave of grief hit her like a blow to the stomach. Lori doubled over.

  “Babe, you okay?”

  She pulled in a deep breath. “No, but that’s the way it will be for a while.”

  Shane threw a pillowcase stuffed with clothes in the backseat. “Let’s go then. They’ll be looking for us soon.”

  Lori climbed in the car, reminded again of the newly stitched gash in her stomach. Shane started the engine and she reached over the seat for the pillowcase. The pocket of Shane’s zip-up sweatshirt bulged with a familiar shape.

  “Why did you bring the .38?” Lori said, pointing at the handgun.

  “We’ll sell it for cash.” Shane gave her a wistful look. “I know your dad loved it, but it was the only gun left in the house and we need the money.”

  Panic made her voice squeaky. “You’re not feeling suicidal again, are you?”

  “No, babe. We’re starting a new life. I’m optimistic.”

  Lori wished she hadn’t shown him where her father stashed his guns. This one, a Walther P-38, was Dad’s favorite. It had belonged to Grandpa and her dad had cherished it. He kept it under a false drawer bottom in the nightstand by his bed where it would be handy to protect his family. Somehow that plan hadn’t worked out.

  “You should put it back. It could cause us trouble.” They were already backing out of the driveway.

  “I’ll only have it for an hour before I sell it.” Shane grabbed her head and pulled her in for an intense kiss. “Stop worrying. As long as we’re together, everything will turn out okay.”

  “You won’t change your mind again, about being with me?”

  “Never. That was a mistake. I love you.”

  Lori hoped it would be enough. She leaned back and closed her eyes. When had he broken up with her? She had the knowledge of it but not the memory. A quick scene came to her. The breakup had happened in this car, only she had been in the driver’s seat. They had been parked outside the restaurant where she worked and she was crying.

  It was only a brief memory and it didn’t matter now. They were back together.

  “What is it?” Shane asked. “Something’s on your mind.”

  He knew her so well. “My memory of that night is starting to come back in little pieces.”

  “What do you remember? Do you know the killer?”

  “No, and I hope I never do.”

  Their next stop was the jail. Lori had argued against it, but Shane was adamant about getting his backpack, wallet, cell phone, and whatever else had been in his pockets when he was arrested.

  “I don’t have to go inside,” Shane explained. “There’s a little window in the front, and they’ll just hand me a plastic bag with all my stuff. It’ll take two minutes.”

  “If the cops are looking for you, won’t someone come out and stop you?”

  He gave her a quick kiss. “These are sheriffs, not city cops, and this is the last place they’ll look for me.”

  Lori watched Shane stride up to the red-brick building, amazed by his confidence and optimism. This was what she loved about him. His gorgeous face was just a bonus.

  Shane was back in no time, grinning at his own audacity. “Told you.” He tossed the bag in her lap and started the car.

  Ten minutes later, they pulled into the parking area behind the building where his mother worked as a bookkeeper. Lori knew they did some kind of publishing here, but she wasn’t sure what. Textbooks, maybe.

  Shane pressed speed dial and waited only a few seconds. “Mom, it’s Shane. I’m in the parking lot with Lori. Can you come out?”

  Lori couldn’t hear Tracy’s response but she could imagine it. Did his mother know he’d been arrested? Or that the cops might be looking for him?

  Shane pleaded, “This is the most important favor I’ve ever asked you, Mom. If they pin these murders on me, I’ll get the death penalty.”

  Another long silence.

  “Thank you. I love you.”

  Five minutes later, Tracy hurried out of the building. She looked tiny in her dark work suit, and her face pinched with worry. Lori rolled down her window because Tracy was headed for her side of the car.

  Shane’s mother leaned in and stroked Lori’s face. The gesture almost made her cry. “You don’t have to go with Shane. You’re not in trouble. You can stay with Kevin and I until we get this sorted out.”

  “I want to get out of here. Eugene will always be the place where my family was murdered.”

  “You’ll miss their funerals.” Tracy’s eyes locked on hers.

  “They would be too painful anyway.”

  Tracy looked past her at Shane. “Meet me at the bank. It’s about five blocks down.”

  “I know where it is, Mom.”

  “Of course.” She gave them a worried smile and trotted to her own car.

  At the bank Tracy went inside for cash. Lori realized Shane had asked for more money than his mother could get out of the ATM. “Is she giving u
s enough for plane tickets to Hawaii?”

  “She’s giving us a thousand. That’s all she has. I’ll get the rest from Zor. He owes me.”

  “Have you called your dad?”

  “I can’t yet. He won’t lie to the cops.”

  “Is he getting any better?”

  “Not yet.” Shane’s mouth pulled into a thin line.

  Lori felt bad for bringing it up. “I’m glad you came for me in the hospital.” His broad shoulder offered comfort and she leaned against him. “For a while there, I couldn’t see my future. I had nobody.”

  “I couldn’t stay away. I love you too much.”

  For a moment the smell and feel of Shane enveloped her and Lori felt content.

  Tracy’s heels clicked outside the car and reality was back. “Call me when you get there,” she said, handing Shane an envelope with cash.

  Shane got out and hugged his mother with the intensity of someone who believed he might not see her again. “I love you. Tell Dad I love him too.”

  Tracy came around the car, so Lori climbed out and hugged her too. “Thanks Aunt Tracy.”

  Tears streaming down her face, Tracy pulled away and ran for the building.

  “We have to make one more stop,” Shane announced.

  The Compton home was as empty as it felt, and they saw no signs that Lori and Shane had been there. Of the two smaller bedrooms, one was used as an office and held mostly computers and their peripherals, and the other seemed to be a guest bedroom: no art on the walls, nothing personal on top of the dresser. Yet the Comptons said Shane stayed with them sometimes. Jackson assumed the clothes in the closet belonged to their son. Jackson hunted through them, finding a package of rolling papers in the pocket of some jeans. If the young couple had come here recently, wouldn’t Shane have taken his clothes?

  As a sofa surfer, Shane probably didn’t own much and carried his few possessions around in a backpack. If he had left the hospital in a patient gown, where was his backpack? Still at the jail? Oh crap. Jackson hurried up the hallway, calling the jail’s admission desk on the way.

  “Detective Jackson here. Yesterday when Shane Compton was transferred to the hospital and released, what happened to his belongings?”

  “Let me check. Most likely they stayed right here, waiting for him to pick them up.”

  “Are they still there?”

  “I’ll have to transfer you downstairs.”

  Jackson was on hold for three long minutes, only to find out Shane had picked up his stuff forty minutes earlier. He let loose with every curse word he could think of.

  Evans rushed in from searching the garage. “What’s wrong?”

  “Shane Compton waltzed up to the jail this morning and picked up his possessions and nobody stopped him.”

  Evans grimaced. “At least we know he’s still in town.”

  “Was in town. That was forty minutes ago.”

  “What next?”

  “Tracy’s work place. If Shane has contacted anyone, it’s his mother. I think Tracy might lie to protect her son, but it will be harder for her to do it in person.”

  In the car, Jackson flipped through his notes, looking for Tracy’s employer.

  “Did it ever come up at our meetings?” Evan’s asked.

  “I’ll bet the other aunt would know. I’ll call Rita.” Her number was right there on his list.

  “I’ll call the front desk and have them run her in the database.”

  Rita proved to be a faster source. Tracy Compton worked as a bookkeeper at Emerald Publishing on the corner of Oak and 15th. As they drove over, Quince called in. “Schak updated me on the Shane Compton development. What can I do?”

  “Check the bus station and the train depot, then get back to me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jackson had never heard of Emerald Publishing and he’d lived in Eugene all his life. It still happened frequently though. Sometimes he’d pass by an old building and really see the business for the first time, even though it had been there for decades.

  The structure had once been an oversized home, and it still looked like one, with no sign out front announcing the company name. The two stories had small old-fashioned windows, but the wide wraparound porch and wooden front steps were welcoming.

  A headset-wearing receptionist looked startled to see them. “Can I help you?”

  “Detectives Jackson and Evans. We’re here to see Tracy Compton.”

  “I’ll let her know you’re here.” The young woman pressed a button on her phone, turned away, and spoke softly into her mouthpiece. She pivoted back and said, “Tracy will be right down.”

  Nobody wanted to have police officers visit them in their work space where all their peers could witness the spectacle and gossip about it. While they waited, the receptionist asked Evans if she could have one of her business cards. “I might need to call you someday,” she said, cheeks turning pink.

  A few minutes later Tracy came down the stairs. “Let’s go out on the porch.” She brushed past them without making eye contact. Outside, she walked toward the padded bench, but remained standing. “How’s your investigation coming?” She sounded casual but her eyes were worried.

  “Have you seen Shane today?”

  “Are you still trying to blame him?”

  “Answer the question!”

  Tracy hesitated for a half second. “No.”

  “Did he call you?”

  “I thought he was in jail.”

  Jackson had no patience for her cover-up. “Lying to an investigator is obstruction of justice. If that charge doesn’t bother you, think about this. We believe Lori Walker is with Shane and that she is likely in danger. If Shane kills her, you will blame yourself for not helping us.”

  Tracy pulled back, eyes wide. “You’re wrong. Shane would never hurt Lori. Why would she go with Shane if he had killed her family and tried to kill her?” Tracy twisted the top button on her jacket as she talked.

  Evans took a turn, using her good cop voice. “Lori doesn’t remember the event, but she will eventually. When she does, Shane could kill her to keep her from going to the police.” Evans forced Tracy to meet her eyes. “Can you image how Lori is going to feel when she realizes she’s involved with the person who murdered her family? You need to spare her. Tell us where Shane and Lori are.”

  A long silence passed while Tracy weighed her instinct to protect her son against the ramifications if she was wrong. Her face a mask of control, she pleaded, “Stop hounding Shane and find the real killer.” She brushed past them again and marched in the building.

  “Talk about a protective mother,” Evans commented. “My mom had a much more hands off approach.” They were headed back to Jackson’s cruiser.

  “That’s why you’re a police officer and Shane is a drug addict turned killer.”

  “It can’t be that simple,” Evans argued. “My brother is a slacker and he was raised by the same people I was.”

  “Does your mother help him out?”

  “Hell no.” Evans laughed. They reached the cruiser and Evans said, “Can I drive for a while?”

  “Hell no.” This time they both laughed.

  Back in the car Evans’ phone rang. She listened for a moment, thanked the caller, and hung up. Jackson could tell by the spark in her eyes it was important.

  “That was the receptionist.” Evans gestured at the building they’d just left. “She says Tracy Compton met Shane in the parking lot twenty minutes ago. They both drove off, then Tracy came back ten minutes later.”

  “I knew she lied to us.” Jackson shoved the car door open and climbed out. “They went to a bank for cash is my guess.” He trotted for the door with Evans right behind him.

  “Are we going to arrest her for obstruction?”

  Jackson tried to calm down, to put himself in Tracy’s shoes. How far would he go to protect Katie? Especially if he believed in her innocence? “As much as I’d like to, probably not. We’ll see.”

  “Wher
e is she?” he said, as they rushed through the old-style door.

  “Upstairs, second door on the right.”

  Tracy was on the phone when they burst into her office. She terminated her conversation and stared at them with a blank face.

  “You lied to us.” Jackson raised his voice, not caring if her co-workers heard. “You’re coming in to the department. Either you walk downstairs with us willingly, or I will cuff you and haul you out in front of everyone.”

  Tracy’s lips quivered. Silently she reached for her purse and stood, ready to go. Jackson gestured for her to lead the way, and they followed her outside.

  As they stood by his cruiser, in full view of the upstairs windows, Tracy finally started to cry.

  Jackson spoke softly. “Just tell us where Shane and Lori are or where they plan to go. If Shane is innocent as you believe, then the evidence won’t hold up and a jury won’t convict him.” Jackson would do everything he could to make sure that wasn’t the outcome, but it was always possible.

  “Shane didn’t say where he was going because he didn’t want to put me in this position.”

  “Give me your best guess.”

  “South. Maybe Mexico.”

  “How much money did you give him?”

  Tracy blinked. “A thousand.”

  “Did he mention buying a plane ticket?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Are they headed to the Portland airport? For a flight to Maui?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re willing to go to jail to protect him?”

  “I love my son more than I can put into words.” Tracy’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears. “But I haven’t been able to protect him since he was sixteen. I can only do what I believe is right.”

  Jackson had a flash of sympathy for her. His own daughter was nearing the age of independence, and he didn’t look forward to the feeling of helplessness that would accompany it. “If you have contact with Shane, please tell him to turn himself in. He’ll end up in custody sooner or later, and sooner will be better for him. And Lori.”