Psycho Hill (JP Warner Book 3)

by Derek Ciccone

  “What are you doing here?” Rich asked, speaking over the noise of the pelting rain on his slicker.

  “I’m supposed to be here—I believe you’re the one making the surprise visit.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Poca and I had scheduled a meeting. I’ve been waiting for over an hour, and she has yet to arrive.”

  Rich looked to his watch. “You had a meeting scheduled at this hour … at her home?”

  “The casino negotiations are very sensitive. So, late at night, out of the public eye, is the only way to meet without awakening the public’s fancy.”

  Rich appeared skeptical. “Well, it wasn’t the only meeting she had scheduled tonight. She was to meet with the Samerauk Tribal Council, but was a no-show. When they couldn’t reach her by phone, her assistant grew worried and called us.”

  Woodrow forced a look of concern. “Did you contact her son?”

  “We’ve left messages for him at his place of work, and home, but haven’t gotten a response.”

  That didn’t surprise him. “What about that wrestler she’s been seen around town with? He looks like a dangerous fellow.”

  “We’ve been searching for Jeff Carter, but he hasn’t been seen tonight. We have a call into JP Warner, hoping he can help us locate him.”

  That seemed like a wasted strategy to Woodrow. “Perhaps they headed off on a romantic adventure.”

  It appeared that they’d found some common ground. “That’s the most logical outcome, but we’re just covering our bases,” Rich said.

  Woodrow smiled. “I guess love took precedence over meetings, as it should. I will help you in any way that I can, Chief, but at the moment my most pressing need is to get out of the rain.”

  As he turned to get back into the Maserati, the headlights illuminated his face. “Hold it right there,” Rich barked, his tone darkening.

  Woodrow looked back to the officer. “What is it?”

  “What happened to your face?”

  He lightly touched his nose, and wanted to scream again. But he was able to force another smile. “It’s rather embarrassing, but I fell off a horse earlier today.”

  He could tell that Rich wasn’t buying that one. “Can anyone vouch for that?”

  “I can,” came a voice through the open window of the car.

  Rich looked surprised by Jill’s presence. “You were with him when he fell?”

  “You could say that. We were riding together on a horse … bareback.”

  Rich looked confused. “You were on the same horse?”

  Woodrow got to the point. “What she means, is that we were having sex on the horse. The horse bucked, and we tumbled off. Like I said, it’s quite embarrassing.”

  Rich kept a stern face as he looked to Jill. “If you both fell, how come you didn’t suffer any injuries?”

  “How do you know I didn’t?”

  “I don’t have time for games.”

  “Then what do you say you strip me down and find out.” She opened the car door and began to step out.

  Rich put up his hand. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Please let me know when you’ve located Poca, as I won’t sleep well until I know she’s safe,” Woodrow said, and shook Rich’s hand.

  “Drive safe,” Rich said and walked toward the front door of the house.

  Woodrow got into the Maserati, and they drove off.

  “That was good work,” he said.

  “It’s not my best,” she replied with a wicked smile.

  He took out his phone and checked the messages—he still hadn’t gotten the confirmation he needed. So he began making calls. The first was to Vaz Salvador. But he got a surprise.

  “Mother? I thought I was calling Vaz’s phone.”

  “He’s busy rubbing my feet at the moment. How can I help you?”

  The visual added to his headache. “I didn’t want to bother you, but I haven’t been able to get hold of Nap and Louisa, and I thought they might have stopped by for a visit.”

  “They only stop by when they think I’m getting close to dying … to make sure they’re still in the will. Why would you think they’d be here?”

  “When I saw them at the movie premiere in New York, they mentioned that they’d be in San Francisco on business this week, and might stop by for a visit. But maybe I misunderstood.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  As long as he had her on the line … “I heard you had other visitors today—JP Warner and his girlfriend. They are using Dad’s centennial birthday as an excuse to dig up dirt about Thomas Archibald … so be careful.”

  “Vaz is the one who let them in, against my wishes … maybe it might be time for you to get me a new houseboy. One that actually listens to me.”

  “I’ll tell you what—how about you put him on the line, and I’ll give him a piece of my mind?”

  She seemed to like the idea and handed over the phone. “Have you heard anything?” Woodrow began bluntly.

  “Still nothing. But no news is good news, right?” Vaz replied.

  Not in this case it wasn’t. “Keep me updated … and stop pissing off my mother,” he said and ended the call.

  The next call was one he didn’t want to make. He probably should have taken the more patient approach, but that wasn’t his nature. He was sent to voice mail, and left a message to call him. He instructed that he would answer on the third ring, and they were to say nothing—you could never be too sure when it came to who might be listening. That would be the signal that the mission was completed as planned.

  As they entered the Hastings estate, Woodrow took an inventory. Lewis was still gone. Of more concern was that Poca and Carter were nowhere to be found. And he was still waiting to hear about the fate of JP Warner and Gwen, along with his brother.

  He rubbed his face, setting off pain alarms. He thought of the boxer Mike Tyson, who once said, “Everyone has a plan till they get punched in the mouth.”

  Chapter 72

  The ammonia vapor burned through his nose, then stabbed him in the brain. His eyes flew open.

  He woke up in fight-mode. He shoved the man away from him, sending him tumbling to the ground. All of a sudden he felt like he was back in the shower, as water streamed onto his head. And clarity washed over him.

  He realized that the man was friend not foe, as he had been using smelling salts to awaken him. He’d also been holding an umbrella over Carter with his other hand. Once he sent the man to the ground, the umbrella went with him, and the floodgates opened.

  He watched the man calmly pick himself up out of a puddle. It was that doctor, Will MacDougal—the one Allison Cooper has the hots for. Or maybe it was the other way around.

  Carter tried to pull himself up from his slumped position, but felt woozy, and didn’t get very far. He looked to the doctor. “What’s going on?”

  “I was driving by and you were lying on the side of the road, passed out. So I stopped and tried to revive you.”

  “Where am I?”

  “You’re near the Samerauk Bridge, on Zycko Hill Road. You have a big gash on the back of your head—I bandaged it, but you’re going to need to get stitches.”

  Carter reached around to the back of his head and felt the bandage.

  “Do you know what happened … or how you got here?” the doctor asked.

  He shook the cobwebs out and his memory started to return. He and Poca had just finished painting a masterpiece, and he went to take a shower. That’s when Woodrow Hastings showed up and attacked her. Carter gave him as much rope as he could, but then he had to act. The punch to the head did the job, but he wanted to add a cherry to the sundae, so he raised him over his head for a body slam. Next thing he knew, he woke up on the side of the road. Not that much different than a typical night out during his younger days.

  But that wasn’t the story he was gonna roll with. “I was up at Lefebvre Park getting loaded, and I had a few too many. I tried to walk home, and I
guess I passed out … hit my head.”

  “I’ll bet the last thing you want right now is a lecture from a doctor on how harmful that kind of behavior can be to your health.”

  “You’re very perceptive, Doc.”

  “I can stitch you up if you like. I live nearby … on River Road.”

  Carter appreciated the offer, but he had more important items on the agenda. “I need you to drive me to Poca Dohasan’s place.”

  “The Samerauk chief?”

  “Yeah—I was supposed to come over for a booty call. But if I don’t show, I’m gonna get a booty kicking.” He thought for a second. “Which sounds like it could be fun.”

  The doctor agreed to give him a lift—not that he had much of a choice. They drove to the north side of town in his Volvo, passing the Hastings farm, and into Samerauk Nation. Carter tried to reach Poca’s cell phone during the trip, but got no answer.

  They arrived at the gated entrance to Poca’s home. He had Will park the car down the road and he made his way to the gate on foot. He’d been given the gate-code, but didn’t want to alert anyone to his presence, so he needed to find another way in.

  He took a look through the gates, and was surprised by what he saw. It was a police car. A closer look revealed Rich Tolland in a heated conversation with Woodrow Hastings. It was dark, and Carter was at a distance, but he was still able to admire the work he’d done to Hastings’ face.

  A troubling thought popped into his head. Had Hastings harmed Poca in some way? Is that why the police were called? The rage began to flow through his veins, and his head felt clear for the first time since he’d been awakened.

  He watched as Tolland allowed Woodrow to drive off the property—no arrest had been made. Carter hid by the gate, and waited for the sleek Maserati to drive through before slipping through the gate. He caught a glance of the driver—a hot blonde. He had to admit, the old geyser did pretty good for himself.

  He got as close to the house as he could without being noticed. The pounding rain was working in his favor.

  He had a good view of Tolland, who seemed to be looking for something or someone, hopefully for the person who conked him over the head. Carter’s best guess was that Hastings hadn’t arrived alone, and one of his men was the one who had turned out his lights. Or perhaps it’d been the hot blonde who was driving the Maserati.

  Tolland didn’t appear to find anything, and never entered the home. When he drove off, Carter would use his own strategy. One that included climbing in through the bathroom window he’d left open.

  What he found inside was a whole lot of nothing. No Poca. No anybody. No blood. In fact, the place appeared to have been scrubbed clean. He declared it a wasted trip, and left the same way he entered.

  He found his way back to the doctor’s car, and plopped into the passenger seat. “I missed her—I think the technical medical term is you snooze, you lose.”

  Will looked concerned. “What were the police doing there?”

  “Not sure, but if Hastings is messing with my girl, the police are going to be the least of his worries.”

  Carter ordered Will to drive him back to the Warner’s, and he continued to grant his wishes.

  When they entered the A-frame a concerned Sandra Warner greeted them. “Oh my goodness, Jeffrey … are you alright?”

  “Yeah, just had a little too much to drink, and fell on my head. I thought it might knock some sense into me, but the good doctor has assured me that’s not the case.”

  Sandra cleared a place at the table where Dr. Will could do his magic. As he stitched the wound, he asked Sandra to keep an eye on Carter overnight.

  When he finished, he inspected his work, and added, “I am going to be in Boston tomorrow for a conference, but my dad will be in the office all day, and I want you to come in and let him have a look at you.”

  Carter laughed. “Thanks for the concern, Doc, but we both know that’s not gonna happen.”

  The doctor smiled with a shrug. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Chapter 73

  Dr. Will MacDougal returned home after one of the longest days of his life. But also one of his most productive.

  He parked his Volvo in the garage and took a moment to catch his thoughts. He then stepped out of the car, grabbed a couple of plastic buckets, and entered the house.

  He first checked the answering machine—the most relevant message being from Dr. Elaine Sardwyk, who confirmed that she’d received his apology about not being able to attend the conference tomorrow in Boston, due to a family emergency.

  The next order of business was to deal with the numerous leaks—the work of the heavy rains. He made his way around the main floor, setting buckets under the areas where the rainwater was coming through. The sound of the slow torturous drips would likely keep him up all night, but it wasn’t as if he’d be able to sleep anyway.

  He found a mop in the supply closet and soaked up the water from the floor. He then pulled up the loose floorboard and removed the folder he hid beneath it. He set it on higher ground—the kitchen table

  With the upstairs secure, it was on to the big job. He took a deep breath, picked up his gun, and descended the creaky stairs into the cellar. He entered with an energetic smile.

  His positive energy usually rubbed off on his patients, making them less apprehensive, but this group was different.

  “Are you trying to drown us?” Poca asked. She still had an authority in her voice, despite her current circumstances.

  “That’s quite an ironic question coming from you,” he replied calmly, and viewed the floor that was now covered with an inch of water. “My landlord told me there’s a sump pump installed, but it doesn’t appear to be working at the moment. So I’m going to have to get a few more buckets to get rid of this water.”

  “Maybe if you spent more time on that, and less time acting like a psycho, the problem would already be fixed,” Poca shot back. She was testing his calm.

  “For your information, I was making sure that your boyfriend was stabilized. He was in need of medical help.”

  “Only because you hit him over the head with that vase.”

  “I told you—I don’t want to hurt you. That’s not what this is about.”

  “Then why don’t you prove it by getting rid of that gun.”

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  He was startled by a shrill shout coming from nearby. “Help! Somebody help us!”

  Will took another deep breath—it wasn’t easy dealing with hysterical patients.

  “Lewis—please settle down. You know nobody outside can hear you. If I was going to hurt you, I would have done it last night—I just needed you to plant a message for your father. He’s the one who must pay for the sins of your family … not you.”

  “You keep talking about these sins, but you never say what they are,” he whimpered.

  “Why don’t you ask Poca?” Will looked to her—she was now dressed in a warmer outfit of sweater and jeans he’d provided, in place of the silk bathrobe she had on when he’d dragged her from her home. She also wore a pair of handcuffs; her arms secured around her back.

  “Go ahead—tell Lewis how you and his father are responsible for his Aunt Bette being in the condition she’s in.”

  “What makes you think you know what happened?” she remained defiant.

  “Bette told me.”

  Lewis was confused. “My aunt is unable to talk.”

  “That’s true, but her words are very powerful.”

  “I still don’t understand what this has to do with me,” Lewis said. “Whatever you think happened … I wasn’t even alive back then.”

  “But your father was very much alive, and I need him to come pick you up.”

  “You make no sense,” Poca cut in. “You had Woodrow knocked out cold at my home. Why not just bring him here if you want him so bad?”

  “That’s not how it works. He has to make the sacrifice. Make the decision to come clean
and admit to what he did. If I forced him here, he would have made me into the bad guy, just like he’s done to many others over the years.”

  “You kidnapped his son—I don’t think he’ll have much problem making you look like the bad guy.”

  “While I hope he comes out of love for his son, I have little faith that he will. Woodrow Hastings is all about himself, and his obsessions. And his biggest obsession has always been Poca Dohasan. I needed a backup plan, and you are it.”

  He smiled at his guests. “And when he comes, the truth will finally be revealed. Then my father and Bette can be free.”

  Chapter 74

  Tuesday

  It was just after six in the morning when Allison Cooper received the message no parent wants to hear—school has been canceled.

  Despite it being a sunny September morning, last night’s storm had proved to be too powerful for Samerauk Elementary School, and the school flooded.

  It unexpectedly left Allison with two kids on her hands. She reduced that number by half when Gwen’s father took Chase with him. With his current job needing to dry out for the day, he used the extra time to take the kids to the Beardsley Zoo. That left her and Gracie, who she took with her to work at the Gazette. By mid-morning, Allison left to take care of a few errands, while Gracie stayed behind. She barely noticed that her mother was gone, as she was mesmerized by Murray’s description of the futuristic gadget on his desk called a typewriter.

  Allison first stopped off at the homestead to check for flooding. She looked out to the backyard, which had practically become a lake—water was halfway up Tommy’s swing-set.

  But luckily this ship was captained by Mr. Delaney, who had flood-proofed the house. He had previously raised switches, sockets, and circuit breakers. He’d also modified the furnace and water heater. He was more concerned with the home of his longtime neighbors, the Alfords, who had recently moved to Florida. Will MacDougal was currently renting it, and he was probably unaware that the old house turned into Venice whenever the river overflowed.

  Allison had agreed to bring over large plastic containers, so he could remove all linens and food, and store them at the Delaneys. The voice in her head kept telling her that it was also a good excuse to see Will, but she was pretty sure that the voice was drunk.