High Court (Cid Garrett P.I. Book 2) Read online

  “You’re calling the attack sabotage?”

  “I got to thinking, someone doesn’t want us snooping around. First, the warning of shutting us in the cellar. Second, taking out the guards.”

  “Why?”

  “Something happened here that was worth the murder of a family. Something that, once it was found out, would impact someone’s life dramatically enough that murdering a guard was worth it.”

  “But Richard is going to make it.”

  “His attacker didn’t know that.”

  “Why not burn the place down?”

  “Too much rock in that foundation. Plus, I get the feeling the attacker wants the place to stand. Maybe so he could revisit it?”

  “You’ve been reading too many crime novels.”

  “Watching television,” he corrected. “But the result is the same.”

  Cid lifted his cup of coffee as a salute.

  “How was the boss?” Wayne asked.

  “The surgeon is optimistic.”

  “Did you talk with her?” Wayne asked.

  “No. Once I delivered Mimi, she basically camped in the room. I left them alone and stayed out in the waiting room, just in case Mimi needed to leave before Jesse got there with the rental car. Back to Faye, did she overhear anything of merit?”

  “Just confirmed our suspicions that Luminosa started the fire. Sheriff Grady is on the ball, and the staties are out of play. Faye’s back at the newspaper. Evidently, the clerk is off today, so she has full run of the place.”

  “What’s she doing there?”

  “Scanning the back issues, looking for a possible link to the Bautista murders.”

  “Atta girl. You know, she now thinks she was an investigative reporter?” Cid informed him.

  “Yes, but it could be true,” Wayne said.

  “If so, why isn’t she researching her possible past?” Cid asked.

  “The way I see it is, she’s assumed she was one, so she is now investigating for us. Maybe you could do her a solid and have your contact Jake do the research on Faye,” Wayne suggested.

  “Next time I talk to him I will. Right now, he’s on lockdown. Ted’s working on a top-secret project.”

  “You guys take security very seriously.”

  “It’s part of the job.”

  “Speaking of jobs, how’s the ghost hunting going?” Wayne asked.

  “The last investigation may have launched a pirate treasure hunt.”

  “PEEPs are going after treasure now?”

  “Oh, no not us. We just uncovered the story and found a map. Our client and the brother of one of our substitutes are looking into the feasibility that it could still be there right now.”

  “What do you think?” Wayne asked, interested.

  “There’s a slim chance it’s still there. Whether it’s worth the money to launch an investigation is another matter. And then there’s the possibility that the pirate moved it.”

  “Keep me updated.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” he said, amused. Pirate treasure always brought out the adventurer instinct in everyone. Cid thought pirates were filthy, bloodthirsty thieves, and their twenty-first-century counterparts were no different. “Can I get into the security trailer?”

  “The door’s not taped,” Wayne said, handing him a set of keys.

  “Okay, then. I’ll see what I can do, and then catch some shut-eye. I have to call the sheriff this afternoon and would like to be well-rested before he grills me for information.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Macy unlocked the doors to the Gazette’s archives office. She knew that Honor, the clerk, was off, and the department was closed. However, her set of keys and title of Managing Editor gave her full access to the place. Meeting Cid Garrett had reignited her interest in the High Court murder cold case. Previously, she had interviewed her father about it when Calvin Franks bought the motel. The Gazette was the only news outlet who reported on it and the ensuing short investigation. She had a new angle and a new source she was going to mine, Cid. But she wanted to gather information to trade for the confidential information Cid was privy to. It didn’t take her long to figure out Cid was part of PEEPs, and it wasn’t his carpentry skills alone he was hired for.

  She flipped on the lights and booted up the computer. The room was unusually cold. Macy brushed it off as just the atmosphere of being in a basement. She pulled over a stool, sat down, and started to search for records.

  Faye heard the door unlock and frowned as the lights came on. She moved away from her microfiche and into the lobby of the archives. She saw a sharply dressed woman sitting at the computer. She ventured over and looked over the woman’s shoulder. Faye jumped back in surprise. The woman was researching the same thing Faye was. She steeled herself; it looked like it was going to be a race to get the story.

  Macy pulled her collar up on her suitcoat. She felt a draft at her back. She got up and looked for the source of the draft and was relieved not to find a broken window. She did, however, find a microfiche running. The fan was running, cooling off the machine, which someone had left on with the film still inside. Macy sat down and started to unload the fragile film when the date of the paper caught her eye. She stopped and scanned the paper. Someone was researching Stepner’s city council minutes a month prior to the Bautista murders. Was this a coincidence? She pulled out her cell and started to call Honor at home but stopped. Honor was not a friendly person at best. She would not appreciate being called by the paper on her day off. Macy and she barely acknowledged each other. Honor’s allegiance was to the archive, not to the present manager. Macy looked at her watch. Her father would be in soon. She’d run this by him. There was a good chance that he had Honor doing some research. But Honor leaving the equipment on with a film inside? That didn’t track.

  “Hello, is there anyone in here?” she called out. “I’m not going to report you to security if you come out now.”

  Faye didn’t move.

  The lights began flickering. Macy quickly turned off the machine with the tape inside. She worried that a power surge would hurt the old machine. “Oh, damn, the computer,” she remembered, moving quickly to the front counter.

  Faye moved swiftly. She turned the machine back on and extracted the tape. She shoved the nearest cassette in the machine and turned the machine back off.

  Macy worked quickly, shutting down the computer. The lights were strobing. She frowned and searched for a flashlight before giving up and accessing the app on her cell phone just in time for the lights to go out completely.

  The lights from the hall illuminated the small reception area on her side of the frosted glass. In front of her stood a boy. His knees were bleeding, and he was wearing clothes splashed with what looked like red paint.

  “How did you get in here? This isn’t a place to play.”

  The boy didn’t say anything. The red of his clothes moved down his legs onto the floor. It was at that moment, Macy realized that the boy was injured.

  “Stay there, let me help you,” she said, rushing around the counter, pressing 911 on her cell phone as she moved.

  The boy looked up at her and dissolved into the puddle of blood.

  “911,” the operator’s voice woke Macy from her nightmare.

  “I’m sorry. I called in error,” Macy said and disconnected. She sunk to her knees, and the lights went back on. The puddle was rapidly seeping back into the floor. Macy looked around her and discovered bloody footsteps leading to the door. She followed them into the lit hall, up the stairs, and out the back door of the paper. She looked around the old loading dock. The door screamed as it slammed shut behind her, locking her out of the Gazette. “What the hell is going on?” she asked, pounding on the door.

  It was opened by a very puzzled janitor. “Miss Eggleston, did you forget your keys?”

  “I… I… left them in Archives. The lights went out and…” She looked at the janitor blankly, trying to come up with his name. She ran her small staff li
st in her mind and still drew a blank. Macy zoned in on his uniform, read his name tag, and blurted out, “Baylor! Mr. Baylor.”

  “Yes, Miss Eggleston?”

  “Did you see a little boy run through here?”

  “About this high?” he asked, placing his hand four and a half feet off the floor.

  “Yes. He’s… he’s hurt?”

  “I see him sometimes at night. Miss Eggleston, he’s not hurt. He’s dead.”

  “Dead Boy Haunts Paper,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t ask. Not my job. My job is to clean. It’s your job to ask the questions,” he said and guided the confused woman inside.

  “Where do you see him?”

  “Normally on the fourth floor. He likes to look out the west window.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Baylor. Take me to the window… Please, could you take me to the window?” she asked kindly, realizing her previous tone was harsh.

  “Yes, we’ll use the old elevator. It’s quicker,” he said, guiding her around the corner. He opened the dull brass gate before the doors opened with a screech of disapproval. He escorted Macy inside and hit the fourth-floor button. The elevator moved with a jolt and shook as it passed the second floor. It stopped suddenly between the second and third floor.

  “Damn, I thought this would happen,” Macy said. “Hang on, I’ll call maintenance.” Macy dialed the switchboard and bypassed reception by typing in the maintenance department extension.

  “Maintenance, Sam Gilbert speaking.”

  “Sam, this is Macy Eggleston. We’re stuck in the elevator between floors two and three.”

  “On my way,” Sam said. “Make sure the inner gate hasn’t vibrated open. That will stop the elevator.”

  Macy looked over to repeat Sam’s instructions to Mr. Baylor and was greeted by an empty elevator. She turned around quickly and saw no one. “Where did he go?”

  “Did you check the gate?” Sam repeated.

  “Hang on…” Macy checked the inner gate with shaking hands. It had come loose. She locked it down, and the elevator started to rise again. She put the phone to her ear and said, “It’s working. Sorry, Sam, I know better.”

  “You said we’re stuck. Is your father with you?”

  “No, it’s just me,” she said, trying to lock down her urge to scream or faint. The elevator jolted to a stop, and she unlocked the inner gate, opened the outer gate, and stumbled out. The elevator stood there a moment. With a snap and clang, the gates closed on their own. She briefly saw the gray-uniformed Mr. Baylor standing in the elevator. He smiled kindly at her before the car descended.

  “I hear the elevator coming down. Miss Eggleston, did you send it down?”

  “No, I didn’t even close the gate,” she said with a squeak in her voice.

  “Close it now.”

  “I… I can’t,” she said as she allowed her legs to fold under her and she sat on the floor.

  “I’m coming up. At the third floor now. Hang on, Macy,” he said in an odd voice.

  Macy couldn’t talk. Her words left her. She sat staring at the open elevator shaft until Sam got there.

  Sam saw her shaking on the ground. He closed the gate and locked it. He squatted down and lifted her face. “Sometimes Mr. Baylor likes to ride the elevator, but he always gets stuck between the second and third floor,” Sam explained.

  “But he disappeared. He was there… and not there… and then… there again. Where did he go?”

  “Macy, Mr. Baylor died when you were in college back east. Late one evening, he had a heart attack. He was the only one in the building. He was riding the elevator, and it got stuck between the floors. He tried to open the doors to crawl out, but the exertion was too much for him and his heart gave out. Sometimes, he comes back and rides the elevator.”

  “How can you be so calm?” she asked, accepting his hand to help her stand up.

  “I wasn’t the first couple times. You get used to it after a while.”

  “I saw something else down in the archives, a child. A boy.”

  “That would be one of our paperboys. I’m not sure of his name. You’d have to ask Albert Hinny, the old Distribution Manager. He remembers every child that ever worked for us.”

  “Stepner Gazette has Two Ghosts,” Macy said in her headlined way.

  “Yes,” Sam confirmed. “Maybe more…”

  “How come nobody told me?” she asked.

  Sam raised an eyebrow. “Only the maintenance workers have crossed paths with the ghosts. We leave them be, and they leave us to do our work. Besides, if I told you the place was haunted, what would you do?”

  “Retire you early,” she admitted.

  The forty-year-old nodded.

  “Does my father know?” she asked.

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Mr. Baylor said the child looks out the west windows on this floor. Any idea which rooms?”

  “The only west-facing windows are in the old ad room. Would you like to see them?”

  “Wait.”

  Macy pulled up her list of present employee security photos and matched the picture of Sam to the man before her. She reached out and poked him in the shoulder.

  Sam laughed. “I’m real, Macy.”

  “Just checking,” she said, turning red. “Editor Mistakes Employee for Ghost.”

  “Follow me,” he said, unlocking a door. “This area hasn’t been used since the paper moved Advertising down to the third floor. It was originally up here to take advantage of the light. The ads used to be set up here.”

  They moved down the hall past a couple of offices with names painted on the door that Macy only faintly remembered. They were mostly men and long retired. Who replaced them? The introduction of computers into the newspaper lost many an employee a job. Macy’s father brought in trainers to help his staff ease into the computer world, but some people were too set in their ways.

  Sam opened the last door, and they were greeted by large drafting tables protected with soft, plastic, fitted covers.

  Macy approached the west windows. She stood there and looked out.

  “You can see a lot from up here. What are you looking at?”

  “The High Court motel,” Macy said. “I don’t need to ask Albert who the paperboy ghost is.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Miguel Bautista Haunts the Gazette,” Macy announced and added, “But why?”

  Cid looked through the security recording and managed to isolate the parking lot footage pertaining to Kiki’s abuse. Cid started the digital copy just before the car blew up. It showed, not only Kiki turning back to address the patrolman, but him reaching for his Taser. Kiki walked past the car, turned around, and bent down to look under the car at least three feet from the front of the vehicle. Cid saw her pop up and start running towards the police. He couldn’t hear her shouts nor the explosion that tossed her to the ground. There was an agonizing three minutes before the troopers ran over to Kiki. If he didn’t already know better, he would have thought they came over to assist her. But no, one cuffed her, and then the two hauled her to feet. She buckled under the weight of her own body on the bad knee. They hauled her up again and dragged her to the nearest patrol car and pushed her in. He added the footage of the car driving away with her in the back before he sent the tape to Jake for safekeeping. Cid also copied it to his personal flash drive and into the security system’s storage.

  Although tired to the bone, Cid took the time to run the footage back before he returned from the market. He scanned all the camera feeds for the possible attacker. The guards appeared here and there, but no intruder. How was this possible?

  “Damn it!” he said, giving in to frustration. He logged the information and made a copy of all the tapes for Sheriff Grady before he locked up, returned the keys to Wayne, and headed to his trailer to get some sleep.

  Cid was pleased to find that Jesse had put away his groceries. Some had even landed in the rig
ht area. Others were piled on the small table Cid would have to use as a desk and as a prep and dining table. He took a moment to get organized before he found his bunk and passed out.

  Faye, who had just returned from her close call at the Gazette, watched the zombie, also known as Cid, stumble down the small hall past the combo shower and toilet and into one of the two beds. She was careful not to sigh until she was sure he was asleep. She then covered him up and left the trailer.

  The dappled sunlight danced along the quiet building site. Occasionally, there was a ping coming from the cooling metal of the exploded cruiser. A murmuration of very curious starlings landed nearby and hopped over to the vehicle. The heat was nice, but the fumes were not. They took off suddenly, the beating sound of their wings filling the air. Another sound replaced the last beat of the retreating wings. It was Luminosa.

  She was getting ready to recall the residual images of her death and fall into the repeating nightmare. Her arms pulled up the negative energy from the deepest bowels of the earth. Faye started to move away to protect herself and stopped. It was time to end this.

  “No!” Faye shouted, “You have to stop this!”

  Luminosa looked over at the ghost. “If I stop, no one will know what happened.”

  “If you stop, the living will find out what happened. How do you expect them to pull bullets from the wall and examine the area if you’re making them fear for their lives?”

  “If I stop, I no see Miguel anymore.”

  “See him die?”

  “He ran away and hid.”

  “They found him and killed him where he lay. Your eldest daughter died beside you, and your oldest sons were ambushed coming to your aid. But two of your children lived. Silvia and Raúl escaped.”

  Luminosa wavered a moment, but she didn’t trust this specter. She shook off her doubt and raised her hands, ready to resume pulling the energy to feed the echo.

  “Wait! If you have to run it again, look that way,” Faye said, pointing to the field. “Who is the girl standing in the field watching?”