James Swain - The Night Stalker

“Whitley and I have been seeing each other for about a year. He told me he was leaving his wife. The story changed a few hours ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

We crossed the Hollywood Bridge, and took A1A north to the Sunset. The streets were deserted, the bars and restaurants empty. I had Burrell pull into the Sunset’s parking lot, and park by the entrance. The cruiser did the same.

“Earlier you told me that you thought someone who worked in a restaurant was our killer,” Burrell said. “Do you have a profile?”

Buster was whining to get out of the car. Opening my door, I laid him onto the pavement, and watched him teeter down to the shoreline and relieve himself.

“Our killer works in a restaurant,” I said, closing my door. “He might be the night manager, or maybe even the owner. He’s a loner, and has lived in LeAnn’s neighborhood for many years. He also has a connection to Abb Grimes, although I haven’t figured out what it is. He’s smart, but impulsive.”

“A classic serial killer,” Burrell said.

“That’s right.”

“If I run a background check on every restaurant employee in the area, would you take a look at them, and see if you could pick him out?”

I stared at the waves crashing on the beach. My nose was throbbing, and I was exhausted to the point that I could hardly keep my eyes open.

“Sure,” I said.

Burrell leaned across the seat, and kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks, Jack.”

Buster froze at the bottom of the stairwell leading to my room. I carried him upstairs, and laid him on the bed. Then I examined myself in the bathroom. My nose was turning purple, and had a nasty bump over the bridge. No more GQ covers for me.

I went downstairs to the bar. Two teenage girls were dancing in front of the jukebox while the Dwarfs ogled them from their bar stools. The girls were both slurping Diet Cokes, and I spoke to Sonny.

“They legal?” I asked.

“Naw. Tried to pass off some fake IDs, but I made them,” Sonny said.

“Why didn’t you throw them out?”

“Because I’m horny.”

I went upstairs and found my detective’s badge. The department had let me keep my badge after I’d quit. You could say it was one of the few decent things they’d done. I went downstairs and pulled the girls off the floor. Going outside, I made them stand in the pouring rain while I read them the riot act. By the time I was done, the makeup had washed off their faces, and they’d promised to stay out of bars until they were legal.

“Spoilsport,” Sonny said when I returned.

“You have any pain pills?” I asked.

Sonny fed me some Advil. I drank coffee, and waited for them to kick in. It took awhile, but I finally started to feel normal.

The local news came on. The lead story was about Jed’s capture, and showed him doing a perp walk outside the police station. The images faded into a blaring headline. WHAT WENT WRONG?

On the screen a familiar face appeared. It was Ron Cheeks, wearing his best suit and a smug look on his face. The pills churned in my stomach, and I grabbed the remote off the bar. Cheeks’s voice came booming out of the TV.

“Jed Grimes was our number one suspect from the start,” Cheeks said. “All the evidence pointed to him. He abducted his son, and we knew it.”

“Why didn’t the police arrest him before now?” a female reporter asked.

Cheeks did a slow burn. “I was going to. Unfortunately, a medical condition forced me off the case, and another detective took over.”

“Who was that?”

“Detective Candice Burrell.”

“Is she to blame?”

“Detective Burrell is a fine police officer, and in no way is responsible for what has happened with this investigation,” Cheeks replied.

“Then who is?”

“A consultant the police hired to work the case.”

“A consultant?” the reporter asked.

Cheeks raised his hands in mock surrender. “It wasn’t my idea.”

“Can you tell us who this consultant was?”

“It was a former detective named Jack Carpenter,” Cheeks said. “Carpenter was hired by the family to find the boy, then hired by the police department as well.”

“So there was a conflict of interest,” the reporter said.

“I would say so,” Cheeks said.

“Do you blame Jack Carpenter for what went wrong?”

“He let the case drag on, and now Sampson Grimes and his mother are missing. Yes, I blame him.”

I looked for something to throw at the screen.

“Temper, temper,” Sonny said.

The interview ended. Sonny took the remote out of my hand and killed the picture.

“How’s your nose?” he asked.

“It’s starting to hurt again,” I said.

Sonny fed me two more pills. I swallowed them while looking into the future. Cheeks was campaigning to get his old job back. Considering how badly the case had gone, it just might happen. I could not imagine a more cruel injustice, and punched the bar.

I went outside and stood by the shoreline. The lightning made it dangerous, but I didn’t care. My cell phone rang, and I answered it hoping it was Burrell.

“Carpenter here,” I said.

“Mr. Carpenter, my name is Father Tom Kelly,” the caller said. “I’m a priest at Starke prison.”

The wind was blowing in my face, and I moved inside the bar’s open doorway, and sat at the bottom of the stairwell.

“Let me explain why I’m calling,” Father Kelly said. “I counsel death row inmates at the prison. One of those inmates is Abb Grimes. I was watching the news, and saw that Abb’s son, Jed, had been arrested for murdering his father’s lawyer, along with many other crimes. I called LeAnn Grimes, and she told me to call you.”

“What can I do for you?” I said.

“I wanted to tell you that I think Jed is innocent.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I was there when Jed was saved.”

I thought back to the photograph of the elderly priest I’d seen in Jed’s album, and realized this was the same man.

“Saved how?” I asked.

“Let me tell you what happened. A year ago, Abb told me that he wanted to see Jed before he died. I called Jed, and arranged a meeting. Jed came to the prison, and the warden let us meet in a cell, and eat a meal. Abb had asked me to wear my prayer shawl, which was given to me when I became a priest.

“When our meal was over, Abb held my prayer shawl, and told Jed he was ready to meet his maker. Abb asked Jed to hold the shawl, and forgive him for his sins. It was hard, but Jed did it. He forgave his father. Then we prayed.

“God was with us that day. Abb invited God into that cell by accepting his sins, and Jed accepted God by holding the shawl, and telling Abb he forgave him. God was there. I felt his presence.

“Jed changed after that. He started giving his wife money, and got shared custody of his son. The transformation was real. Jed’s not a killer.”

The rain blew through the open doorway onto my face, and a crash of lightning shook the building.

“I know, Father,” I said.

“Then you must prove that Jed is innocent. Based upon what I saw on the news, the evidence against Jed is circumstantial. Yet, the police are making Jed out to be a criminal, and saying he was breaking laws before this happened. You need to set the record straight.”

“How am I going to do that?”

“There is a detective named Ron Cheeks. Start with him. Cheeks destroyed a piece of evidence in Abb’s case.”

“You mean the missing slippers,” I said.

“Yes, the slippers. Jed found out, and confronted Cheeks. Ever since, Cheeks has been on a mission to destroy Jed. He pulled Jed into the police station fifty times, and arrested him for crimes he never committed.”