Devil's Nightmare: Premonitions (Devil's Nightmare, Book 2)

by Robert Pruneda

  “That’s a given,” Aaron said, as he moved towards the door. “Now, let’s get this interrogation over with, so I can go home and watch the game.”

  “It ain’t an interrogation,” Sheriff Donovan said.

  “It’s a waste of time, is what it is.” Aaron opened the door. “Come on in, Cody.”

  He was sitting in a chair near the door, his legs bobbing up and down. He hesitated before getting up and stepping inside the office, as if anticipating a sentencing of corporal punishment.

  Sheriff Donovan motioned to the empty chair next to Sergeant Henderson. “Have a seat, son. Don’t worry. You ain’t in any trouble. I just want to talk about some things that might help us figure out some stuff.”

  “Okay,” Cody said. “About what?”

  “It’s nothing,” Aaron said. “Don’t worry about it. Just answer the man’s questions.”

  Cody sat next to Sergeant Henderson and placed his hands on his lap. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  “I’m sure by now you know what happened at Maple Hills Park the other day,” said the Sheriff.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Did you know Randall Cunningham?”

  “No, not really.”

  Aaron shook his head and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. The Sheriff glanced at him and then refocused his attention on Cody. “What about Peter Slavic? You know him?”

  Cody scratched the top of his hand and licked his lower lip. “Can I get some water? I’m pretty thirsty.”

  “Yeah, of course.” Sheriff Donovan. “Sergeant, would you mind?”

  Henderson widened his eyes, as if to say, “Seriously?”

  “Get me a bottle while you’re at it,” said Aaron. Henderson slowed his pace and frowned at Aaron before walking out of the office. “Answer the man’s question, Cody,” Aaron said, as pulled the door shut.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. What’s his name again?” Cody shifted his weight in the chair.

  “Peter Slavic. You telling me you don’t know him?” Sheriff Donovan leaned back in his chair. “Because I hear you’ve been having some problems with him at school.”

  Cody glared at Aaron. “He’s just some big fat jerk at school that nobody likes.”

  “So, you do know him.”

  “I know who he is,” Cody said, as he shifted his weight again. “I didn’t say I know him.”

  Aaron wrinkled his forehead and cocked his head back a little, but he didn’t say anything. Sergeant Henderson returned with three bottled waters. He tossed one to Aaron, handed one to Cody, and opened the other for himself. Sheriff Donovan raised his eyebrows as Sergeant Henderson sat in the chair next to Cody.

  “What?” he said. “You didn’t say you wanted one.”

  Sheriff Donovan shut his eyes for a moment. “Son, you do realize how serious this is, right? A boy is dead, and—”

  “You don’t think I know that?” Cody said while he twisted the bottle open.

  “Hey, show some respect,” Aaron said. “That’s the Sheriff you’re talking to.”

  Cody sighed and apologized. He drank some water and twisted the top back on.

  “It’s okay, son,” Sheriff Donovan said. “I didn’t mean to upset ya’.”

  “I don’t know what I can tell you that’ll do you any good,” Cody said. “Some creep killed one of my classmates. That’s all I know.”

  “Can you think of anyone that would want to put a hurtin’ on Randall? It’s my understanding that he and Peter Slavic were pretty good friends. Anybody they hurt at school you think may want to get some payback?”

  “Seriously?” Cody laughed. “You think a kid did it? Some type of Children of the Corn thing going on?”

  “I’m not going to tell you again,” Aaron warned. “You’ll show the man some respect.”

  Sheriff Donovan rested his hands behind his head and locked them together. He rocked in his chair for a moment. “How ‘bout a man named Daniel Corbin? That name make a jingle in yer ear?”

  “No. Who’s he?”

  “See anybody ‘round school that don’t belong? Any adults that may not be familiar?”

  “I’m new here. I don’t recognize most of the people in this town.”

  Sheriff Donovan opened a file on his desk and pulled out a photo. He set it in front of Cody. “This here is Daniel Corbin. That face strike you as someone you seen? Maybe ‘round school?”

  Cody lifted the photo off the desk and studied it closely. He narrowed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah, I think I have seen this guy before.”

  “Where?”

  “Behind the school. I’ve seen him talking to Pete.”

  “Gutsy S.O.B.,” said Sergeant Henderson. “When did you see this? Recently?”

  “It was the day… um… the day before Randy died.” Cody handed the photo back to Sheriff Donovan and then addressed Sergeant Henderson. “I think Pete gave him some money. He could have been buying drugs. I’m not sure, though.”

  Sheriff Donovan and Sergeant Henderson shared glances. “He ever try to sell you any?” the Sheriff asked.

  “No way. And I would never buy any if he did.”

  “Good answer,” Aaron said.

  “Just say no,” Sergeant Henderson followed.

  “Anyways,” Sheriff Donovan said. “You know anything ‘bout Randy’s relationship with Peter? Were they close buddies? They get along pretty good?”

  “Enough to help Pete put my head in a toilet full of crap. So, yeah, I’d say they got along just fine.”

  Both Sheriff Donovan and Sergeant Henderson turned their attention to Aaron.

  Aaron closed his eyes and sighed. “You never told me that Randy was involved with that,” he said to Cody.

  “I didn’t want to tell you anything at all,” he said, turning around in his chair. “And you promised you wouldn’t get involved.”

  “It was for your own—”

  “All right,” the Sheriff broke in, “I think we got the idea. Peter Slavic is a bully and Randy Cunningham was involved in his shenanigans. God rest his soul.”

  “And Kevin Thomas,” Cody said. “Since it’s all out in the open now, you might as well know about him too. He’s just as bad. Tripped me in the cafeteria and made me spill my food all over the floor the other day. He even put a cockroach in my meatloaf. A cockroach!” Cody paused and stared at the wall. “Out of the three, I’d say Randy was the nicest. He actually tried to help me when that jerk gave me this black eye.” Cody pointed to his face. “Pete didn’t like that very much.

  It’s probably why he tossed Randy in the lake at the park and—”

  “Wait, how did you know about that?” Sergeant Henderson asked.

  “I find that a bit curious myself,” Sheriff Donovan said while leaning forward. “Who told you ‘bout that?”

  Cody alternated glances at both men with his mouth slightly agape.

  Aaron straightened up his posture. “He heard about it at school. That Kevin kid must have blabbed about it with his friends.”

  The Sheriff narrowed his eyes at Aaron. “Is that what happened, Cody?”

  He nodded and lifted his water bottle up to his lips. He drank from it while eying Sergeant Henderson, who gazed right back at him.

  “What else have you heard at school?” Sergeant Henderson asked.

  “Um…” Cody drank more water and choked on it a little. He coughed several times and placed the water bottle on the desk, almost spilling it.

  Aaron grabbed the bottle and took the cap. He twisted it shut. “I think that’s about enough questioning for today.” He grabbed Cody’s shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

  “I’d like to hear him answer the Sergeant’s question,” Sheriff Donovan insisted.

  “No, I think we’re done here,” Aaron said and opened the office door, but Cody was still seated in the chair. “Come on, Cody, let’s go.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “Really.”

  “You sure? Because you don’t ha
ve to say anything that makes you feel uncomfortable.”

  “I know. I want to.”

  “All right,” Aaron said, uncertainty in his voice. He shut the office door and leaned back against it. “What else did you hear?”

  “Just a rumor,” Cody said, while looking over his shoulder at Aaron.

  Sergeant Henderson sat crooked in his chair and rested his arm on the back of it. “And what was the rumor?”

  “That Peter threatened to have someone hurt Randy if he didn’t do something for him.”

  “Who told you that?” Sheriff Donovan asked.

  “I just overheard it at school in the cafeteria. Nobody I know.”

  “And what do you believe?” Sheriff Donovan stood, leaning against the front of his desk. “You believe them rumors?”

  “Do I think Pete had someone kill Randy?” Cody said. “He’s just a bully and a total butthead stoner.”

  “So, that’s a no?” Henderson chimed in.

  Cody nodded. “That’s all I know.” He turned around to face Aaron. “Okay, I think I want to go home now. Can we?”

  Aaron raised his eyebrows at the Sheriff.

  “You have anything further, Sergeant?” the Sheriff asked. Henderson shook his head. “All righty then. I guess we’re done here. Cody, could you wait outside while I speak with these two for a minute?”

  “Okay.”

  As soon as Cody left the office, Sheriff Donovan shut the door and ran his hand through his hair. “Jeepers. So what do you boys think?”

  “About what?” Aaron asked.

  “Daniel Corbin. You think he’s our man?”

  “Based on a rumor?” Sergeant Henderson said.

  “Rumor or not,” Aaron said, while glancing out the office door window at Cody. “I think we should follow up on this Corbin character.”

  Sheriff Donovan leaned against one of the office chairs. “I agree, but we ain’t got much of a suspect pool. On one hand,” he said, opening up his left hand, “we got a fifteen-year-old boy with a history of bullying other students.” He opened up his right hand. “And on the other, we got a man who could be selling drugs to kids, and apparently stole evidence from a crime scene.” He pressed his hands together. “And both of ‘em know each other.”

  “I don’t know, Richard,” Sergeant Henderson said. “Neither one of them seem clear cut to me. What about their motives?”

  The Sheriff bounced a finger at Aaron and Sergeant Henderson.

  “That’s what I want you two monkeys to find out.” He stepped back around his desk. “Scott, you go digging around for more info on Peter Slavic and this rumor Cody mentioned. Talk to Principal Newman, see what her staff may have heard.”

  “I’ll do that,” Aaron offered.

  “No, sir, you will not.” Sheriff Donovan grabbed a file off his desk and handed it to Aaron. “It was your idea to follow up on Daniel Corbin, so that one is all yours. I want to know every cotton-pickin’ thing there is to know about this fella. We already know he’s dealing, but see what else you can dig up.”

  “We could put him under surveillance,” Aaron suggested. He turned to Sergeant Henderson and smiled. “Ever done that before?”

  “We ain’t got the manpower or the resources for something like that,” said the Sheriff.

  “Oh, come on,” Aaron said, while putting an arm around Sergeant Henderson. “I’ll put on a thick moustache and Scott can dress up like Mrs. Doubtfire.”

  Scott pushed Aaron away. “In your dreams, brother.”

  “I don’t know, man.” Aaron laughed. “I think you’d look hot in an old granny dress and loafers.”

  “Ladies,” Sheriff Donovan said. “Can we focus here? You got yer assignments. Don’t forget, someone murdered a youngster in our community.” He pointed at Aaron. “I expect you of all people to take this a little more serious.”

  “Sorry, Sheriff. You don’t have to remind me. If Daniel Corbin had anything to do with that kid’s murder, we’ll know soon enough.”

  “Good. Just try to be professional when talkin’ to him, okay? I don’t want to deal with no harassment suits anytime soon. You hear me?”

  “Good luck with that,” Sergeant Henderson teased. “Maybe I should handle both assignments and let Aaron sit behind his desk pushing paperwork.”

  “Can I fire him?” Aaron said, while jerking his thumb back at Sergeant Henderson.

  “We’ll all be looking fer jobs if we don’t solve this case. Now go on. Get some rest. We got a long week ahead of us.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Cold as Ice

  Aaron knocked on the door to Daniel Corbin’s apartment several times early on Monday morning, but no one answered. The blinds were closed, so Aaron couldn’t peek inside to see if anyone was home.

  “That’s his vehicle,” Mrs. Hathaway said, pointing to an old green Ford pickup truck. “He must be home.”

  “Try calling him,” Aaron said, and knocked on the door again.

  She pulled out her phone, tapped on the screen a few times, and put it to her ear. There was a muffled digital tune of a phone ringing inside the apartment. It rang several times, but no one answered.

  “It went to voicemail,” Mrs. Hathaway said. She left a message. “Mr. Corbin, this is Allison Hathaway. I’m at your front door, and you aren’t answering it or your phone. Please call me as soon as you get this message. Thank you.”

  Aaron banged on the door with this fist. “Mr. Corbin, open the door.”

  “The hell is your problem, man,” an angry voice came from next door. The man was only wearing boxer shorts. His eyes were squinted, and the hair on his head was sticking up in all directions. “It’s seven-thirty in the goddamn morning.”

  Aaron jerked his thumb towards Daniel’s apartment door. “You know the guy that lives here?”

  “Who? D.C.? Yeah, I know him.”

  “Know him well?”

  “I don’t know. He’s just a neighbor.” The man rubbed his thumb and index finger over his eyes and yawned. “I’d appreciate it if you’d quit banging on that door. I work graveyard and need to get some sleep.”

  “We apologize, sir,” Mrs. Hathaway said. “We were about to leave.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” he said, and went back inside his apartment.

  Mrs. Hathaway slipped her phone back in her slacks pocket and turned towards her beige Lost Maples County Adult Probation Department vehicle. “I’ll call you when I hear from him. He must be asleep.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” Aaron grabbed the doorknob and twisted it.

  “What are you doing?” Mrs. Hathaway protested.

  “It’s open,” Aaron said.

  “I don’t care if it’s open. You can’t just enter his apartment.”

  Aaron cracked the door open, ignoring the probation officer, and announced his entry. “Mr. Corbin, it’s Lieutenant Sanders with the Lost Maples Sheriff’s Depar…”

  “What?” Mrs. Hathaway said. “What’s wrong?”

  Aaron removed his gun from its holster and pushed the door open all the way.

  Mrs. Hathaway gasped. “Oh, dear Jesus.”

  †

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Henderson, but I haven’t heard of any such rumors,” Principal Newman said, holding a steaming mug of coffee in her hand. She took a sip and added, “Frankly, I’m surprised the Sheriff’s Department is even taking such a rumor seriously.”

  Sergeant Henderson sat with one hand clasped on his ankle and a leg crossed over his knee. “It may be unlikely that Peter Slavic had anything to do with Randall Cunningham’s death, but he was the last person to see him alive. We can’t ignore that either. We also know he has a reputation for violence.”

  “Violence is a strong word to describe him, sir.” Mrs. Newman placed her mug on a coaster and removed a file from her desk. She opened it and handed a document to Sergeant Henderson. “He by no means is a model student. There is no arguing that, but if you would look at his record, you will find nothing to suggest anything more than
classic accusations of bullying.”

  “And you tolerate that?”

  “We have a zero tolerance policy at this school, Mr. Henderson, but we also don’t tolerate false accusations. We have found no evidence of any physical harm to any of the children he supposedly hurt. We cannot reprimand a student for something that lacks evidence of any wrongdoing.”

  “So, what you’re saying is, unless you catch the bully in the act, you can’t do anything.”

  “That is not what I said.”

  “And what about Cody Sumner?”

  Mrs. Newman leaned back in her chair. “He has never reported anything to suggest Peter Slavic has bullied him or any other student at this school.”

  “I’d still like to speak with him.” He opened his palm and motioned his hand slightly towards the principal. “If that’s okay, of course.”

  “Not without one of his parents present. His mother has already contacted me and given the school specific instructions to call her if law enforcement, and I quote, ‘attempts to harass her child again.’”

  Sergeant Henderson uncrossed his legs and set Peter Slavic’s school disciplinary record back on the desk in front of the principal.

  “Then would you please call his mother and get permission?”

  “Very well, if you insist.” Her tone suggested annoyance. “But she is not going to cooperate. I can promise you that.”

  “If you don’t mind, let’s just see what she says.”

  Principal Newman turned to her computer and grabbed her mouse. She moved it around on the pad and clicked a few times before making the call. Henderson waited as the principal swiveled her chair around and stared out the window with the receiver pressed against her ear.

  “Good morning,” she said, still staring out the window. “This is Principal Newman at Lee Hauser Middle School. May I speak with Mrs. Bernice Slavic please?” She glanced at Sergeant Henderson. “Yes, I’ll hold.” A moment later, she spoke again, “Mrs. Slavic? This is Principal Newman… I’m doing fine, thank you. I’m sorry to interrupt you at work, but I have a gentleman from the Sheriff’s Department in my… Uh-huh… Uh-huh… Yes, I understand, but…”

  Sergeant Henderson winced a little and scratched the side of his face. He imagined what the woman was saying on the other end of that call. After what the Sheriff had said about his conversation with Mrs. Slavic, he was certain she was complaining about Aaron.