Mania - A Thriller (Jon Stanton Mysteries Book 9)

by Victor Methos

  A dog rushed at them from the yard. Both of them ignored it and kept running. The dog nipped at Stanton, who had to pause and make sure the animal wouldn’t pounce on him. He backed away, eyes locked on the dog, which growled at him but didn’t lunge. Stanton leapt over the fence into the street.

  The boy had circled around so they were back on Benau Street, and the kid was at least half a block ahead. Stanton dug in and gave it everything he had. He ran so fast he nearly tripped over the curb, but he didn’t stop. His heart pounded in his ears. His lungs burned. But he was gaining.

  He saw his Jeep up ahead. The officers were all spread out; no one was positioned to nab the kid, who was clearly headed to the car he’d been pulled over in.

  Stanton heard something else, too. Manic barking. Hanny rushed out of the Jeep only to be pulled back by the collar. But the dog didn’t give up, either. It rushed forward several times, enough to loosen the leash tied around the steering wheel. The leash came off, and Hanny leapt into the road.

  Stanton wasn’t far behind the kid now. Instinctively, the dog seemed to know what was happening. Hanny rushed the kid.

  The kid pulled out a handgun from the small of his back.

  “No!” Stanton shouted.

  He closed the distance between them, slamming into him like a linebacker. The gun flew out of his hand and hit the pavement. Stanton lifted his arm and smashed his fist against the kid’s face. He did it again and again and again, until the boy’s face was covered in blood. He kept punching and stopped only when arms lifted him off the kid and held him back. Two officers and Laka seized him as the kid gurgled and spit. Stanton breathed heavily, staring down at him, wondering what the hell had just happened.

  7

  Stanton sat in his psychiatrist’s waiting room, his hand bandaged and swollen to the size of a grapefruit. He had a hairline fracture in his middle knuckle, but that wasn’t what bothered him.

  After the incident, the Internal Affairs Division had arrived, and he had to give up his badge and gun while they conducted an investigation. Without the gun, something he never used to need, he now felt naked, exposed.

  Everyone was interviewed, with Stanton and the initial officer on scene taking the longest. The officer was also the one who had pulled the three suspects over. He knew one of them and his older brother from high school, so he hadn’t followed protocol to cuff them and stick them in the backseat or on the curb. He hadn’t even searched them for weapons. Stanton was angry with the officer but angrier with himself.

  Dr. Vaquer opened her double doors and turned to Stanton. “Come in, Jon.”

  Stanton sat across from her and stared down at the bandage around his hand. A small drop of blood leaked through the white, like a dab of red dye in a glass of milk.

  “I’m not sure you’ve ever set an emergency session before, Jon.”

  He swallowed. “I almost beat a kid to death. He was seventeen. I knocked out several of his teeth, broke his nose and his cheek… the only reason I stopped beating him was because people pulled me off.”

  She was silent a moment. “Did this happen today?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you dream last night?”

  He nodded.

  “Please tell me about it.”

  “I was in some canyon or something. Out in the wilderness. The sky was tinted red. It was just… desolate. But there were remnants of a city, like skeletons of skyscrapers and buildings. I stood in the middle of it.”

  “What did you feel like? Seeing all this desolation around you?”

  “I felt… I don’t know if there’s a word to describe it. It felt inevitable. That feeling you get when something happens that you knew was coming.” He hesitated. “And out of the ground underneath me, something started coming up. A hand. A black hand. It gripped the dirt and the rest of the body crawled out. It was… it was, um…”

  “Your sister?”

  He nodded.

  “Have you ever had this dream before?”

  “No. Not like this.”

  “Did something happen that reminded you of your sister recently? Other than speaking about her here?”

  Stanton exhaled and leaned back into the couch. “A detective from Seattle called me. She said they found my sister’s ring in that man’s house I told you about. Her teacher.”

  “How did that make you feel?”

  “Terrified.”

  She leaned forward. “I’ve seen this phenomenon before, in the parents of missing children. Once the child is gone for a long period and the parents have grown accustomed to not having them around, on a very primitive level, unconsciously and completely unaware of it, they often recoil at the thought of finding out what actually happened. It would reopen the wound and start everything over again. The entire healing process would begin anew.”

  Stanton looked out the window. Across the street, a tree swayed lightly in a breeze, beyond it blue skies with only the faintest hint of clouds. “I don’t know if I can do it. My sister raised me. Her death spun my entire existence upside down. The day she disappeared was the day I learned the world wasn’t the way my parents described it. To see her remains, to hear the ME talk about how she was likely killed…”

  “Jon, I’m not going to lie to you. It will probably be the most painful experience of your life. But the therapeutic value could be astronomical. Think about it: your decision to get a PhD in psychology, to become a police officer rather than an academic, your inability to form long-term relationships with women, that fear you always have that everyone you love will one day just leave… it’s all tied together. The lynchpin is your sister.”

  Stanton suddenly felt heat in his cheeks, and his vision began to blur. “I have to go.”

  “The session’s not over.”

  “I just need to be alone. Thanks for seeing me, Natalia.”

  As he reached the door, she said, “Jon?”

  “Yeah?”

  “If you do decide to go, will you do something for me?”

  He turned to her. “What?”

  “Will you please remember that sometimes knowing the truth is better, even when it feels like it’s not?”

  He nodded and left the office.

  8

  The waves rolled lazily into shore and broke on the soft sand. As the sun set, the ocean turned a dim orange, and most of the surfers called it a day. Some of the locals stayed in the water, splashing around like children in a pool; others sat on the beach and smoked pot out of multicolored pipes, and some just fell asleep on the beach. The tourists went back to their hotels as darkness and the unfamiliar gave them an uneasy feeling.

  Most of the islanders were welcoming, but a strong separatist movement led to violence against whites. The derogatory term Haole, used for whites, meant something like “invader.” Stanton had stopped several beatings on the beaches when white tourists attempted to surf locations the locals felt belonged to them.

  Of course, for every movement there was a reaction. A strong white-power movement had built in recent years with a series of successful lawsuits behind it and a growing base of power with whites taking top positions in law enforcement, city government, prosecutor’s offices, and county and state administration. The island that had begun as a place of peace and serenity for Stanton was slowly boiling into a cauldron of hate.

  But all of that was on his periphery. He’d never experienced violence against himself or his boys when they’d lived there, and he had no desire to join a white power movement. As far as he was concerned, the world had always been and always would be a mess. There was nothing he could do to change much of that mess.

  He stared at the water and the harsh reflections of light that broke on its surface. He thought back to the last memory he had of his sister. The night she had gone to the movies with her friends and disappeared, their parents had had a fight. Elizabeth came into Jon’s room and sat with him on the bed as their mother and father screamed at each other downstairs.

  “Jonn
y,” she’d said, “I don’t want you to think this is normal or right. It’s not. When people get married, they love each other. Sometimes they just forget that.”

  Elizabeth gave him a kiss and held him as the screaming continued. When it was over, she headed downstairs, had a few words with their parents that Stanton didn’t hear, and left for the movies. That was the last time her family saw her alive.

  Stanton rose and got into his Jeep. On the interstate back to his home, he listened to Vivaldi, the wind roaring in his ears. When he finally got home, lights lit up the island like a series of signal fires. He got out and went straight to his patio, where Hanny lay next to a bowl of water. The dog had been sleeping and woke only when Stanton was near. Instantly, he wagged his tail and his tongue darted in and out of his mouth. Stanton sat down in a patio chair and put his foot up on another chair as the dog came over. He rested his chin on Stanton’s leg, and Stanton rubbed his head.

  “What do you think?” Stanton said, looking down into the dog’s soft brown eyes. Stanton held his gaze a moment before the dog looked away. “Yeah, I thought so, too.”

  Stanton took out his cell phone and searched for the 206 area code in his incoming calls. He hit redial, and it rang four times before it went to voicemail.

  “Hi. You’ve reached Detective Katie Wong. Please leave your name, case number, and the purpose of your message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you.”

  “Detective Wong,” Stanton said, “it’s Jon Stanton. I’m going to be booking a flight tomorrow to come up. I would appreciate you keeping me in the loop about anything having to do with my sister… thanks.”

  He hung up and looked out over the ocean, the dog sloppily lapping at the water in the bowl next to him.

  9

  In the morning, Stanton sat at his Mac and booked his flight. He didn’t want to leave Hanny behind, though ultimately he was unsure whether he was bringing the dog along for the dog’s sake or his own.

  A pet plane ticket was more expensive than his own, and the dog would have to be kept in the cargo hold. The flight, nonstop, would be just under six hours. Six hours in a dark cargo hold didn’t sound like the kind of thing he wanted to put Hanny through. He googled information on pet day cares and found a place not far from downtown that would watch the dog for an extended stay. It even had online access to live feeds, so the owners could check on their pets in real time.

  He dropped Hanny off at Good Friends Pet Care. He thought he should rub the dog’s head or something, some display of affection, but it felt unnecessary. Instead, he paid with a credit card, told them he’d be back in about a week, and then left. Hanny howled a bit, but it seemed like something any dog would do, and Stanton didn’t turn around.

  The only other person that had to be notified was Kai. Stanton arrived at the precinct a bit after ten and found Kai already digging into a Spam-and-red-pepper sandwich. Stanton sat across from him and waited a beat before speaking.

  “Sorry. I know you don’t like people to interrupt you while you’re eating.”

  He shook his massive head. “I’ve never said that.”

  “I can tell. Your body posture changes, like you’re about to attack.”

  He shrugged. “I like my food.” He put the sandwich down and wiped his fingers with a napkin. “So, what’s up?”

  “I need to leave for a week.”

  “Where you goin’?”

  “Seattle.”

  He nodded. “Laka can handle your cases. Let me know when you’ll be back.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate you not asking why.”

  “I trust you, hoaloha. If you wanted to tell me, you would.”

  Stanton was about to rise but then felt he owed Kai something. Kai had convinced him to come back to the police force, a lateral hire that let him keep his stripes and stay a detective. He left Stanton alone to work his cases and never bothered him about anything. The least Stanton could do was to be up front with him.

  “I never told you this, Kai. I don’t want Laka or anyone else to know. You’re one of my oldest friends, so I feel I can trust you with it.”

  Kai’s brow furrowed and he leaned forward, understanding that he was about to be told something important. Stanton felt awkward for prefacing his statement now and wished he’d just come out with it.

  “When I was ten years old, my older sister disappeared from a movie theater. We knew it was a kidnapping. She wasn’t the type to run away or anything like that. After a couple of years, we lost hope we’d ever see her. About a month ago, they discovered several bodies of missing young girls in the former home of one of the teachers from my sister’s school. A detective called me and said they’d found something of my sister’s there. I just… I think I need to go up there.”

  Kai nodded, the wrinkles never leaving his brow. “You want me to go too?”

  “No. I appreciate it, but no. I think I have to do this alone. I need to know what happened to her. How it all… ended.”

  Kai nodded again. “You take as long as you need, hoaloha. We’ll still be here.”

  Stanton rose. “I probably won’t be longer than a week.”

  Stanton found Laka at her desk typing up a report. He sat next to her and exhaled. She had a pen in her mouth and occasionally took it out to mark up some notes in a legal pad.

  “I’m leaving for a bit,” he said, watching her scribble. “Some personal issues. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  She returned to typing. “These the type of personal issues you need to talk to someone about?”

  He shook his head. “No, I’ll be fine. Just something from a long time ago that hasn’t closed. Call me if you need anything.”

  As Stanton got up, she said, “Be careful, Jon. Whatever it is, I’m getting the impression it’s not safe.”

  He grinned. “Nothing is. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  10

  Returning to the place of his birth filled Stanton’s gut with gray dread. Seattle held a lot of memories. His childhood had consisted of few friends and a lot of solitude. Early on, he grew bored in school, and his boredom manifested in cutting school and finding other, more interesting things to spend his time on.

  Once when he was nine years old, he sat by the ocean and watched the waves. The beaches in Seattle weren’t like the beaches in Oahu. Seattle had a few sand beaches, but the beaches close to him were rock or dirt shores with green-tinted water. Still, the sound of the waves calmed him even back then.

  As he’d been sitting there, he noticed something crawling up the beach: a little red crab. Seeing the crab’s awkward progress put a smile on his face, until he noticed another crab behind it coming out of the surf, and then another and another. Soon crabs swarmed the beach. Stanton didn’t move. He wanted to see what they would do. Would they attack or go around him?

  As the crabs neared, his heart pounded and he thought maybe getting mauled by crabs wasn’t the best idea. But they were already too near.

  Once they reached him, he saw they didn’t care one bit that he was there. A few crawled over his legs, but the rest ignored him.

  He heard a squeal behind him and saw some other boys with BB guns. Laughing, they lifted the weapons and began firing into the swarms. Green goop spattered as the BBs hit their targets, and the ones that weren’t hit were flipped completely over onto their backs. Stanton watched as one baby crab tried to scurry away from the carnage, and one of the boys came over and crushed it with his foot.

  “What the fuck you lookin’ at, little shit?” the boy said to Stanton.

  When the boys had had enough, they left Stanton sitting in a sea of corpses. He stared at the bodies a long time—so long that he missed lunch. When he got home, the only person he told was Elizabeth. She didn’t seem to understand, but as he wept in her room, she’d comforted him as she always had.

  The plane landed smoothly. The overcast sky gave everything a gray tint. He got his only duffle bag and shuffled off the plane.

>   He hadn’t been at this airport since his family had moved to San Diego. He remembered little about that day but did remember that he’d been hungry and asked his father for a slice of pizza. For some reason that Stanton still couldn’t understand, his father had said no and made him wait until they landed to eat—maybe so Stanton had a good association with San Diego from the start.

  Stanton rented a Jeep Wrangler and left the airport and then the city. He rolled down the windows and let the cool, wet air wash over him. The farther he got from the city and into the surrounding forests of Chelan County, the more the air carried the scent of pine. The anxiety he felt reentering the county limits nearly overwhelmed him. He had to pull over on the side of the road and take a moment.

  Canyons and forest surrounded him, cars zipping past on the road. At the top of one canyon, he saw rock climbers ascending the far side, their colorful ropes standing out like loose strings on a T-shirt. He watched them for a while and then got back on the road.

  In the small city of Rosebud, Washington, forty minutes from the airport, a collection of homes sat in a swath of forest exactly as Stanton remembered it from twenty-five years ago. The homes looked like a block of white cake, almost nothing between them. He followed the small road through town until he came to what used to be the local 77 Mart, a gas station that’d had some of the best ice cream in the state. It had been turned into a Starbucks.

  Before going to King County and meeting with Detective Wong, he’d had to come here first, to prepare himself for what he was going to see and do. This was where it all started… and ended.

  Stanton pulled into the parking lot and went inside. He ordered a milk steamer with chocolate and sat down by the window. The people had changed, and not just their clothing or hairstyles, but their essence. Without cell phones or the internet, Rosebud had been disconnected from everywhere else. Once they had them, though, they saw what fashions were in vogue in Los Angeles and Miami and attempted to copy them. The temperature outside couldn’t have been over sixty, yet people wore shorts and sandals with Gucci T-shirts.