Walk in Darkness - A Thriller (Jon Stanton Mysteries) (5 page)

12

Stanton woke up in the ambulance. He was calm and didn’t panic and knew where he was. The paramedic talked to him softly and told him what had happened. Stanton could see red and blues flashing from outside and knew that Childs was following them.

The ER at Scripps was well lit and clean and a trauma nurse came in and spoke to the paramedics for a while. A doctor, or who he guessed was a doctor, came in and examined him about five minutes. The nurse told him that Stanton was a police officer shot on duty and the doctor had her cover some other patients while he spent some more time with him.

“Dangerous line of work,” the doctor said, leaning over him as he examined the wound on his side.

“Someone has to do it.”

The doctor stood up straight, keeping one hand on Stanton’s forearm. He had always been amazed how light a doctor’s touch could be.

“I think someone’s looking out for you. I’m going to need an x-ray though.”

Another tech came in twenty minutes later, after the nurse had given him pain medication. Stanton was loopy but understood he was being carted away for x-rays. They placed him in a cramped room and turned and twisted him every way, making him hold a lead shield in front of his genitals to minimize the exposure to radiation.

After the x-rays, he was taken back to his room. It was quiet and he lay staring at the ceiling. The pain meds made him feel light and ethereal, as if he were only half in this world and half in the hereafter.

He thought of his grandfather and tears came to his eyes. One of his grandfathers
had been abusive and an alcoholic, his father’s father. But his mother’s father was a kind and gentle soul. His mother always told him they never had any money growing up because her father owned his own business and would feel bad for the poor who came to him with their hats in hand and he would give them whatever he could.

“Hello, Brother Stanton.”

Stanton saw a large man with graying hair standing next to the bed. He had a warm smile on his face and placed his hand over Stanton’s.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Bishop Compton, I’m the Mormon Bishop assigned to this hospital. Eh, you told them when they were filling out your admittance sheet that you’re Mormon.”

“I am. The doctor didn’t seem to think my injuries were so bad that they had to send down the Bishop.”

“Actually, you’re going to be just fine. But I’ll let the doctor deal with that.” He pulled up a stool and sat next to him. “How are you otherwise, Brother Stanton?”

“I’m fine, Bishop. Just a little tired.”

“They tell me you’re a sex crimes detective. That must be very strenuous work. Would you like to talk about it?”

“There’s not much to say.”

“We both know that’s not true. My father was a cop. Nowadays you put in your twenty and retire, become security guards or bailiffs or instructors. My father was a cop in the days when you put in forty years and you walked a beat. No homicide or sex crimes or narcotics. Your beat was your beat and anything that happened there was your responsibility.”

“He must’ve been a tough guy to deal with that.”

“Oh he was. But he never showed it. He would keep it inside. The strong, silent type.”

He nodded. “I’ve always admired the people that could do that. There’s
elegance to that type of strength.”

“Yes, I suppose there is. But my father also died at fifty-seven years old from a heart attack.” He leaned forward. “He would often tell me about cases he was working. There was one that really bothered him. He talked about it for years afterward. Some people had
beaten up a blind man for his wallet.” He chuckled. “I swear I never saw my father work as hard as he did that week after it happened. He stayed out till eleven o’clock every night interviewing people that might’ve seen it, asking around the neighborhood, hanging out in areas he thought he could pick something up. He never did catch who did it.”

Stanton reached for a paper cup on the nightstand and the Bishop took it and handed it to him. He took a long drink and handed it back. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Do you have any cases like that? That bothered you that much?”

“There was a woman in her twenties
… I can’t remember her name. It was right when I started on the force. I was a traffic cop then. I was patrolling this area near La Mesa and I got a call that someone had called in an intoxicated homeless man on the street. I was the closest unit so I was asked to go check it out. I parked and got out and I was walking down the sidewalk and heard something coming from this alley in between two stores. Like clothing shops or something like that.

“They had told me the homeless man was near those stores. I went over there and looked and someone was underneath a blanket. I called out and told them I was a police officer and asked if they needed help and they just sort of groaned. I leaned down and removed the blanket.”

“What did you see?”

“It wasn’t a homeless man. It was
the woman, and she was naked. She had bruises and cuts all over her body. Blood was cascading down her chin . . . they had cut out her tongue.”

The Bishop didn’t say anything. He had a solemn look on his face and he didn’t blink as Stanton looked over to him to see if he was still even listening.

“I’m sorry, Bishop. I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s all right. I asked. What had happened to her?”

“She had been kidnapped by two gangsters near her house. They raped her in the back of the van and then cut out her tongue so she couldn’t talk to the cops.”

The Bishop took a deep breath and sat up. “I can see why that case bothers you.”

“That’s not why it bothers me.”

“Oh? Then why does it bother you?”

“They’d dumped her in that alley. When she was laying there a man walked by and noticed her. She sat up, thinking that he was there to help. The man pulled her farther into the alley, and raped her too. That happened not thirty miles from here, on just a random Tuesday, Bishop.”

“Did you find the men who did it?”

“We found the two gangsters, but I never found the man in the alley. It was dark and she was already traumatized; she couldn’t give us much information. We had her typing descriptions on a computer and she did a good job, but we never found him. I still see him sometimes when I close my eyes. I see him standing over the body of that girl as she tries to beg him for help, and I see his eyes light up as he recognizes helplessness.

“I know I’ll never find him, Bishop. He’s out of my reach.
But if I do, if I do there won’t be an arrest. I’m going to put a round in his head and take that darkness off the earth. Even if it means I spend the rest of my life in a cell.”

The Bishop swallowed. He took Stanton’s hand and squeezed. “Will you pray with me, Brother Stanton?”

“Yes.”

The Bishop closed his eyes as Stanton did the same. “Oh Lord, we thank
thee for the blessings thou has bestowed upon us. We ask thee to heal the pain and darkness that the adversary has wrought on this earth. We ask for peace in the hearts of those in pain, that they may find thy love in their hearts and that they draw nearer to thee, Father, that thee draw nearer to them. And I ask a special blessing, Father, for Brother Jon Stanton, that he will heal from his afflictions and be filled with thy light. And I say this Father, in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.”

“Amen.”

“Brother Stanton, it was a privilege to meet you.”

“Thank you for seeing me, Bishop.”

“It was my pleasure. Now I think someone’s been waiting to see you.”

The Bishop stepped out and said something and Childs walked in. He sat down on the stool and stared at Stanton like he was a ghost.

“You mind as well be prayin’ to Santa Claus cause ain’t no one up there to listen to us.”

“Can’t hurt anything to try.”

Childs exhaled. “I don’t know what to say.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Danny.”

“Yes it was. I should’a cleared that house. I shouldn’t a went in guns blazing like some fucking Western.”

“You couldn’t have known there’d be kids in the house.”

He exhaled loudly. “Well, the doctor says you’re good. The shot lodged between the Kevlar and your skin and wrapped around your back. Tore up the flesh pretty good and you’re gonna have a scar, but nothing serious. Didn’t penetrate more than an eighth of an inch. Probably hurt like a sonofabitch though, huh?”

“Detective Stanton?”

A young man in a button-down shirt and a cap walked in. He had documents in his hand.

“Yes?”

“These are for you.”

He handed Stanton a few documents and then turned to leave. “Consider yourself served.”

Childs looked to the man and then the documents. It dawned on him what was happening. Before Stanton could say anything, he was on his feet and had the man by the collar. He slammed him up against the counter.

“Here, motherfucker? You
gonna serve him here!”

“This is where they told me he’d be,” the man said, his voice trembling.

“Who? Who told you?”

“The receptionist at the police station.”

Childs shoved him into the counter one more time and then let him go. The man ran out of the room and nearly knocked over the IV that was set up next to the bed.

Childs turned toward
Stanton. “What is it?”

Stanton closed the documents and placed them on the table next to the bed. “They’re a summons and complaint. The police force, the county
, and me, are being sued for the death of Darrell Putnam.”

13

Danielle was waiting for him when Stanton stepped out of his hospital room and into the corridor. Childs was helping him and he let go as she came over and slipped his arm over her shoulders.

She was wearing a black long-sleeve shirt and
camo pants, her long blond hair clipped in the back. She wasn’t wearing any make-up but she looked more beautiful than he could remember.

“You have a nasty habit of standing in the way of bullets.”

“It’s my magnetic personality.”

She grimaced. “Oh, that’s terrible. You are just not funny.”

“I’m hilarious. The world just isn’t ready for my humor.”

They walked to the reception desk and checked out. He filled his prescriptions at the pharmacy on the main floor and as they waited, she held his hand. When they got out to the car she helped him in and then hopped into the driver’s seat.

“I’ve never seen a woman own a Mustang. Seems like a guy car.”

“Guys don’t know how to handle a lady like this.”

The car backed up and she peeled out of the hospital parking lot and onto 5th Avenue before turning onto Washington Street. The traffic was heavy and she sped in between cars and at one point turned on her red and blues and sped along the shoulder.

Stanton watched the city pass by him. His city. He tried so hard to keep it at arm’s length but it never worked. San Diego was in his blood.
Filled with equal parts madness and compassion, humanity and evil. There were heroes here that worked tirelessly for little or no pay and no recognition. In fact, they were usually despised by the very people they were attempting to help. There were also villains, and much of the time they were held as paragons of the city, to be emulated. Most people still knew the difference but something was changing. People were growing either more foolish or blind to what was happening: the evil were now becoming the good, and no one seemed to notice. Stanton felt that the End of Days could not be far behind.

“I was going to take you skydiving next week,” she said.

“Movies at my apartment will have to suffice.”

“Oh, I don’t think we’ll have time for movies,” she said, placing her hand on his thigh. “Something about a wounded man is a turn on.”

He smiled. “You really are crazy.”

The car turned off Washington Street and they began going through unfamiliar
neighborhoods and a few commercial areas with cheap strip malls before they reached her house in Mission Hills. A new house with an interesting design of cubes and rectangles, most of the walls made of glass. The exterior was white and sat at the top of a small hill overlooking the neighborhood.

“I love the house,” Stanton said.

“You’ve never been here?”

“No.”

“I could’a swore I brought you here one night.”

“I don’t think so. You dating another sex crimes detective?”

“No, I prefer my men religious and suicidal. You’re one of a kind in that department.”

She helped him up the driveway and the steps and unlocked the door. She turned off her alarm and led him into the living room.

The house was decorated in silvers and blues with black carpet. It reminded him of something a stylish vampire might pick out. On the leather couch was a single teddy bear. Before even placing her keys down she picked it up and placed it in a wicker basket in the dining room.

Stanton sat down on the couch and looked out the large bay windows.
He could see neighborhood below, the homes large, many with Spanish tile roofs. The lawns were all perfectly manicured; gleaming luxury cars and hummers and Range Rovers sat in the driveways, the owners wishing to parade them to the community rather than lock them in their garages.

“This house seems pricey,” he said.

“It was my father’s. He was a criminal defense lawyer.”

“What’s he think about you becoming a cop?”

“He’s okay with it, I guess. Says it’s dangerous and people get burnt-out too soon.”

“That’s about what my dad said.”

“Your dad was a psychiatrist, right?” she said as she came and sat next to him, handing him a bottle of water to take his meds.

“Yeah. He told me that power corrupts no matter how nobly it’s applied.”

“He thought being a cop would corrupt you?”

“I think he was saying if you’re not careful, power can corrupt anybody.”

She ran her fingers through his hair and down his neck, giving him goose bumps. “What’s this lawsuit about?”

“How’d you know about that?”

“I got a call from the precinct asking where you were because a process server was looking for you.”

“Didn’t they know they
can accept for me?”

“Some new girl I think. I told her where we were before thinking about it.”

“It’s Putnam’s mother. She’s brought a wrongful death claim against the county, me and the force.”

“Who’s the lawyer?”

“Gary Coop.”

“I know Coop. He was
friends with my father. They played golf together.”

“Good guy?”

“He’s a snake. My father liked him but never trusted him. You need to be careful, Jon.”

“It’s just a civil suit.”

“You don’t sound worried enough about it.”

“I have no control over whether she sues me or not, so there’s no use worrying about it. I’ll worry about the stuff I do have control over. Like making a sandwich
. I’m starving.”

She smiled and leaned over, kissing him softly on the lips. “Your wish is my command.” She stood up and walked to the kitchen. He followed her with his eyes and then went to the dining room table and sat down. He watched her the entire time in the kitchen
, and when she came over to him with his food he pulled her down to his lap and began kissing her on the neck, all the way up to her ears. She giggled and then pressed her lips to his.