For My Brother by John C. Dalglish Page A

memory for cases had made her famous around the precinct. She could track down files and names better than anyone. At sixty-one, she was still sharp, and prided herself on keeping up with as many cases as she could.
    The Records office could be lonely and was usually quiet, except for the country music Marie kept on the radio. Johnny Cash, Mel Tillis, or some other old country star was always filling the empty room.
    Marie was busy with the regular duties of pulling requested files, and re-filing the ones they were finished with. Jason snuck up behind her and leaned over her shoulder.
    “Boo!”
    “Ahhh!” She clutched her heart. “You scared the crap out of me.”
    “Oh, good. Then I’ve accomplished something today.”
    “Very funny.”
    She smiled up at the detective. Most detectives tended to treat her like their personal librarian, but Jason Strong was not like most detectives. He treated her like family, and she was very fond of him. There wasn’t any piece of information Jason could ask for that wasn’t pushed to top of her list.
    “Whatcha need, or did you just come down to brighten my day?”
    “Not that doing so wasn’t reason enough to visit. However, I do have a request.”
    “Anything for you, Sweet-cheeks.”
    Jason smiled back at her. She had called him that since he first joined the force as a rookie cop.
    “I’m looking for the file on a suicide case. The name is Billy Jarvis.”
    “Oh, I remember that. About ten years ago. Very sad. I believe he was about eighteen.”
    “You’re amazing, Marie. Can you find it for me?”
    “I’ll do my best. Give me some time, and I’ll call you when I locate it.”
    “You’re the best. Thanks.”
    Marie had already turned away as the detective headed out of her office. She loved these kinds of requests. They tested her memory and challenged her ability to locate old files. She was deeply involved in the hunt before the door had even closed behind Jason.

 
     
    Chapter 18
     
     
    Devin James pressed his back up against the garage wall. At fifty-eight, he was in decent shape, but dashing across an open field while trying to stay low was the kind of physical test he wasn’t used to. He leaned on the building and sucked air, waiting for his pulse to slow. He still hadn’t seen any movement.
    Finally able to focus, the reporter crept to the edge of the garage and peered around the corner. The house was about two hundred feet from where he stood. Backtracking to the other corner, he leaned to where he could see the front yard. The van was still in the same place.
    Devin’s breathing had returned to normal and it was time to move. He made a quick dash to the rear wall, ducking below a window. Again, he stopped and listened. He heard voices, but couldn’t tell where they were coming from.
    Slowly lifting his head, he looked over the edge of the windowsill into a living room. No one was in the room, and the TV wasn’t on. He crouched back down, and tried to make out what was being said. Despite his best efforts, all he could hear were muffled words.
    On his knees now, Devin crawled the length of the house and looked around the corner. From there he could see a window into the basement. The voices had gotten a little louder, but there was no other movement. Staying on his knees, he crawled the fifteen feet to the window well. Looking through, it took him a minute to figure out what he was seeing.
    The reporter found himself staring at some sort of a makeshift prison: cell doors with padlocks. He tested the window, and it gave slightly. A pungent odor wafted from inside, and the talking stopped. Then everything went black.
     
    *******
     
    Donnie put down the slab of wood and stared at the reporter.
    This changes everything. He knows where I live and who I am. Billy didn’t say anything about what to do if someone caught on to the plan.
    He reached down and dragged Devin James away from the window. Taking a zip tie, he crossed the man’s hands behind