The max porter box set, p.45
The Max Porter Box Set, page 45
“We’re talking about Sandra here. She loves you.”
“That’s not in question. I know she loves me.”
“Then why keep acting like a hardass?”
“Because I love her. This isn’t right, and she refuses to let me have any say in the matter. In a marriage, though, no matter how big the decision impacts your life, no matter how much you think it’s all about you, everything you do, every choice you make has a serious impact upon your spouse.”
Drummond stayed quiet for a few miles. Then he pushed his hat back. “That’s why you really took this case, isn’t it? I mean I’m sure the money helped, but you figured you’d give her a little of what she wants.”
“It was going to be a simple case. Missing person or dead person. That’s it.”
“You should’ve known better. Nothing is ever simple when dealing with witches.”
“The thing is — we’re in it now. I really need your help, your focus, your full commitment because if we don’t get to the bottom of whatever is going on here —”
“Sandra could be in real trouble.”
Max nodded. “If she gets too deeply involved with this coven ... I don’t know.”
“Okay, then.” Drummond clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Let’s go.”
Off the highway, Max made his way to Battleground Avenue, took a side street to Lawndale, and up to the Greensboro Science Center on the left, nestled in a clearing surrounded by trees. Three open tiers of parking flowed downhill from where the Center stood. Two school buses had parked at the bottom; otherwise, only a dozen or so cars were scattered about.
Before they entered the building, Max took the time to walk up and down each parking tier. He kept checking the tree line for the ruins of the old cabin. Without having to ask, Drummond dove into the ground and checked beneath Max’s feet.
“Some old pipework, but no cabin and nothing indicating witchcraft,” Drummond said.
“Let’s go in.”
After paying for his ticket, Max entered the building. From the outside, it looked like a mid-sized public school with a small courtyard out front. But inside, the place became larger. Still not huge, but they fit a lot into what space they had without it feeling crammed together. Quite a feat considering the Center consisted of an aquarium, an entire floor devoted to reptiles, a small museum, several miniature theaters, classrooms, robotics labs, and a zoo.
Standing in the lobby, Max saw the aquarium section went off to the right. He headed left toward the rest of the Center. The floor opened into a circle with a large pendulum used to demonstrate the turning of the Earth. It swung from a cable mounted above that reached straight down to the lower level below.
Off to one side near a gift shop and a café, stairs spiraled down around the pendulum. A mural had been painted on the surrounding wall that depicted a massive scene of snakes and monkeys in the trees, colorful parrots soaring by, a peacock on the ground as well as two tigers and more. Oddly, on the far side, a massive dinosaur had been painted into the scene.
“They’re trying to fit everything in there,” Drummond said.
Max decided they should start at the far end of the zoo section and work back towards the entrance. This section took up several acres in the back, behind the main building. Max had no illusions that he would find the meerkats perched upon the stone chimney of the Mobley Coven’s old cabin, but he held onto the hope that they would uncover some evidence pointing toward the coven.
Following the winding path toward the tiger enclosure, Max’s eyes roved across the wooded areas behind the zoo. Children dashed around while harried teachers and parent volunteers attempted to wrangle the kids into some semblance of order.
“When I was that age,” Drummond said as he watched the rambunctious children, “I loved coming to the zoo. We didn’t have computers, video games, or any of that. Seeing a real gibbon swinging around and flipping through air like a circus acrobat thrilled me.”
“While you’re enjoying memory lane, don’t forget to look around for any sign of that cabin.”
“About that.” Drummond thrust his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels — yet still floating through air enough to keep pace with Max. “What exactly is this going to do for us? Being out here and, if we succeed, finding this cabin?”
“Two things, really. One — what else can we do? We have no leads, nothing to go on, and Lena Mobley is either unable or unwilling to give us more information. Which leaves us with Two — since we have nothing to follow out there, I figure we should look into the people on the inside of this. Perhaps having the full story of the coven will enlighten our moves. If we’re to find Candace Mobley, we could use a little light.”
They strolled back along the path, passing lemurs, red pandas, wallabies, and howler monkeys. The ripe manure odor from the petting zoo wafted across their way and they circled back toward the beginning. Several times, Drummond dropped below ground. On each occasion, he returned shaking his head.
Max could see the frustration growing on his partner’s pale face. Twice Max stopped to inspect what might have been an old board in the dirt or a piece of the cabin’s roof. When these proved to be nothing more than a trick of the light on a log and a particularly flat rock, Drummond grunted his displeasure.
“What?” Max said. “You have something to say?”
A few passersby looked at him oddly, but nobody wanted to approach the crazy man.
Drummond said, “I’m not buying this. It doesn’t make enough sense for us to be wasting time out here. I say this as your partner, as the guy who has your back and only wants the best for you — if you really believe the line you gave me, then we’re in serious trouble.”
“You saying I’m lying?”
“I’m saying that I think you’re not working this case. I think you’re trying to do what you can to investigate the coven as a means to getting into Sandra’s business.”
“She’s my wife. Her business is my business. And if you’ve got a better idea on how to handle this case, I’m listening.”
“That’s just it. You’ve been up for hours now, and you’ve yet to ask me if I found anything about the Goodman hunters. Remember them? The people you asked me to look into?”
Max halted. How had he forgotten about them? He leaned on the wood fencing overlooking the giant tortoise exhibit and poured his focus on the enormous, lumbering creatures. If he dared look away, he would see Drummond’s eyes and he would know that the ghost was right. But Max never intended to sidestep the case. Not consciously.
Floating up beside him, Drummond tilted back his Fedora and gazed at the animals. “It’s okay. We all get a bit myopic at times.”
“Myopic? That’s a big word for you.”
“I’ll take your insult as acknowledgment that I’m correct. And, if it makes you feel any better, our time out here isn’t exactly wasted. I kept expecting you to ask me about the Goodmans and when you didn’t, I thought maybe you already knew, that maybe we came out here because you knew.”
“Clearly, I didn’t.”
“You’re allowed to be worried about her. I’m worried, too. But you can’t go off the rails like this. That doesn’t help anybody.”
Max lowered his head and clenched his lips tight until he could swallow down the urge to yell. At length, with control, he said, “I am not off the rails. And I am not going to back off worrying about my wife. Sandra is smart and capable, and I give her all the credit in the world. But she’s every bit as human as the rest of us. We can all be seduced into actions that we would never normally do. Ever since her interest in witchcraft became serious, I’ve kept an eye on the whole thing, and I’m telling you, she’s dancing awfully close to the fire.”
“So are you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She’s already mad at you for having PB spy on her. What do you think she’d do if she found out you were off here investigating her instead of the case?”
“That’s not what this is.” But part of Max now wondered if that was true. Turning back toward the building, he continued, “You said you found something on the Goodmans. What is it?”
Drummond hesitated, and for an instant, Max thought the ghost would refuse to follow him inside. But then Drummond drifted over. “It’s possible that some of the members of the Goodman hunters are descendants from the original gang. Many of the men who formed the original group had gone on to do quite well in life, or in some cases, their kids built the family fortune. Nothing huge. Not Hull-type wealth. But respectable amounts that’d leave them all quite comfortable.”
“Then they’re a well-funded group.”
“Definitely. But here’s the kicker, the reason I thought you may have chosen this outing for a different purpose — as often happens with people who make large amounts of money, they start donating it to offset taxes. Several individuals in the group donated money right here, to the Greensboro Science Center. And before you dismiss it, I know lots of people donate here. But these are sizable donations. The kind that get you on a board of directors, and nearly the kind that gets your name on something.”
They re-entered the main building and Max led them back toward the lobby. “How did you find this out? Looking up financial records doesn’t seem like you.”
“Course not. That’d drive me nuts. But I keep telling you that there are lots of ways to get information. You really need to build up your network of informants.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Well, work faster. Anyway, that’s how I know. My contacts are good. And, frankly, it was on the strength of that information that I entertained coming out here with you. That cabin really was here, and something worthwhile must still be.”
“You think those donations were like hush money? I suppose you’re right. That kind of money brings with it access. And access means they’d be able to keep their eyes on whatever they sought.”
Drummond shifted toward the wall, his face growing dark as his eyes narrowed on a man walking a few feet ahead. “Don’t say anything else.”
Max stayed quiet.
“Look at that man’s arm.”
As they walked toward the gift shops by the pendulum, Max eased toward the right so he could get a clear view. Drummond kept to the other side, not bothering to avoid people passing through him. Max already expected what he would see, and sure enough, when the man lifted his arm to scratch his head, Max spotted the same flaming cross tattoo they had seen in the abduction footage — the mark of the Goodman Witch Hunters.
Chapter 11
MAX’S PULSE QUICKENED as he followed the tattooed man through the winding halls of the Science Center. A gaggle of kids all wearing blue t-shirts rambled toward the zoo. They rushed by this tattooed man, a man capable of stealing another human being, a man who took part in murdering a woman because of her ability to study and learn how to manipulate Nature.
Sandra had taught Max that little fact — witchcraft was nothing more than rules that enabled the user to manipulate Nature. At the time, he thought she had oversimplified things. He still thought that, but tailing this murderer made him see her viewpoint a little clearer. Max had destroyed witches before, yet those situations threatened his own life or the lives of others. The idea that he might put together a posse and hunt down a woman he suspected might be a witch — that crossed a dark line.
Though Max kept quiet as they climbed downstairs, Drummond had no problem speaking. He knew only Max would hear him. “These fellas must regularly have members walking around here. Otherwise, the odds of us stumbling on one of them is too high.”
Sort of, Max thought. He would have agreed if the man had been any other than the same man they had seen in the video.
“Then again,” Drummond said, catching on to the same thought, “this guy being here, this specific guy, that says to me that he’s here because of our case. Keep alert. Something’s going down that has to do with the Mobley witches and the fact that their original house was on this land.”
Only a few people meandered around the lower level. Max checked his watch — 1:12 pm. Most of the schools probably needed to pack up and take the kids home. The tattooed man walked along a straight hall.
The walls had been painted blue and several rooms had large glass panes for viewing. The rooms had long counters with terrariums lined up. Each one had a different environmental setting for the occupant — poison dart frogs, box turtles, cornsnakes, and such. It reminded Max of a science building at a college.
Halfway down the hall, they reached a T-junction. In the middle, a large glass case displayed a stuffed eagle with its wings out wide. A fierce looking creature.
The man did not turn. Max hung back for a breath and then continued his pursuit.
“Max!” a voice called from behind.
Max turned around to see a mother calling out to her toddler. When he looked back, the man had disappeared.
Waving onward, Drummond zoomed ahead. At the far end, he turned to his right. Max hastened down the hall to follow.
He entered a dark, warm room with viewing windows set in cloth-covered walls. In each window, he saw snakes. Big ones. Diamondback rattlers, cottonmouths, and coral snakes. Nasty, deadly creatures that would love nothing more than to get out of their boxes and roam around for a tasty morsel, maybe even have a bite of good ol’ Max.
“This way,” Drummond said from the other side of the room. When Max caught up with him, the ghost gestured to a door marked Employees Only. Winking, he said, “I assume you’re okay with breaking that rule.”
“Go follow the guy. I’ll catch up.”
Once Drummond slipped through the wall, Max peeked back across the room. He had broken into numerous places since beginning his career as a researcher and investigator, but never before did he commit those crimes in plain view. A few people gawked at the snakes. On the opposite side, a young girl pointed at a huge iguana. Nobody paid any attention his way. Trying to ignore the lump thickening in his chest, Max opened the door and walked in.
He entered a bland office room with stark florescent lighting. On a table to his left, he saw a large plastic tub filled with live rats.
“Hate to tell you this, boys, but you’re snake food.”
A short corridor linked to two other rooms that looked like any old office except for the occasional glass case with a lizard stuck to the side. Turning a corner, Max heard the jingle of keys. Drummond floated ahead, hovering near a door at the end.
“Come on, Max. This guy’s opened a secret door. Really. It’s fantastic. I mean, it’s obviously just a door but you’d have to know about the hidden keyhole in order to unlock it. Plus, it slides into the wall instead of swinging out.”
Max approached slowly, easing each footfall to avoid making noise.
Drummond poked his head back. With giddy pleasure, he said, “That secret door leads to secret stairs.”
From behind, Max heard the Employees Only door open and a woman called out, “Derrick? You can’t be leaving the door open.” Footsteps approached.
Max opened the nearest door — a broom closet — and shot a quick motion at Drummond. “Go, go. Follow him. I’ll be there soon.”
“On my way.” Drummond dropped through the floor.
Stepping between a mop bucket and wide push-broom, Max eased the door closed, leaving a sliver ajar so that he could watch the hall. A short-haired woman with broad hips and narrow shoulders crossed into Max’s view. She swung a keychain attached to a tiny bungee cord.
“Derrick? You smoking again? You know you can’t do that in here.” She sniffed the air, then muttered to herself, “Where did that doofus go?”
Drummond shot straight up through the broom closet floor and stopped above the mop. “Hurry!”
“You’re gonna kill me,” Max snapped, his heart racing from the sudden jolt.
“Derrick?” The woman turned back down the hall.
“It’s Candace,” Drummond said. “She’s down there and she’s alive. Barely. You’ve got to get down there now.”
“Do you see where I am?” Max knew he had spoken too loud even before the woman stopped near the closet door.
“Y-You better not be s-smoking in there.”
She stared right at Max, but he knew she couldn’t see him — not through that sliver of the open door. But she also would not be going away. Her hand lifted toward the knob and then fell back. Eventually, she would dismiss her fears and summon the courage to check the door. Max gave himself fifteen seconds at the most.
He thought about slamming the door open fast. He’d catch her off guard, scare her plenty, and knock her down, too. But unless he turned back and clocked her hard enough to rattle her head unconscious, she would be screaming for help in moments. Or worse, she might have the presence to rush back and call Security.
“Last chance, Derrick. If you’re in there and you don’t come out now, you’ll be fired.”
Max struggled for any plausible story he could tell her, but every scenario he envisioned ended up with him being kicked out, if not arrested. But as the woman put her hand on the doorknob, they both heard an awful howl — a terrible moaning like a wounded wolf.
With her hands quaking, the woman turned toward the sound, putting her back to the door. Max opened it slightly more, his own curiosity getting hold of him. Again, the sound echoed around them.
Max’s jaw dropped. Drummond stepped into the hall carrying a large rattlesnake — probably two or three feet long. The woman could not see the pain wracking Drummond’s face. She couldn’t see the ghost at all. But what she did witness must have been a crushing terror — a rattlesnake floating through the air while a ghostly moan followed it.
She screamed, spun around, and tore off down the hall. The moment she left, Max popped out of the broom closet. Drummond dropped the snake, rubbing his sore hands against his sides.
“Don’t let it go,” Max said, backing away from the venomous snake.
