City of Stones (Detective Matt Jones Book 4) by Robert Ellis

Author:Robert Ellis [Ellis, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lippman & Hart
Published: 2021-06-01T16:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-NINE

Matt pulled through the intersection and gunned it, heading north on Mission Road for the freeway entrance. As he began using the street’s shoulder and even crossed the double yellow line to pass cars, he brought Sato’s number up on the dashboard media screen and hit the “Enter” button on his steering wheel. Sato picked up on the first ring and sounded nervous.

“What is it?” Matt said.

“You need to see something,” the reporter said in a harried voice.

“What is it, Sato?”

“You need to see it.”

Matt passed a Subaru lowrider, the teenage driver making room for him and tapping his horn twice with a wave. Fifty yards ahead Matt could see the freeway entrance closing on him fast.

“Where are you?” he said.

“Brooks’s place. I never left.”

“It’s rush hour. We’ll see how it goes.”

Sato paused a moment, then spoke in a lower voice. “You need to be careful coming in, Jones. The marine layer’s thin tonight. I think someone’s out there.”

Matt grimaced. “Cops?”

“I don’t know,” the reporter said. “It’s dark, but I’m hearing noises.”

Sato was losing it. Matt could tell by the reporter’s voice that he was terrified.

“Be cool and sit tight,” Matt said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Matt ended the call, then hit the freeway entrance, accelerating up the ramp and into heavy traffic. The left lane was reserved for carpoolers. Reaching under the seat, he pulled out an LED light bar, set it on the dash, and plugged it into an outlet below the audio system. Once the lights started flashing, he swerved to the left and barreled up the carpool lane pushing slower-moving cars out of the way. Within thirty-five minutes he had reached Manhattan Beach Boulevard, switched off the light bar, and slowed down to a cruising speed that wouldn’t attract attention.

Sato had been right. The fog remained but had thinned some. As he started coasting down the hill, he looked at Brooks’s house, noted that the windows were dark, and began to feel even more uneasy about things. Trying to keep his imagination reined in, he checked the parking lots but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary or anyone who stood out. Still, he turned down Ocean Drive, passing the house slowly and cruising around the block for a second look. When he circled back to Manhattan Beach Boulevard, he drove straight down the hill to the metered lot by the bike path on the sand.

Half the spaces were empty. Matt killed the engine, spending several minutes looking things over. With the lights out, and through the dark mist, Brooks’s house had that spooky feel to it again. Matt pulled out his cell phone, found Sato’s number on his call list, and hit “Enter.” Just as before, the reporter picked up on the first ring and sounded panic-stricken.

“You’re still alive,” Matt said in a low voice.

“That’s not funny, Jones.”

“It wasn’t meant to be, but you’re sitting in the dark.”

“I’ve got a flashlight.”

“What about those noises you said you were hearing?”

“They come and go.”

“What about now?”

“Everything’s quiet.

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