Walk in Darkness - A Thriller (Jon Stanton Mysteries) (22 page)

47

Calvin Riley finished his sandwich and threw everything away into the
trashbin. Jersey Subs was the closest sandwich shop to his work but their chicken was always too soggy. He went to the front counter and complained to the manager who said there was nothing he could do except issue a refund. Calvin let him keep the money but said he wanted the chicken grilled next time.

As he left and got into his car, he smiled. He hadn’t felt this good in a long time. There was something to being efficacious that brought about a sense of fulfillment. He had taken care of his business without the help of his father or Stanton. He felt like a real man
, the type he had watched in movies as a kid.

He drove down to work and was about to pass by the front entrance to go to employee parking when he saw two police cruisers out front. He stopped, his heart sinking in his chest, and looked through the glass.
A lot of activity was going on inside the store and he saw his manager speaking with a few different people. Probably about Karen, he guessed. She had been missing a few days and had not called into work.

Then, he saw Stanton’s face. Stanton was sex crimes; he wouldn’t be here for a missing person.

He was here for him.

Calvin felt vomit rise in his throat and before he could stop it, it spewed over the window and the driver side door. He pulled out of the parking lot and sped down the road until he came to a small park near some old factory buildings. He got out and ran to the bathroom. It stunk of piss and feces and he puked over the sink and mirror.

When he was through, he sucked down some water out of the faucet and then looked at himself in the mirror. How had he been found? Had he been careless? Only one explanation that he could think of: Jon Stanton had found him. He was a demon. Calvin knew he should’ve killed him as soon as Stanton had put his guard down and let him into his home. He’d had the gun tucked away in the small of his back: he should’ve put a few rounds into his head when he had the chance.

Calvin stepped out of the bathroom and had to lean against the building. Everything seemed blurry, like it had an edge of white around it, and he felt he couldn’t breathe. His chest hurt and his hands felt numb. He held them up in front of his face and they felt like someone else’s hands. His body felt like someone else’s body
; as if he were watching what was happening from a distance.

“Hey asshole, you got some cash?”

Calvin turned to the man. He was young with tattoos on his neck and hands. A cigarette dangled from his mouth.

“I’m
talkin’ to you, faggot. You got some cash?”

“No,” Calvin mumbled.

The man looked at him a moment, sensing something wrong. “What’s the matter with you?” He waited a few seconds and when he didn’t receive a response he walked to Calvin and began going through his pockets. Calvin didn’t resist; he watched the man with a detached curiosity. Like someone watching an animal at the zoo.

In a single motion, he pulled out the hunting knife strapped to his leg and ran it across the man’s throat. Blood spattered over him and the man began to choke and wheeze. He fell to his back in front of the bathroom. Calvin leaned over him and watched him die, looking into his eyes.

He put the knife away and headed to his car. Jon Stanton was too dangerous. He would find him no matter where he went. The only way to get out of this was to barrel through him.

48

Stanton stood inside Taylor Drugs looking at a display for lotion. It had been organized based on color and in the middle was a single bottle out of sync with the rest. He had the urge to grab it and put it back in its place, but resisted and instead just read the sign next to the display talking about the benefits of that particular brand.

“Detective,” the manager said as he stepped out from the back room, “I have the list you wanted.”

Stanton and Childs came over to the counter as the manager pulled out a spreadsheet he had printed off of all the employees.

“Okay,” the manager said, “what are you looking for?”

“White male, late twenties or early thirties.”

“Um, well you should probably talk to Spencer over there first.”

Stanton saw an overweight man pushing a mop. “No, he would be physically fit. Probably not in any sort of relationship or very social. But he might be a meticulous employee.”

The manager went through the list, mumbling to himself and occasionally shaking his head as he crossed off names. “There’s only two I can think of that are like that: Wes Bell and Calvin Riley.”

“I need their contact information immediately. If you hear from them you need to tell them that there’s a glitch in their payroll paperwork and you need them to come in and sign some new tax forms. I’m going to leave a couple of men here and you point them out when they show up.”

“Okay, okay, hold on
, I’ll get you that information.”

Stanton turned to Childs who had his arms folded and a grin on his face.

“You live for this shit, huh?”

“Danny, I never thought that—”

“No need, brother. I don’t believe a word them IAD motherfucka’s are saying. You ain’t got to explain anything to me. But I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I should’a had your back.”

The manager came out and handed them a computer printout with addresses and phone numbers listed for the two men.

“Do you need anything else, Detective?”

“No, that’s it for now, thank you. Just make sure not to act out of the ordinary if they come in. This man is going to be extremely dangerous when he’s cornered.”

“I can’t imagine either of them that way. I wish Karen was here, she would tell you too. She was dating Calvin.”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know. She hasn’t come into work this week. I tried calling but her roommate doesn’t know where she is either.”

Stanton looked to Childs and then
back to the manager. “I need her address too.”

After getting what they needed, Stanton and Childs got into a car and pulled away from the drugstore. Danielle had a shift and since this wasn’t her unit she hadn’t been brought in. Slim Jim had stayed behind in the store in plainclothes, waiting for the signal from the manager. Two uniforms were waiting in the break room with him.

“IAD’s really got you by the balls
, I hear,” Childs said as he pulled onto the road and cut off another car.

“I don’t think I’ll be a cop much longer. After the lawsuit’s done and they don’t need me anymore, they’ll force me to retire.”

“You talked to your union rep yet?”

“No.”

“Union should know about this shit. They hate that fucker Talano. I think they could really help you with this.”

“I’m not sure I want to stick around.”

His cell phone rang and Stanton checked the ID: Kyle.

“Hey, Kyle, I’m busy right now, I’ll call you—”

“I need help, Jon. Please.”

His voice sounded frantic and he was sobbing.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m hurt. I think I broke my leg. I’m fixing the fucking roof in the kitchen and I fucking fell and—”

“I’m calling 911 right now. What’s your address?”

“No, no, I don’t have insurance. I can’t afford the ambulance, man. I need you to come get me. Please, Jon, I don’t have any family here. I don’t have anyone but you. Please don’t leave me, please.”

“Okay, calm down, Kyle. What’s your address?” Stanton wrote it down with a pen on the back of his hand. “Okay, I’ll be there in ten minutes, all right?”

“All right.”

Stanton hung up. “I need to make a quick stop.”

“You shitting me?”

“Friend a mine broke his leg and can’t afford an ambulance ride.”

“Jon, you’re fucking crazy aren’t you?”

“I can’t leave him there, Danny. Just drop me off at his house; I’ll check on him and then call an ambulance and pay for it myself.”

Childs shook his head but grabbed Stanton’s hand and looked at the address. He pressed the accelerator down and flipped on the red and blues attached as a box to the inside of the windshield, the siren wailing. He cut through two neighborhoods and took the express lane on the San Diego Freeway nearly four miles before getting off and coming to a stop in front of an old home with a pointed roof.

“Shit looks rundown.”

“He’s renting; he’s a young guy. I’ll be right back.”

Stanton got out and opened the entry of the chain-link fence and walked up the cement steps to the front porch. There was an old couch out and it looked infested with spiders, cobwebs on both sides. A few empty jars and some tools were laid out as well.

Stanton knocked and then rang the doorbell. He remembered why he was here and shook his head. He tried the doorknob and it turned. He opened the door and went inside.

The house was dark and cluttered. There were stairs in front of him leading up to the second floor and a stairwell next to that leading down into darkness. He walked to the living room, but the house was so full of junk he had to step over several piles and nearly lost his footing when he slipped on a plate that was out on the floor.

“Kyle?” he shouted. He waited several moments but there was no answer.

Stanton walked through the living room, noticing the old television with the dials and rabbit-ear antennas. He walked past a Victorian era sofa with red velvet upholstery and thought how out of place something so elegant looked here. He wondered if perhaps Kyle had some hording issues he hadn’t dealt with and thought he might ask him about it.

The kitchen was off to the left from the living room. Stanton saw an old gas oven and there was a boiling teapot on the stove.

As he stepped into the kitchen and rounded the corner the impact of the metal pipe crushed his nose and shattered one of his cheek bones. His mouth spewed blood and he fell to his knees from the sudden flash of pain as the second blow connected to his head and he flew onto his back, unconscious; another blow connected and blood spattered over the carpets and walls.

Childs glanced up to the house and then back out to the road. He exhaled and stretched his arms. A few scraps of paper were on the passenger seat: the addresses of the two men. He glanced at them quickly and his eyes went wide.

“Shit.”

As he went to open the door, a man appeared in front of him, and Childs didn’t remember anything else.

50

Stanton saw his mother sitting in the hospital bed
, the cancer eating away at her. He remembered how lovely she had been and how, as time progressed, her hair began to fall out and her skin sagged and she lost layer after layer of fat and muscle, like a skeleton come to life. Toward the end, a single small nurse could lift her completely out of bed and place her in a wheelchair.

Light came back through the haze of memories and he felt the floor on his back. One eye wouldn’t open and when he tried it shot pain through his body. The other opened only slightly and every object in his view was hazy and indistinct.

He could hear voices now; there were two of them. One was Kyle’s. There was another one that was male and older, but he couldn’t place it. But it sounded so familiar. His head tilted to the side toward the voices and the one he couldn’t recognize stopped talking and left the room.

Kyle came and knelt over him. “Hey, Jon. How you feeling? Probably not too good, huh? I’ll give you this; you took that beating like a champ. Honestly, I wanted it to kill you and I thought for a second that
I had. But you’re still with us, huh?”

Stanton tried to open his mouth, but no words came. He needed to talk.
To occupy him, to convince him that he too was a man. It would make it more difficult to cut him up if he was a man in his eyes.

“Real,” Stanton gasped, his voice raspy and with a lisp as several teeth were missing, “name.”

“Oh, my name? Don’t you know? I bet you can guess. Go ahead; guess.”

Stanton turned his head back and stared at the ceiling. The pain was now overtaking him as the shock was wearing off.
Other than a warm sensation on his neck from the blood seeping out of a head wound, his body was numb, and he felt icy cold; the blood was rushing out of him too fast. He would be dead soon.

“Don’t you want to even guess?” Calvin looked to the door. “My dad says I shouldn’t kill you. He thinks you came here with someone else so he went out to check. Don’t worry
; if you did, he’ll take care of them.” Calvin reached down and searched him, pulling his firearm from the holster. “Whew, nice gun man. It’s pretty; all shiny. Do you use polish on it? I bet you use polish on it.”

Stanton felt his arms and knew he could still move his right one. His legs felt detached from his body and when he tried to move them they wouldn’t respond. His motor cortex had been damaged in the blow and the entire left side of his body wouldn’t move. He rolled to his stomach and tried to crawl
, his mind blank other than with fear and the pressing need to get away.

Calvin laughed. “How far do you think you can get?” He stood up and kicked Stanton’s arm out from under him, causing his face to impact against the floor. He stomped on his head, making it bounce and laughed again as he saw the blood begin to pool around Stanton’s face.

Calvin walked to the counter, mumbling to himself, and opened a drawer. He pulled out a large kitchen knife and came back to Stanton. He held it above his head and with his entire bodyweight slammed it into Stanton’s leg.

Stanton let out a scream as the blade cut through flesh and deflected off his bone and out the other side of his thigh. Calvin pulled it out and grabbed the back of his head, placing the blade against his throat.

“You know, Jon, I actually did like our time together on the beach. I like that you opened up to me about your wife and kids. I wouldn’t worry about them, though, when I’m done with you, me and my daddy are makin’ a little visit over there.”

Stanton mumbled something.

Calvin leaned down. “What? Are you trying to beg for your life? ‘Cause I’ll listen. What did you say?”

“I said . . . die.”

Stanton pulled out the revolver tucked into his waistband and fired two rounds into Calvin’s chest. They went straight through him, cotton from his shirt mixing with flesh and bone and blood as two gaping holes ripped into his back.

Calvin collapsed on top of him, twitching and gurgling as he vomited blood. Stanton pulled the gun up with great effort and fired a single round into his
temple. He stopped moving and Stanton began to slowly roll him off as he heard footsteps outside in the hall.

Stanton crawled deeper into the kitchen by the oven and pulled himself up, leaning against it. The side door to the kitchen opened and Ransom Talano stood there, shock running through his face as he saw his son face down on the linoleum.

Stanton attempted to raise the gun but was too slow
. Ransom jumped on him and ripped it away. He fired a round into his chest and Stanton felt the air torn out of him and he couldn’t breathe.

Ransom went to Calvin and turned him over. His face was passive but there was pain there.

“He was my oldest. The one that was supposed to make something of himself. His mama is not gonna be happy about that.” He held up the revolver and stepped close, aiming for Stanton’s face.

Stanton said something but it was hushed as he could no longer breathe and was losing consciousness.

Ransom leaned down over him. “Good bye, Detective.”

Stanton held up the lighter that he had taken out of his pocket and Ransom smiled at it before he noticed the hissing sound coming out of his oven.

Stanton struck the lighter, and the gas that had been filling the room ignited.