James Swain - Shadow People

He began to slip away. He wished he had a camera to take a photo of the startled look on Gladys Hadden’s face as he disappeared. Brewster would not stop barking.

Washed in cold sweat, Peter awoke lying on the couch in his dressing room. Liza sat beside him, forcefully shaking his shoulders. “How long have I been out?” he asked.

“Too long,” she replied. “The curtains go up in ten minutes. Can you go on?”

“I don’t know. Let me check.”

He pushed himself up to a sitting position. The bullet wound in his right thigh had miraculously healed itself, and he felt no worse for wear. Garrison leaned against the far wall with a grave look on his face.

“Have a nice trip?” the FBI agent asked.

“Come to mention it, I did,” Peter replied. “How did you get here so fast?”

“I was in the neighborhood.”

Liza brought a water bottle to his lips. “Here. Drink this.”

Peter took a long swallow. His dressing room was void of spirits. He had expected the shadow people to follow him back, but they’d chosen to remain with Munns. Perhaps they were hoping to stop Munns from claiming his next victim. They hadn’t succeeded in the past, and were going to need some help. “I know who our killer is.”

Garrison pushed himself off the wall. “Start talking.”

“His name is Doc Munns, only he isn’t really a doctor. He lives in a town called Pelham, and is a janitor at a local college.”

Garrison produced a notepad and started scribbling.

“You need to call the Westchester police immediately,” he went on. “I saw Munns in real time. His next victim is coming out on a train tonight, not on Friday like I originally thought. When I left, Munns was racing to the train station to pick her up.”

“You’re sure about all of this?”

Peter nodded and drained the water bottle.

“Do you have any proof?” Garrison asked.

“What do you mean? I was just with him.”

“I can’t tell the Westchester police that. I mean I can, but they won’t buy it.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re not going to take the word of a psychic and detain someone. It’s not how the law works. I need to offer up some proof to what you’re saying.”

Peter felt stymied. He’d seen it, hadn’t he?

“Can’t the police at least detain him?” the young magician asked.

“Not without a good solid reason.”

“Tell them to make one up.”

“The police won’t do that.”

“This is crazy. A women’s life is hanging in the balance. Isn’t that enough reason?”

Garrison flipped the notepad shut. “We have to work within the law. This isn’t the Wild West. We can’t just go grab someone because you think he’s a killer.”

“It has nothing to do with what I think. Munns is a serial killer.”

“You don’t know that for certain.”

Peter threw the empty water bottle at the trash can in anger. When he visited the other side, there were no illusions, subtleties, or nuanced shades of gray. It was all black and white. Munns was their killer, and needed to be stopped. “You’re a fool,” he said.

“Peter,” Liza said.

“Watch your mouth.” Garrison simmered.

“I just risked my life to go to the other side, and now you’re disputing what I’m saying,” Peter said, not calming down. “I should throw you out of here.”

“Peter!” Liza said.

A loud rap on the dressing room door snapped their heads. The door opened a foot, and Snoop stuck his shaggy head in. “Why, Detective Garrison, fancy seeing you here. What a pleasant surprise.”

“It’s Special Agent Garrison, wiseass,” Garrison said.

“Sorry. Do you mind if I talk with my boss for a second?” Snoop asked.

“Be my guest.”

“Are we going on?” Snoop asked.

“How much time do I have?” Peter asked.

“Five minutes. I can get on the PA, and say we’re running late.”

Peter wore many hats. The biggest hat was that of a professional magician, and there were rules which he needed to follow. Starting the show on time was one of them. He’d never been late before, and wasn’t going to start now. “No, I’m going on right now.”

“Beautiful. I’ll be up in the booth,” Snoop said. “Nice seeing you, Detective.”

“You’re pushing it,” Garrison said.

Soon, the three of them were walking down the hallway toward the back of the stage. Peter’s usual nervousness started to set in, just like it did every night before he went on.

“There has to be some solution here,” Peter implored the FBI agent.

“I’ll call the Westchester police and ask them to send a cruiser to the train station, if you think it will do any good,” Garrison said.

“You can’t pull Munns in for questioning?”

“I need tangible proof. It’s how the law works.”

Peter came to a short stairwell that led to the stage. Through the back of the stage he could hear the crowd’s murmuring. They were ready to see a magic show, but was he ready to put one on for them? No, he wasn’t, and he realized that he had to get Munns out of his mind. That sounded easy to do, only there was an unsuspecting woman named Rachael whose life he was supposed to be saving. He thought back to his encounter with Munns on the hillside. Munns had been carrying a loaded firearm. That was illegal in the state of New York without a concealed weapons permit, and he had a feeling that Munns didn’t possess one of those.

“I’m going to get ready,” Liza said. “Good luck.”

“Thanks for being there for me,” he told her.

“Always,” she said.

They kissed and Liza hurried away.

“Munns is carrying a loaded gun,” he said. “If you told the Westchester police that you had reason to believe he was a dangerous person, would they haul him in?”

“Of course,” Garrison said.

“Then please do it. Right now.”

“You’re sure he’s carrying a loaded gun?”

“He shot me with it.”

“That’s not what I’m asking. Are you certain he’s carrying it right now? If not, the police will have to release him, and Munns will know we’re on to him.”

Peter didn’t know if Munns still had his gun. Maybe he’d thrown it out the window of his car after his encounter with Gladys Hadden. But Peter felt certain that Munns still had his kill kit, which had contained a rope, handcuffs, and a bottle of chloroform.

“Munns has a leather bag filled with the stuff he uses to capture his victims,” Peter said. “Tell the police to look for it.”

“You’re sure about this?” Garrison said.

“I saw the bag in his house.”

Garrison hesitated. Something was clearly wrong, and Peter gazed into the FBI agent’s eyes and read his thoughts. If the Westchester police blew this, Munns would go home and destroy evidence linking him to his crimes. The FBI would be back to square one with the case, and Garrison would have to sleep at night knowing that a dangerous killer was roaming free.

That was a bad scenario, but Peter’s was much worse. A woman who pushed back at the darkness was going to die tonight if Munns wasn’t arrested. The shadow people had chosen to save Rachael because she was someone who made a difference in the world. Peter was going to save her, the law be damned.

“Promise me you’ll talk the police into arresting Munns,” Peter said.

“I’ll do my best,” Garrison replied.

“That’s not good enough.”

“What did you say?”

“Munns’s next victim isn’t an ordinary person. She’s going to do something extraordinary in her life that will make a tremendous difference in the world. That’s why the dark side wants her dead. Do you understand what I’m saying?”