The Vanishing Gary Brown (booksvooks TXT) 📖

CROSS. Police photographers snapped pictures of the parking lot from every angle. Investigators took notes as paramedics tended to Claire. The bodies of the two dead men were placed in black nylon bags, zipped closed, loaded onto stretchers, and wheeled to a waiting coroner’s van.

“Are you hurt, Doctor Prescott?” a man’s voice asked he draped a warm blanket around her.

Claire shook her head. “I’m fine,” she replied. She pulled the wrap tightly around her neck.

“You sure you’re okay?” the officer asked as he helped her to her feet.

“A little shaky, but yes, I think so.”

“Good. My name is Maddox. If you don’t mind, I have some questions I need to ask you as soon as you feel up to answering them. You’ve been through quite an ordeal tonight. I’d rather you not leave here on your own. Is there someone you’d like me to call?”

Claire nodded. “Kelly Patterson.”

“Who is Kelly Patterson, Doctor Prescott?”

“My roommate.”

“No problem. Give me her number and sit back. We’ll locate her right away. If there is anything you need, just ask. My men will take care of it for you.”

“Thank you.”

Maddox walked away, then paused, turned back to Claire. “I knew your father,” he said. “I worked with him on several cases over the years when I was a detective. He was a good man. I reviewed the footage from the security station in the lobby. This could have turned out a lot worse than it did. One guard saw what was happening and called it in. You kept your wits about you under exceedingly difficult circumstances, which probably saved your life. If it helps to say, I think your father would be immensely proud of how you handled yourself tonight.”

“Thank you,” Claire said.

The police officer withdrew a business card from his jacket pocket.

“If you ever need my help, call.”

“Thank you.” Claire read the name on the card. “Inspector, are you aware of how my parents died?”

Maddox nodded. “A car crash, as I recall. I’m terribly sorry.”

“Walter Pennimore spoke to me before he died,” Claire continued. “He told me my parents’ death wasn’t an accident, that they were murdered, and he knew who was responsible. Does the name ‘Kre’ mean anything to you?”

“Kre?”

“Yes. Walter died before giving me the full name. If my parent’s death was not an accident as he claims, then I need to find out who is responsible… who this Kre is. Will you help me do that?”

“Of course.”

The paramedic returned with a wheelchair for Claire.

“Good. Then I’ll call you tomorrow, Inspector.”

“That will be fine,” Maddox replied. “Get some rest tonight, Doctor. And as difficult as it may be, do your best to put this out of your mind.”

10

CLAIRE TOSSED IN her sleep, haunted once again by the dream.

The day of the accident. Languishing in the warm breeze of a midday summer sun, ‘Pretty Lady’ riding the crests of gently rolling ocean swells. Swimming in the inviting Pacific waters. Charting a course back down the coastline to the Paulo Brava Yacht Club. The winding drive up Zion Canyon Road to watch the Fourth of July fireworks celebration from the top of the Point. Her boyfriend, Steve, recognizing the personalized licence plate of her parents Porsche, ‘Dr. P’, as it rounded the turn toward them from the top of the canyon road. Watching in numbed terror as the Porsche suddenly veered out of control and took flight off the cliff. Disbelief giving way to unconsciously surrendered screams. Running to the broken guardrail, only to be pushed back by the concussion and heat from the fiery explosion. Smoke and fire gorging up from the burning wreckage, belching plumes of putrid melting rubber, liquefying plastic, and roasting metal high atop the side of the cliff. Police cars, fire trucks and ambulances racing up the canyon road, sirens blaring, lights flashing, screaming to a halt at the site of the splintered barrier. Officers rushing to control the scene, busily cordoning off the area, keeping curious onlookers at bay. A second fireball, raging up the side of the cliff from the inferno below. Paramedics who had rappelled over the crest of the cliff, scrambling back for their own safety. A voice bellowing through fire engine loudspeakers. The incident commander, demanding all emergency personnel let the fire burn out before attempting another rescue. The frightening reality that below her parents lay dead or dying. Screaming out in desperation as Steve holds her back. She breaks free and tries to climb down the jagged cliff face as Steve runs after her and grabs her by the collar of her blouse, fighting to pull her back up the cliff before she loses her footing and falls, but to no avail. Arms flailing, straining defiantly against his weakening grip, single-mindedly determined to save her parents, she tears free. Particles of sand and gravel give way beneath her feet. She is sliding now down the broken slope, out of control, riding a pebbled carpet of broken clay and tarmacadam, gaining speed with each passing second, her screams mute against the roar of the burning wreckage. Ahead, a slit at the edge of the cliff widens, as though she is being drawn into the mouth of a malevolent demon angrily awakened from its dormant state by the crash below. The precipice rushes towards her, opens its mouth to feed. She slides, faster still, to the edge of the cliff, scratching and clawing at the ground, rolling from side to side, trying desperately to dig in and slow her descent, until at last she slides over the edge. A malevolent, hissing creature, born of roiling smoke and flickering flame, writhes in torment and welcomes her. Through smoke and fire rise the ethereal images of her mother and father, arms wide and welcoming, and she is no longer filled with terror but with serenity, tranquility. They catch her as she falls and carry her on the air, soaring high above the burning wreckage, and place her gently on the edge of the cliff, their ghostly