by K. H. Pope
“Who are you two really?” he asks again.
“We’re here to speak with Allison Landon,” I answer.
“You’re too late. Why do you want to talk to her?”
“About the last time she saw Vanessa Brenlich.”
“Vanessa Brenlich,” Officer Rossum remarks. “Why do you want to know about her?”
I look at John, wondering if I’ve said too much. He gives me the same concerned look.
“We’re just doing some follow up,” John answers.
“Follow up? Are you private detectives or something?”
“No,” I say. “We’re just concerned friends of the family.”
Officer Rossum still isn’t convinced. “I think you two better leave. Mr. and Mrs. Landon are dead, and you’re digging into something that’s none of your business.”
“Vanessa is missing,” I remark, hoping he’ll admit to it. “You know this.”
“She’s not. Her family says she’s in the Hamptons. Who are you guys?”
“We’re leaving,” John says quickly. He touches my shoulder to lead me off the porch. “Sorry to have bothered you.”
Officer Rossum watches us as we head to the truck, and I keep an eye on him, just in case he decides to use his magic against us. The entire time he stands still, not making any kind of offensive movement.
We get in our vehicle and on our way in no time. I look back in the passenger side view mirror. I don’t see him anymore, just the cruiser.
“What do you think of him, John?”
“I have a feeling he knows the truth.”
“Do you think the Landon’s accident was a real accident?”
“Don’t know,” he answers. “Get Tip to access that police report, and he needs to keep an eye out for the coroner’s report. With the accident happening last night, I’m sure an autopsy hasn’t been done yet.”
The request is put in to Tip. He’s really becoming our go-to guy. Maybe, he should be at my side instead of John, or then again, now that I think about it, maybe not.
CHAPTER 17
In order to use the Rillo Majestic Hotel printer, we have to be a guest. It’s a posh five star palace that promises a stay that will meet the high standards of royals. John pays for a room, and he sends our file to their printer. Within minutes, the attendant is handing us a pile of paper with all of the missing people police reports and the accident report for the Landon family. It’s overwhelming as I look at the stack in John’s hands.
“You want to get something to eat?” he asks.
“I could use a drink instead,” I reply. I can sit and read the reports while John fills his empty belly.
We’re taken to a table where the lighting is too low and the view shows a dancing fountain in a garden of fake flowers. I have a feeling this place is for romantic dinners and getaways. I’m not in the romantic mood. Actually, I’m pretty aggravated.
“Chardonnay,” John asks the waiter.
“The same,” I remark. It’s easier than trying to make a decision from their large array of drinks on the menu.
I hand John half of the reports. They’re out of order, but it doesn’t matter. The first one on the pile is for a boy name Geoffrey Campana. He’s 19 years old and works part time delivering pizza. He left home to go to a party the night of his disappearance. Parents talked to him before he left. He never came home that evening. There is a note that Geoffrey was in an internet relationship with a girl in El Paso, Texas. Detective Boyd concluded that he went there to live with this girlfriend. I don’t see any other investigative notes indicating he has proof of the move. Geoffrey disappeared on March 21, 2019.
The next person is Taylor Eason, 28 years old. She worked at a home improvement store and lived in an apartment outside of Dumas. Last sighting of her was on Friday, June 9, 2017, but she was reported missing by a coworker on June 11th. There is nothing written down to indicate a thorough interview was done with the coworker. Detective Boyd wrote that she moved to Dallas to be with a boyfriend. No name and no address for this boyfriend.
Jessica Walter is next. She’s 36 years old and worked at a daycare center. According to her mother, she left home to have dinner with a friend, but she never made it. Of course, there is no name of this friend. Jessica was reported missing on September 2, 2014. This time a Detective Ryan Lacey wrote the report.
I recheck the missing person report for Taylor Eason. Ryan Lacey signs off on that one, as well, but as chief of police. So, between September 2, 2014 and June 9, 2017, Ryan Lacey was promoted, and the same crappy police work continued with Detective Boyd.
“John, who is the police assigned to the cases you’ve read so far and the supervising officer?”
“Chief Christine Colley signs off as the supervising officer on some of them, but only when a Detective Ryan Lacey is assigned to the cases. I’ve seen a couple where Ryan Lacey is the chief and signs off on the reports as the supervising officer, but then Detective Boyd is the officer assigned to the case.”
“Are the results the same from what you read?”
“Ran off with someone, a girlfriend or boyfriend, family members, moved out of the country. The explanations go on and on, with nothing included to prove these conclusions.” He glances at me.
“Do you think the families accepted these findings?”
“I seriously doubt it,” he answers. “Alice, these investigations are shotty. Interviews are incomplete or there aren’t any. We need to speak with Chief Colley, Detective Boyd, and Chief Lacey.”
“I don’t believe they will talk to us,” I comment.
“We have to try.”
I make a phone call to Tip and ask him for Chief Colley’s address. Within a few minutes, he says, “She’s dead.”
“What did you say?”
“Died in a car accident in late September 2015,” he says. “She hit a coyote, ran off the road.”
I look at John and shake my head. “Chief Colley hit a coyote.”
John remarks, “Well, isn’t that a coincidence.”
“A very big one,” I comment. “Tip, any news on the appointments at the asylum?”
“They’re not answering the phone. I only get a voicemail, but I will keep trying.”
“Thank you, Tip.”
“You’re always welcome, my love.”
I end the call. “We have to speak to both officers and find out what the hell is really going on.”
“We have to speak to them separately and probably at the same time.”
“Why separately?”
“If we go to the Chief first, by the time we get to Boyd, the wall will be up. It’ll be the same result the other way around. I figure doing it separately and at the same time is the best way.”
“I want the detective,” I remark.
“I figure you would.”
John starts texting on his cell phone. He doesn’t tell me what he’s doing. I ask him for the missing person reports that I gave him earlier, and I start putting them in order by dates.
Within a few minutes, glasses are brought to the table, and the waiter pours the alcohol for us. John orders smoked salmon, and I ask for him to leave the bottle. The waiter leaves with a slight nod.
“So, I’ve put all the missing person reports in order, and Lacey was promoted after Chief Colley died in September 2015. All of these reports after that date have his signature. You think Chief Lacey had Chief Colley and the Landon family killed?”
“Sure seems that way.”
We must be on the right track for sure. It makes perfect sense. I turn my attention to the Landon’s accident report.
“Alice, let’s get off this for a minute. I have to ask you a question.”
I continue reading, but I listen.
“Have you chosen a last name for yourself?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Mostly everyone has a last name. At least, the ones I know.”
I sit back in my seat and answer, “I haven’t thought
about it.”
“You should give yourself a last name, especially if you’re going to start your own agency.”
“I never said I was going to start one, John.”
“I’ll be your partner. We can be supernatural heroes. It’ll be exciting. We can do car chases, climb buildings, bust through doors.”
He’s crazy, and I look at him like he’s crazy.
“How about Alice Guardian?”
“No,” I say with a shake of my head. “No.”
“Alice Stargazer?”
“No.”
“Alice Earthbound?”
“You’re being ridiculous, John.”
“Alice Zuller?”
“Ah, no.”
“We wouldn’t be married. It’ll be a loan until you come up with your own last name.”
“John, I’m okay without one to be honest with you.”
“Just think about it. If not mine, then think of something that you like.”
“Let’s talk about you” I ask in an attempt to change the subject.
“Me?” He points at himself.
“Yes, do you have any siblings?”
“I have a brother.”
“What’s his name?” I ask.
“Jason,” he answers.
“Where is he?”
“He lives in Minot, North Dakota. He said that the Fellowship isn’t active in that town, and people are actually making a decent living there.”
“Where is the rest of your family?”
“My dad lives in Bora Bora.”
“Bora Bora,” I repeat with disbelief. “Why such a long way?”
“Out of range and out of sight,” he answers.
“And your mom?”
“My mom is gone, passed away. Pancreatic cancer.”
“I’m sorry, John.”
He waves me off and takes a sip of his drink. “You’d think with her being a healer, she could beat it. My mother was unstoppable in my mind. Nothing could tear her down in my mind. When she died, I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t understand it. Still don’t.”
“There is a reason why she couldn’t heal herself,” I remark. “The healing gift was never meant for her. It was meant for those that the she chose to help. Your mother was, in a sense, a gift from God. I bet she was a gracious woman.”
With a nod and a pained smile, he says, “She was exactly like that, Alice. Selfless, not judgmental, the sweetest lady I’ve ever known. She suffered when she was here. Nothing abated her pain. All of those treatments, and the cancer beat it all. At least, she’s not suffering anymore. That’s what gives me peace of mind. I know she’s in a good place.”
“She is in a good place.”
What I’ve said has given him comfort, and he wipes away the tiny tears that managed to escape. His smile shines through. I understand and know that feeling. I’ve held many of my charges close as they mourned. The pain never goes away. It’s always beneath the shell, simmering in the heart and belly. It can erupt at any time.
His meal arrives, and he eats between more conversations of his family. They were close knit at one time. With his mother gone, they’re not as close. John sees his brother sometimes, but they don’t talk to each other much. His dad hasn’t come to the states in years. They don’t send birthday cards or holiday cards to one another, but John seems fine with it. Loneliness is harsh on the spirit and human mind. Maybe, I’ll convince him to go see his dad before it’s too late.
CHAPTER 18
After dinner and no dessert, we head for our hotel room. We’ve decided to use the transfer chamber since there’s only one truck because we want to question each police officer at the same time. John is going to visit Chief Lacey, and I’m going to see Detective Boyd. Tip has given us their addresses, and we’re ready to go.
John asks, “Do you think we should call first? Make sure they’re at home.”
“It’s six in the evening. I don’t see why they wouldn’t be home.”
“We can call the police station and find out,” John says.
“Okay,” I remark.
John opens the phone directory and finds the nonemergency number. He uses the room phone to call, and he finds out that Chief Lacey is not at work and neither is Detective Boyd.
“We’ll go now,” he says.
“What do you want to do with all this paperwork?”
“It’s too much to carry around. We can leave them here and the pictures, too. Tomorrow we can get folders and binders to organize all this stuff.”
John closes the bathroom door and says the spell. We go inside the transfer chamber and look at one another for a moment. John acts like he wants to kiss me, but I break the staring contest first by grabbing a knob. I hate to disappoint him, but our friendship will remain intact that way. He sighs and takes another doorknob. He tells me to be careful, and I tell him the same.
CHAPTER 19
John enters the guest bedroom of Chief Ryan Lacey’s home. The space is a throne to piles of needless objects: overflowing boxes of paper, picture frames, old shoes, tools, and chords. Dust hangs in the still air. John goes to the window and pulls back the curtains. The only activity outside are kids that’s riding their bikes at what they think are record breaking speeds. He releases the curtains and steps over to the door and cracks it open. From his narrow view, John can see the hallway that leads to the living room. There’s no noise, not even ticking from a clock or humming from kitchen appliances. John cautiously steps into the living room. Directly to the right is the foyer that leads to the front door, and the den is adjacent to it. John steps inside both, but when he turns around to go back into the living room, he’s met with an unmistakable sound of a click from a gun.
“Who the hell are you?” a man says from across the living room.
“Chief Lacey?”
“That’s my name, you idiot. I asked what your name was.”
“John Zuller.”
Chief Lacey steps closer to the leather sofa and remarks, “Didn’t my detective speak to you today?”
“He did.”
As Chief Lacey rounds the sofa, both men sense each other are more than just human. Their distrust heightens. Neither wizard is taking each other at face value. Both have a clear understanding that power is power no matter who has it, no matter what kind it is, and if they know how to will it, their enemy can very well get hurt or killed. Both decide to proceed carefully.
“Why are you here?” Chief Lacey asks.
“I’ve come to talk to you about Vanessa Brenlich, Jessica Walter, Austin Grady, and forty or so other individuals that are still missing and possibly in dimension traps.”
Chief Lacey slides his gun back into his holster before casually answering, “Those names mean nothing to me.”
John relaxes. “You know exactly who they are, and you’ve lied on the police reports. I’ve seen them myself.”
“You’ve seen my police reports? Who are you really?”
“How about you answer my questions first?”
Instead of giving in to John’s demands, Chief Lacey decides to challenge him. “Mr. Zuller, are you with the Magi Elite International Police Division? I don’t think you are because if you were, you would have shown me your credentials first and introduced yourself as such. You can’t be the FBI. They don’t exist anymore. You don’t talk like you’re from Texas, and you don’t dress like you’re from here, either. So, that means you’re not a Texas Ranger or a Texas State Trooper or any officer of this state.”
John knows the chief has the upper hand, but he’s not deterred. “Did you trap all those missing people?”
“I think you better leave, Mr. Zuller.”
“I will take this to the Magi Elite,” John warns him. “I’m sure the Judiciary Division will be highly interested in what you’ve done.”
“And what exactly are you going to tell them? You can’t prove your accusations.”
“I have copies of Detective Boyd’s police reports and yours, as well.”<
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“Those reports are meaningless to the Magi.”
“We will see.”
“I can have you arrested for larceny and interfering with a police investigation.”
“You think bars will hold me, Chief?”
“Let me help you understand something here. You have no right to my police records. I want them returned.”
“So you can shred them or burn them? I don’t think so.”
“Mr. Zuller, you’re making a very big mistake.” Chief Lacey’s words are more of a warning than a statement.
“Admit that you’re responsible.” John is now convinced. “Admit it and release those people, Chief.”
“You must not understand who I am. I’m not a criminal, Mr. Zuller. I don’t break laws. I am the police. As a matter of fact, I am the Chief of Police, and I can do no wrong. All of those people that you claim to be in dimension traps have moved on, living their normal lives. The cases are solved and closed.”
“I’m not walking away from this.”
“That’s really too bad, Mr. Zuller,” Chief Lacey says as he starts moving closer to him.
Before John can raise his arm to send a destructive sound wave, Chief Lacey mentally takes hold of his mind and literally whiteout his eyes, which instantly confuses and cripples John.
In his mind, he’s trapped inside of an unstable white wall cube. There are no doors. The room shifts and stretches, making John sick to his stomach. He tries to grab hold of something, anything, but John falls flat on his side. He blindly sends a sound wave to try and make the white room go away, but the only thing he succeeds in doing is punching a hole in Chief Lacey’s ceiling. The destruction does not negate the effects of the mind control.
Chief Lacey continues his relentless mental assault on John as he goes over to a wall unit. He picks up a wooden box that has syringes and vials of ketamine. Slowly and meticulously, Chief Lacey prepares the needle and sticks it in John’s neck. It’s not long before John is face down on the floor and out. Chief Lacey releases the mental hold and pulls out his cell phone to make a call.
