Pitch Black (26 page)
O
NCE GABE HAD A WARRANT IN HAND, he left his office to arrest Todd McPherson. It was after one a.m. on a weeknight. He hoped the kid would be home and this could be wrapped up easily and quickly. He had dispatch send a deputy to watch the back of the house. Gabe would go to the front door.
When he pulled up to the modest house on the quiet street, the lights were all off inside the McPherson home, as well as the neighbors’ on both sides.
Gabe got out of his Jeep, closing the door softly, then went to the front door and rang the bell twice in succession.
He was just about to ring again when the porch light came on. Kate McPherson’s voice called through the door. “Who is it?”
Gabe kept his voice as quiet as he could and still be heard through the door. “Sheriff Wyatt, ma’am.”
She jerked the door open, her face ashen. “Something’s happened to Todd!” It was a statement full of panic.
“He isn’t home?” Gabe asked, noticing through the screen that, even though the house was dark, Kate was still fully dressed.
“No. He’s been gone all evening.” Her hand nervously clutched the front of the oversized denim jacket she had on.
“May I come in?”
“Oh, yes. Of course.” She flipped on the hall light, opened the screen, and stepped back.
“Is it unusual for Todd to be out this late on a weeknight?” Gabe asked.
She pushed her mussed hair away from her face. Now that she’d turned on the hall light, it was clear she’d been asleep when he rang. “No, not really. It’s just when I heard it was you . . . Todd didn’t answer his cell earlier. I don’t know—I just panicked.”
“Do you know where he is?”
She shook her head and something that looked like cautious fear flashed in her eyes. “He doesn’t like me to ask.”
All that fight she’d exhibited the day she’d stormed into his office seemed to have vanished completely. As Gabe studied the woman, trying to decipher exactly what was going on with her, he noticed the jacket she was wearing in more detail.
The second button from the top was missing.
His heart tripped faster. “Is that a Diesel jacket?”
She furrowed her brow and looked oddly at him.
“My nephew.” He shrugged. “He wants one for his birthday. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be looking for.”
“Oh. Yes it is. It’s Todd’s.” Then she looked puzzled again. “Why are you here looking for him in the middle of the night?”
“I was hoping he could help me locate one of his friends . . . someone we need to question about some vandalism.”
She visibly relaxed as she released a breath. “I’ll tell him when he gets home.”
Gabe pushed open the screen. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Once he was back in the Jeep he radioed in to dispatch, giving Todd’s name and the license plate number and make of his car. All officers on duty were to be notified of the warrant for his arrest for dealing, as well as being wanted for questioning in a murder investigation. He also asked the dispatcher to alert the city police, and advise them he was leaving one of his patrol officers here to watch the house for Todd’s return.
Then he drove around back and told his deputy to stay tucked out of sight and radio him the minute Todd showed up.
The streets were their usual deserted-night selves as he drove back to his office. He’d just pulled in the sheriff’s department lot when a figure came running toward his car. Once the person moved into the pool of light near the entrance to the building, Gabe saw it was Ethan Wade.
Ethan didn’t slow, nearly plowing into Gabe as he got out of his car. The kid looked scared to death—which scared the crap out of Gabe.
“Maddie? Is she all right?” Gabe asked, his heart on the express elevator up his throat.
When Ethan tried to talk, nothing came out but a raspy squeak between ragged breaths.
“Is it Maddie?” Gabe’s hands were on Ethan’s shoulders; it took all of his willpower not to try to shake the answer out of him.
Ethan shook his head, still gasping. Even though the night was cool, the boy’s hair was wet with sweat. It rolled like tears from his hairline to his jaw.
Gabe forced himself to draw in a breath himself and loosen the grip he had on Ethan’s arms.
“Take a minute to get your breath.”
Ethan’s legs buckled. He sat hard on the pavement. Gabe knelt in front of him.
“T-T-Todd.” Ethan dragged in another breath. “He’s who Jordan is . . . afraid of. I think he killed Mr. McP.”
Around his rough breathing, Ethan gave Gabe the last pieces of the puzzle. He ended his story with Todd’s offer to help him run away.
It was a few minutes before two now.
“You’re sure he’s coming for you?” That would mean Maddie was safe for the time being.
“Oh yeah. He wants his hands on me.”
Todd was as cool and calculating as they came. When Bobby had said that Todd was sending daily cards to Jordan, it had struck Gabe as unusual. Now that seeming act of kindness took on a sinister shadow. It was Todd’s way of reminding Jordan not to betray him.
“Do you think you can get him to admit to you he did it?” Gabe asked, a plan falling into place in his mind. “I’ll be right there, but out of sight.” He figured he could stand just below the bridge and hear everything clearly.
His nervous pulse throbbed throughout his body. It was risky, but he wanted an open-and-closed case. Todd was smart enough and devious enough that, with the right lawyer, he’d be as slippery as a trout.
“Probably,” Ethan said with no trace of fear in his voice. “No reason for him not to; he’s planning on killing me.” Ethan got to his feet. “Let’s go. We don’t have much time.”
MADISON WAS TRAPPED
in a dream that made no sense.
She was back in Philly. It was late at night and she couldn’t find Ethan. Her heart filled with terror, she ran up and down streets that no woman or child should traverse alone, chased by a giant, squawking bird the size of a Hummer.
She ducked into an alley, trying to lose the bird. Pressing herself against a brick wall, she hid behind a Dumpster that smelled like vomit.
Her feet twitched to keep moving—she had to find Ethan. She couldn’t hide here long.
The bird landed at the end of the alley. He turned his head slightly to the side, training one headlight-sized black eye down the alley.
Maddie held her breath.
The bird opened its giant curved beak; instead of the horrific screech it had been emitting, a tiny chirp came out.
No, not a chirp. An electronic beep.
The bird seemed equally surprised.
It flew away.
But the beep continued, tugging Madison away from that dark alley.
She opened her eyes and realized she still clutched her book to her chest as if it were a stuffed animal.
The lights were all off. Hadn’t she fallen asleep with them on?
Beep.
She blinked, trying to see in the darkness. Even the night-light she kept plugged in at the base of the stairs was out.
Her chest tightened as the darkness became as suffocating as a pillow over her face.
Beep.
Just as she was reaching to try to turn on the light, she finally recognized the sound; the uninterrupted power supply on Ethan’s computer. The battery backup beeped when the power went out, giving them time to properly shut down the computer.
Turning that lamp switch would do no good.
Her need for light was primal, like the need for air. She stood up, feeling slightly dizzy and disoriented.
God, she hated how dark it got here. In the city, she was never immersed in total darkness—something she never truly appreciated until living on this hill outside of Buckeye. She could see a few of the larger objects in the room, those dark against light surfaces. She walked carefully to the window. Plenty of stars, but no moon.
Beep.
Why wasn’t that sound waking Ethan?
She was just a little ashamed when she realized how much better she’d feel with him awake to keep her company in the dark.
She picked her way toward the kitchen, headed to the utility room beyond where the flashlight was. Passing by the kitchen table, she caught her toe on a chair leg, bending it painfully to the side.
“Oooh. Damn it!” Her voice was louder than it needed to be and the chair made a clatter. She paused for a moment, listening for movement overhead indicating she’d awakened Ethan.
Beep.
No footsteps.
How could he sleep with that annoying beeping?
She moved on toward the utility room.
There was a muffled thud. She couldn’t tell if it came from overhead, or just outside near the trashcans—Ethan or a raccoon?
Searching with groping hands like a blind woman, she sought the metal barrel of the Maglight she knew was somewhere in the clutter on the countertop. When she’d bought the huge thing, Ethan had teased her, suggesting she wanted it more to use as a club than for light. But she knew the power lines to this house all came in from overhead wires; not the safe, buried lines she was used to in the city. One tree branch—that’s all it would take and they’d be without power for who knew how long. She figured the bigger the flashlight, the bigger the batteries, the longer she’d have light. It might have been skewed thinking, but it made her feel better.
She had plenty of candles, too—enough for a seven-day blackout, Ethan claimed. Unfortunately, the lighter was buried somewhere on this same countertop. This had served as a catch-all from the day they’d moved in. She kept meaning to take the time to organize this stuff and put it away.
First thing tomorrow evening,
she vowed.
Finally, her fingers brushed the scored metal of the flashlight handle. It fell over and knocked into something else. With quick hands, she managed to grasp the flashlight before it rolled onto the floor.
Turning on the narrow shaft of light was like having been underwater too long and finally breaking the surface. She was able to take in her first deep breath since she’d awakened.
On the off chance that it wasn’t a true power outage, she checked the fuse box, hoping a simple flip of a switch would restore her beloved light.
Nope. No such luck.
Beep.
The whole purpose of the UPS was so Ethan wouldn’t lose data and could shut the computer down . . . so why wasn’t he doing it? She started toward his room, secretly glad she had a reason to wake him. Misery loves company, her mother always said.
Always cognizant of his privacy, she knocked on his bedroom door.
Beep.
Louder now that she was close. Loud enough to have awakened him. Ethan was an unusually light sleeper for a teenager.
She put her hand on the knob, hoping he hadn’t locked his door.
It swung open. She shone the light toward Ethan’s bed and her heart nearly stopped.
G
ABE HANDED ETHAN the small tape recorder he kept in his department vehicle. “This will record for thirty minutes.” He clipped the tiny microphone to one of Ethan’s front belt loops. “Put it in your pocket and press the long button when you see him coming. After that, try to keep your hands away from it and the mic.”
Ethan took the recorder and slid it into his jeans pocket, looking at Gabe without a hint of nerves.
“I’ll be just on the other side of the railing, tucked right beneath you.”
Ethan gave a matter-of-fact nod.
“You’re sure you want to do it this way?” Gabe asked. “I can just come out and arrest him the moment he arrives.”
“If the tape will help get what’s coming to him, then that’s the way I want to do it. Nobody around here will take my word about what he says.”
Gabe glanced at his watch. Nearly two. He clapped Ethan on the back and walked around the end of the guardrail.
Maddie would nail his hide to a tree if she knew what they were doing—which was why Ethan had refused to call her. He’d convinced Gabe that short of there being a house fire, she’d never know he wasn’t in his room until morning. And by then he’d be home and safe.
Gabe crouched in the undergrowth immediately beside the bridge, where the land fell away toward the creek, his gut twisting with unease.
Ethan sat on the rail above him and slightly closer to the end of the bridge.
The sound of the water rushing twenty feet below gave the night its background. Crickets droned and tree frogs warbled. So much peace surrounding so much tension.
He unholstered his weapon. He’d never had to fire it except in practice, and didn’t anticipate needing to tonight. But there was no way he was letting anything happen to Maddie’s brave son.
Gabe probably should have called for another unit to back him up. But the terrain made it difficult enough to hide one vehicle and they were running short on time. He had to stay sharp; Ethan’s life was solely in his hands.
The boy kept his back to Gabe when he said, “Why d’ya think he did it?”
“I don’t know.” Had Steve figured out that Todd was abusing his stepbrother? Or had he discovered that Todd was dealing? Maybe he found out Todd was taking performance enhancing drugs himself.
“I mean”—Ethan’s voice sounded much more calm than Gabe felt—“he climbed all the way up there—so he had to have planned it, right?”
“Looks that way.” Premeditated murder could hardly be attributed to erratic and moody behavior due to steroid use.
As the minutes passed, Gabe continued to think on motive. None of the likely reasons for a person to commit murder—jealousy, love, money, power, revenge—seemed to apply. Perhaps Todd’s stint in a treatment facility after his mother died might hold the key. It was possible that Todd suffered from some long-term psychological problem.
Ethan broke the silence. “Maybe he’s not coming.”
“He wasn’t at home.” And he wasn’t answering his cell. Kate had acted nervous enough to make Gabe think that she felt she had reason to worry. Why else was she sitting in the dark fully dressed?
Where was Todd? Gabe had had dispatch order both department and city officers not to stop him until after two-fifteen a.m.
Gabe had silenced his own radio. He chanced turning it on again. To Ethan he said, “Tell me the second you see headlights.”
“Okay.”
Dispatch confirmed that no one had called in sighting or apprehending Todd McPherson. Gabe switched off the radio.
“Tell me what he said to you again,” Gabe said.
Ethan kept his casual pose on the rail, his attention focused down the road. “He wanted to warn me that his stepmom thought I killed Mr. McP and she’d convinced Jordan to tell everyone that I did. That if he was me, he’d take off right away.”
As dead set as Kate had been earlier in the week that Ethan was guilty, there was no way she wouldn’t have had Gabe on the phone the second Jordan said anything of the kind.
Ethan went on, “He said he knew I didn’t do it.”
“Did he say how he knew this?”
“I didn’t have a reason to kill his dad. He thinks I’m getting blamed just because I’m not from around here. He said if I left, he’d have time to convince people that they need to keep looking—he didn’t want his dad’s killer to go free.”
Todd was sounding way too sympathetic; Ethan had been right to get worried. And Todd was clearly very adept at manipulating people. Gabe wondered how much of Kate’s conviction that Ethan was guilty had been spoonfed to her by her stepson.
“What made him think that if you left no one would come after you . . . if we’re all so convinced of your guilt?”
“He said he knew I was good at staying out of sight when I need to. He also made a big deal about J.D. taking off yesterday, saying the killer was probably coming after me, too.” Ethan gave a bitter-sounding laugh. “I guess that part was true.”
Todd most likely was planning on killing Ethan and disposing of his body where no one would find it. Ethan’s disappearance would then confirm his guilt of the other murders and Todd would never fall under suspicion.
Gabe looked at his watch. Two-twenty.
Why would Todd risk being late? It left open the possibility of Ethan taking off on his own, leaving a loose end—and Todd seemed determined to tie up his loose ends.
An image came to Gabe’s mind that made his blood run cold: Todd sitting in the woods smoking, waiting patiently for his own father to come into killing range.
Gabe thought of the fresh-looking cigarette butts on the rail overpass.
Had Todd waited in the same way for Maddie to drive under the overpass? No loose ends. Maddie was the single person actively pursuing the idea of a local drug dealer.
No loose ends.
Shit!
He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Maddie’s home number.
Immediately, he got the fast busy signal that said there was trouble with the line.
Heat washed over his body. Suddenly he was perspiring on this cool night.
Ethan said, “What are you doing?”
“Just a minute.” Gabe dialed Maddie’s cell number.
After five rings, voice mail picked up and Gabe scrambled up toward the road. “Let’s go!”
Ethan didn’t move. “Why? We’ll miss Todd.”
Gabe was sprinting toward where they’d hidden the car a half-mile down the road. “Come on! He’s after Maddie, too!”
Behind him he heard Ethan swear, followed by his feet thudding against the pavement.
FOR A MOMENT
, Madison stood frozen. Instead of finding her son in his room, she saw the hulking bulk of Todd McPherson standing on the near side of Ethan’s neatly made bed.
He was smiling.
“Where’s Ethan?” she demanded.
“Oh, I think you’ve got problems of your own to worry about.”
His movement toward her was fast, but she was faster, pulling the door closed and turning for the stairs.
The beam of her flashlight jerked along in front of her as she ran down the steps. She heard the door slam against the wall and heavy footfalls behind her.
She’d made it to the second to the bottom tread when he slammed her from behind with both hands, sending her facedown on the floor so hard that it knocked the wind from her.
The flashlight hit the wood floor, breaking free of her grip.
He didn’t immediately fall upon her as she’d expected. Instead she saw his feet come into her field of vision as she lay there helplessly gasping.
“You couldn’t let it go, could you?” he said with a surprising degree of calmness. “It didn’t have to be like this, you know. You weren’t a part of what had to be done.”
He knelt down and grabbed a fistful of her hair and lifted her head from the floor. The pain in her scalp sliced white hot, but she didn’t have any air in her lungs to cry out.
Where was Ethan? What had this bastard done to him?
“My momma died falling down the stairs,” he said. “She didn’t have to die either.”
He dropped her head. Her cheek hit the floor with a painful thud.
“I just don’t understand women,” he said with a sigh.
His feet moved away from her, toward the front door. She fought to get a steady breath; to get oxygen to her starved muscles.
Her right hand inched toward the flashlight. Could she reach it without moving too much and drawing attention to her intent?
Her fingers brushed the metal shaft and the flashlight rolled an inch farther away.
Todd picked up Ethan’s baseball bat from where Ethan had left it propped beside the front door Monday night.
Turning around, Todd made his way slowly back to her.
She kept her cheek on the floor, holding as still as when she’d been unable to breathe. Her gaze remained on the flashlight; her only hope.
“Bye-bye, newspaper lady.”
As the bat came down, Madison rolled quickly to her right, grabbing the flashlight as she did.
The bat hit the floor with a
crack!
that resonated in her bones.
Before he could raise the bat again, she swung the flashlight and connected with his kneecap. It was a sloppy blow, but it drew an animal-like howl from him.
She scrambled to her knees. Stumbling to her feet, she headed for the front door.
Outside. Draw him away from Ethan. Hide in the woods. Please let Ethan be all right.
Todd bellowed behind her. “You bitch!”
She heard glass breaking and furniture shifting.
Lurching forward, she found the doorknob. Locked.
Unwilling to part with the flashlight, she used her left hand to turn the deadbolt. She jerked open the door.
He was coming.
She threw herself through the doorway and dashed across the porch. As she hit the first step, she realized she was barefoot.
He’d probably check the road first. There, she’d be easy to spot. She shut off the flashlight; then ran around the house, toward the woods.
Christ, it was dark. The ground was uneven and she was headed uphill. If she could find a hiding place . . . then what? No. She had to keep moving. It was her only chance—slim as it was. Todd knew how to navigate in the woods. She didn’t. Hell, she couldn’t even tell what direction she was headed.
What if he had a flashlight?
Stop thinking and keep running.
