When the Night Calls Page 16

He pounced on him and they spiraled backwards, landing at the water’s edge. They splashed to the muddy ground in a ball of dirty clothes and blood. Tom scampered to his feet first and pulled Daniels shirt over his head. He kneed him in the stomach then drilled his elbow into Daniel’s back like a sledge hammer. Daniel collapsed into the mud.

  “Argh!” Daniel bellowed in pain

  Reaching forward he yanked Tom’s leg with all his might. Tom flopped backwards and smacked into the ground. Daniel jumped on top of him and started wailing on his head. Blood splattered into the air as he brought his fists down one after the other.

  Tom grunted and groaned as he struggled to control Daniel’s flailing arms. He managed to get a hold of Daniels hands for a second, stopping the onslaught.

  “I didn’t touch Victor,” he mumbled.

  Tom whipped his leg around and slung Daniel backwards. He jumped to his feet just as Daniel stood up again, ready to charge.

  “Stop this shit!” Tom held his hands out like he was pushing against an invisible wall.

  He leaned over and began to cough up blood then puked into the muddy soil. He put his hands on his knees and breathed heavily, spit dripping from his mouth. Daniel stared at him then collapsed to the ground and started vomiting himself. He heaved forward face first into the mud as he convulsed violently.

  Tom slowly righted himself and shrugged. He placed his hands on his hips as he caught his breath.

  “What the hell happened last night?” Tom panted. “One second we’re drinking and now Victor’s dead and we’re trying to kill each other in the fucking mud.”

  “Something’s not right,” Daniel uttered in between convulsions.

  They spent the next five minutes vomiting uncontrollably. Each time they tried to stand they doubled over in pain. It was a searing, debilitating feeling that ran from their feet and shot straight up their spine.

  Daniel heaved over and fell to the ground. He gasped for air, never able to get quite enough. His stomach cramped and he tumbled onto his side in the mud.

  He lay there for a while before he was able to move. Slowly the pain faded away and he started to catch his breath.

  As the sound of moans and grunting died down, the riverbank seemed to come to life. The pitter pat of water hitting the drenched soil played like a band. The echo of thunder rumbled across the sky. The river swelled and splashed as the increasing rain threatened to over fill it. It noisily rushed by as it raced towards the ocean.

  Daniel finally stood up and wiped his mouth. Blood trickled down his lip and beaded onto his chin before falling to the ground. He looked at Tom with a sense of respect, like two old lions that had just done battle. Tom stared back at him, his eyes swollen and red.

  They both looked like they’d been run over by tractor trailers. Their muddy clothes were stained with blood, torn and hanging off them. Bleeding and bruised they looked down at Victor and counted themselves lucky.

  “What are we gonna do?” Tom asked, motioning to Victor’s defunct body.

  “What do you mean?” Daniel asked.

  “He’s dead, Danny. We have no clue what the hell happened, but we certainly look like suspects.”

  Tom hated how morbid he sounded, but it was the honest truth. They were alone, bloody and drunk at a riverbank that probably only they knew about. Victor was beaten and damn near beheaded and he was last seen with them.

  Daniel’s mind started to work. He knew this was no coincidence. The killer had been following them all along. The first two murders at the bar, the sheriff’s wife, even the sheriff. They’d been left clues and taunted all the while being made to look guilty.

  “We’ve gotta dump him. Now!” Daniel bent over and grabbed his legs.

  Tom stood in place looking confused. He raised his eyebrows and scratched his head.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Grab his fucking arms. The police could be on the way now,” Daniel started dragging him towards the water.

  “What do you plan to do with him?”

  “Dump him in the river. What the hell do you think?”

  “Jesus, Danny! He deserves better than that,” Tom look horrified.

  “Look, somebody left us here and somebody killed him. What makes you think they haven’t called the police? This ain’t an accident, Tom.”

  Tom thought about it for a moment then grabbed Victor’s arms. He squinted as he tightened his grip right below Victor’s bloody wrist.

  Victor was a heavy man while living and his death had only magnified his weight. Daniel grunted as he strained to lift him. Victor’s head rolled back and his empty eyes stared up at Tom. The vacant gaze was disturbing, and Tom quickly looked away. With his body partially off the ground they dragged him to the river.

  “On three,” Daniel said as he swung him.

  They rocked back and forth, counting reluctantly. With a splash Victor’s body landed in the cloudy water and was quickly swept downstream. His head bobbed up and down momentarily as it drifted away then disappeared into the blackness. The river was like a vault, locking away secrets in its deadly grasp.

  Daniel and Tom stared after him watching as the river rumbled and crashed out to sea. The water churned and bubbled like a garbage disposal. It sucked Victor away like trash erasing any evidence that he ever was.

  Lightning flashed and the rain began to fall harder. Daniel glanced up at the sky and took a deep breath. There’d be a time to mourn Victor’s death, but now was not that time.

  “We gotta get out of here,” he finally said to Tom.

  Daniel turned around and started towards the woods. Tom stared into the water a moment longer and then followed behind him. The sound of running water started to fade as they made it further up the trail. In silence, they stumbled through the overgrown weeds towards the road.

  As they came to a clearing Daniel’s car came into view. All the doors were open and the radio hissed playing nothing more than static.

  “What the fuck?” Daniel froze, his eyes locked on his car.

  Tom quickly started looking around scanning the area. He knelt and placed his palm in the dirt.

  “Danny over here.”

  Daniel was still staring at his car in shock.

  “Danny!” Tom called again.

  Daniel growled and bit his lip. Fuming, he walked towards Tom and knelt beside him.

  “Shoe prints…heading to the river. Ain’t ours,” Tom looked at him with a puzzled face. “And drag marks over there.” He pointed off to the side.

  Daniel stood up and walked back to the car. He leaned inside of it and looked around. Beer cans and liquor bottles were thrown everywhere. The seats were ripped and half-burned cigarettes littered the dash. On the floorboard were a couple of discarded syringes. He bent down, picked one up and smelled it.

  “Fuck!”

  “What is it?” Tom yelled to him.

  “We weren’t drunk, we were drugged. Or we weren’t just drunk. Thiopental,” Daniel yelled back as he tossed the needle onto the ground.

  Tom stood up and stormed over to the car. He surveyed the area then turned to Daniel who was still rummaging through the backseat.

  “We gotta get out of here. Ditch the car.”

  “Ditch the car?” Daniel stood up.

  “Yeah, look at this damn thing. Your buddies at the sheriff’s office will have a field day.”

  Daniel looked at Tom then back at the car. The rain tinkered off the hood and echoed through the trees.

  “Get your head outta your ass, Danny. This is real! We were drugged, Victor’s dead, your damn car’s a walking CSI lab. I gotta get back to my hotel make some calls, this shit was planned.”

  “What are you talking about?” Daniel looked at Tom with narrow eyes.

  “I told you about that case I was working. I didn’t think these murders could be related, but now. Hell, we’re knee deep in the middle of this shit.”

  Daniel looked at him still confused. He scratched his head and
leaned back on the car. Tom began to pace back and forth his mind racing.

  “Let’s dump this thing in the river,” Tom finally said.

  Daniel looked shocked.

  “You wanna push my fucking car in the river?”

  “Jesus, Danny, you didn’t have any issue with tossing Victor’s ass in there.”

  Daniel looked at the ground. He sighed and wiped the rain water from his face. “Alright, alright.”

  He slipped inside and put the car in neutral. He took one last look around then stepped out. He walked to the back of the car as Tom shook his head at him.

  “What now?” Daniel rolled his eyes.

  “Fuck! This doctor life has really made you stupid. We’re just gonna roll this thing in there, huh? Get out of the way.”

  Tom sat down into the driver’s seat and cranked the car up. He revved the engine and then threw it in gear. The car jumped forward splashing through water puddles. Tom mashed the gas pedal to the floor and the car picked up speed quickly. He swerved erratically as he made a course for the river.

  Daniel followed the trail of the car out of the trees into the clearing where he could see the pounding waters yearning for its next meal. The sound of the engine roared loudly in the morning air almost as if it knew its days were over.

  Daniel looked on as the black BMW raced towards the murky water. The sound of the menacing rapids reminded him of stampeding horses. The engine screamed louder and just before the car hit the bank Tom rolled out onto the mud. The BMW dove into the water with a gurgling noise as smoke plumed into the air. A rush of muddy tears swished over the hood sucking the car beneath it.

  Just like Victor, just like everything else, the river swept the car away. The bumper slowly crept into the depths of the churning evil as it bellowed into the distance. Soon the car would be nothing more than a memory, another sacrifice to the stream of secrets.

  “Nice plan,” Daniel looked down on Tom as he rolled over scampering to his feet.

  “Seems to have worked.”

  “We’ve got one hell of a walk. Let’s move,” Daniel turned and headed off.

  They walked for hours in silence. Each of them preoccupied with the struggle in their own minds. The sun was beating down on their backs, the thick, humid air sticking to them like a second skin. The desolate stretch of highway that led to the riverbank was as quiet as ever. Only their footsteps could be heard as they pounded across the road.

  “There’s a bus stop about a mile ahead,” Tom pointed as he wiped sweat from his head.

  Daniel nodded and kept trudging along with his head down. His mind was spinning, trying to make sense of what was going on. He couldn’t think of anyone that would do this. Lawson was the only person crazy enough and he was already dead.

  “I’m gonna grab some things and go see a friend back in Baton Rouge. Lay low and I’ll call you when I get back,” Tom turned to Daniel as they stepped onto the bus.

  DUCKS IN A ROW

  Daniel slowly opened the front door and crept inside. His feet ached and his body felt like he’d been run over and dragged. He could hear Pocket snoring loudly off in a corner, but besides that the house was silent.

  Suddenly sirens went off like grenades exploding in his ears. The alarm he’d installed was blaring like a bomb raid was imminent. He was sure a swat team would be repelling from the ceiling at any moment.

  Daniel scuffled to the wall and opened the alarm panel. He scratched his head trying to remember the deactivation code. His mind was hazy and he scrambled to put in what he thought it should be.

  The alarmed beeped twice and then shut off. Daniel sighed and rested his head on the wall. He closed his eyes, cursing under his breath.

  “Shit!” Daniel yelled as the sirens started up again.

  When he opened his eyes a pair of A-10 Warthog’s were screeching overhead. Gunfire erupted in the distance as men scurried in and out of foxholes.

  “Danny, get your ass over here!” Tom yelled out from a hole a few meters away.

  Daniel darted across the muddy field and dove into the hole just as a mortar exploded. He closed his eyes and pressed against his ears. They rung loudly, and he grimaced in pain as he rolled over in the dirt.

  As he opened his eyes the mud and gunfire disappeared and he was staring at a wall. The phone blared loudly in the background and he straightened himself up and ran into the kitchen. He grabbed for the phone still half asleep and with a groggy voice muttered, “Hello?”

  “This is Sykes Security we show your front door being triggered is everything okay?” The phone operator spoke from the other end of the line.

  “Oh yes. I umm, forgot I set it.” Daniel mumbled.

  “We’ll have to send a patrol car over,” the operator responded.

  “No! Everything’s fine here, no need to do that,” Daniel said urgently.

  “It’s protocol sir, unless you can verify with the security phrase.”

  “Ducks…ducks in a row,” Daniel answered.

  “That’s correct. I’ll go ahead and cancel the call. Is there anything else you need?”

  “No…no everything is fine,” Daniel hung up the phone and leaned forward onto the counter.

  Some many different things were running through his head. That flight or fight response that had served him well for so many years was buzzing. But who would he fight and where would he run to?

  He knew he’d have to tell Monica and now was just as good a time as any. He took a deep breath and headed for his bedroom. Every step he took down the hall made his entire body shiver in pain.

  “Monica,” Daniel called out as he stepped through the double doors.

  The bed was empty, and the covers had been made. Besides the snoring dog there wasn’t another sound in the house. Daniel stumbled to the nightstand and grabbed the phone. He opened the drawer looking for Sandra’s number when the phone started ringing in his hand.

  “Hello! Daniel?” Monica’s voice boomed through the receiver. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Where are you?”

  “I’m at the Police Station.”

  “What!” Daniel jumped.

  “Yeah, I went to Sandra’s like you said,” Monica was almost whispering. “Someone broke in, I barely got away.”

  “What…what happened?” Daniel stuttered.

  “Sandra…she’s, she’s dead,” Monica broke out into tears.

  Daniel banged his fist on the nightstand and shook his head. Someone had come for him and his wife on the same night.

  “Stay right there. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Daniel hung up the phone and ran into the bathroom.

  Splashing water on his face he looked up at his image in the mirror. Dried blood was still pasted all over his face. Mud was clumped in his hair. His ragged, torn clothes were filthy, a morbid reminder of the crime he had hidden.

  He quickly undressed and did his best to clean his face. Throwing on a pair of jeans he stumbled into the living room looking for his sneakers. Pocket jumped up and down ready to go running.

  “Not this time boy,” Daniel said as he patted his head.

  He walked into the kitchen and opened one of the drawers in the island. He rummaged around through some loose papers and then closed the drawer and opened another one. Snapping his fingers, he grabbed a pair of keys and held them up to eye level. Wasting no more time he ran to the garage door and pushed it open.

  He stared into the dimly lit room. His eyes locked onto the 1976 Porsche 930 that sat idle in the corner. The little, silver sports car had belonged to his father at one point. It hadn’t been driven since Daniel parked it in the garage, when he bought the house.

  He never felt comfortable in it. His father, a long-time judge in New Orleans, was driving it the night he was killed. His body was found a few feet from the car. Daniel initially wanted to sell it, but it was the only thing he had left of his father.

  Suddenly the memory of that horrible night came flooding into Dani
els mind. It was so vivid he could smell the smoldering cigarette the detective puffed into the air. Beads of sweat collected on his forehead and he wiped his face. The humid New Orleans air was as hot and sticky as ever that night.

  “Daniel don’t!” the detective jolted as he tried to grab Daniel’s arm.

  Daniel slung him off and tore through the caution tape. He could see his father’s hand twisted awkwardly on the ground, still gripping the keys to his beloved Porsche. As he stepped around the other officers, his father’s lifeless body came into full view.

  It was a sobering moment, seeing the man he’d come to revere bleeding and defeated on the ground. His father was once a military officer as well and Daniel had always seen him as invincible. But there he was, his throat slashed, his eyes empty.

  Daniel was in his last year of college at the time. Right before the draft would take place and change his life. His father had been the last victim in the Rocky Hill Killings. The serial killer, no living person had ever seen, left his body outside of his office and then disappeared into obscurity.

  That night haunted Daniel’s mind for years. It was only with the help of Ned that he was able to find any kind of peace.

  With a clenched jaw Daniel walked into the garage. He methodically stepped into the car and sat down. It still smelled like his dad did, like Old Spice and leather. The scent sent a chill up his spine.

  As he turned the key in the ignition, the engine immediately lit up and purred loudly. He sat listening to it idle. Then he remembered Monica and a sense of urgency overwhelmed him. Pressing the garage door opener with one hand he threw the car into gear with the other.

  The tires screeched as Daniel whipped out of the garage and sped down the street. His mind raced with thoughts of what Monica had gone through. He felt like everything was his fault.

  In a matter of minutes, the silver Porsche was sliding around the corner from the Police Station. The shabby, run down building seemed to be buzzing with traffic. Daniel slung the car into a parking spot in the back and quickly rounded the building in an all-out sprint.

  He stumbled into the lobby, looking frantically from side to side. He could hardly move as officers crammed inside darting about in a panic.