Passions of the Dead (A Detective Jackson Mystery/Thriller) (30 page)

Lori heard Jenna’s voice in her head telling her to score some pot and bring it over. If there was ever a time to get high, this was it, Lori decided. It was unhealthy to feel this stressed. Shane took methadone to keep himself on track. Why couldn’t she? It was a legal prescription, not some street drug. She turned the car around and headed back to Zor’s.

The dealer opened the door and said, “Shane’s already left.”

“I’m not looking for him.”

“What do you want?”

“Methadone.”

“Seriously?” Zor rolled his wheelchair back and let her in.

“Of course I’m serious.” Lori hated when people patronized her for looking young. She was a legal adult.

“This is for you? Not Shane?”

“I’m stressed to the max.” Lori held out her hands where he could see them shaking. Why did she need to justify this to him? He was a drug dealer.

“Let me get you a blanket and a beer to start with.” Lori waited by the door in the dark room. It creeped her out to be here, but she desperately needed to soothe her soul. A constant dull anger had been eating away at her and turning her into someone she didn’t like. She needed to take the edge off before telling her parents she’d lost her job, followed by the information she was planning to take her small savings and move across the ocean.

Zor came back with a lightweight blanket. Lori wrapped it around her shoulders and took the beer he offered.

“I don’t have any methadone,” Zor said, “but that’s not what you need anyway. It’s slow acting and addictive.” He rolled toward the hallway. “Come with me.”

They went into a back bedroom with blankets over the windows. Zor gave her a sly smile. “Have you ever been high before? I mean really high?”

Lori shook her head. She’d smoked pot a couple of times with Jenna but it mostly made her sleepy.

“You’ll never understand Shane unless you understand what it’s like to get loaded. You should try it once, just to know what his world is like.”

“Shane just broke up with me.”

“Then you should get high just for the fun it. You’ve had a crappy day.”

Lori felt entitled. If there was ever a day for taking a mental break, this was it. If she looked older, she would have gone into a bar and had a drink. Since that wasn’t an option, she’d try whatever Zor was offering and escape her own ugly head for a while.

“I have some great ecstasy,” Zor said, unlocking a large black case. Jenna had taken ecstasy once so Lori figured it was safe. Part of her didn’t really care. Dying of an overdose and not having to face her current reality didn’t seem that bad. Or ending up in the hospital with people hovering over her, worried, could be okay too. Would Shane take her back if he thought she’d overdosed because of him?

Lori swallowed the little pink tab and washed it down with a slug of beer. Zor wanted her to hang out for a while to make sure she was okay. She drank half her beer and tried to make small talk. Her body started to hum with energy and the walls of the little house started closing in. She was suddenly aware of the stink radiating from the carpet, every spilled beer, every cat hair, every molecule of mold growing in it now. Suddenly, she had to get out.

She paid Zor twenty bucks, a third of her tip money, and bolted from the house. The cool night air felt delicious on her skin and the scent of fresh mowed grass hung in the air. Crickets chirped and the moon shimmered. She loved summer and all its sensory richness.

Lori drove to her favorite riverside park and lay down in the middle of a wide field of grass. Staring up at the stars, she listened to the river gurgle by and wondered what it would be like to live on the water. Maybe on a houseboat in Maui. She had to find a way to get there. In this precious moment, she felt gloriously alive and amazingly free. Free of her job, free of high school, and free of her worries.

The stars changed colors, flashing bright blue, red, and gold. At first the fireworks were pretty, but soon they sent daggers of light hurtling across the sky at each other. Worried about being hit by burning debris, Lori hurried to her car. She wanted to be at home, in her room, listening to music with her eyes closed.

The drive took forever. She kept pulling off the road, thinking other cars were aiming straight for her, trying to crash into her. Finally she pulled into the driveway and stared at the house. This was her home, wasn’t it? Something didn’t seem right. As she stumbled out of the car, Lori realized her bladder was about to burst. She squatted between the garage and front of the car and relieved herself.

Lori rushed across the short walkway and into the house. Her skin heated up as she moved and her throat dried out. Water! She needed to consume liquid before she burst into flames. Lori rushed to the kitchen and downed half a glass of water from the faucet. She spotted tiny things floating in the glass and slammed it down on the counter. Had the little floaties gotten inside her? Should she vomit them up?

She strode into her bedroom, dropped off her backpack, and kicked off her shoes. The walls seemed to close in and the orange of her bedspread was putrid and overwhelming. Still feeling incredibly thirsty, she rushed back to the kitchen for more water.

“Lori, are you okay?” Her mother stared as if she’d grown a third eye.

“I’m fine.”

“Was work okay? You look upset.”

“Work was the usual shithole of degradation.”

“I wish you wouldn’t swear.” Her mother’s green eyes blazed with anger.

People told her she looked like her mother, but Lori didn’t see it. This woman was completely different from her. She was artsy and simplistic and complacent. “I wish you would leave me the fuck alone.”

“I don’t appreciate your tone. Have you been drinking?” A red fire flared in her mother’s eyes and she looked possessed. Her hand snaked toward Lori and her face was a mask of hatred.

The anger building inside Lori burst like a giant pus-filled pimple. She jerked free. “I don’t answer to you anymore! You failed me! Dad failed me!”

“What’s going on?” The man she used to think of as her father came into the kitchen. He too had blazing red eyes and a mask of hatred.

What the hell was happening? Had these people been taken over by demons?
Lori felt trapped against the counter. “I quit my job. So what?”

“Oh shit, Lori. That was pretty selfish.” Jared pulled at his own hair.

“You’re the one who’s selfish. You’re the one who’s supposed to have a job.”

His red eyes flashed and his body tensed, ready to lunge.

The mother-demon touched his arm. “I think she’s been drinking. This is not a good time to talk about it.”

“Let me smell your breath.” The father-demon lurched at her.

Lori dodged, putting herself farther into the corner. “Get out of my way. I want to leave.”

“You’re not driving my car.” The mother-demon spun out of the room. “I’m taking your keys.”

Lori didn’t care. She would rather run than drive anyway. Energy kept building in her muscles and she thought she would burst.

The father-demon spoke, his voice bouncing around the kitchen. “Your pupils are dilated. Did you take a drug?”

“Get out of my way. I want to leave.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“Are you going to assault me the way you assaulted Uncle Kevin?”

Its eyes flared in a bright red burst. “That was an accident!” It lurched toward her. Lori made her move and tried to run past him toward the garage door. The father-demon grabbed her, his fingers digging into her burning skin. He barked like a madman, but the words were only sounds and made no sense.

Lori easily pulled free, surprised by her strength. She spotted the baseball bat leaning against the counter. Why was it there? Did he plan to assault her? Lori grabbed the bat and spun back around. She held it like a weapon. “Don’t come near me.” She hated the father-demon for his weakness. His failures. He’d started this family’s descent into hell, then made it worse. It was his fault Shane had broken up with her.

The father-demon’s eyes burned bright and his face morphed into a gargoyle. It raised its hands and spoke again, but the words were a garbled echo. Suddenly, the thing was coming at her, shouting in an alien language. Heat filled her chest and adrenaline surged though her brain.

“I’ll kill you,” Lori warned.

It kept coming. Lori swung the bat with all her might.

Smack! The red fire went out of his eyes. Smack! The father-demon dropped to its knees. Lori swung the bat again. Smack! It fell against the counter.

Shrieking filled the air. Lori spun around and saw the mother-demon rush at her, eyes blazing. Lori charged forward and took her down with a single blow. The mother-demon landed on her back, momentarily weakened. Lori hated her too. The mother-demon had stolen the baseball card and let Nick take the blame.

Lori’s chest burned white hot and she expected her heart to burst into flames. She was going die and she didn’t want to do it here.

She rushed to the cabinets and leaned the bat against the counter. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the father-demon struggle to get up. He would come after her again if she gave him the chance. The knife holder was in her line of sight. She grabbed the biggest knife and spun around. In three strides, she stood over him and plunged the knife into his heart. Sounds kept coming from his mouth. She drove the knife in again. And again, shredding his treacherous heart.

The mother-demon sat up and made a heinous sound. Lori ran to the middle of the floor. She kneeled, raised the knife, and slammed it down on the mother-demon’s wrist. Blood pooled on the floor, but the hand was still attached. Lori slammed the knife one more time and the hand separated. It would not steal again.

As she rose from the floor, more screaming filled the room, then something rushed at her. It looked like her brother Nick, but its eyes flashed like a demon. Lori was stunned by the betrayal. Not Nick too. Her hesitation worked against her, and the Nick-demon took the knife and threatened her. Lori lunged for him and felt the knife enter her body. She felt no pain, only a slight cooling sensation. She glanced down, fascinated by the blood flowing from her abdomen. The Nick-demon was trying to kill her. Lori encircled his wrist with her right hand and squeezed with all her might. He cried out, and as his grip gave away she grabbed the knife handle. He turned away to prepare for another attack. Lori stopped him with a final plunge into his back. The Nick-demon took two steps and collapsed.

Lori glanced around, still in the grip of paranoia. They were all on the floor, dead or dying. Their attack on her was finally over. Her pulse began to slow, no longer racing like jet boat engine. Her heart still beat loudly in her ears, but it no longer felt like it would explode in her chest. She stared at the knife in her hand, revolted by the blood. Using the bottom of her shirt, Lori wiped the knife from one end to the other. She started for the counter, intending to put it back in its slot, but her legs felt weak and she stopped. The knife fell from her hand.

The heat in her chest died and power oozed out of her. Lori felt cold and sluggish. She needed to rest a bit before she started packing for her trip. She kneeled next to her mother, thinking she would say goodbye, but she couldn’t form the words. Her brain was shutting down. Lori laid her head on her mother’s chest and listened for the familiar beat of her heart. It was gone.

As he jogged down the stairs, pain stabbed his lower abdomen. In his car, Jackson tossed back two naproxen and chased them with cold coffee from his thermos.

His cell phone rang and he glanced at the caller ID. “Parker, tell me you have good news.”

“I have news, but I don’t know how to rate it. The hospital sent over Lori Walker’s tox screen. She had MDMA and phencyclidine in her system.”

“Ecstasy and PCP?” Jackson was stunned.

“I wish we had a hair sample the lab could test for long-term use of all recreational drugs.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Thanks, Parker.” Jackson sat in the underground lot for a full five minutes, his body unmoving while his mind raced.
What the hell did this mean?
If Lori was high on PCP at the time of the murders, it changed everything. Phencyclidine was the most dangerous drug on the street. It could give people superhuman strength and sometimes trigger horrendous violence. Three uniform cops had once tried to subdue a man near campus who was pulling traffic signs out of the ground with his bare hands. They had used repeated baton strikes on his legs to make him go down. After the first few blows, he’d laughed and said, “Ouch.”

A dark suspicion overwhelmed him. Had Lori committed this heinous attack on her family? Oh dear God. Jackson felt like the wind had been knocked out him. He had never suspected Lori because she had almost died. Because the medical examiner and the pathologist had both said the assailant was incredibly strong. Because it was unthinkable.

He understood why her brain had blocked the horrific memory. Maybe she and Shane had gotten loaded together and both participated. Shane, with his upper-body strength wielding the bat, and Lori going after her parents with the knife. If that were the case, how had Lori taken a stab to the stomach? It must have come from Nick, fighting for his life. Jackson felt ill. The pain medication and coffee in his empty stomach churned into a toxic brew that wouldn’t stay down. He opened the car door and heaved up the partially intact pills.