Red Sunset Drive, page 3
Brett inwardly groaned. This was going to take all day at this rate. “What’s the bottom line, Allen?”
Allen sighed. “As I was saying, at least three late prehistoric villages stood in or near this area during times ranging from AD 1300 to AD 1700.”
Brett muttered, “Allen, I’m still not clear how any of this involves the police.”
Allen cut the air with his hand. Brett jerked at the movement. An odd look filled Allen’s eyes. Allen continued as if Brett hadn’t spoken. Allen seemed to have a control issue.
“There were also numerous prehistoric American Indian mounds in the same area, but the early settlers destroyed most of those.”
“Damn it, Allen!” Brett clenched his hands. “I don’t need a history lesson. You’ve got ten seconds to make your point.”
Allen’s eyes narrowed. “And I was just getting to the good part.” Spreading his arms, he slowly turned in a circle. “As you saw from our walk to the cave, the soldiers in Fort Des Moines dug these tunnels close to the original fort in order to get coal back to the fort’s blacksmith. These coal tunnels were dug in the early 1840s and ended close to this enclosed cave. You’d be surprised how many of these tunnels exist.” Brett frowned. “Anyway, after my team got approval to dig here, you can imagine my amazement when we discovered the existence of this cave. Of course I blocked it off, so only a few trusted people even know this secret.”
Brett walked to the doorway but abruptly stopped. Secret? His curiosity was piqued. “What secret? I don’t see anything here but a couple of old tombs.”
Allen pursed his lips. He stomped over to the corner and picked up a large crowbar. He ran the end of the tool along the top of the tomb. Strange writing was embedded in the stone.
“See this writing?” Allen jabbed his finger at the stone. “It’s Romanian. You can imagine my excitement at finding these tombs here in the middle of Iowa.”
Brett leaned over to examine the writing. “1359! Shit, that’s old.”
“Yes.” Allen gripped Brett’s elbow. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m the only one who has seen this. Now you will be part of the secret.” Spittle flew from his mouth as he spoke.
Crap! Brett wasn’t sure he wanted to become part of Allen’s secret. Goosebumps popped up on his arms. The lantern flickered from a nonexistent breeze. Brett shivered with unease.
“Mr. Allen, the chief will want a report when I return to the office. I get that you found a couple of old tombs, but shouldn’t you report this to the state archeologist or something? I can’t exclude anything from my report.”
Allen flapped his hands as he paced in front of Brett. “Yes, yes. I know that. Now, help me slide the crowbar under the lid to open it.”
Brett swallowed hard. He didn’t want to look at any skeletons. The thought gave him the creeps. Between the two of them, they managed to shove the large, flat stone sideways to reveal a gauzy shroud.
Brett threw his hands in the air and hopped away from the body. What the hell are we doing? “Son of a bitch! There’s a body in there!”
Pushing his hat back to reveal thin blond hair, Allen chided, “What did you expect to see? An empty casket?”
“Well, kind of. This is barbaric. You don’t go around disturbing the dead. Hell!” The musty smell of the open tomb filled the cave. His stomach clenched.
Allen’s laugher echoed through the small, enclosed cave. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a body before?” His hands slid over the corpse.
Brett growled. “Of course I’ve seen bodies. New bodies—not these ancient things.”
Allen’s gaze locked on Brett. “I’ve been watching you for the past year. The serial killer case that you and Anders dealt with last year was very impressive. I’m surprised that you were able to keep it out of the papers.”
“I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
“Tsk, tsk,” Allen warned. “Even though I have no proof, I think you were dealing with something that most people would dismiss entirely. Something unnatural.”
Brett stared back at Allen. The guy is bluffing. Folding his arms across his chest, he snorted. “You have quite an imagination, Allen. The reason nothing was in the paper was because there was nothing to tell.”
Waggling a finger in his direction, Allen smiled. “Whatever you say, Detective.”
“Why did you ask me here? I don’t see one damn thing that is police business.”
Allen’s eyes burned a hole through him. “Because, Officer O’Shea, I believe there is a vampire in Des Moines.”
4
Brett took a deep breath and burst out laughing. His stomach muscles contracted from the deep belly laughter. “Vampire! Are you crazy?” Wiping the corners of his eyes, he smiled at Allen. “I’m out of here, Allen. Call me if you need police assistance in the future.” Just as he stepped into the tunnel, a wiry hand grabbed his shoulder.
“O’Shea, wait. There’s no one else I can trust.”
The desperation in Allen’s voice made him pause. Brett faced Allen. Gone was the cocky attitude that Allen had shown since they met.
“Listen to me! These tombs are from the fourteenth century. Ever since I discovered this cave, several incidents have occurred.”
“Like what?” he grumbled.
Allen shook his head, pacing in front of him. “First it was missing animals—pets and such. Last week a homeless camp near the river suddenly disappeared. All ten people are gone—not a trace of them left.”
“C’mon, Allen,” Brett moaned. “Homeless people move around a lot. Since winter is coming, they probably headed south, where it’s warmer.”
Allen’s lips narrowed. “That’s possible. It is reasonable to assume that they have left for a warmer climate. I would agree with you, if I hadn’t seen a man’s finger lying near this cave. It was all shriveled, as if all the blood had been sucked out.”
Brett’s pulse increased. “A finger? Where’s the rest of the body?”
Allen shuddered, a look of revulsion covering his face. “I have no idea. You should have seen it.”
He felt a flash of frustration. “Do you have any idea how many people go to the emergency room every day because they chop off or saw off a finger? Where is this finger, anyway?”
Allen pointed to a bucket in the corner. After removing a rock and a jagged board on top of the bucket, Brett peered into the container of alcohol before straightening. “I’ll ask again. Where’s the finger?”
Allen grabbed the bucket and looked inside. “I put it right here a couple of days ago. Since the cave is sheltered and cool, I figured it would be okay here. I even put that large rock on top of the board to protect the evidence.”
Brett smacked the palm of his hand against his forehead. “So you have no idea what happened to the finger.”
Allen glared back at him. “Of course I don’t know what happened. Why else would I tell you to look in the damn bucket?”
“Haven’t you ever noticed the critters wandering around at night? With the snacks and food that your crew eat here at the site, it’s going to draw raccoons, coyotes, turkey vultures—you name it. Someone probably forgot to shut the door one night, and it made an easy meal for a wild animal. I get that you tried to protect it, but you should have left that little tidbit of information in one of the messages or at least brought it to the station.”
Allen kicked the bucket against the stone wall.
Brett bit back a smile. Mr. Allen had a temper. At least he could get out of this hellhole. Grabbing Allen’s lantern, he marched out of the cave.
Behind him, he heard Allen swearing. “Allen, hurry up. I’m out of here.”
“Detective, wait up. I can’t see.”
Turning back to the cave, he hollered, “No can do. I’ve got appointments, Mr. Allen.”
He ignored the mumblings of Allen behind him and kept walking. Minutes later, he was up the ladder, walking back to the limo. As he stood by the car, he took pity on the would-be archeologist. The man’s cheeks were as red as a brick, and his lips were drawn together in a tight line.
“Seriously, Allen, I’m glad you contacted me. If anything else strange shows up, give me a call. I’ll be glad to take a look.”
He shook Allen’s chilled hand, climbing into the limo.
Once at his car, he spotted Foster driving down the street. With a subtle nod, he got behind the wheel.
To quiet his growling stomach, he swung by Burger King for a quick lunch. It was almost 2:00 p.m. by the time he was back at his desk.
Captain Foster slipped into his office and sat down in front of the desk as he was returning phone calls.
He took a long sip from the Burger King cup and choked back a laugh as his superior frowned at him.
“Relax. It’s diet.”
Foster leaned back in the chair and kicked out his legs, but Brett wasn’t fooled. The captain’s brown eyes stared at him.
“So what happened out there today? You were out of sight for some time. I was about to go check it out myself.”
“After I got a history lesson on Des Moines from Allen, he led me down into the dig site. His crew found a bunch of old tunnels that the military used to get coal to the original Fort Des Moines blacksmith. Anyway, one of the tunnels branched off to a cave. Only a few people know about the cave.”
Brett cringed when Foster waved his hand in a circle, motioning him to get to the point. “And this impacts the police how?”
Brett bit back a smile. “Exactly what I asked Mr. Allen. He took me into a cave and showed me two old stone tombs. From the writing on the top, they are from 1359.”
“1359? Does he want us to guard them?”
Brett quickly took another drink. “Not quite. He believes there could be a vampire in town.”
Foster jerked to his feet. Leaning over Brett’s desk, he hoarsely whispered, “Vampire!”
Brett nodded toward the doorway where a couple of the detectives stood staring at them.
Foster turned and marched over and slammed the door. Brett jerked. Was Foster pissed at him?
Foster turned and dropped back into the chair.
“O’Shea, are you bullshitting me?”
“No, sir. Personally, I think Allen has been watching too many reruns of The Vampire Diaries.”
“What the hell are The Vampire Diaries?” Foster’s eyes glittered with anger.
“Never mind. It was a joke.”
Foster’s mouth became a tight line. A muscle in his neck throbbed. “You know that Allen has a lot of pull in this town. He’s in the paper every other week for donating this or that and sponsoring someone’s political campaign.”
“I realize that, sir.”
“Why does he think there is a vampire in Des Moines, of all places? That shit isn’t real.”
Brett had once thought the same thing. He no longer knew what to believe. He sure as hell didn’t want to think that vampires were real. But what if Allen was on to something? Had he misjudged Allen?
“I agree. He mentioned an abandoned homeless camp down by the river. He thinks it’s strange that the people in the camp disappeared.”
“Did you happen to tell him that most homeless people leave before winter gets here?”
“I did. He also said there have been a lot of small animals killed recently. What really convinced Allen that a vampire is on the loose is that he found a man’s finger by the cave.”
“Did you bring it back with you?”
“No. Mr. Allen lost it.”
Foster leaned back in the chair, staring up at the ceiling. “God save me from frickin’ idiots.”
Brett took another long drink, accidently making a slurping noise with the straw. Foster lowered his gaze to stare at him.
“Sorry.” Brett quickly tossed the empty cup in the wastebasket.
“What do you think, O’Shea?”
He cleared his throat. “I think Mr. Allen has an active imagination. But we should cover our ass. Anders will want to know what we’re doing to prove or disprove Allen’s allegations. It wouldn’t hurt to do some checking with the Animal Rescue League to see if there is a jump in missing animals.”
Foster nodded. “Good idea.”
I’ll check with the guys to see if anyone has gone missing the past week or so.” Brett grabbed a piece of paper and jotted some notes. “If I can get a name or two on the homeless group, maybe I can track down family members and check with the shelters. I’m sure there is a logical explanation.”
Foster stood and went to the door. Pausing, he turned toward him. “Get on it then. Make this your priority. Once we can rule everything out, document the hell out of it. Allen has a lot of clout. I don’t want us ending up on the front page of the paper. Got it? And get a report to the chief right away.”
“Yes sir. I’ll get right on it.”
As the door slammed, Brett blew out a deep breath. He was almost afraid to start the investigation—afraid of what he would find. Vampires didn’t exist. They couldn’t. Besides, this was Iowa for God’s sake, not New Orleans.
5
Brett wrapped up the report for the chief. He breathed a sigh of relief once he hit Send. After clearing his desk, he logged off of the city’s network. He wanted to get out of the office before Anders saw the report. Shit was going to hit the fan once Anders saw the word “vampire.”
Taking the back stairs, Brett made it to his car undiscovered. He rubbed a knot in the back of his neck and turned toward the gym. With Lisa out of town, there was no reason to hurry home. Besides, he didn’t want to be one of those cops with a potbelly.
With a quick smile for the receptionist, he signed in at the gym. Tension strummed through his body. He made a beeline for the treadmill. Running would take the edge off his nerves.
Ignoring the beads of sweat running down his shoulder blades, he cranked up the volume on his phone and ran until his legs shook from the exertion. The sunset was long gone by the time he hit the showers.
As he approached the gym’s front desk, he spotted Detective Kevin Donnellson. The detective was built like a Viking warrior, minus the long hair. With light blonde hair and bright blue eyes, Donnellson was always a hit with women.
Donnellson leaned on the front desk, talking to the new trainer. He was obviously checking her out. Brett walked up behind Donnellson, slapping his shoulder. “Donnellson, I didn’t know you worked out here.”
Donnellson turned around with a big smile on his face. “O’Shea! How the hell are you? I just moved to the South Side, and this was the closest gym to home.”
“You’ll like it here. You ought to stop by the house sometime and have a beer.”
Donnellson’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it and smiled. Stepping off to the side, Donnellson whispered something into the phone. His husky laughter was a clue that he was talking to a woman.
Minutes later Donnellson pocketed his phone and faced Brett. “Hey, I’ve got to run, but we’ll definitely get together. Catch you later.”
Brett shook his head, watching Donnellson rush out the door. He couldn’t figure out how Donnellson kept his girlfriends straight.
He turned to study the new trainer, Jamie. She looked as if she were in high school, but he knew that if she was a trainer, she had to be older.
“Hi, may I help you?” Jamie smiled up at him.
Her heart-shaped mouth glistened with some type of pink gloss. She was petite, yet her muscles were well defined.
He rested his elbows on the ledge and grinned down at the young trainer. “I’m Brett O’Shea. I wanted to stop by and say hi. You must be the new trainer?”
“Afraid so. I’m Jamie Brooks.”
Strike one. She obviously wasn’t impressed with his charming smile. “You’ll like it here. It’s one of the better gyms in town.”
Her blonde ponytail swished over her shoulder as she turned her head. “Yeah, I know. I checked it out before I applied. Are you a regular here?”
Before he could reply, she held up her hand. She answered the phone and paged one of the guests.
Turning back to him, she muttered, “Sorry.”
“No problem. I’m what you could call a regular. I’m in here almost every day.”
When a couple approached the desk, Brett leaned closer. “Hey, it looks like you’re busy. I’ll catch you next time. See you later.”
Brett’s bad mood lifted as he left the building. He’d completely forgotten about the crappy day he’d had. After a quick drive home, he walked into the kitchen, grabbed a container of frozen meatloaf, and tossed it into the microwave. His mom, Sandy, was always cooking for him. He’d often come home from work and find his freezer full of home-cooked meals. He grabbed his phone and called his mom.
After a couple of rings, Sandy answered. “Brett—about time you called me. Anything exciting going on at the station?”
“No, nothing exciting. Just the same old stuff. How are you doing?”
“Fine,” she sighed. “I haven’t heard from Lisa for a while. How is she doing?”
He hesitated. “She’s in Saint Louis for some job interview.”
“Oh, Brett.” Regret filled her voice. “Do you think she’ll get it?”
“I don’t know what she’s thinking. She won’t return my calls.”
He could almost see the wheels in his mom’s head turning.
“Why don’t you come over for dinner? I’ll make your favorite.”
He chuckled, trying to lighten the tone of the call. “I just put some of your meatloaf in the microwave.”
“Fine, but if you want to talk, give me a call night or day. I know you two will work it out. Talk to you later, sweetie.”
