Blood Red

O’Neill was not a happy man. It turned out that Brian hadn’t tossed his cookies on just anyone. Oh, no, that would have been an easy enough thing to escape from. No, he’d managed to blow chunks all over the legs and pants of the police commissioner’s son-in-law.

O’Neill was normally a good man to deal with; he’d always had an open-door policy and he’d been enthusiastic about his reviews for Brian since he’d joined the force. He was even sympathetic to Brian’s current dilemmas; he knew all about Angie’s disappearance and the fact that she was six months pregnant with their first child.

His example of mercy was to let Brian keep his job and stay on patrol. But O’Neill was not happy. He was never happy, he went on to explain, when the Commissioner himself called his house at three in the morning to rip him a new asshole. It was going to take a lot of ass-kissing to get anywhere near a promotion or raise, which sucked, because the captain had also made clear he’d been very close to stepping to the next level before the reprimand.

So now, it was by the book. End of discussion.

For ten minutes he was alone in the woods. The accident was off the road, and even with his flashers strobing through the night, it was foggy and murky; dark enough that he had to wonder if he was seeing things. There was movement around the edges of a few trees, flickering little traces that were there and then gone an instant later. He ignored them at first, but they were becoming more active, more distracting.

Brian eased his hand down to the holster on his hip. To date he’d never drawn the weapon in the line of duty, never had a reason to. He wanted to keep it that way. Still, he wasn’t willing to take any chances.

“Mrs. Lister?” No one answered his call.

But there were sounds now, to go with the movements. Scratching noises and occasionally a few pieces of bark could be seen falling in the off and on lights. They made a sound like hail falling across sandpaper as they struck the ground.

And the sounds were coming from several places at once.

The hairs on Brian’s neck rose and his hand unclasped the snap that held his pistol in place. “Whoever’s out there better knock it off!”

The sounds continued, undaunted.

“This is police business, and I am not in the mood to play with you!” He was starting to sweat and he could hear a ringing sound in his ears that he knew had nothing at all to do with the world outside of his skull.

A pinecone bounced off the back of his head hard and sharp. He let out a little yelp as he turned to see where it had come from.

There was nothing to see, but he could swear he heard a woman giggling.

His vision went red. Some little bitch was playing games with him and that was enough to make him want to shoot first and ask questions later.

“You come on out where I can see you, right now!”

“We’re right here, Freemont.” The voice came from almost directly behind him and he turned fast, drawing his weapon.

He realized an instant later that he had made a horrible mistake. Detectives Richard Boyd and Daniel Holdstedter had their revolvers drawn and aimed at his face before he could finish sighting.

“PUT THE FUCKEN GUN DOWN!” Boyd didn’t need a bullhorn, his voice echoed off the trees. Even in the darkness he could feel the eyes of the man burning at him.

He dropped the pistol and held his hands up. Danny Holdstedter had him on the ground and eating leaves five seconds after that.

“You outta your fuckin’ mind, Freemont?”

“Danny, someone was fucking with me out here!”

The detective frisked him hard and fast, flipping him over like a fish and checking his front as well. He pulled a six-pack of condoms from Freemont’s front shirt pocket, along with a pen and a shopping list.

“Nice, Freemont. Figured on getting lucky in the woods?” Holdstedter waved the package in the air for Boyd to see.

“That’s sweet. Good to see a man who has faith that his wife will return to his loving arms, isn’t it, Danny-Boy?”

“Oh, yeah. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.”

“Strap his legs, too. Then we’re gonna have a look around.”

“What? Hey, come on, guys! It was an honest mistake.”

Boyd walked closer and looked down at him. “No, Freemont, it was a stupid fucken rookie thing to do.” The detective’s eyes crawled over him like he was being forced to carefully examine a large pile of dog shit. “Then again, let’s look at the source.”

Holdstedter pulled a long white zip tie and locked his ankles together while Boyd watched. “Stay put, dipshit. We ain’t done talking about this.” Boyd took the time to pick up Brian’s revolver and remove the shells before putting the weapon in his jacket pocket. The two detectives went over to the wrecked car and began talking.

Brian watched them as they moved around the car and examined the ground carefully. A few minutes later they were gone and Brian was left alone. He sat very still, afraid to move.

The sounds started up again when the other cops were out of hearing range. He tried to ignore them as they came closer . . . slowly, steadily.

II