It was only 5:30 in the morning, but already people were starting to gather outside the police station. They were waiting for Roy Cohen to show up. To show up with answers. You couldn’t hush up the murder of a child in a small town, particularly if it wasn’t the only one that had happened. It now looked like Troy had a serial killer on its hands.
The jail at the police station was minimum security at best. It had been designed as a temporary holding station, not a permanent address. Serious offenders were normally transported by the paddy wagon to the jail in the city. Everyone knew that. So why was the man they had elected as Chief of Police, keeping Ryan Lachey—pervert that Ralph Wildman had always said he was—still within Troy’s town limits? This was hard for them to understand.
Small towns being what they are, a good percentage of the gathered crowd had been in the police station at some point in their life. It didn’t take them long to remember which side of the building the lone jail cell stood. They began to hurl rocks at the south wall.
“Fuck,” Ryan said. He had a sleepless night, tossing and turning and wondering if the vampire was going to pay him another visit. “I guess it’s wake-up time.”
“You crazy bastard,” a voice outside said loudly. “We don’t take kindly to child murders in Troy. We don’t care if you molested them or not. We’re going to castrate you, cut your femoral artery and hang you by your feet until you bleed to death, you son-of-a-bitch.”
“Great,” Ryan sighed. They had said murders, plural. That meant the vampire had been true to his words and Kevin was dead. It also meant Stan was in serious danger.
He sat up and reached for the box of toaster strudel. It would have been nice if Purdy had left him a toaster to put them in, but that hadn’t happened. Maybe it was a safety measure or maybe Purdy was just being a prick. He wasn’t sure. He bit into the cold blueberry pastry anyway. It was rather dry, but the sweet filling gave him an instant sugar rush.
The front door of the police station opened and Ryan was somewhat relived to see Purdy standing before him with a bag from the 24 hour convenience store.
“What are you doing back here this early?” Ryan asked. “Don’t they ever give you any time off?”
“Not under the circumstances,” Purdy said, handing Ryan a hot breakfast burrito. “Here. I thought you might like something a little more substantial.”
Ryan was puzzled by Purdy’s sudden random act of kindness.
“Thanks,” he said, reaching for the paper wrapped meal. “That’s decent of you, dude.”
Purdy nodded. The events of the past twenty-four hours had not totally exonerated Ryan’s guilt in his mind, but he had to acknowledge there was now room for a margin of error. He might be guilty of one murder, but not two.
“Isn’t there some law against leaving me alone in here?” Ryan asked. “What if there was a fire or something?”
Purdy pointed at the massive sprinklers above Ryan’s head.
“What if I had a medical emergency?”
“Then I would have had three bodies to contend with. It gets to the point when you start to lose count,” Purdy snapped. “You weren’t totally on your own. I had the alarm company monitoring you.”
“The police station has an alarm company?”
“We live in trying times.”
“They can’t see me whiz, can they?”
“No.”
“Where are the Dayton boys?” Ryan asked. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the twin constables since he had been confined. “Don’t they work here anymore?”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Purdy admitted, tossing Ryan a carton of juice from the same bag.
“Cohen should fire their asses.”
“That’s kind of hard to do right now. We’re a little busy.”
“What happened to Betty and my brother?” Ryan asked between bites.
“Betty’s still at the hospital. Stan stayed on my couch last night. I woke Jacey Sumner up at the crack of dawn and she’s watching him over at your house now. I didn’t think that seeing you locked up was going to foster any tender sibling moments between the two of you.”
“Dude, you can’t leave him with Jacey.”
“Why not? Roy said she’s looked after him before.”
“We’re talking about supermodel Jacey, right? She’s not going to be able to help him if some nutcase tries to grab him. She’s not going to scuff her shoes for nobody.”
“She’s just watching him for a few hours. I’m off at noon, whether the Dayton boys show up or not, and I’ll take him again until your mom’s released. He’ll be safe until then.”
“Safe?”
“He’ll be okay.”
“You said ‘safe’.”
Ryan studied Purdy’s body language. His hands were on his hips in a stance that was too girly for the hard-assed cop Ryan knew Purdy was. It was the same stance his mother often took when the truth wasn’t particularly convenient.
“Holy shit,” Ryan exclaimed. “You believe me, don’t you?”
“No. I don’t.”
“Yeah, you do. You don’t want to believe me, but you’re starting to. What happened after you left here?”
“That’s classified information.”
“Not if it involves Stan it’s not. If my Ma’s in the hospital, I’m his next of kin.”
“You’re in jail,” Purdy reminded him. “This isn’t a country club despite your private residence. And as far as I know you dad is still alive. You’re not his next of kin.”
“But my dad’s not here. I’m here,” Ryan reminded Purdy. “Are you going to formally charge me with something, or not? You’re going to have to let me go soon if you don’t.”
A rock smashed through the large office window. It had a note attached to it with string. Purdy picked it up off the floor, unraveled it and showed Ryan the picture that had been drawn on the back of a paper trash bag. It showed an effigy of a football player hanging from a tree.
The artwork angered Ryan. “They got my jersey number wrong. How could they fucking get my number wrong? I’m the star of the team. Shit.”
Purdy forced a smile. “Understand now? Even if we were to let you out, I’m thinking you wouldn’t get very far. In case you haven’t heard, there’s a mob out there waiting to kill you.”
“Well... shouldn’t you go out there and tell them to fuck-off or something?”
“My job is to stay in here and protect you, oddly enough.”
“You have to let me out.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“I have to protect my brother.”
“I said I had it covered,” Purdy insisted, turning on his computer and checking his email. The logical part of his brain was still trying to process what he had seen last night, everything from the horrific discovery of the child’s body to the teenager who vanished into thin air.
“He was here yesterday,” Ryan blurted out. “The dude of darkness. He said he was going after Stan.”
That got Purdy’s attention. “What do you mean, here?”
“In my fucking cell,” Ryan began. ”He said he killed Kevin and he was going after Stan next.”
“Who the hell have you been talking to?” Purdy asked. Up until that point, he assumed Ryan believed the mob outside only wanted to lynch him for the girl’s murder. But it was clear now that Ryan knew about both killings.
“I just fucking told you. The dude of darkness.”
“He was here? In your cell?” Purdy asked. “Let’s say I believe you for a nano-second. Every piece of vampire lore I have ever read, or watched on television says you have to invite them in. Would you have been stupid enough to do that? Invite him into the jail?”
Ryan thought back. “Maybe.”
“Well smarten up next time. Ask him to leave.”
Purdy checked the answering service for messages. There were none that demanded his immediate attention. He had hoped the Clarks would have checked in. They hadn’t been home last night so he hadn’
t been able to tell them about the death of their son. That loomed heavily on his mind. Where the hell were they, and why weren’t they wondering where Kevin was?
He then read through a few of the emails that had come in overnight. “How can I have over three-hundred messages?” he remarked. “Maybe I should just delete the ones with your name in the header followed by variations of the verb ‘dismember.’” He minimized the program on his computer screen and looked pensively at his prisoner. “So, what did he look like, this dude of darkness?”
“Skinny. My age. Long black hair. Black jean jacket.”
Another rock came crashing through the window, landing on the floor beside the officer’s left foot.
“Okay. I’ve had enough of this bullshit,” Purdy said, picking it up and removing the note attached to it. He opened it, read it, and stood up. “You hold that thought,” he said to Ryan, “while I go outside and find the guy who drew me a picture of your mid-range anatomy with a grenade attached to it.”
As he opened the front door, Purdy saw Tom Williams trying to decide whether to come in or not.
“Can I talk to Ryan?” Tom asked.
“Can you draw a grenade?” Purdy asked.
“Uh, no.”
“Then go on in,” Purdy said. “But make it a short conversation and stay by the door where I can see you. I don’t have time to frisk you.” He surveyed the crowd. “You! Michael McMann. Stay put. You can’t draw stick people any better now than you could in grade one. I’d know your crappy art anywhere.”
Tom walked in and looked at Ryan. “Is he for real?”
“Pretty much. What the fuck happened last night?”
“It’s been a busy one. Kevin Clark was found dead over at Tara’s place. Somebody stuffed him in a fridge. Wildman’s in the hospital with a couple of broken bones. Tara’s gone to her aunt’s. Jacey’s over at your place babysitting Stan until your mom gets home.”
So it had happened like the vampire had said it would, Ryan thought. “You’ve got to go to my place and help Jacey watch Stan.”
Tom glanced at the door to see whether Purdy was watching him. Not seeing him, he moved closer towards Ryan’s cell. “Jacey’s not exactly talking to me. We had another fight after your game. Same old, same old.”
“I don’t give a shit. Fix it.”
“What’s going on, dude?”
Ryan rested his forehead on the bars of the cell and closed his eyes. What he had to say to Tom was not easy to say. “The killer...I think Stan’s next on his death list.”
Tom could tell from the tone of his voice that Ryan truly believed that Stan was in danger. “Why?”
“Look. Don’t ask me to explain. He doesn’t even really want the kids. He wants something more. The kids are only practice for him. Until he’s better at his game.”
“It’s going to get worse?”
“Way worse. We’ve got to try to stop it. But I can’t do anything while I’m locked up in here. Whatever you did to Jacey, I need you to work it out. Go find Goth-Chic and tell her I need to see her.”
“Ellie’s not talking to me either.”
“You’re a big fucking help. What do you know about vampires?”
“I read Dracula a couple of years ago.”
“Great. Purdy knows more than you do. I need you to do me a favor. I need you to go to the library and find out what it takes to kill them.”
“Duh...silver bullets, wooden stakes to the heart. What were you and Tara doing at the midnight horror movie the last long weekend?”
“Not watching the fucking movie.” He though about Tom’s question. “Okay, so you and Jacey actually watched it. Maybe that’s good. Maybe Jacey does have a clue.”
“Jacey’s not stupid, Ryan.”
“Has she given it up to you yet?”
Tom glanced down at the floor.
“I rest my case.”
The sound of the front door opening silenced their conversation. Purdy subconsciously picked some wax from his ear as he came back inside. He was quiet as he took his jacket off, sat down in his chair and put his feet up on his desk. Ryan was in his direct line of sight.
“Exactly what did you ever do to Michael McMann to make him hate you so much, Lachey? I’m just curious. I get the whole Ralph/Tara Wildman thing, but McMann’s got a son. Something I should know about?”
“It’s not my fault his kid can’t throw a football worth a shit and didn’t make the team for the third year in a row. Why? What did the old coot say?”
“He says he saw you with the girl on Halloween. He’s going to make a statement to the Chief when he gets here.”
“He’s full of shit.”
“Lucky for you, I know that.” He pointed at his own head. “Internal bullshit radar.”
“Then quit wasting your time with him.”
“Yes boss,” Purdy said sarcastically.
“No disrespect intended,” Ryan began, “but Purd, the dude you asked me to describe before Tom got here has threatened my brother’s life. You know, the kid you’re supposed to be protecting. Maybe you should be spending more time worrying about him, than reading my loves notes that come crashing through the window.”
“Stan does not need protection. He needs a babysitter. I found him one.”
“Are ya sure? Remember the long, dark haired, skinny dude...about Tom’s height, minus the hair gel?”
“Hey, leave my hair out of it,” Tom interjected.
“What does your bullshit radar say about that, Officer Purdy?” Ryan continued. “Or does it fade in and out like the cellular signals in this hellhole town?”
Before Purdy could answer, their attention turned to the sound of a police siren getting closer and closer. Another cruiser had arrived outside.
“You’re lucky. Colin Dayton’s here,” Purdy said, pulling his own car keys from his pant pocket as he looked out the window. “I’ve had enough of your lip today. I’m done here.” He put his heavy winter coat back on. “Is there anything you want me to say to your mom when I see her?”
Ryan was quiet.
“I didn’t think so,” Purdy said as he left the building.
Tom noticed a grin forming across Ryan’s face. “What are you smiling about? He just totally silenced you.”
“The dude’s starting to believe me,” Ryan said, as he sat back down on the bed.
“Does this mean I don’t have to go get Jacey and Ellie now?”
“Remember that time when you were ten and I covered for you when you broke Old Man Wagner’s front window with the baseball?”
“Yeah, why?”
“When I got out of jail for that, Betty made me pay for it out of my paper route money. It took me another six months to save up enough for a new bike, but I took it like a man because we were friends. You said you owed me one. It’s time. I’m calling in the biggest favor of our lives. I need you to help me deal with some demons.”
Tom thought about it. “If my dad had found out it was me, I never would have got to go to Disneyland that summer. I never would have got kissed by that totally hot twelve-year-old they made me ride with in the teacup. My entire sex life might have been delayed. That was pretty decent of you.”
“Too true.” He made a gesture like he was putting a microphone in front of Tom. “Tom Williams, now that we haven’t won the Varsity Cup because the best damned player is stuck in jail, are you going to go to back to Disneyland?”
“Hell no. I’m going to the library to get us some books on how to kick-ass kill vampires, baby!”
Ryan stuck his hand out the between the cell bars so that Tom could high-five him.
“And that, dude, is why we’re still friends even though your hair is totally over-processed.”
Tom laughed. “I’ve got to get up early and re-stock the shelves over at the store before my Dad opens up tomorrow, so I have to go. I’ll catch you later.” He flashed a peace sign at Ryan before heading out the door.
“He is going to be absolutely no fuc
king help,” Ryan sighed to himself. He watched as Officer Colin Dayton came into the police station, ignored him, and immediately headed into the washroom.
“Yo, hi to you too,” Ryan scoffed.
It was ten minutes before the grumpier half of the Dayton twin patrol came out of the bathroom with a wet cloth over his eyes.
“Did you party hard last night or something?” Ryan asked. “What happened to your eye?”
“What’s it to you?” the officer said. “I got hit with some debris out on the highway. But for the record, what I do or don’t do in this hellhole town is no concern of yours.”
“Just trying to make conversation,” Ryan mumbled to himself.
The office phone rang. Colin Dayton answered it.
“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry about that Chief. I’ve still got a bit of the flu.” He took the cloth from his eyes just long enough to look at Ryan. “He’s fine. The side window is smashed, though. The mob outside probably did it. It was a gong show when I first got here. I had to use the horn of my truck to clear them from the driveway so I could park. I don’t know what the hell Purdy was doing, letting them all go crazy like that.” He paused and glanced outside through the broken glass. “It’s quiet all of a sudden. I think they went over to the Topaz now that it’s open, to get organized. As organized as a bunch of pitchfork-toting farmers can get. I’ll call the glass guys, and see if I can get them over here today. It’ll probably be overtime for them, being Sunday and all. I’ll let you explain that one to the town council. The bright side is, those bars on the windows have paid for themselves today.”
He glanced over at Ryan who had moved to the toilet in his cell.
“Lachey, do you think you could take your dump after I finish this phone call?”
“Nature calls, dude.”
“Listen Chief,” Colin continued. “I’ve got to go lock myself in our bathroom until the broken window lets some air in to take out Lachey’s breakfast stench. I’ll call you back later.”
“Well, if you guys would bring me a salad every once and a while, it might help,” Ryan said loudly.
Colin took the cloth from his head and used it to cover his nose as he headed into the bathroom.
“Drama Queen,” Ryan taunted.
Once inside the tiny station bathroom, Colin uncovered his nose and looked into the mirror. His skin was white, his eyes were puffy and he felt like throwing up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. It was flashing. He opened his directory and saw that it was a text message from his brother Cody.
“PARTY-ON”
“Shit,” Colin said. “There’s just no rest for the wicked.”