Passions of the Dead (A Detective Jackson Mystery/Thriller) (26 page)

As they hurried through the skybridge over Hilyard Street, Jackson called headquarters. “Have you had any reports of a stolen car near the hospital?”

“Let me check.” After a moment, the desk officer said, “No. Do you want me to call you if one comes in?”

“Please. Would you also call the DMV and find out if Shane Compton has a vehicle registered to him?”

The skybridge connected to a medical building across the street where outpatient surgeries were conducted. Doctors, nurses, and CNAs hustled in and out of rooms, yanking open curtains and chatting with patients in white-and-blue-print hospital gowns. Many looked up as Jackson and Evans strode through, but no one tried to question or stop them.

As they passed the admitting desk, Evans trotted over and said, “We’re looking for two young patients, a male and a female, eighteen and twenty. They came through here ten or fifteen minutes ago. Did you see them?

The administrative aide looked confused. “What do you mean came through? They didn’t check in with me if that’s what you’re asking.”

“They would have just passed by, probably in a hurry.”

The aide shook her head.

Why would anyone notice patients walking through a hospital?

“Any reports of anything stolen? Like a jacket or car keys?”

“No.”

They hurried forward, glancing into rooms and opening doors. They searched the public bathrooms and found no sign the couple had been there. Beyond the elevators were automatic doors leading to daylight and the top level of the adjacent parking garage. Jackson and Evans went in separate directions to scan the perimeter, then they each took two rows and jogged from vehicle to vehicle, glancing in to see if Lori and Shane were hiding. Even though it had to be done, Jackson instinctively knew it was a waste of time. The couple had most likely boarded the elevators and quickly traveled to street level. From there, Shane probably called a friend or they walked a few blocks to the university area where he probably knew people.

Still moving along and peeking into cars, Jackson called McCray, who didn’t pick up. He left a message: “Shane Compton and Lori Walker have both left the hospital. We assume they’re together and Lori could be in danger. Evans and I are headed to Zor’s, the dealer on 8th Avenue where we picked up Shane. Call me when you get this message.”

Next he called Schak, who picked up and said, “What’s going on? I heard the attempt-to-locate for Shane and Lori.”

“They’re both missing from the hospital and we think Lori is in danger.”

“Oh shit. Poor girl. What are the assignments?”

Jackson checked the last car in the row and turned back. “Evans is still with me, and we’ll question Shane’s mother and his dealer. Will you check the Walker house? Lori may go home to get clothes or one of the family cars. Is Quince at his desk?”

“No, but he’s around here somewhere.”

“After you check the Walker house, head out to the airport. When you see Quince, tell him to call me.”

“Will do.” After a pause, Schak said, “I thought Compton was in jail.”

“He developed an infection and they transferred him to the hospital. The sheriffs released him because it was the easiest thing to do.”

“Ah shit.”

“If you see any sign they’ve been to the Walker house, let me know.”

Jackson clicked off as Evans jogged up, looking pink-cheeked and excited.

“What did you find?”

“A sleeping toddler in the back of a car. Idiot parents. I’ve got the plate number. Let’s notify security and get a patrol unit out here.”

Ten minutes later, they were in his cruiser, headed west toward Almaden. Jackson mentally looked back over the investigation and wondered what he’d missed, because he hadn’t seen this coming at all. After the home invasion on Stratmore and the connection to Roy Engall, he’d put Shane on the back burner as a viable suspect. That had been a mistake. What could he have done differently? Trump up phony charges against Shane to keep him in jail? Jackson had still not accepted the reality of only violent offenders staying incarcerated until their court date.

“Stop blaming yourself,” Evans said. “Engall was in the Walker house the night of the murders, and he was connected to the home invasion perps. We all thought he was going to confess.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” Jackson was both irritated and amused.

“One, you’re shaking your head. Two, you always think you could have conducted a better investigation.”

“It’s always true. For every investigation, not just mine. That’s how we get better at this, by examining mistakes.” They passed Garfield Street, then West 11th changed to two-way, congested traffic. Jackson wanted to pop out the siren and get everyone the hell out of his way, but he didn’t.

“What are we supposed to do?” Evans lamented. “We can’t hold suspects for more than a day without charging them. Booking them into jail is a waste of time; they could walk out three hours later. And we don’t have the resources to put a tail on every suspect in every investigation. It’s fucked up.”

Jackson agreed but kept quiet. Doing police work in Eugene had gotten harder and harder over the years. Left-leaning citizens complained about everything. They were outraged when officers shot and killed an emotionally unstable young woman with a knife. The department responded by buying Tasers and starting a trial program to test their effectiveness. When officers used the Tasers, citizens complained and filed lawsuits. It
was
fucked up.

The ring of his cell phone cut into his thoughts. “Jackson here.”

“It’s the front desk at headquarters. Shane Compton has a ’92 Toyota Nissan pickup registered to him. Color, white. His registration expired two months ago and he hasn’t renewed it.”

“Thanks. Call the vehicle into the state police. Give them Shane Compton’s and Lori Walker’s descriptions. Read the stats from the attempt-to-locate I called in earlier.” He clicked off the phone, wondering if he had covered all the possibilities.

“Do you think Shane’s parents will protect him?”

“I believe they already are. Neither Tracy nor Kevin has called me back.”

“It’s a triple homicide.” Evans’ voice was excited again.

“They don’t believe their son could have done it. It’s parental blindness. All parents suffer from it.”

“Another reason not to have children.”

Jackson turned left on City View and raced up the empty street. His cell phone rang, and he was glad his ear bud was already in place. It was now illegal in the state to drive and talk on anything but a hands-free unit. And it had always been reckless, even when he did it.

“This is Kevin Compton returning your call.” Kevin spoke slowly, his brain dysfunction obvious even over the phone.

“Have you seen or heard from Shane today?”

“No. I thought he was in jail.” Voices buzzed in the background, meaning Kevin was likely at his business.

“Shane was transferred to the hospital, then he and Lori–”

“Shane was in the hospital?” Despite his flat tone, Kevin sounded worried.

If their suspect was not keeping in touch with his parents, it was a sign he was deep into drug use again. “Shane developed an infection while he was in jail. They transferred him to the hospital, then released him. If he’s on the move now, he’s probably doing okay.”

“Not necessarily. He could die if he doesn’t take all the antibiotics.”

Jackson thought Kevin was probably overreacting. Meanwhile, he had bigger concerns. “We think Lori Walker is with him. Do you know where they might go?”

There was a long silence. Finally Kevin said, “I think Shane and Lori have feelings for each other.”

“Do you know where they might go?”

“Lori has her heart set on moving to Maui.”

“Do they have money for plane tickets?”

Kevin wasn’t listening. Jackson could hear someone talking to him in the background. After a moment, Kevin said, “I have to go,” and hung up.

“Any ideas?” Evans asked.

Jackson turned up Brittany Street and braked to miss a cat. “Kevin says Lori wants to move to Maui.”

“I don’t see them coming up with the money for tickets, but I’ll call the airport anyway.”

“Might as well alert the train and bus stations too.”

The Compton house came into view on the right and Jackson slowed, then parked on the street out of its line of sight. He didn’t want to spook Shane and have them bolt out the back. If they were even here.

“If no one answers, can we justify going in?” Excitement flared in Evans’ voice.

She’s still such a rookie
, Jackson thought. “We are going in. A woman’s life is in danger.” He shut off the engine and they climbed out. The neighborhood was quiet, except for the sound of young kids playing somewhere in the distance.

He and Evans trotted up the sidewalk toward the big brown house. No cars were in the driveway and they didn’t see any activity, but it didn’t mean Shane and Lori weren’t hiding in the house.

Jackson cut across the lawn at a diagonal, not wanting to be seen from the front window. Images from yesterday’s hostage situation flashed in his mind and he instinctively brought his hand up to his weapon. He had no reason to think Shane was armed, but that kind of thinking had almost cost Officer Whitstone her life yesterday. Behind him Evans said softly, “Should I go around back?”

He thought about Whitstone going into the backyard of the Stratmore house by herself. “No.” At the front door Jackson quietly turned the handle. It didn’t budge. Jackson whispered, “I’ll go to the back door. Give me two minutes, then pound and call out Shane’s name.” His thinking was the couple would hear Evans’ voice in front and run out the back, and he would be there to stop them.

Cutting across the grass, he hurried past the bedroom windows with closed blinds and rounded the corner of the house. A tall gate latched from the inside, but he was able to reach over and let himself in. Jackson paused, listening for a dog, then jogged along the side of the house to the backyard. A giant hot tub blocked his path and he scooted around it, keeping an eye on the sliding glass door. No one seemed to be moving around inside the house. He hugged up against the back wall for protection and waited for Evans to call out. The sickly scent of flowers in bloom tickled his nose.

He heard pounding and brought up his gun. Evans called, “Shane Compton? It’s Detective Evans. I need to talk to you.”

No response.

She called out again, but the house was silent and the back door didn’t budge. Jackson counted to five, then rushed to the sliding door. It had been installed decades ago and the lock mechanism soon gave from upward pressure. As he opened the door, a black cat rushed out. Jackson stepped into the dining room where he had questioned Tracy and Kevin just days ago and knew instinctively the home was empty.

Lori stared at the house where her family had lived and died and started to shiver. “Shane, I can’t go in. Just grab some jeans and few of my favorite shirts.”

“What about the car keys?”

“There’s an extra key to the Subaru under the pink pig on the kitchen counter.” Lori pulled the ugly black coat tighter, but her bare legs still felt the cool wind. “Don’t forget to bring my pink Keens.”

She leaned against the car and looked around at her neighborhood, probably for the last time. She wondered if old woman Rose was peeking through her curtains, watching Lori in the stolen black coat over the hospital gown and wondering what the hell she was up to.

What am I doing?
Lori asked herself again. Getting the hell away from Eugene and starting a new life with the man she loved. What other choice did she have? Stay here with the ghosts of her dead family and be reminded of her grief at every turn? Watch Shane be wrongly convicted of killing them? No, this town held nothing for her now. Their future was in Maui, where it was warm and sunny and beautiful. She already had an apartment and roommate waiting for her. All they had to do was get there.

Lori glanced back at the pale green house and heard her mother say,
You’re a house painter, Jared, and we live in the only place on the street that needs to be painted
. Her mother had laughed when she said it. She had never been able to stay pissed at Dad for very long, no matter how he screwed up. Tears rolled down Lori’s cheeks. How could she survive without her mother?

Shane came out of the house wearing some of her father’s clothes. Another wave of grief hit her like a blow to the stomach. Lori doubled over.

“Babe, you okay?”

She pulled in a deep breath. “No, but that’s the way it will be for a while.”

Shane threw a pillowcase stuffed with clothes in the backseat. “Let’s go then. They’ll be looking for us soon.”

Lori climbed in the car, reminded again of the newly stitched gash in her stomach. Shane started the engine and she reached over the seat for the pillowcase. The pocket of Shane’s zip-up sweatshirt bulged with a familiar shape.

“Why did you bring the .38?” Lori said, pointing at the handgun.

“We’ll sell it for cash.” Shane gave her a wistful look. “I know your dad loved it, but it was the only gun left in the house and we need the money.”