The Promisor: A Suspense Thriller Page 2

  A carveout allowing them to continue working for the Columbus Police Department while still taking on the occasional side task at his behest under the state’s Bureau of Criminal Investigation. An arrangement that had left nobody quite happy, though nowhere near as miserable as they could have been.

  A series of non-losses in lieu of an actual victory.

  A setup that was still in its infancy and - as he just mentioned - rough at best.

  “How’s it going with Pop?” Reed asked.

  Yet another effort in their ongoing battle to never directly answer a question, this one an allusion to his father. A patient in the early stages of a fight against cancer waging largely in the facility where Serena was a nurse-in-training. A random bit of serendipity that Reed suspected she was using to continue reaching out, though he couldn’t pretend he much minded.

  Not for the insider information he got on his father’s treatment or the updates he received about her condition as well. A rare chance to see how someone he was able to help was faring, rather than simply enduring a specific horrific incident and never speaking to them again.

  “He doing what he’s supposed to for you?”

  Again, Serena chuckled. This time bearing a bit more mirth than the previous, she replied, “Well, he’s trying, which is more than I can say for most of our patients. He said anything to you about it?”

  “Mostly, he grumbles a lot and then changes the subject,” Reed replied.

  “Sounds like someone I know,” Serena shot back.

  Again, Reed smiled. Raising a hand, he ran the back of it across his brow, peeling away the heavy droplets of sweat that had collected. A motion he’d performed dozens of times while sitting on the mower, with many more promised in the hours ahead.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yep,” Serena said. “Might be hereditary. Something worth looking into.”

  Doing his best to stifle another laugh, Reed formulated the perfect response. A witty comeback to end the banter with a decisive victory that he never got the chance to throw out, interrupted instead by a series of low beeps erupting in his ear.

  Sounds just loud enough to make him pull the phone away to see an incoming call splayed across the screen, the source of it someone that was saved into address book.

  A name he decidedly did not want to see, any levity that may have existed a moment before dissipating on sight.

  “Aw, come on,” Serena said, her voice just audible before Reed returned it to his cheek. “No retort? I didn’t hurt your feelings, did I?”

  “No,” Reed replied, a small sigh escaping with the word. “Incoming call. I’m sorry, but I have to take it.”

  “Uh-oh,” Serena answered, “I know that tone. How bad?”

  “Not sure,” Reed replied, “but it’s never good.”

  “Go,” Serena said. “Talk soon.”

  Ending the call there, Reed switched lines. Something he wasn’t especially keen on but knew better than to avoid, dodging calls from the chief of police generally not a great career choice.

  Especially when she had just gone out on a limb to help him negotiate the current arrangement to maintain a home base within the CPD.

  “Reed Mattox.”

  “Detective,” Eleanor Brandt said. “Where are you right now?”

  Feeling his brows come together both at the question and the blunt delivery, Reed replied, “Home. Why?”

  Ignoring his question entirely, Brandt asked, “How fast can you get to my office?”

  “Been cutting the grass all morning. Can probably jump in the shower and be there in under an hour.”

  “Do that,” Brandt replied. Pausing, she seemed to consider what she’d just said before adding, “Actually, take the full hour and throw a few things in an overnight bag too. You may need it.”

  Chapter Three

  Reed wasn’t exactly sure what to make of the last line Brandt said before ending the call. A cross between a threat and a warning, he’d stood on the back deck for a moment in the wake of it, his features twisted up in confusion.

  As he’d just mentioned to Serena not two minutes prior, the status of his and his partner’s employment was murky at best. A situation that saw them back to covering spot duty with the 8th Precinct, kept from resuming their previous roles for fear they would need to be pulled off at a moment’s notice, sent across the state to do whatever bidding Governor Cowan had for them.

  The man’s own private detective force, deployed whenever and wherever he thought there might be a few headlines to be gleaned or a bit of political capital to be collected.

  The police equivalent of doctors always on call, perpetually waiting on the phone to ring.

  Which it finally had.

  What exactly was in store or even where they were headed, Reed didn’t have the slightest inkling. Not one hint from Brandt to answer either save the tone of her voice and the mention of the bag at the end.

  Signs that he likely wouldn’t be pleased, though any questions beyond that would have to wait until he was seated before her.

  Following that last directive, Reed took the full hour that was allotted. Exactly sixty minutes between hanging up the phone and presenting himself outside of her office.

  The first five were spent in the same spot where he spoke to Brandt and Serena before her. Time used to call Billie in from the backyard, his partner begrudgingly giving up whatever scent had driven her deep into the recesses of the pine trees.

  The next ten minutes thereafter were spent running through the shower. A second cleansing of the day to strip away any sweat and grass clippings before jumping into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Reed’s standard work attire, the thought of going the same route as many of his fellow detectives working within the CPD and donning a full suit enough to make his stomach turn.

  The second quarter of his given time was spent in the old farmhouse kitchen. A continuation of what had started with his attempts at hydration a few minutes earlier, this time taken the extra step of adding sustenance to the mix as well. Twin bowls of kibble and water for Billie paired with putting together a sandwich for himself. Leftover grilled chicken slathered with barbecue sauce and ranch dressing.

  Far from his most enterprising culinary effort, consumed more for ease and in anticipation of whatever waited in the hours ahead. The need to be fueled with protein and carbs, the missive to pack a bag meaning it would likely be a while before they had a chance to eat again.

  A concern that Reed had been known to forego more than once in the past.

  A flaw that he was ardently working to correct, for Billie’s sake if not his own.

  The third fifteen-minute chunk was given over to packing. A change of clothes and a toiletry kit tossed into a duffel bag along with a phone charger, a couple of protein bars, and a few bottles of water. The absolute bare essentials to get him from one day to the next, the unplanned trip anything but a tourist excursion.

  Along with the small collection of items for himself, he threw in a Ziploc bag of food for Billie and a couple of plastic bowls. A small package of treats to be used as rewards for her efforts on the job.

  A total mass weighing less than ten pounds, easily stowed in the trunk of his department-issue sedan.

  Exactly forty-five minutes after hanging up the phone, Reed loaded Billie into the back of the vehicle and made the drive from the farmhouse into the heart of the city. A straight shot from his home beyond the western suburbs moving due east, taking advantage of the late morning traffic and the fact that the lunch crowd hadn’t quite made it out yet.

  A rare blessing in a city that was fast reaching a population saturation point, allowing Reed and Billie to present themselves on the second floor of the CPD Headquarters at exactly a half hour before noon. An arrival Brandt seemed to have been waiting on, her secretary staring directly at them as they passed from the outer hallway.

  Having encountered the two of them on a handful of occasions before, she dipped the top of her head in greeting.
“Good morning, detectives.”

  “Good morning, Dorothy,” Reed replied, crossing over the plush carpeting of the outer office. The buffer zone insulating the chief from the rest of the building, allowing her secretary to serve as a watchdog, subjecting all prospective visitors to scrutiny.

  An eyeball test that, apparently, was not to be levied at them, the woman rising from her desk and motioning to the open door just past her desk.

  “Chief Brandt is expecting you. Please, head right on in.”

  Following the woman’s outstretched hand, Reed nodded to her in thanks. A silent bow of appreciation as he slapped at the leg of his jeans, a non-verbal command for his partner to follow.

  A signal Billie was well attuned to, her body remaining just inches from his calf. Her pace fixed to match his, they slid past the desk acting as a partition and stepped inside Brandt’s office.

  Following them as far as the door, Dorothy pulled it shut in their wake, any residual sound from the outside falling away. A not-so-subtle signal, seeming to imply that whatever was about to be shared was not to be overheard.

  A gesture that did nothing to tamp down the mix of uncertainty and dread that had been permeating Reed since stepping off his back porch an hour before.

  Maintaining the same even stride, Reed continued on into the heart of the largest office he’d ever been in. A space that was easily fifty feet on either edge, given optimal position on a corner overlooking the river and Marconi Boulevard below. A view afforded by the two outer walls being lined with windows, with only the occasional column or display case present to break up the sight lines.

  Of the two remaining walls, one was entirely bookcases. Endless rows of leatherbound volumes Reed assumed to be legal treatises or police histories or some such other topical décor. The last wall was used for the requisite display of framed diplomas and photographs. A collage giving gravitas to the person that called the office their own, this particular collection showing off Brandt’s degrees from Capital and Ohio State. With them were a host of photos with various public officials and dignitaries, none larger than an image of Brandt and the governor. A shot of the two of them shaking hands, each standing atop steps to hide the fact that neither was taller than five-five.

  A photo that likely wasn’t Brandt’s idea to include, her opinion of the governor nominally better than Reed’s.

  A fact easily discerned by the pained expression she wore in the image.

  Far from the first visit to the space in recent weeks, Reed took in the details of the office with little more than a glance. A quick pass to notice that everything was the same as his previous trips before putting his focus on the centerpiece of the room. A polished cherry desk that was large enough to serve as a conference table positioned in the exact center of the state seal imprinted on the carpet.

  Coming at it from the side, to the left were a pair of visitor seats. Black leather chairs with steel legs visible at the corners.

  On the right, a wingback rolling desk chair, Brandt herself rising from it as they approached.

  “Good morning,” she said, making no effort to come closer or offer her hand in greeting. A gesture Reed didn’t take personally, the two having interacted enough in recent weeks to have moved past such formality.

  Same for the fact that this wasn’t a scheduled meeting, almost certainly stemming from something that was dropped on Brandt from higher up, now forcing her to do the same.

  “Morning,” Reed replied, going directly for the empty seats across from Brandt. Pulling up in front of the closest one, he glanced to his side and stated, “Down.”

  A command Billie followed without objection, Reed and Brandt both doing the same a moment later.

  “Thank you for getting here so quickly,” Brandt opened. “I know it was your day off.”

  A diminutive woman by any discernible metric, her current post in the oversized desk chair made the fact even more apparent. Extended more than half a foot above her, it seemed to almost swallow her whole, an effect Reed was quite certain was the opposite of what she was going for.

  Hovering somewhere in the vicinity of fifty years of age, her features bore the sharp edge of someone that had spent a lifetime in law enforcement. Somebody who stress and physical activity had stripped any adipose tissue from, leaving everything drawn taut.

  Sharp cheekbones and thin lips belying dishwater blue eyes and dirty blonde hair pulled straight back. A severe look that was present every single time Reed encountered her, as was the full uniform she insisted on wearing.

  An overall aesthetic that was a marked contrast to Reed, though neither felt the need to comment.

  “That’s alright,” Reed replied. For just an instant, he considered adding that he had a feeling that the meeting wasn’t her idea. A general nod of them both being under the thumb of the governor on this before letting it go.

  Despite the fact that their interaction had certainly improved in the last couple of weeks, there were still some lingering threads of awkwardness. Residual uncertainty stemming from a handful of incidents, not the least of which was Reed and Billie having saved Brandt’s life and that of her nephew on their very first case together.

  “I take it a case has come in for us?” Reed asked.

  Dipping her chin slightly, Brandt replied, “Gallipolis. You know it?”

  “Of it,” Reed replied, vaguely recalling the name of a small town down along the Ohio River. A place he could probably find on a map fairly easily, but would need GPS to actually get to. “Never been.”

  “Neither have a lot of people,” Brandt replied. Extending a hand, she grabbed up a single sheet of paper from the desk before her. Glancing down, she read, “Earlier this morning, a woman was killed outside of her home. Single gunshot wound from a high-powered rifle to the chest, killing her instantly.”

  Finishing with the paper, she placed it back down atop her desk. “Local authorities requested a state detective to come down and take a look.”

  Waiting for more to arrive, Reed sat in silence a moment. While a murder was certainly in line with the sorts of things he and Billie often worked, it seemed pretty innocuous to spark local officials reaching out to the state.

  Or the state to grant offering assistance for that matter, there likely being something that wasn’t yet shared.

  Some reason for Cowan to have chosen this case to be their maiden run.

  A series of questions Brandt looked to be harboring as well, stating, “I know what you’re probably thinking, but that’s all the information I have. Just be sure to keep your head down and your eyes open.

  “Captain Grimes will be your contact point. If extra manpower is needed, Officers Jacobs and McMichaels can assist.”

  She seemed to contemplate her last words a moment before, ultimately, adding, “And if things get really ugly, feel free to reach back here as well.”

  Chapter Four

  With each mile that passed beneath the tires of Reed’s sedan, the decision to make an early lunch for himself and Billie proved more prescient. Not just for the time and distance traveled, but for the noticeable difference in surroundings along the way.

  A trip that started by pushing due south for more than an hour, retracing a route that Reed had come to know quite well on one of his more recent cases. An extremely personal matter involving the gun that killed his former partner Riley Poole more than two years prior.

  An incident that eventually led to finally apprehending the young man that pulled the trigger, recollections arriving thick and furious as they passed through a series of small and midsize towns such as Circleville and Chillicothe.

  Since turning to the southeast from there, signs of civilization had become much tougher to spot. Long stretches of barren state routes winding through thick forest. Miles traveled over the hills comprising the western edge of Appalachia, the dense vegetation broken up only by the occasional tiny oasis. Spots too small to appear on a map housing gas stations with attached diners or minimarts. />
  Places where replenishment could be picked up if absolutely necessary, though Reed was glad not to be forced to stop just yet.

  Not that he could much imagine trying to consume anything, the undulating hills enough to turn his stomach. Coupled with the lack of information Brandt had to share and the myriad resulting questions, his core was clenched into a ball he couldn’t imagine abating in the near future.

  A little over an hour and a half after exiting Brandt’s office, Reed and Billie found themselves along the banks of the Ohio River. A flowing behemoth nearly two hundred yards across, the water stained a dingy brown from the seasonal runoff. Dotted with vessels of various sizes and shapes, he could spot everything from barges loaded with coal or shipping containers to a pair of small fishing boats.

  Aquatic traffic that gave him just the slightest hint of nostalgia. A quick moment to consider the fun he and his Pop could have out trolling some of the best catfishing lanes in the country.

  A mental image he allowed to linger just briefly, dissipating as they were greeted by a sign from the Gallipolis Lions Club. A billboard welcoming them into town, announcing that the place was founded in 1790 and had a local population just north of thirty-seven-hundred people.

  Both numbers that surprised Reed, the town a little older and a little larger than he expected.

  As he had intimated to Brandt earlier, never before had Reed been to Gallipolis, or really even heard much about it, the place one of a handful of small river towns he remembered reading about in an article somewhere. An overview of tiny dots speckled across the breadth of the state border, all home to great fishing and local charm.

  The kind of brochure put out by organizations such as the Lions Club every couple of years in an effort to drum up visitors or outside investment.

  Attempts that, to the outside, seemed to have come up woefully short.

  With the town arranged facing the banks of the river, the view out the passenger side of the sedan was of nothing else save a couple of small parks. Chunks of grass with pavilions and shelter houses. Places for small groups to gather for barbecues or for people to bring their dogs to use the restroom all connected by a paved running trail.