No Coming Back by Keith Houghton Page A

gone. Taken. Lost. Possibly dead. And all our imaginary flights of fancy are clipped, crashing to earth, aflame.
    I never saw Jenna again. My childhood sweetheart.
    Until today.
    “Olson.”
    I look up from my feet, so distracted by my thoughts that I haven’t noticed the cop car pull up to the curb ahead of me or the officer standing next to the open passenger door. It’s not Krauss’s Interceptor. It’s a black-and-white Ford Mustang with black alloys. One of those muscle cars driven by men with inferiority complexes. The officer has a metal Chief pin on his collar, polished to perfection .
    Shane Meeks.
    He’s early forties, with short white-blond hair and irises the color of glacial lakes. Imagine a grown-up version of a child from the movie Village of the Damned , and here he stands. The similarity is not restricted to his external appearance either. Internally, Meeks is just as disconnected from his humanity as one of those soulless Hollywood half-breeds. As a teenager, Meeks was a bully. On several occasions the only thing standing between me and his fist was my brother. More than once there was no intervention.
    “Get in,” he says. “I mean it, Olson. Don’t mess with me. Get in. I’m not asking.”
    I drop inside. Meeks goes round to the driver’s side and slides in behind the wheel, closes the door.
    The vehicle smells of coffee and cologne. Both of them cheap.
    “Congratulations on the promotion, Meeks. They say scum always floats to the top.”
    My comment is rewarded with a sneer: “Don’t get smart with me, Olson. This isn’t a good day to get smart. Close the door; you’re letting the heat out.”
    I don’t. I leave one foot on the road. “What do you want, Meeks?”
    His lips curl with contempt. Meeks never hid the fact he disliked me, loathed me. He had his reasons. None of them made any sense.
    “Let’s you and I get something straight from the get-go,” he says. It’s not quite a snarl, but the sentiment’s the same. “It’s Chief Meeks to you now. I’m the law in this town. Round here, I’m top of the food chain. I own people like you and I don’t like the smell of bullshit. One whiff of it and I’ll come down heavy, like a brick shit house falling from on high. You get me? If you think Harper’s a soft landing, you’re mistaken. Give me an ounce of trouble and you’ll pay for it by the pound.”
    This is our first conversation as adults and already he’s acting childish. I’m not intimidated by his little ‘get out of Dodge’ speech. Meeks is small-fry compared with some of the bullies I’ve had to deal with, insignificant. We both know it.
    His colorless eyes frisk me over. Balls of inhuman ice rolling round in their sockets. He’s smaller than I remember, just like everything else around here.
    He taps a piece of chewing gum from a packet and pops it in his mouth. “Harper’s not the same place it was twenty years ago. Most folks have moved on. Got themselves whole new lives. They don’t need some convicted troublemaker dredging up the past and making them feel uneasy all over again.”
    “That’s not why I’m here.”
    “Yeah, sure. And I guess time will prove it one way or the other. I heard what happened with your dad and I’m sympathetic to a point. He was a better man than you’ll ever be and didn’t deserve a runt like you, and that’s the only reason I’m giving you a little latitude here. All the same, it’s a big mistake on your part coming back. Jenna’s murder hit this town hard. Feelings still ride high in some quarters. Everybody knows you killed her. Understandably, some folks still hold a grudge.”
    And I have no doubt Meeks is one of them.
    Prior to my arrest, Meeks had an unhealthy interest in seeing Jenna’s killer brought to a swift justice. Meeks knew Jenna through association with Gavin, her older brother, who was his best buddy in those days. They were a deadly double act, like an evil Abbott and Costello. Back then, Meeks was