The Boulevard Monster, page 2
I read the message again. West Hill was on the outskirts of town, at least five or six city blocks from any other residential neighborhood, strip mall, or gas station. There was no reason for anyone other than us to be out there, and I’d checked the dirt road leading to the site enough that morning to know no one had come or gone. Which meant it had to be a prank. If I showed up at Murphy’s, I’d probably find a few skimpy-dressed girls waiting for me—girls who’d been asked by Ryan to tell me they needed a pimp or sugar daddy. That would be right up his alley. Plus, he was the only person who ever called me Mr. Fowler. Sometimes when I told him to stop jacking around and get to work, he’d say, “Yes, sir, Mr. Fowler. No problem, Mr. Fowler.” Thick with sarcasm.
I set the note under the corner of my lunchbox on the hood of my truck and pulled out my water bottle. I took a swig and was eyeing Ryan for a telltale sign of his involvement when one of the other guys yelled, “Look out, Seth.”
Turning my head, I saw a blue jay dive-bombing my truck like a falling lawn dart. Startled, I dropped the bottle, ducked, and watched it pluck the note out from under my lunchbox with amazing precision. Some of the guys who saw it happen laughed as it flew away with the scrap of paper in its beak, others whistled. I stood and simply watched it go.
At the time I didn’t think too much of it. Blue jays and pigeons had been a mainstay on the site all spring and summer. Many of them lived in a copse of cottonwoods by a pond about a hundred yards south of the site. During lunch break we’d always thrown scraps to them, and they'd quickly learned what time to arrive for an easy meal.
Often when someone had left their lunch unattended while they went to take a leak or make a private phone call, a courageous bird would hop over and snatch their food. Bamboozled by the bird bandits was what we called it. I figured the blue jay that dive-bombed my truck had confused the white piece of paper for a hunk of bread. I’d been bamboozled by the bird bandits. With flare. Nothing more, nothing less. It didn’t occur to me until much later that he’d been watching me, waiting for me to finish reading the note, and that his presence was linked to Randy.
That evening I found a note from Brianne on the kitchen counter saying she’d gotten off work early and had taken Sera and one of Sera’s friends to Johnson Park to swim. I was in the bedroom peeling off my work clothes when I heard a knock on the front door.
Checking the peephole, I saw Detective Morrell, flanked by Sergeant Adair. Morrell was sporting a brown suit, Adair, the same khakis as the day before but a different colored Polo shirt. The expression on both of their faces was blank. Wearing only boxers, I flung the door open and asked, “Did you find the body?”
Morrell pinched his lips and shook his head, keeping his droopy eyes glued to mine despite my lack of clothes. “No. We found tarps, buckets, and a bunch of other tools, but no burlap sack. No body.”
“What did Randy say about it?”
“We can’t find him.”
“You can’t find him?”
Morrell shook his head again. “We haven’t found anyone who saw or talked to him after he left here last night.”
“Well, he couldn’t have just vanished,” I said. “Where’d you find his truck?”
Morrell watched me for a moment, his bullshit detector on full alert. “We found it out at Jim’s Lake. Abandoned near that cliff all the teenagers jump off of when the water’s high enough.”
“What do you mean abandoned?”
“The keys were in the ignition, the driver’s door open,” he said.
“And his cell phone was in the cab,” Adair added.
My eyes bounced from Adair to Morrell, Adair to Morrell. “What do you think happened?”
Morrell shrugged. “Anything is possible at this point. He could’ve gone out there, or have been taken out there, for any number of reasons. Or, he may not have gone out there at all. His truck could’ve been dumped there by someone else. We’re not sure. Did he mention anything to you about going out to Jim’s Lake last night?”
“No. He didn’t.”
Morrell pulled out the same notepad from the day before and wrote something down. “Do you know if he went out there very often?”
“He fished and camped out there sometimes, like we all do, but that’s about it.”
“Did he ever take dates out there?”
“I think him and one of his ex-wives used to go out there to mess around, but that was fifteen years ago.”
“Did he ever go out there alone?”
“Not that I know of.”
Morrell scribbled a few more notes. “And you said when he left here he was in a good mood and had no idea you’d found…what you thought you’d found, right?”
“Yeah. He was acting the same way he always does. I figured he was going to Wizzards or some other bar when he left.”
Morrell nodded and put the notepad away.
“I can’t believe this,” I whispered, shaking my head. “Where could he be?”
“We’ll look until we find him,” Morrell assured. “We have officers canvasing the lake area right now, and our forensics team is detailing the truck for fingerprints or any signs of a struggle. We hope to get a cadaver dog out there soon, too.”
I eyed my bare feet for a moment, then met eyes with Morrell. “So you think he might be dead?”
Morrell shoved his hands in his pant pockets. “I’ve learned never to guess, son. It doesn’t do any good.”
“I don’t think it’s a good sign that he doesn’t have his truck or cell phone, though. Do you?” Adair added.
The question momentarily rendered me speechless. My eyes fell to my feet again. I felt like I was dreaming, like I was in one of those NCIS shows Brianne religiously watched.
Morrell placed his hand on my shoulder, and I looked up. “Until we get evidence to the contrary, we’re assuming he’s alive,” he said. “You just need to contact us if you see or hear from him, okay?”
“Okay.”
Three
Luther’s Subtle Touch
I didn’t see Ryan’s truck at Murphy’s Coffee Shop or at the Wendy’s next door when I pulled into the parking lot, but I assumed he’d make himself known soon enough. My plan was to let the prank play out, let Ryan and the other guys have their laughs, and then down enough beer at Wizzards to calm my nerves before going home and telling Brianne the latest news about Randy.
Inside Murphy’s, three college kids were typing on laptops in the corner, two elderly women were chatting in front of the fish tank, and a middle-aged man was at the counter, ordering. I stepped in line behind him, bought a small coffee, and sat by the front windows where I could watch the parking lot.
While I sipped my coffee, another college kid with a laptop arrived and joined the others. The middle-aged man and the two elderly women left. A few younger women came and ordered ten drinks to go. The drive-thru stayed busy. But no one approached me or even looked my way. Just after sunset, I refilled my coffee, and figuring the prank had fallen through the cracks somehow, headed to my truck.
When I opened the door and the interior light popped on, I was shocked to see a thin man with olive-colored skin and an angular face sitting in the passenger seat. He had on black slacks and a white Guayabera. His eyes were blue as the midday sky, his slicked back hair black as oil.
Instinctively, I clenched my fists. “Who the hell are you?”
He extended his hand in a casual, generous manner, as if meeting people by breaking into their trucks was the norm. “Luther.”
I held his gaze. “How’d you get in my truck?”
He eased his hand back. “You left it unlocked. You really shouldn’t do that. It’s not safe.”
I didn’t remember leaving it unlocked, but it wouldn’t have been the first time if I had. “What do you want?” I asked.
“To give you the opportunity of a lifetime.”
“You left the note?”
He gave me a confident, unbreakable smile. “Sit down.” He patted the driver’s seat. “Let’s talk.”
I scanned the parking lot and the windows at Murphy’s, but didn’t see any sign of Ryan or the other guys.
“Who are you looking for?” Luther asked.
I glanced at Murphy’s again, back at Luther.
“Ryan didn’t put me up to this,” he said. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”
“How do you know who he is then?”
“I know everyone I need to know.”
I snickered, took my lucky Rangers cap off, ran my fingers through my hair. Fucking Ryan. “And what exactly is this opportunity?”
“Hop in, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Ready to get the charade over with and head to Wizzards, I put my cap back on and sat down. After I shut the door, I noticed the cab smelled like fresh lavender. “You’ve got three minutes, Luther,” I said, blatantly checking the time on my cell phone.
“Then I’ll get right to it.” He pulled a roll of cash out of his pocket and handed it to me. It was all hundreds, crisp and clean, and appeared to be real. But any fool with a good printer could do a decent counterfeiting job these days. “There’s three thousand dollars there,” he said. “If you accept my offer, you can take that home tonight as a good faith gesture.”
Raising my brow in fake astonishment, I handed the roll back to him. He set it on the dash.
“What’s this great offer?” I asked.
“In simplest terms, you get rid of some trash for me, and I pay you for it.”
“Why can’t you get rid of it yourself?”
He peered into my eyes for a long moment, as if I should know the answer. “I don’t have the means anymore.”
“What makes you think I do?”
“You construction guys have to get rid of trash all the time.”
“Yeah. We pay to have it disposed of or recycled like everyone else.”
His mouth crept up into a knowing smile. “True. But sometimes you just bury it on the site or dump it in undisclosed locations to save time and money, right?”
I checked the rearview mirror, still expecting to see Ryan somewhere close by, but he was nowhere to be seen. I sighed and continued to play along. “How much trash are we talking?”
“Not much. Maybe a hundred pounds at a time.”
“You could just toss that in a dumpster.”
“My trash can’t be disposed of in dumpsters.”
I chuckled. Here comes the punchline, I thought. “Why? Do you run a meth lab or something?”
He didn’t answer, but the intensity in his eyes told me everything I needed to know. He was serious. This wasn’t a prank. He wasn’t Ryan’s friend. Wasn’t an actor. Ryan and the guys weren’t waiting around the corner. He really did want my help. A lump materialized in my throat, and my mood instantly changed from annoyed humor to cautious confused.
“You’re not joking?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
I shook my head, forced the lump down. “I don’t think I can help you,” I said, fiddling with my keys.
“Oh, I think you can. I think you have to.”
I met eyes with him. “I don’t think so.”
“You owe me.”
“Owe you? I don’t even know you.”
“But you knew Randy.” He paused, licked his lips. “And so did I. Well.”
My eyes slid to the money on the dash, my thoughts to Randy. His new F-150. The big-eyed girl in the sack in the bed of his truck. His disappearance. My heart began pounding against my ribcage like a two-ton jackhammer.
“If you help me,” Luther said, following my eyes and tapping the cash with his finger. “I’ll pay you a thousand dollars a week for as long as we do business.” I moved my eyes to him. “Do the math,” he continued. “That’s fifty-two thousand dollars a year. Think of what you could do with that. You could get your dad a nurse. Start a college fund for Sera. Help Ryan get out of debt. Buy Brianne the house she’s always wanted. Replace this piece of shit truck that breaks down every other week. And,” he paused, “you could finally get Esperanza a proper tombstone.”
The tombstone remark hit a sensitive nerve. “How do you know about…”
My head was spinning, thoughts swirling with too many jumbled questions to finish just one.
“You deserve a better life, Seth. You’re a good man. You’ve just never had the right opportunity fall into your lap. Well,” He turned his palms up and spread his hands out in front of him as though the opportunity was a visible, tangible thing, and he was holding it. “Here it is. The opportunity to drastically improve your life. All you have to do is bury a little trash for me from time to time. Who in their right mind would refuse that?”
I stayed quiet, and Luther patted my arm. “I can give you and everyone you love a better life,” he said. “Let me do that for you.”
“I can’t. I can’t dispose of bodies like trash. You’ll have to find someone else to help you.”
“That’s not an option I’d advise you take.”
I inhaled a shaky breath and pushed it out, then glanced at the cash on the dash. “I think you’re three minutes are almost up.”
“Then I’ll cut to the chase.” Luther aggressively pointed at my chest. “You’re one of the reasons we’re both in this situation. If you don’t want to end up like Randy, I suggest you rethink your decision.”
“Is that a threat?”
“You’re a smart man. I think you know the answer to that.”
Before I had a chance to respond, he looped his slender fingers around my wrist. His grip wasn’t tight and I was almost twice his size, but I knew that I couldn’t pull away even if I tried. His power went beyond his flesh. Far beyond anything I thought was humanly possible. He seemed to be touching not only my skin, but also my emotional core. I felt vulnerable. Exposed. Violated. Manipulated. Controlled. My chest tightened and fingers curled into fists as an intense feeling of guilt and fear coursed through my body.
“This doesn’t have to be tough, Seth. You need to open your eyes. You’re forty-four years old, and up until this moment in your life, you’ve been holding the short end of the stick. I’m giving you the chance to change that. Probably you’re only chance. If you don’t take this opportunity, you’re not only shitting on your own future, you’re shitting on your dad’s, Sera’s, Brianne’s, Ryan’s, their mom’s, and anyone else’s who could benefit from it. Do us both a favor and don’t do that.”
A thick curtain of silence fell between us that seemed to last forever. When I finally replied, my words came out weak. “How long do I have to decide?”
“Until I get out of this truck.”
“I need longer than that. I need to think about it.”
Luther shook his head definitively.
Staring into his eyes, which seemed to be faintly glowing, I felt helpless, cornered, terrified. I wanted him to let go of my wrist more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life. Eventually, I nodded once, accepting the offer.
Luther’s mouth parted into that confident, unbreakable smile again. “So we have a deal?”
I nodded once more. He took his hand off my wrist, and a huge sense of relief came over me. As though an undeserved cross had been lifted off my back.
“Good,” he said. “You made the wise choice. I think we’ll work together well. We might even become friends.” He opened the passenger door, stepped out of the truck, and looked back over his shoulder. His smile was gone. “If you ever tell anyone anything about me or our agreement, I’ll know, and there will be severe consequences. For you and your entire family.” He watched me for a long moment, said, “I’ll be in touch soon,” and then walked away.
For the next hour and a half, I sat in a dark corner in Wizzards chugging beer, replaying my conversation with Luther over and over in my head, fretting over how he knew what he knew, why he did what he did to that girl, and who—or what—he was.
I also thought about Randy, a lot. Based on how helpless and scared I’d felt when Luther had touched me, I couldn’t imagine what Randy must’ve gone through when Luther killed him. It was a struggle to stop my imagination from running wild with the possibilities. I regretted being jealous of his new truck. I regretted wanting to take a closer look at that damned toolbox. I regretted opening the burlap sack. I regretted calling the cops. Because of me, he’d never buy a Harley and drive from New York to LA like he’d always dreamed. He’d never roof another house, catch another bass, drink another beer. Worse, he’d never hug his twin girls Jen and Julie again. Or take them for ice cream on their birthday. Or see them graduate high school, get married, or have kids of their own.
I’ve sent Jen and Julie birthday cards stuffed with cash every year since.
When I got home I hugged Sera long and hard.
Four
Dad-Daughter Movie Date Interrupted
Rumors about Randy’s disappearance spread through Mercy like wind-driven prairie fire over the next month. Some people thought he’d been murdered by a jilted lover and buried in an unmarked grave. Some thought he’d staged his disappearance because he owed the government thousands in back taxes. Others thought he’d simply been drunk, drowned in the lake, and that his body would eventually be found.
I didn’t tell anyone what I thought happened to Randy, and I didn’t tell anyone about the ten one-hundred dollar bills I found in unmarked envelopes on my truck’s dash each Friday morning, either. I hid the money with the other wad of cash Luther had given me in a duffle bag in my and Brianne’s closet. I thought about it every time I was in my room, or anywhere else in the duplex for that matter, but I didn’t spend a penny of it until I took Sera to see Mocking Jay.
Like most soon-to-be eighth graders, she was obsessed with The Hunger Games. She’d read all three the books and had a poster of Katniss and a sketch of Rue she’d drawn in art class pinned to the wall above her bed. For weeks she’d been reminding me that I’d promised to take her on a dad-daughter movie date to see Mocking Jay when it came out. I could count on one hand how many times he’d asked for anything special. To back out and blame it on a lack of money (the Chevy’s transmission had been replaced a week earlier, sucking our bank account dry) wouldn’t have been fair to her. Or honest. I had seven thousand dollars in a duffle bag in my closet.
