Peak Road - A Short Thriller (Jon Stanton Mysteries Book 10) (3 page)

5

The church service went by quickly. I taught a lesson in Sunday school about the purpose of forgiveness in our lives, the power that’s unleashed with it, that allows people to move on after tragic events.

When it was over, I went home and changed into shorts. I took Hanny to the beach and let him run around. I always kept a leash on him because I knew that many people would always be afraid of a pit bull, especially one with no leash.

Though I tried to avoid it, I couldn’t help thinking of Peak Road. The killings themselves weren’t that unusual—although a killer who targets entire families was a little odd—but the massive lapse in time interested me. It was possible that the killer had left. Maybe he had been to prison or had moved then recently moved back… or he’d simply had enough self-control to fight off his fantasy for twenty years before engaging in it again.

I couldn’t go. Whenever I worked cases like that, they took a piece of me. And I didn’t know how many pieces I had left.

Julie came jogging up from the opposite direction, wearing a spandex top. She stopped in front of me, and Hanny jumped on her. They started playing, and it brought a grin to my face. She came over to me, taking out her earbuds.

“Something happen?” she asked.

“No. Why?”

“You look sad.”

I shrugged. “Just a case I’ve been thinking about.”

“What case?”

This was the part of the job I didn’t like—the part where I wanted to discuss it with someone else but knew I couldn’t. If I told her the things I had seen and was thinking about, it would change the way she saw the world. It had happened with my ex-wife, my fiancée, and even my children.

“Nothing worth mentioning.”

She hesitated. “Jon, come over for dinner tonight.”

Part of me wanted nothing more than to go over to her house and begin what I knew would turn into something more. She was kind, attractive, and compassionate. She might even have understood the job in a way Melissa never could. But another part of me thought I didn’t belong there. I didn’t belong with anyone else.

“I’ll take a raincheck.”

She exhaled and placed her hand on my chest. “There are only so many rainchecks.”

I watched her jog away. Hanny began running after her, but his leash pulled taut and yanked him back. I turned toward the ocean, staring at the waves as he barked at her, thinking himself left behind.

That evening, after a dinner of beans and rice, I sat on the patio and sipped herbal tea. Black and green teas were forbidden by the Mormon faith, but herbs, if used appropriately, were encouraged. The faith also promoted vegetarianism, something I’d been trying out over the past months and had been enjoying. I was losing weight, and my migraines, which had once been frequent, were less prominent.

Beside me on the patio side table was the picture of the Noels. I picked it up and stared at it. The mother’s hand rested lightly on the child’s shoulder, and the father’s arm was wrapped around her. I saw something then: the other children the couple would never have. I saw them on either side of the parents as clearly as if they were there. I had to put the photo down and stare out over the ocean.

Just past my neighbor’s house, people were running. It was dark, but the moon and the setting sun provided enough illumination. A few tourists were standing on the beach, staring at the ocean in wonder. The water held that wonder for me, too, and every time I saw it was like the first time.

A child broke away from the crowd. He sprinted for the water, and a woman yelled after him. She caught up with him halfway down the beach and lifted him in the air, tickling him and feigning anger as he laughed uproariously. Watching them head back to the rest of the crowd, I grinned.

I picked up the photo again, my guts in tight knots that made me want to throw up. I swallowed then pulled my phone out of my pocket, still staring at the photo. I texted Mickey Parsons.

Get another ticket. I’m coming
.

A moment later, he texted back,
I bought one for you yesterday. See you in the morning
.

I took in a deep breath and held it a moment, feeling my heart thump against my ribs, thirsty for oxygen. I held my breath for as long as I could then let it out in a slow hiss before I put the photo down and stood up.

The mother on the beach was still holding her son. They watched the waves together, and she pointed to the moon. He tilted his head up and stared at it. I went inside the house and left the patio doors open so I could hear the waves while I slept.

6

The next morning, I went to Julie’s house. When she answered the door, she didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come over yesterday.”

She nodded. “It’s okay.” She folded her arms.

“Could I impose on you for a bit? I need to go to Nevada for a little while. I was hoping you could take Hanny. If you can’t, I completely under—”

“No, I’d be happy to watch him.”

I nodded, never letting go of her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t know what the problem is, but we all have our demons, don’t we?”

“Yeah, we do.”

I left my keys with her then texted my captain, Kai, saying that I would need to use some leave. Laka didn’t have a problem covering my cases for a week, and I told her I would make it up to her. Luckily, the captain didn’t micromanage his team, and he trusted me when I told him I had a good reason to take time off.

The airport was bustling with tourists, as it always was. I took an Uber ride down, and the driver didn’t speak a word until we actually arrived at the airport.

“Where you goin’?” he asked.

“Nevada.”

“Las Vegas?”

“No, a town called Peak Road.”

“Never been.” He took out a pack of gum, shoved a piece into his mouth with the wrapper still on, then spit out the wrapper onto the passenger seat. “Don’t sound like much.”

“Probably isn’t much.”

“Why you goin’?”

I watched a plane lift off and rocket into the air. Its engines drowned out the sound of traffic for a few seconds. “I don’t actually know.”

“Weird thing to go someplace and not know why.”

“It is.”

I paid on my phone at the terminal and left a good tip. I’d brought only one gym bag full of clothes, and I slung it over my shoulder then headed in. The security agent had to call a supervisor because of my gun, then I was allowed through. Law enforcement officers were allowed to fly with firearms, but that didn’t mean the TSA gave us an easy time for it.

Mickey was sitting in one of the seats near our gate, one leg crossed over the other. He was wearing a suit and tie, and I was in my jeans and leather jacket. I suddenly felt underdressed.

“I didn’t know we were on a date. I would’ve worn a dress,” I said.

He grinned. “Old habits. The Bureau always had strict dress standards.”

“From Hoover, right? I remember something about him and a dress.” I loved teasing Mickey about J. Edgar Hoover. If ever there was a tyrant who hadn’t respected the Constitution, it was Hoover. He stood for everything the Founding Fathers were against: the ends justifying the means and the shredding of personal liberty.

“You know,” he said, leaning back in the seat, “I interviewed this old-timer down in Florida in the eighties. He was a capo in the Bonanno crime family. Worked with Luciano and Meyer Lansky personally. He swore to me he’d seen the photos of Hoover cross-dressing. That he was a transvestite and homosexual but knew he’d be run out of the director position if it ever came out. Obviously, I have to consider the source in that story—those guys can’t be trusted for anything. They’ll lie even when there’s no benefit to lying, but it made me wonder.”

“Would it make a difference to you if he was a cross-dresser?”

“No. It’d make me pity him more than anything. That he had to hide his true self his entire life.” I understood what Mickey meant—the idea of hiding one’s self gave me an uncomfortable tightness in my chest.

I turned to watch the planes landing and taking off. I was still impressed that humans had conquered flight. Of all the animals on the planet that have ever lived, we were the only ones who could fly without being born with the ability.

“How did you know I would come?” I asked.

“Because you’ve never been able to say no to this type of case.”

“What type is that?”

He held my gaze for a second. “Hopeless.”

Our flight was called, and we filed into the plane with the other passengers. The flight wasn’t packed, and we had a row of three seats to ourselves, so we sat with an empty seat between us. Mickey’s watch beeped; he took out an amber bottle of large pills and asked the flight attendant for some water. She brought a small bottle, and he popped the pills then swallowed them with the water. It looked almost painful.

“How is everything?”

“Good as can be. Most doctors didn’t predict I would live as long as I have, and now I’m out parasailing. You ever been parasailing?”

“No.”

“It’s quiet up there. You get high enough and come near the boat, you can’t see it anymore, and it looks like you’re flying. All you hear is the wind, the sunshine on your face… I do it at least three or four times a month.”

He paused for a second, and I could tell he was somewhere else—back home maybe, with his new wife. The case must’ve really pained him to pull him away from that.

“Tell me how they died,” I said.

“He came in through the basement window. Basement windows were shattered in both homes, and in the Noels’ home, too. Didn’t bother to slide it open or use a glass cutter. He crashed through.”

“Were you able to get any blood off the shards?”

He shook his head. “No. He must’ve been wearing something protective or maybe threw something against the window first. But once he got in, it was quick. He went to the first bedroom he could find. In the Wyatts’ home, that was their children’s room. They had bunk beds. Their throats were ripped out. Mr. Wyatt was killed next, in the same way. He spent most of his time with Mrs. Wyatt. There was evidence that he had attempted to rape her, but there was no evidence he succeeded.

“The Roths’ murders were nearly identical. They had four children, all killed in the same manner. One of the kids was found in the closet. We think the boy heard something and tried to hide, but the killer found him. Same thing with Mrs. Roth—an attempted rape, but no actual bruising or tears.”

“He was impotent.”

Mickey nodded. “That’s what I thought. This was before Viagra. Wasn’t much help a man could get back then. The Noels, I’m told, were the same thing. They found some evidence that he had attempted to rape Mrs. Noel, but no bruising or tears. Doesn’t look like Viagra made much of a difference to him.”

Now that everyone had boarded, the engines revved, and the captain made an announcement that the plane would be lifting off in two minutes and landing in McCarran Airport in Las Vegas around noon.

“Did you have anybody you were looking at?” I asked.

He shook his head, taking another sip of water, then replaced the cap and set the bottle down next to him. “The whole damn town was suspect. Despite being only a few hours away from Las Vegas, it’s actually a backward place. One sheriff for the whole town, one doctor, one school for pre-school through high school. It reminds me of a snapshot from a hundred years ago.” He paused. “There was one guy—Earl Kaiser, the town mechanic. Young kid, maybe twenty at the time. He had a lewdness charge and several assaults on his record. Those charges weren’t alarming, but everyone knew who the judge and sheriff were in that town. For them to actually convict one of their own, I’m guessing, took a lot. For every conviction, there were probably ten other offenses that got warnings.”

The plane lunged forward, and I felt the tires lift from the ground. My stomach twisted at the unusual sensation of becoming airborne. Mickey was staring out the window. A bruise on his right wrist wasn’t large, but it looked out of place on his tanned skin. I remembered Mickey then as the young, fiery special agent who wouldn’t take no for an answer—not from anybody. He was larger than life, but I’d always seen past that. Deep in his core, in a place that he refused to show anyone, he was lonely. Since his wife’s passing, a deep sense of solitude had descended on him and wouldn’t let go. I wondered if he saw the same thing in me.

“Do you talk to Melissa anymore?” he asked.

“No. She’s… having a baby with her new husband.”

He looked at me. “I guess that’s good news.”

“I suppose. I never really felt that I’d lost her until the moment I heard that.”

“When I heard about your divorce, honestly, I was surprised. You two seemed close.”

“People grow in different directions sometimes. If I’d known what was happening, though, I would’ve quit. The job was what got between us. The long hours, the inability to open up about what I saw during the day. My psychiatrist says I withdraw into myself when something traumatic happens.”

“You’re seeing a shrink?”

I nodded. “Several years now.” I paused then decided I wouldn’t tell him about the panic attacks. They didn’t seem relevant, and for some reason, I was embarrassed. “It helps to talk to someone.”

The plane ride was pleasant. The last flight I’d been on had given me a migraine. Maybe the difference was the number of people on the plane. Sartre had said that hell was other people. I thought of that often, even though I didn’t think I believed it.

The captain announced that we would be landing at McCarran in a few minutes. Mickey’s posture changed. He seemed agitated. He gripped both armrests and kept his eyes out the window as the glittering cityscape of Las Vegas came into view.