The Darkness Inside Us (A Detective King Suspense Thriller) (A Detective King Novel Book 3) (15 page)

“Actually, I do,” I tell her, feeling bad that I’m going to be derailing her plans and belaying her sleep just a little while longer.

“Anything,” she says to me.

“I need you to go down to lock-up and talk with the shift manager,” I tell her. “I need you to convince him that we need all the bottom cells emptied and kept open for an operation that’s coming in. I’m not sure how many people I’m going to be bringing in, but I need them all cleared so each prisoner gets their own cell. I don’t want them mingling and touching. Just convince him that he’s going to need to do this or suffer dire consequences.”

“I can try,” Lola says apprehensively and I know that this isn’t her style. This isn’t what she’s used to doing at all, but I don’t doubt that she can pull it off. She’s resourceful, sexy, and smart. It’s a triple combination of trouble when it comes to anyone who is in Lola’s way of getting what she wants. “Steven, what’s happening?” Are you onto something big right now?”

“I think so,” I tell her honestly, but I’m afraid of what to say to her. Fuck it. She’s been here with me since I found out what it is I’m dealing with. Why should I keep her at arm’s length? “Kelly called me and said that some of her coworkers want to take her out to dinner and show their support for her in this troubling time. The caller listed the people who would be going and listed the name of a recent victim. Putting two and two together, I figure that the demon is going to be there and I mean to take in each of them and figure out which one has the demon in them.”

“Then what, Steven?” Lola asks me, sensing where this plan leads.

“Then I’m going to kill the son of a bitch and end the demon’s little joy ride,” I tell her with a cold, determined voice. I’m tired of playing games with this thing. I’m tired of picking up all the pieces and bagging up the bodies. I want to stop it, once and for all, and I’m going to do whatever is necessary to ensure that Kelly, and everyone else in the world, is free of it, no matter what the price is. And for the first time ever, I understand the gravity of what comes next.

XVII

The Goliath Diner is an inconspicuous little restaurant that looks like it belongs somewhere in the northeast in lobster territory and that instead of home-cooked, savory meals, it should be selling seafood. There’s a tall, dry locust tree and a walnut tree that shade the majority of the building, keeping the harsh sun off of it with an umbrella of leaves that cast shadows large enough to keep the small diner and the parking lot cool. It’s a small enough building that the trees actually dwarf it and from the road, it’s noticeable only because of the trees. They serve as signs, pointing directly to Goliath and have to be well over a hundred years old.

The exterior of the building is painted in a soft baby blue on the paneling and woodwork that looks about as real as a three dollar bill, with white trim all around the windows and the siding. The black roof is covered in fallen leaves and branches from the walnut tree and the grass surrounding the building is as emerald green as I’ve seen before, especially in the brutal and unforgiving heat that we’ve had lately. The manicured bushes surrounding the building make the entire place look like it’s out of place, transported from somewhere more temperate and welcoming, not in the middle of this shithole of a city. It’s been owned privately for a long time, after the chain that owned the building died off in the recession. The new owners have poured enormous amounts of care and concern into the homey little restaurant and it shows.

Inside, I am surprised to see sturdy pine tables with a glossy varnish and over-stuffed booths just waiting for asses to be planted in them. The woodwork on the chairs in the no man’s land between the booths is excellent and over all, the restaurant retains a sort of sturdy, Germanic feel to it. The walls are covered with art and near the ceiling, a continuous shelf holds antique knick-knacks that no one would ever want beyond decorating purposes. The wallpaper is what you’d expect to find in a restaurant like this, tacky, but not unpleasant to the eye. It doesn’t stand out, but rather, it fades back into the décor, building to the ambience that you’re immediately engulfed into. Overhead, the droning tune that plays is soft chamber music, welcoming the guests to sit, talk, laugh, and not have to speak over it. Approaching the counter and cash register, I see a man with red hair and a mustache who looks both scared and excited. Reading his name tag, I realize that I need look no further. When I introduce myself to Art Derby, the manager, I find myself completely impressed by the restaurant as a whole.

Sadly, I know that what follows is less pleasant and less entertaining. Walking him around the counter, I introduce him to the elite team of ten murderously vengeful officers who had arrived in their civilian clothes and were ready to be the first line of defense against this nameless, faceless killer. Owens and the rest of the officers watch as they all file into the north wing of the restaurant, laying the trap. I place eight of the undercover officers at three different tables while the two remaining officers are placed as waitresses working for the restaurant. I instruct Art that no one else is to be seated in the north wing of the diner. After sending him away to inform his staff of their instructions, I share my plan with Owens and his team, letting them know that when the time comes, they are all expected to draw their weapons, demand that the party placed in their section put their hands on their heads. At that time, Owens’s strike team in the backroom and the kitchens will burst in to offer any support. I, on the other hand, will be outside, keeping an eye on the perimeter and the transportation. Letting those under cover fall into their roles, I return to check on the manager.

Art Derby, the poor bastard, is baffled and overwhelmed by all of it, but time and time again, I ensure him that we are professionals and that we are going to do everything that we can to keep the restaurant safe and secure during this event. I tactfully leave out the part that his insurance should cover any damage created by an all-out fire fight. He informs me that he is thankful that today has been slow so far and that they shouldn’t expect much of a rush at dinner time. I should be okay with that, but I immediately worry that we can’t rely on his predictions. If the restaurant gets crowded, then we might have trouble. All I know for certain is that by tonight, I’m going to have the demon in lock-up and I’m going to be able to figure out which of the teachers has the creature inside of them. Right now, my money is on Debra Connelly.

I look across the asphalt at the line of shrubs defending the parking lot around Goliath from my gaze. All I see is a rolling wall of emerald and that’s alright with me. We’re all on radios, looking at the same images of Debra Connelly and her cohorts, waiting for them to show up. I look down at the short-haired, fifty-year-old woman and wonder what the demon intends to do with her. How will it inspire Debra to kill herself? I look at the picture and toss it into the passenger seat. It smells like burnt rubber in this parking lot and it’s hot as hell out here. It’s too bad that the lot next to Goliath is a tire shop and all I hear are the sounds of impacts and rap music. I love cars, even the smell of tires, but rap just stirs the need for violence within me. I contemplate, momentarily, taking a walk into the tire joint and smashing their stereo with a tire iron.

Looking across the little driveway that brings traffic off of the main street and into a narrow road leading to either the tire shop, Goliath, or three other shops along its way, I can’t help but wonder if I’m making a huge mistake right now. Maybe I’m underestimating this thing. Maybe it’s more cunning than I’m giving it credit for. I mean, it’s outplayed me this entire time. It has been five steps ahead of me and I’ve just been wandering around in the dark, not even sure what it is that I’ve been following. Right now, I feel like I’ve just stumbled across something that is infinitely smarter than me, and I for some reason think that I have a chance at catching the thing.

Maybe the best option is going into the restaurant while they’re all seated, drawing my pistol, squeezing off a round at each of them before the undercover officers draw their weapons and open fire on me. It’ll be the end of Detective Steven King, and the FBI will get the credit for bringing me down and will most likely pin everything on me if I’m right. If I kill all of them and the demon is sent off into the ether because it has no new host to transport into, then I will have succeeded and if the FBI plants this all on me, then so be it. It will have all been for the greater good and I will die knowing that Kelly is safe. But then again, I would never actually know that Kelly is safe. I will have been shot dead in the middle of some terrible diner because there was nothing more I could do. If that didn’t work and I killed them all and ended up dead, but was wrong and the demon wasn’t even here, then Kelly is a dead woman walking and there’s no one left to protect her. Lola might catch on, but that’s only if she isn’t arrested for conspiracy charges as well. I shake my head. No, I need to do this cleanly. I need to make sure I’m right about all of this.

“Everyone still in place?” I ask on the radio for the eightieth time.

I listen as thirty voices call in and confirm that they are exactly where I positioned them. I have the transport van half a mile away just because I don’t want the demon catching sight of it and coming to its senses before we even have a chance to bring it down. At best, I can only hope for the fact that this demon has no idea what it’s walking into and that I can catch it off guard. If I can do that much, then I’m going to catch this bastard and get some answers from it.

I’ve thought about what I’m going to do once I get them all into lock-up and have them divided up. I know that the demon has an ego. It’s spelled that out with every one of its letters that it’s left behind, taunting me about how slow I am to get to the scenes or how I’ve failed to save the ones I love. If I capture this thing, then I know that it’s going to want to say something to me. It’s going to want to goad me into doing something reckless or stupid. I want the driver who is responsible for getting them all back to lock-up to say nothing to the creature. I don’t want him to listen to the thing or to do anything else. This thing can’t be trusted. I need to be the only one who is responsible for dealing with it. I’m going to have to pull that trigger to end an innocent person’s life, all because they have something inhuman inside of him or her. They won’t understand and that’s going to weigh on my conscience, but it’s my only option. I have to kill them. I have to end this thing before it can do anything more.

My pistol is sitting in the passenger’s seat, in the shadows and out of the sunlight. I pick it up and check it, making sure that that I am prepared to do anything I must to see this through. I’ve already discussed with Owens that if any of them tries to resist, lethal force is authorized. They all know the rules now. No touching the suspects and if they resist, put them down. Owens had been fuzzy about that last part, but I assured him that we have to do whatever is necessary to break the killer’s cycle. He seemed to understand that part, but he wasn’t happy about it.

“I’ve got a visual,” one of the perimeter radios fires off.

I immediately grab the radio and switch over to the interior unit’s radios, knowing that Owens will be waiting for any confirmation that the targets are headed in their direction. “Unit two and three, we have a visual on one of the targets. Radios away and be ready.”

“Copy,” the unit leader replies and I recognize Owens’s voice and smile. I’m glad he’s here for this. This is the grand finale to everything that he’s been waiting and searching for. This is the end of everything that he’s been silently working for. I switch back over to unit one’s channel and listen as they read off a description of Peter Tugg’s car and I get several confirmations that it’s him arriving for the rendezvous. I look at the picture of the man with a gaunt, balding head. His round glasses and large eyes make him look like an insect and I marvel at how long his neck is. I doubt that it’s been a very fun or enjoyable life for Mr. Tugg, especially with his name and long neck. He has the appearance of someone who probably got stuffed in lockers and whose life was a living hell for much of his time in high school and middle school, yet here he is, a teacher at one. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he’s had a great time there, but I have a feeling he is in it for revenge. I bet he gives all the cool and popular kids bad grades to make himself feel superior.

“Got another visual,” the radio crackles. “I’ve got Sally Cane coming in from the west. Repeat, visual on Sally Cane.”

I look at Sally Cane’s photo. She’s in her early thirties and looks like she’s well into her forties. She’s the kind of woman that sort of gave up, clearly. She has no makeup on in her DMV photo and her eyes have dark circles around them. Her cheeks are saggy and already there are crow’s feet forming at the corner of her eyes. From what I got on her, Sally teaches literature, just like Mr. Tugg. I look at her image and add it to the pile with Mr. Tugg’s image.

“We’ve got three coming in from the east,” the radio crackles. “I got a visual on Debra Connelly’s car and there are two passengers inside.”

I feel my stomach twisting and knotting together. There are all the targets that are supposed to be arriving. The sixth member of the party was supposed to be Susan Larsen, but she’s not among the living anymore. I look at the three remaining pictures and see Debra Connelly in her matronly authoritative air. She definitely looks like a teacher or an old, saggy librarian. I don’t like the look of her. The other two are Jack Halloway and Nancy Berger, both are English teachers and Debra serves as the head of the English department and a teacher in creative writing at the school. Jack is an aged man with a headful of gray hair and hawkish eyes, even in his DMV photo. As for Nancy, she’s the youngest looking member of the whole group. She has soft eyes, but she’s as round as a peach in the DMV image. I look at them all, placing them into the pile of sighted targets.

“What’s their status?” I say into the radio.

“I’ve got a visual on Peter Tugg,” the radio answers. “He’s loitering around the front of the building, checking the time. He’s obviously aware that he’s the first here. Sally Cane is just now walking up. They’ve sighted each other.”

I turn the keys in the ignition and listen to the Shelby roar to life. It’s time to end this and all the eggs are landing in one basket. I wait for confirmation that they’ve entered the building before I give the order for everyone to move in. I switch the radio over to units two and three’s radios. “Targets are in the parking lot, they’ll be moving toward your location soon, everyone on the ready.”

“Got it,” Owens answers for both units. Unit two has been taken off the radio since I gave the order for them to hide their radios, but Owens will get the word to them. “Give us the word and we’re going to bring them in.”

“Stand by,” I tell him. I can feel my nerves tingling as this is starting to play out so perfectly.

“Targets are entering the building,” I hear as I switch back over to unit one’s channel.

I close my eyes and take in a deep breath, counting to thirty before I open my eyes and exhale slowly, looking at the emerald berm and knowing that this is really happening. I’ve got the bastard and he’s not getting away from me this time. No matter what happens, I’m going to end this by the time the sun goes down. I put the Shelby in reverse and make my way out of the tire shop’s parking lot and cross the small side street over into the Goliath parking lot. When I’ve found a shady parking spot, I back in and look over at the quaint little restaurant and know that it’s time to give the order to everyone.

“All units, move in.” I give the order and wait.