Bad Land (2 page)

Chapter 2

“I need to see you in my office.” It was the same tone she normally used with her employees. The care he thought he had heard in her voice this morning was gone. In fact, it was so far removed he wondered if it had been there at all. His boss actually being sensitive to an employee? Never.

“Yes, Ma’am. I’ll be right there.”

Marshall hung up the phone and looked down at his Vans, blue jeans, and button up plaid shirt. He should have worn something different. She was always reminding him how a professional reporter should dress and act.

Marshall exited his office and walked past the army of cubicles to his right on his way to the large corner office.

No one voluntarily made his or her way to the boss’ office. They avoided the area like it was infected with a zombie virus.

Marshall gently raised a knuckled fist and wrapped on the large wooden door. It boasted a single plaque:
Diane Whitmer Editor in Chief
.

“Come in, Mr. Montgomery.”

Marshall tensed at the use of his last name as he twisted the cold metal knob then walked through the door. Her office was the polar opposite of his own. His feet sank into a thick carpet. The sun shone brightly behind her through a large window with designer drapes. A bulky mahogany desk sat in the middle of the room, adorned with the emblem of the paper they worked for. Her walls were lined with bookshelves, framed awards, featured articles, and honorable mentions.

“You wanted to see me?”

Diane looked him up and down and shook her head in disapproval. “Yes. When are you going to start dressing like a real reporter, Marshall? People aren’t going to take you seriously if you don’t take yourself seriously.”

Marshall smiled. Diane Whitmer was a force to be reckoned with. There was no doubt her very name inspired fear in the hearts of every reporter and journalist that worked for her and even some that didn’t. Her reputation as a cutthroat journalist was only surpassed by her successful career as the editor-in-chief of the newspaper.

Marshall, however, had known Diane for six years, and in that time had learned how to deal with her. She was like a shark. She was intimidating and fierce. Everyone cowered in front of her and stumbled over their words when they addressed her. She could smell blood in the water from a mile away. She could sense fear in almost anyone, and from day one, Marshall had refused to be afraid of her. Marshall was full of respect for the woman, but when others cowered, he stood tall with a smile.

He walked over to a particularly large plaque, the one that held his article from the previous year, the story that had earned him his position as a full time journalist. “Apparently someone took me serious enough to give me the
Hermes
award for Story of the Year. That’s weird, right?”

Diane shot him a steely stare that revealed nothing, and just for a second, Marshall thought he saw the corners of her lips twitch. But it was gone as fast as it had happened and she raised an eyebrow instead. “Yes, well, that was LAST year, Mr. Montgomery.”

Marshall tucked a tuff of his dark brown hair behind his ear. Just like she was on him to start wearing slacks and button up shirts to work, she was always on him to cut his hair. He had managed to hold her shears at bay thus far. 

“I have the piece about the history of the county coming up for the area’s anniversary. It’s going to make waves.”

Diane motioned him to take a seat in one of the two leather chairs that stood sentry in front of her desk. “I’m sure it will be, but that’s not why I asked you into my office.”

Marshall took a seat and he realized what Diane was going to say next even as she opened her mouth. “I know we talked about this over the phone this morning, but I just want to make sure you’re aware that the police will probably want to talk to you about Barbara Summers’ death. You were among the last to see her alive, after all.”

Marshall bit his lip and nodded.

“When exactly did you interview her?”

“I met with her two days ago in the afternoon. It was my first time interviewing, but Chris in hiring thought it would be good for me to gain the experience. Since Barbara was interviewing for the same position I held two years ago, he thought I would be able to tell if Barbara had what it took for the job.”

“And did she?”

“Yes.”

Diane sat back in her chair, her perfectly ironed gray suit hugging her yoga shaped physique.

Marshall was about to ask her if there was anything else she wanted to know when Diane picked up the conversation again. “Did she seem scared or worried about anything?”

Marshall took a minute to think. “No. She was fine, seemed excited and a little bit nervous, but it was going to be her first real job, so it was to be expected. She was going to a local community college for journalism and had heard about the intern position being open from her teacher.”

“Nothing else?”

Marshall furrowed his brow. “Is there something I don’t know? I met with her for all of twenty minutes. It was an interview, that’s all. Is there something else going on here?”

Marshall hoped Diane would say something that would make sense of his feelings about Barbara’s death. But she didn’t.

“No, no, nothing else. Just curious about what might have been said. On yours and Chris’ recommendation, I was going to hire her for the spot. It’s just very unfortunate.”

Marshall nodded and the two sat in silence. “Well, that’s all, Mr. Montgomery. Thank you and I’m looking forward to your epic piece on the county’s history.”

Marshall rose from his seat. “So am I.”

Marshall walked back to his office, deep in thought about Barbara once again. Why would Diane be interested in what she had to say? She was a stranger. But there was no time to think about this as Marshall’s co-workers and the soldiers that made the
Hermes
move filed into the large room. Marshall exchanged hellos and smiles with everyone as they walked by. He caught bits and pieces of conversations as he walked past cubicles and open office doors.

“Did you hear about that poor girl?”

“Which one?”

“The one that came in the other day to interview. She was found dead this morning.”

“No. Really? What happened?”

Marshall made it to his office and shut his door. He was thinking about Barbara again—he couldn’t avoid it anymore. Or at least that was what he was telling himself.

The entire day Marshall worked and waited for the visit from the police that would inevitably come.

Marshall’s current task was to gather all the information on the county he could find. Twenty years ago, this would have meant endless hours at the library and history museum. Today this meant cracking a few knuckles and glaring into a screen for hours on end. 

Marshall spent most of the day online. Gathering as much knowledge and information he could find on the founding fathers of the county as well as compiling a list of individuals who would be sources of information when he began the interview stage. Still there was no call. No knock on his door. Nothing.

It was only as the sun began to set that Marshall decided to be proactive and call the police station. Whatever it took to get the image of Barbara’s dead body lying under the sheet in the middle of the road on Wakan Canyon out of his head. He had tried to ignore the image all day, but it had been there despite his best efforts. Somewhere, deep in his psyche, it was lurking, waiting to be summoned yet again.

Marshall picked up his phone and dialed the police station. A journalist for six years, Marshall was on a first name basis with all but a few officers at the precinct. It was Lieutenant Tom Lloyd who answered the phone.

“Los Angeles County police department. This is Lieutenant Lloyd.”

“Hey, it’s Marshall at the
Hermes
. How are you? Why are you answering the phone? All the corporals and privates busy?”

The voice on the other line eased off and Marshall could practically hear the big man on the other line smile. “Marshall! I’m a multi tasker. You know, arrests here, solved cases there, an occasional secretary in between. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m good, Tom. How’s the family and kids?”

“Great, thanks for asking. How’s the Ice Queen been treating you? Put any spells on you yet?”

“Oh, you know I keep on dodging the apples she sends me and I make sure to stay away from the house made of candy.”

Tom let out a deep laugh. “Good for you. I hear those apples and candy houses are killers.”

Marshall chuckled, and as the laughter died between the two, he dove into the matter at hand. “Hey, Tom, did you hear about the young girl whose body was found on Wakan Canyon this morning?”

Tom’s voice softened as the laughter he’d just expressed fled faster than a bullet from a rifle. “Yeah. I’m not on the case but I heard about it. Why?”

Marshall made a mental note of the drastic change in the officer’s demeanor. “Oh, I was just wondering if the police would like a statement from me. She was at the
Hermes
interviewing for a position just two days ago. I actually interviewed her myself.”

Tom was on edge. “No, I think that case has already been taken care of and closed.”

“What? Already? What was the cause of death?”

“You know I can’t discuss that with you, Marshall.”

Marshall’s eyes widened. “Really, Tom? When has that stopped you before? You always tell me stuff. I’m a reporter, remember? You just tipped me off last week about that cat burglar that thought he was an actual cat.  Before that, there was the—”

“I know, Marshall, but this one is different. There will be an official coroner’s report filed soon. You can look that up if you want.” 

Marshall was at a loss. “Why are you acting so weird? What am I not getting about this?”

“Listen, I have to go, but from one friend to another, just let this one go.”

“Tom—”

“Marshall, let it go.” There was something in Tom Lloyd’s voice that Marshall had never heard, something that sent a shiver down his spine as the officer on the other end hung up the phone.

Chapter 3

That was it. The phone went dead and Marshall was left to his own devices to figure out how to handle the situation. Like any good reporter, Marshall knew when there was more to the story than people were willing to share. Most people wouldn’t have even called the police station asking if they wanted their statement. Fewer would have considered pursuing the truth after they were told to back off by a police officer.

Marshall now sat in his office wondering what to do. There were only two options. One, he could get back to researching the history of the county for his featured piece. Two, he could call his friend at the coroner’s office. He knew for sure he would get some answers there.

Whatever you decide, you should do it now. Either follow this thing through to the end or walk away and stop thinking about it, and her.
Marshall knew he had to make the call. He knew that once something had piqued his interest, there would be no peace until it had been resolved.

Marshall grabbed the phone again and punched the series of numbers that would connect him with the coroner. After a few too many rings, a young male voice answered. “Hello?”

“Hello, is there a hardcore video gamer there that goes by the gamer tag of Sexy Beast?”

There was no hesitation with the reply. “Depends who’s asking. What’s your gamer tag?”

Both men burst out laughing. Marshall regained his composure first. “I saw you online last night but I was too tired to play.”

“Ahhh, that’s okay. I would have beaten you, anyway. Better you saved some face.”

“Please.”

“I know your moves even before you think about hitting the buttons. Just like I know you’re not calling to talk about video games.”

“Well, master Yoda, you’re right. I was calling to see what the official cause of death was for the young girl that was brought in this morning.”

There was a muffled discussion on the other end as the receiver was part-way shielded and Marshall could hear more than one voice. Joseph’s voice came back with a tone of authority that wasn’t there before. “Yes, okay, Mom. I know, but you can’t call me at work. Sure, I’ll meet you at your favorite restaurant tonight. Yep, regular time. I’m about to get off.  See you at seven.”

It was Marshall’s turn to come back with a quick reply in a high-pitched voice. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll see you there. Be good.”

Both men hung up the phone simultaneously. Marshall was more confused than ever. If there was something Joseph was worried to say in front of someone else regarding Barbara’s death, then this would get interesting.

Glancing at his watch, he turned off his computer and grabbed his brown satchel as he headed out the door. He knew the exact meeting place Joseph was referencing. It was a twenty-four hour diner that served breakfast the whole day, their favorite meal.

Trying to avoid her, he was still caught in Ann Hansen’s gaze as he exited his office. “Someone is leaving early, isn’t he? Not like you to leave before the sun sets.”

“Yeah, thought I should get home before the vampires come out.”

Ann’s face went from pale white to paler as she struggled to distinguish joke from reality.

“Ann. Ann, that was a joke. There are no such things as vampires.”

“Oh, right. Hahahaha. I know that,” Ann said with a nervous glance at the shadows around her.

“Okay, well, I have to go, but seriously, don’t worry. That was just a joke.”

Ann gave him a nervous smile as she nodded.

Marshall turned and walked toward the elevator. When he pressed the button, the doors dinged open and he stepped inside. As the metallic doors slid closed, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for what he said to Ann. It was obvious that simple joke had set her on edge. There had to be something else going on to make her jump like that.

Marshall dismissed his current train of thought. He had enough to worry about without taking into consideration what was going on in Ann’s head.

He walked to his car,  unlocked the door, and threw his bag in the back seat. Carefully, he worked his way through the evening traffic toward the diner.

Los Angeles County traffic inched along, and what should have taken him just over ten minutes turned into a half hour trip. Seeing the restaurant’s large orange sign and the ever-vigilant neon chef flipping his pancake was like seeing an oasis in the desert.

Marshall parked his car in the small lot that badly needed repaving and walked inside. The door jingled as he entered. A curly haired waitress sporting a nametag that read “Elaine” smiled at him. “Welcome to Gladding’s, can I get you a seat?”

“Oh, no, thank you. I’m meeting someone here. Maybe you’ve seen him; tall, dark skinned, a goatee?”

“Oh, yes. He’s sitting in the corner booth.” The waitress motioned with her hand.

“Great. Thanks.” Marshall walked toward the back of the restaurant, passing booths of families and couples before he saw his friend. An expression of concentration was plain on his face as he looked into his coffee cup like he had seen an image of the Virgin Mary.

“Your coffee talking to you again?” Marshall asked as he plopped down on the bench across from his friend.

Joseph jumped at the noise, with a look of fear on his face. When he saw who it was, he ran a hand through his thick hair and took a deep breath. “Wow, dude. Don’t sneak up on me like that. I almost gave you a judo chop across the temple.”

Marshall lifted both hands, palms toward his friend. “Take it easy, Bruce Lee. I didn’t mean to scare you. Why are you so jumpy, anyway?”

Joseph shook his head. “I don’t know, man. It’s this whole death thing. We got the body this morning and nothing has made sense all day.”

Marshall had to wait for answers as the waitress came over to their booth and took orders. Joseph passed on ordering any food and that was when Marshall knew things were bad. He had known him ever since high school and his Native American friend was ALWAYS hungry. When the waitress left with Marshall’s lone drink order, Marshall leaned close. “You’re not hungry? What’s going on?”

Joseph looked around the diner and over his back like he was searching for government spies. Content that they were alone, he leaned toward Marshall and started to whisper. “There’s something going on, man. I don’t know what, but I think there’s some kind of cover-up happening.”

Marshall gave him a frustrated look. “Okay, go on. I need details. Start from the beginning.”

“This morning we got the girl’s body in the office. Myself and another tech.”

Marshall stopped him there with a knowing grin. “‘Another tech,’ huh? This other tech wouldn’t happen to be Brianna Olsen, the girl you’ve been too scared to ask out for the last year, would it?”

Joseph scowled. “It is Brianna, and I am not too scared to ask her out. I’m just… waiting for the right time.”

“Sure you are.”

“ANYWAY, we were going over the body, determining the cause of death. Well, she had been hit by a car and dragged down the road… that’s what the ‘official,’” Joseph made air quotes with his fingers, “report will say, but that’s not all that happened to her.”

There was another pause in the conversation as the waitress returned with Marshall’s coffee and a refill for Joseph. After she left, Marshall suggested, “Should you be drinking coffee right now? You seem jumpy enough.”

Joseph gazed at the motor oil-like liquid in his cup. “Naw, I’ll drink it, but listen. As Brianna and I were examining the woman’s—”

“Girl.”

“What?”

“You mean girl. She was only eighteen.”

“Right, the girl. Well, the phone rings, and a second later our boss runs in and literally pushes us out of the room, saying he’ll take care of this one. He even tells us to take a break as he rushes us out of the room.”

“That doesn’t seem that shady. Kinda weird, but maybe he wanted to help or thought the situation needed his expertise.”

Joseph looked at him sideways. “Really? Since I’ve worked at the coroner’s office, my boss has offered to help or actually do work exactly—” Joseph paused dramatically. “Zero times. That guy is lazier than… than… than the laziest person you know. He never helps and definitely wouldn’t jump at a chance to examine a body unless he had reason to.”

Marshall was a skeptic by nature, but Joseph’s testimony made him think twice about the possibility of something much deeper at hand. “Okay, so let’s say that your boss was acting shady and trying to cover something up. What would he be covering up? What had happened to the body?”

“There were signs of being struck by a large object like a car and dragged, but we also found slits across her wrists and ankles. When we examined the body further, she had almost been completely drained of blood. Before we could get any deeper into the examination, we were thrown out of the room.”

“She was bled dry?”

“That’s what it looked like. I can tell you it wasn’t the impact of whatever hit her that killed her. There wasn’t enough blunt trauma or damage from being dragged to have killed her, either.”

Marshall’s mind was running a million miles an hour as he sped through the possibilities. “Is it possible that she was bled dry and then thrown from a vehicle rather than a vehicle hitting and dragging her? And the impact from the road caused the blunt trauma?”

Joseph nodded. “Yeah, but that’s not what the official word of the coroner is going to say. I saw the autopsy report before I left. It’s going to say that she died from a hit and run.”

“Your boss walked into the room and that’s why you pretended I was your mom on the other end of the phone?”

Joseph nodded again. “I’m telling you, man—whatever really happened to that girl—someone wants it hidden.”

“Someone who has power and influence, too,” Marshall pursed his lips. “It would take someone pretty high up to have enough pull to call your boss and cover up the real cause of death.”

The two men sat in silence. Marshall hadn’t even touched his coffee. Joseph was staring into his, but his mind was seeing anything but his cup.

“You have to be careful on this one, Marshall,” Joseph said, catching Marshall’s gaze with his own sharp stare. “Be careful, dude. I know how you are when you’re on a story.”

“I will. But someone has to figure out what happened to her. She deserves that much.”

Joseph chose his next words carefully. “I get that you’re a reporter and that you see this as your job. I get that you want to find out what really happened to her. Just make sure you’re doing it for the right reason. Don’t beat yourself up about things you can’t change. Things that happened in the past.”

Like a switch, anger rose in Marshall’s heart. He knew exactly what Joseph was talking about. “This has nothing to do with her. I haven’t even thought about her during this—not until you brought it up just now.”

“All right,” Joseph said. “All right, man. I’ll let it go. Just be honest with yourself.”

Marshall shot Joseph a look of controlled aggression. “I gotta get going. Thank you for the info. And you keep your head down, too, big guy. I can imagine that this situation could get sticky for you if whoever it was that called your boss found out you were talking to a reporter.”

“I will.”

Marshall threw down a few dollars and left the diner, angrier than he thought he should be. Deep down he knew Joseph had his best interests in mind, but the thought of
her
sent him into a tailspin every time. It was a memory he had worked for years to bury, and when it did surface, all he felt was anger and bitterness.

Marshall opened his car door and slammed it shut harder than he intended. The engine roared to life and Marshall sped through the streets toward his apartment. The sky was dark now, matching Marshall’s own mood.

Why did he have to mention her? Why did he have to bring her up? This had nothing to do with her.

Marshall was still struggling to silence his memories as he pulled up to his apartment building and walked toward his door on the bottom floor. The complex was well groomed and taken care of on a weekly basis. It boasted a swimming pool and all the units were air-conditioned. Marshall had moved in almost two years ago. His promotion to being a full time reporter had come at the perfect time, just as he was graduating from college and looking for a place to live.

George was barking as Marshall walked to his door, his deep beagle howl shattering the quiet night. George was a great dog and other than a handful of instances when he had cause too, never barked. Marshall quickened his pace, unlocked his door, and stepped inside.

The apartment was dark except for the moonlight that came in the windows. George was barking like he had a vendetta. His growls were coming from the opposite side of the apartment, where a sliding glass door opened onto a small patio.

“George?” Marshall called out as he flipped on lights on his way to see where his roommate was directing his anger. “George, what’s wrong?”

Even before he saw George he felt his skin prickle. His hair stood up straight as he caught the first glimpse of his dog and the shadow outside.