First Night of Summer Read online

  First Night of Summer is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2013 by Landon Parham

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of the publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Valiant Books

  Dallas, Texas.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Edition

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2012924326

  First Night of Summer / Landon Parham. – 1st ed.

  ISBN 978-0-9888025-1-3

  ISBN 978-0-9888025-2-0 (ebook)

  To Lauren, without whom, I would simply be … without.

  Author’s Note

  Disassociation from reality is the most deplorable act a society can commit. Sweep all the taboo unpleasantries of life under the rug, and there they will reside, just as dangerous, forever lurking beneath the surface.

  In the United States alone, a child goes missing every forty seconds. While most are recovered alive and unharmed, many are forced to suffer the indignity and pain of abuse, often sexual.

  Each year, approximately one hundred of these children are brutally murdered at the hands of their abductors. Countless others are never added to this statistic because they remain lost, never to be found or heard from again.

  Prologue

  Early May

  Jason Smith, a freckle-faced four-year-old, curled his bare toes against the grainy surface of his rooftop. Six inches from the edge, nothing but thin air standing in the way of a two-story plummet to the green grass below, he showed no signs of fear.

  A cool spring breeze came down the Rocky Mountains and rustled his curly red hair in the New Mexico sunshine. A pair of faded black sweatpants, two sizes too small, hugged his chunky legs with a baby fat spare tire hanging over the waistband. His cape, a turquoise bath towel safety-pinned around his neck, completed the homemade superhero ensemble.

  Inch by inch, gripping with his feet, he crept closer to the drop-off. One more step, and that would be it. The mid-century, Craftsman-style home had no safety features to offer once he ventured beyond the eave.

  The visual of a pudgy boy wearing a heinous costume was humorous. His intentions, however, were not. The rambunctious child had recently embarked on a string of wild hair endeavors. None ended well.

  The entire Ruidoso Valley floor was visible from his perch. He felt free in view of the expansive landscape. Trout streams, granite walls, aspen, and pinyon-covered mountains were spread out before him like some magical, Wild West adventure.

  “Watch me fly!” he shouted for the world to hear.

  He puffed up his pale, naked chest, and turned his head to face the sky. The proclamation ricocheted and echoed off the surrounding slopes.

  Jason held his arms wide. Ten toes hung over the shingles, each scrunched in tightly like an eagle’s talons clutched to a limb. There had never been a braver hero—nor a more foolish one.

  “I’m here to thave the day!”

  The situation was serious. Otherwise, his childish lisp might have been comical. A superhero with a speech impediment was the ultimate paradox. Imagine Batman with a voice like Foghorn Leghorn. He would be impossible to take seriously.

  But Jason was no Batman. He was a little boy with a wild imagination and a knack for mischief.

  Before there was time to act, before anyone could threaten him with cruel and unusual punishment, his knees bent beneath the weight of his chubby body and he leapt. The ratty cape followed him on the ride down. His proud expression suddenly turned sour as imagination faded into reality.

  He shrieked like a banshee, a high-pitched tone that only children are capable of, and disrupted the quiet little street. But at the last moment, before colliding with the earth, a tablecloth stretched out beneath him, saving the overzealous child from his folly.

  Part One

  God, forgive those whose atrocities are so great—I will not.

  Chapter One

  Six Days Later

  A pepper spray canister and a .45 Heckler & Koch pistol banged against the wooden deck. Handcuffs, two extra magazines of ammunition, and an ASP tactical baton joined them.

  Isaac Snow was playing a game of keep-away in the side yard with his two daughters, Caroline and Josie, when he heard the noise. He was “it” at the moment and turned to see who their company was.

  “Charlie!” he greeted. “Hey, girls, look who’s here.”

  Charlie Biddle, Ruidoso’s chief of police, had parked his cruiser on the curb. He hung his gun belt on the deck railing, pulled the tan shirttail from his forest green pants, and ambled out into the grass.

  “Uncle Charlie!” both girls shouted in unison.

  Josie made it to him first, leaped into his arms, and squeezed. He quickly had to shift her to one side because Caroline was right behind. She also jumped up and gave her best bear hug.

  “Hey, kiddos!” He was all grins. It didn’t matter what kind of day he was having or what went wrong at work; the eight-year-old twins had a way of lighting him up. “Having fun?”

  “We’re playing keep-away, and Dad’s it,” Josie explained.

  “Well, that doesn’t sound too difficult, now does it?”

  “Let’s see how you do against them.” Isaac threw a soft punch into Charlie’s rotund belly. “They’re getting faster every day.”

  Both girls squirmed to be put down. Caroline grabbed his hand and gave it a tug toward the lawn. Josie got behind him and started pushing.

  “Come play! Come play!” they begged. “Please, Uncle Charlie.”

  He looked at Isaac. “How can I resist?”

  He removed his cap with “Ruidoso PD” embroidered across the front and hung it on the rail with his tactical gear. Sunlight glinted off his exposed scalp from a receding hairline.

  “Should we play teams or just keep it away from your old man?”

  “Teams,” Josie declared.

  “Who are the captains?”

  “We are,” Caroline said in a way that implied a meaning of “Duh.”

  “All right but just a game or two. Your Uncle Charlie needs to take a load off.”

  By the time two games were finished, he was leaning over, hands on his knees, and glazed with perspiration. This is how it had been since the sixth grade. Isaac was the tall, handsome athlete, and Charlie, the polar opposite.

  “That’s it for me.” He made the timeout sign with his hands. “I’m out.”

  “I told you they were getting faster.”

  He nodded and headed for the porch. Through the railing, he could see a blue Igloo cooler and had high hopes that something cold and crisp was inside.

  Up the steps and onto the deck, Isaac pulled two chairs from the table and faced them toward the yard. He popped the tops on two longnecks from the cooler and handed one to Charlie, who graciously accepted and wasted no time in quenching his thirst.

  “Long day?” Isaac asked.

  Charlie paused until he finished swallowing. “Not really, but it’s still good to be off work.”

  Isaac leaned back on the chair legs and stretched his own out in front. He crossed one over the other and rested them on the railing. His tanned skin was exposed below a pair of shorts. Strong, shoeless feet were stained green from running in the lush, fescue lawn.

  Josie and Caroline continued playing while everyone waited for supper to be ready. They sent a Frisbee back and fort
h, trying to catch it while jumping in the air. There was an endless amount of giggling and squealing. To the casual observer, they looked identical. But there were differences. Some, only Isaac and their mother, Sarah, could see, but they were still there. Caroline was a half-inch taller. Josie’s green eyes were slightly darker. Her ears were pierced, but Caroline wanted nothing to do with it. And even though they shared clothes, each had subtle ways to be an individual.

  “Hey, I meant to tell you,” Charlie said. “I saw the girls on the news the other night. Pretty cool stuff.” He kept his gaze on Caroline and Josie. A stream of pride ran through him.

  “Yeah, it was pretty cool.”

  “How’d it go?”

  “It was interesting. A Channel 6 crew came all the way down from Albuquerque and did the interview right here. Between that and the VFW giving them an award—”

  “Hometown heroes.”

  “We’re still not sure who called it in, but they thought the reporter was a lot of fun.”

  “Oooh, yeah.” Charlie shifted in his chair. “I saw her. She as good looking in person as she is on TV?”

  Isaac laughed at his bachelor buddy. “Yeah, she’s pretty, all right. But way too high maintenance. I’ll guarantee you that. Flashy, oversized hair, bright red lipstick, and the whitest teeth I’ve ever seen. That all takes work.”

  “A trophy wife,” Charlie mused.

  “I think we have her card in the house if you’re really interested.” He cocked an eyebrow and waited for a response.

  “Nah.” A thoughtful look was on his face. “She’d probably think I work too much.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what she’d think.”

  Charlie got tickled. His belly bounced up and down with laughter. “Well, good for them.” He toasted with his beer and motioned toward the neighbor’s house where the calamity had unfolded. “If they hadn’t thought of anything, that boy could be laid up with two broken legs right now.”

  Isaac thought of little Jason Smith and how lucky he was that circumstances played into his favor. Charlie was right. Had it not been for Caroline and Josie, there was no telling what his condition might be. It brought back memories of when he himself was a boy.

  * * *

  Isaac’s childhood had been fantastic. His parents took him all over the United States, exposing his young mind to limitless possibilities. And on one of those trips, he found his dream. It happened at a Cannon Air Force Base air show in Clovis, New Mexico. Watching the fighter jet pilots go through their paces had been mesmerizing. His destiny was sealed.

  Charlie, on the other hand, grew up neglected and tossed aside by parents who were only into themselves. A few times, he had even shown up at the Snow’s doorstep in the middle of the night because his mom or dad was on a bender. The people who should have cared the most cared the least.

  But Isaac and his parents, Tom and Helen, had cared and were there for Charlie when no one else was. Now, at only thirty-five, Charlie was the youngest chief of police in Ruidoso history.

  * * *

  “So, you guys going to do anything to celebrate?”

  Isaac crossed his legs the other way. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe go to Disneyland or something?”

  “I’d love to, but you know how it is. My schedule is going to be hectic, at best, this summer. Hopefully we’ll have a wet year, and I’ll get some time off. I don’t know if we’ll be able to swing anything long enough for a trip like that.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Charlie paused. “Sometimes I don’t think this town could get by without me. But then I remember that it was here long before me and it will be here long after I’m gone.”

  “True, but you’re the boss man. What you say goes.”

  “Humph! I’m a simple public servant, and if I’m not seen serving, I can kiss my salary good-bye. Then what am I going to do?”

  Isaac rubbed his face. His thumb and fingers made a scraping sound against a dark, five o’clock shadow that matched his head of thick, black hair. “I haven’t really thought of it that way.”

  “At least you have other pilots to fill in for you. I, my friend, am just one man. No Charlie equals no chief of police.”

  Isaac was a forest fire patrol pilot for the state of New Mexico. His flying credentials from the air force were impeccable and helped land the position. Growing up in the local culture and knowing the terrain also contributed.

  “You know,” he said, “I guess we are taking a trip the first weekend in August. Sarah’s doing her Susan G. Komen Walk for the Cure in Albuquerque. While she’s doing that, the girls and I are flying up to Taos and staying with Mom and Dad for the weekend. I’ll tell them it’s their surprise for saving Jason.”

  “But don’t the three of you take that trip every year? I mean, while Sarah’s doing the cancer walk?”

  Isaac smirked. “Yes, but I’ll see if I can get away with it anyway.”

  “Oh, c’mon. Two little girls—without a moment’s notice, I might add—tried to use a picnic tablecloth to catch a four-year-old boy who jumped off the second-story roof of his house. Not only did they try, but it actually worked. After a twenty-two-foot drop, the kid doesn’t have a bruise on him.”

  “Look, I’m as proud as anyone. But they’re still in school, and I have work. End of summer. That’s the best I can do.”

  Charlie shook his head, a sarcastic show of disappointment. Finally recovered from the keep-away exertion, he tilted his head back and looked at the blue sky. He loved it there in Ruidoso with friends close by. Evenings like these were his favorites. The mountains truly were majestic. What a place to work. What a place to raise a family. What a place to enjoy one’s life.

  “So, what’s for supper?”

  “I think she’s cooking spaghetti.”

  Charlie patted his belly. “That sounds great.”

  “Didn’t we have that last week when you were here?”

  “Yeah … well … Sarah knows it’s my favorite. I’ve been eating spaghetti in that kitchen since your mom used to cook it. Besides, you never complain when putting a third helping on your plate.”

  “So true,” he conceded. “Do you remember when we were in high school and Mom had to double the recipe? We ate so much that Dad thought our legs were hollow.”

  Both men were startled when a hand was placed on their shoulders. Surprised by the touch, they turned around to see that Sarah had joined them on the porch. She looked so much like the twins. Or, rather, they looked so much like her with the same blonde hair, the same green eyes, and the same good looks.

  “Hey, hon.”

  “Hey, Sarah.”

  “Who’s hungry?” she asked.

  For a big man, Charlie was surprisingly quick getting to his feet. He tipped back the beer and slugged down the last couple sips. “That would be me.” He waved at Josie and Caroline. “Come on, girlies. Uncle Charlie’s hungry.” Within two seconds, he was through the door, not bothering to hold it for anyone, and seated at the table.

  Outside, shadows between giant pines were blending into one dusky shade of gray. The pillar-like trees cast their black silhouettes as sentinels around the neighborhood. Evening was nearing its end. The air was peaceful and calm. In the distance, two mountains stretched into the heavens, their peaks reaching for the stars.

  Isaac held the screen door open for Sarah and the twins as he took in the last vestiges of a resplendent day. As a parent and a husband, he felt on top of the world. He and Sarah were settled in a town they loved, had two good girls, friends, and plenty of money to support a comfortable way of life. They didn’t feel the earth tilting on its axis, but it was. The chaos had not yet begun, but it was coming. Soon.

  He stepped into the house and turned his back on the final moments of light. Darkness approached in more ways than one. Someone was watching.

  Chapter Two

  A dangerous man, hidden within the shell of a refined, non-threatening citizen, fantasized over the li
the movements of Caroline and Josie Snow. Ricky Doors suppressed his perverse urges while watching their game of keep-away. In the fading sunlight of evening, long shadows stretched around him. He was in the gray area, concealed from view, exactly where he liked to be.

  The girls enamored Ricky. He sat poised, eyes wide with adoration, watching them run to and fro. Their golden blonde locks rippled in the breeze and shone like celestial bursts of light in his real-life fantasy. Even from his distance, through pocket-sized binoculars, their green eyes were as bright as the spring grass. Their supple skin, so peachy smooth.

  Not for ten lifetimes could I search and find their equal. Purely evil, he put sexual urges aside. He focused on the moment at hand. The scene was so cheerful, not like his life experiences.

  Sure, there were moments of excitement but no true joy. His thrills came from all the wrong things, all the wrong places. As the years rolled by, his moral gray area quantified, further separating darkness from the light, further separating him from the light.

  He was in awe of the twins’ boundless energy and lust for life. He loved the purity in which they played games, rode their bikes, and slept at night. He felt moved by their innocence and how they carried it upon their shoulders each day, light as a feather. Their minds were pure without even trying. What a wonderful feeling that must be.

  He leaned his head against a tree trunk and drifted off into peaceful nothingness. The girls continued playing in the distance, and he took pleasure in their laughter, their squeals of delight. The whole setting was picture-perfect. Spring was quickly leaving and making way for summer’s warmth. The light breeze across his face, the rustling of leaves in his ears, and the cool earth beneath him were like little gifts. True pleasure was in the details, the nitty-gritty, sticky details.

  Tree bark pressed into his scalp. He used the discomfort to sharpen his senses and stay in the present. He was there to watch, to observe. Reconnaissance was the only mission, the place where he needed to keep his mind. The other stuff would come. It all came in due time.