Trying not to seem too amazed, Lisa responded, “She was taught to dial a phone, you mean?”
“Not by anyone here.” That was all it took for Lisa to ask Mrs. Wylie to hold on to Brandy until Alex was well enough to come see her for himself. Just in case, Lisa asked that they hold on to Oliver as well. He was a sweet thing in his own right and, according to Mrs. Wylie, had passed on his fatherly genes to three litters so far. Lisa wasn’t quite sure what being fertile had to do with being a good assistance dog but, Lisa supposed, it was comforting to know that there would be others carrying on his family line Some people tended to do better with dogs of the same gender while others tended to migrate more to dogs of the opposite gender. It often depended, Eunice said, on how they reacted to people. If they tended to have more female friends, they usually went for female dogs. Likewise if they had more male friends, they usually chose male dogs. With Alex, that made little difference. He liked almost everybody he met and, for the most part, was liked just the same. The decision was Alex’s. Brandy or Oliver.
* * *
Danny Peterson hated deskwork. Hated sitting at the small metal desk in his cramped office chair, with its lopsided wheels, mulling over photographs, reports, interviews and clues that led him nowhere. He’d spent a couple weeks now investigating the deaths of three teenagers at Rock Springs Cemetery and he was no closer to solving the case than he was on the day it was handed to him. Working for the Longview police department did have its perks. One of those perks often included working in conjunction with local small-town police forces like Gladewater and Gilmer when their limited resources hindered their abilities to solve crimes. More times than not, Danny found himself working on a case that had nothing to do with the town of Longview or any of its suburbs. So much the better, he thought. Gave him a chance to show the small towners how real cops worked.
Budget cuts and blurry community jurisdictions frequently called for cooperation between law enforcement agencies. Oftentimes “cooperation” was less cooperative than others. More times than not, at least where Danny was concerned, cooperation was forced. It helped that the Upshur county Sheriff and the chief of Gladewater’s police force were both high school friends of Danny’s oldest brother. A high profile investigation like this, involving possible murder, called for intervention.
Though two of the deceased were from Gilmer, the involvement of Gilmer law enforcement was deemed an “as needed” basis. As long as Danny was lead detective, they would remain, summarily unneeded. They would assume a mostly observational role of the investigation, lacking the resources and manpower to help in any real way besides. The Sheriff’s department would help in maintaining a tip line and various other coordinating efforts, but the real legwork would have to be done by actual cops like Danny. As always, when Gladewater, Gilmer or any of the smaller cities looked to adjoining cities for assistance, two names came up.
Longview had long proven itself to be a partner in crime solving with Gilmer and Gladewater so it was almost always Chief Bouknight that got the call. Captain Steelman kept a shortlist of detectives on his desk for just such a call. Whoever’s number was up on the shortlist got the case. Lisa Mendez had been up in the rotation for this one but, with everything that was going on with Alex, the Captain had dropped it right in Danny’s lap. Some of his other cases would have to be put on the back burner for now, which frustrated Danny. Though she was a very dear friend he’d grumbled, griped and secretly cursed the Mendez name more than once in the last several weeks as a blatant fire hazard of paperwork mounted on his desk. If and when she ever came back to active duty, Lisa would be joining Danny as a member of the investigating team. That wasn’t a choice, the Captain had said. That was an order. Not that it mattered, really. There were few cops as good as Lisa. And it beat the hell out of having to share investigative fodder with Teresa Roelig again. Danny was eager for the help but determined to solve the case himself if possible. Lisa had enough on her plate right now. Still, if it meant getting Teresa Roelig reassigned, Danny had fully intended on requesting Lisa be added to the investigation upon her return.
First, it would help take her mind off of Alex, which was not a bad thing. Second, it afforded him the chance to work with someone competent. He’d known Lisa back when her last name was still Warner. When they’d met, he was just starting his detective career in Longview’s small Vice Squad and she was a youngster, still in uniform, but well on her way to her own crime-fighting success. He never told her about his attraction to her, mostly because he was not willing to step on Alex’s toes.. From the moment she’d walked into the police station, Alex had taken her under his wing. When she became a homicide detective, Alex immediately requested that she be made his partner. And so it was. Partners at work, partners in life. Though he was about the farthest thing from chivalrous as it came, Danny had backed off without so much as suggesting he might hold an interest in young Lisa Warner.
Whatever flirting he might have done with Lisa in the past, he now regarded her with much more professionalism, respect and, as with Alex, intense unshakeable loyalty. There weren’t many people in this world he truly trusted, certainly not many cops. But number one and number two respectively were Alex and Lisa Mendez. With his number one guy down for the count, he knew what was to be expected of him. Like a brother – a brother Alex did not have – Danny would be expected to be Lisa’s guardian. He didn’t know how he was going to accomplish it, being the head of two high profile cases, but he would do it. It had been a couple of years since he transferred from Vice to Homicide, but the change in workload was still overwhelming to Danny. Not only the volume of paperwork, but the man-hours. The legwork. It still worked on Danny’s body. In Vice, you didn’t have a hundred witness interviews to conduct for every investigation. You didn’t have the fast tense pace. In Vice, it was about patience. Your biggest asset was your ability to not act like a cop. In Vice, there was a lot of standing around on street corners or in alleyways busting dope dealers and prostitution rings after months of acting on the real world stage provided him by “the streets.” In Vice, he probably would have been able to work into his seventies, spending the last ten or fifteen years as an under-appreciated, overused relic of years past.
As a homicide detective, Danny would be lucky to see sixty sitting at a desk gumming a donut while wiping an accidental jelly stain off his bald head and he knew it. If he didn’t get shot down by some gangbanging idiot with a chip on his shoulder, the legwork itself would probably resign Danny to an early grave. If by some miracle the legwork didn’t get him, he felt quite certain he would be found five years postmortem under a mountain of unfinished paperwork dating back to a time before Danny was even with homicide.
There was no “cold case” department in Longview. And on top of the two new cases, he had an untold list of unsolved cases to crawl through each and every day. Still, even if it meant certain death, Danny wasn’t about to do his job half way. It was a good thing that Danny never slept more than three hours at a time. He’d need that kind of stamina to balance the workload and the personal responsibilities that went along with being the guardian to Lisa and his goddaughter. He looked at the preliminary Medical Examiner’s reports for the Rock Springs deaths, analyzing each one, side by side. Whatever had killed them, it wasn’t drugs, at least no drug he’d ever known. According to interviews with family and friends, all three were church kids. None of the deceased had ever had so much as a parking ticket. The circles of friends in which they ran didn’t fit the mold of “troubled teens”. They didn’t use guns, except perhaps in the typical East Texas sporting manner. Paul Caffey was an occasional squirrel and deer hunter, according to his father. Most of those excursions involved low caliber rifles and the occasional 20-guage shotgun. But, for all he knew, Paul had never fired a handgun even once in his life. They weren’t mixed up in gangs, which wasn’t too much of a surprise, given that they each attended some of the more respected schools in the area. The worst thing wrong with these kids wa
s perhaps that they’d been mildly spoiled with Mommy and Daddy’s money, but even that didn’t seem to fit Rachel Garrison and Paul Caffey. Rachel had held an after school job at a local video store and Paul was very much given to the responsibility of his father’s horse ranch. Who would want these kids dead?
As he stared at the picture of young Rachel Garrison, Danny thought about his initial interview with her cousin, Scott Bryan, the lone survivor. He put on a good front but there seemed something so odd about him. Something was off. Danny kept trying to convince himself he was being paranoid. After all, how could some handicapped teenager who looked like he’d blow away if he farted with much force single-handedly kill three friends without leaving so much as a scratch on them? Teresa Roelig had all but accused Danny of paranoia – yet another reason Danny was glad to have her reassigned, at least temporarily. She had no instincts but she was a woman and she had sympathy for a grieving child. Especially a handicapped grieving child. Disabled people, Danny knew, were no different than anyone else. Just last week, he’d read about a 90 year old man in a wheelchair who attempted to rob a bank, simply for the thrill of it. Being disabled didn’t eliminate the most likely of suspects as far as Danny was concerned.
Whatever had happened, Scott swore he couldn’t remember. He’d been found nearly thirty feet from the other bodies, leaning against the tire of his Bonneville, but swore that his last memory was standing beside Paul. The metal forearm crutches found near Scott were bent in somewhat unrecognizable shapes. He relayed what he called confused images or feelings, which Danny had written notes on. But none of them could be taken as part of his official statement, because they were not facts of the case. Still it was odd that he “thought” he remembered seeing the ground glowing and he “thought” he might have remembered his date throwing up on the ground, which she had done, according to the evidence collected at the scene. He couldn’t remember ever using the Ouija board that had been found at the scene, but Paul’s hands were both resting on the pointer, and each of the two girls had been found within inches of the board itself, on either side of Paul. Though none of the victims had a scratch on them, the Ouija board and pointer both had droplets of blood on them. Blood that could not be matched to any of the victims. That scenario itself, Scott had said, seemed wrong to him. He said that Julie had been on the other side of him, that he thought he might have blacked out while between Julie and Paul, with some distance separating the two. He might have dreamed it. Maybe it was all a dream, he said. Maybe he’d blacked out sooner than he first realized. He might have seen somebody attacking them, but not beating on them. Like a dream, the attacker hit them in the soul. In the soul? What did that mean?
Danny was tired. More mentally than physically but definitely tired. It was late and he would not solve anything tonight. Not with Alex on his mind at least. He’d only been to the hospital a couple of times in the past several weeks and he hated himself for it. On some level, Danny knew that Alex would probably understand, even encourage his absence. He knew the cop’s life and knew how the entire department was overworked and understaffed. He looked at his watch and noticed it was almost eight in the evening. His stomach growled and he realized that he was late eating his dinner. He picked up the receiver on his phone and dialed the hospital where Alex was. Lisa had left him a message with the direct line to Alex’s room So Danny knew he wouldn’t have to go through a lot of B.S. to find out about his old pal. On the second ring, a man answered the phone
“Lt. Mendez’s room.”
“This is Detective Danny Peterson. Who’s speaking please?”
“This is Mike St. James. Alex’s doctor. Well one of them anyway. How can I help you, Detective?” Judging by the man’s demeanor, Danny almost got the impression that he was talking to the Puppet Master behind that annoying purple dinosaur his Goddaughter loved so much. If he lived to be a thousand years old, Danny would never understand the affection children had for that purple Godzilla.
“Could I speak to Mrs. Mendez?” Danny asked, trying to mix professionalism with an uncharacteristic air of misplaced politeness.
“I’m sorry, Lisa’s not here right now,” Danny noticed that the man on the other end of the phone was whispering. He could only assume that, this late at night, Alex was resting. Still, he needed to know some real information.
“Is Alex awake?”
“He’s sleeping,” confirmed Doctor St. James. “They just gave him something to help him sleep. He’s likely to be out for the night. I can tell him you called, Detective…I’m sorry, I forgot your name.”
“Peterson,” Danny said. “I’m an old friend of the family. If Alex wakes up, will you tell him I’ll be by to see him as soon as I can? Tell Lisa too if and when she gets back.”
“Certainly,” he said, almost too cheerfully for Danny’s liking. Didn’t he understand there was an injured man in his midst?
“I’m assuming Lisa will be back tonight. When she shows up, tell her I will be by tonight. I want to encourage her to get some rest so I’ll be sitting with Alex tonight.”
“Oh there’s no need for that. I have already promised Lisa I would sit with Alex tonight and let her know if anything happens.”
And who exactly are you, Jockstrap?
Danny didn’t know this guy from Adam and he wasn’t about to let somebody else do his job. This guy might be Barney on the inside but that wouldn’t stop Danny from punching him in the nose if he failed to learn his place in the pecking order real fast!
“Well just tell her I’ll be by anyway.”
* * *
Mike hung the receiver back on its base and quietly sat in the small leather chair beside Alex’s bed. He had not lied to the police officer. He had sent Lisa home and had promised to keep Alex company while he slept. That’s what he promised and that’s what he was doing. There wasn’t anything he could do for Alex’s legs. That would have to come in time. But there was plenty for Mike to do. Rising from his chair, Mike walked toward the door leading into the hallway, which presently stood closed. It was a heavy-duty door with quiet hinges that swung freely and without much resistance. A heavy door, designed to limit the amount of noise that filtered in from the periodically busy hallway, it swung open and closed with virtually no effort.
Quietly, Mike opened the door and peered into the corridor. So long as there was no cause for alarm, it was likely that no one would disturb Alex until morning. They didn’t need to take his vital signs as often because Alex was awake, alert and, except for the obvious, in reasonably good health. Closing the door, Mike walked back toward Alex’s bedside.
“Well, it looks like you’re going to have a visitor. So, it might not seem like much now, Alex,” Mike whispered, “but I can do this.”
He closed his eyes and lifted his hands outward, palms up. A brilliant green glow filled the room, radiating from small spherical emerald illuminants growing in Mike’s palms. The bed began to vibrate, lifting itself mere millimeters from the confines of the hospital floor. The IV bags swung back and forth, gently nudged by the trembling bed. Slowly Mike reached his hands forward, facing his palms toward each other and joining the two emerald spheres into one singular voice. The sphere itself floated gently toward Alex’s sleeping body. Mike’s eyelids fluttered faster, harder. His throat pulsed with life, his stomach pitching, retching with violent spasms, though there was no imminent abdominal release in order. The blankets covering Alex’s body fell back, pulled by unseen attendants at Mike’s disposal, leaving Alex covered only by his thin hospital gown. White vaporous light, brighter than a thousand caverns of buried treasure intermingled with the emerald glow overtaking the room. The vaporous lights mixed together, touching each other, as if locked in an ethereal plan to serve Alex’s well-being. The two vaporous clouds, now one singular, indistinguishable cloud, surrounded Alex, enveloping the entire room.
Alex’s slow, soft breathing told of his relaxed state. He was not alarmed and he would not be. His pulse rate increased slightly, virtual
ly unnoticed. As Mike’s petition for sacrosanct intercession continued, he drifted delicately between the world from which he came and that in which he now existed. His almost chant-like muttering was soft, existing virtually inaudible, in a patois familiar only to the spiritual presence surrounding him. The sphere disappeared into Alex’s abdomen, floating undisturbed through the skin like the spirited power that created it. His entire body flashed with a brilliant green light. As quickly as it flashed bright, it began to fade. The emerald glow dimmed slowly, shrinking into the gentle darkness that had once previously occupied the room. It was done. Falling back into the chair, Mike slept.
Chapter 9 ~
Lisa stepped out of the warm shower begrudgingly planning on getting some rest. She knew she wouldn’t actually sleep. There was too much on her mind to allow her to relax. Christina had been asleep by the time she got home so Lisa had decided not to bother her even to say goodnight. She’d crept carefully into the sleeping child’s room, gently kissing her forehead, and had left without so much as a word. There was no sense in both of their sleeps being disturbed. Alyson, Lisa’s cousin, had left not long ago. Lisa had made no secret about how tired she was. Alyson might have only been a teenager, but she was quick on the draw. She knew when she was being rushed out the door. Unlike most teens, she took nothing personally and was not easily offended. Perhaps because she was an only child, her maturity had reached a level unmatched by most of her peers. In more ways than she could count, Alyson reminded Lisa of herself at that age. Not entirely independent, but strong, confident and well trained in the basic societal do’s and don’ts.
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