Fool's Bluff

by Lee Gregg

  She ignored her dad for the moment and asked Ben, “Can we meet tomorrow morning? Coffee at the Surge?”

  “Yeah, of course. Anytime, wherever.”

  “Can you ask Drew, Pips and Cara to come too?”

  “Oh,” he said flatly, looking disappointed. “Yeah, sure. I’ll text them now.” He sat with his head down, his iPhone open in front of him as he typed on the screen.

  Sam hesitated before rejoining her dad. She glanced over her shoulder at him and saw him raise his eyebrows and offer a smile, welcoming her return. Looking back at Ben, she bent over and wrapped her arms around him. She had wanted to whisper so many things in his ear, but the words stuck in her throat as they usually did during critical moments when something profound needed to be said. She hugged Ben as tightly as she could instead.

  Sam turned to see the police lights cut out, leaving the neighborhood in darkness. Although she knew she had done the right thing tonight, she wondered what tomorrow would bring. The night was passing quickly, but still, morning could not come soon enough.

  * * *

  Dan peeked into his daughter’s bedroom. There he stood watching her — just as he had done thousands of times before when she was a baby — waiting to see the blankets lift and fall gently with each breath and relaxing with a sense of relief, knowing that his daughter was okay. That tiny movement from her chest inhaling and exhaling had been everything he had lived for as a young father. He recalled feeling complete contentment, comforted by the signs of a healthy baby, but as he stood at Sam’s door now, his feelings of comfort were clouded with worry.

  Dan walked around his home for the fifth time since returning from the clinic, looking at doors, windows and locks. He poked his head into Elaine’s office and paused for a minute, waiting to see the thin body in the sleeping bag move. Cara shifted on her side and he released the tiny breath he had been holding for her. It didn’t matter that he’d only just met her, she was a minor sleeping under his roof and he felt as responsible for her health and safety as he did for Sam’s.

  Dan sat on the sofa, arms crossed, like a guard on duty, still unnerved by the fact that someone had broken into his home and hurt his child. Fortification and security planning would start tomorrow.

  After several hours, he returned to his room, leaving his door wide open. From his pocket, he pulled out the bent listening device he had retrieved from the Chief’s office. He removed the tiny memory card, cursing as it jammed in the reader. He tried to fix the card, inserting it and adjusting it repeatedly until, finally, it fit into the reader. After readying himself with headphones and a notebook, Dan clicked ‘Play.’ Nothing happened.

  He fiddled with the card again, straightening it even more and then blowing off some debris. This time when he tried to play the recording, he heard a voice. It was the Chief’s. The audio was clear, but the content was not.

  “Joe here. We need to talk. I think we need to release another statement. No, now, I understand that, but—” The audio got fuzzy and broken, like a bad line on a long-distance call during a storm. “The tie — the share — these are good — now, that’s not — yes, sir. I understand, but with operation didn’t ya—”

  The recording abruptly cut off and that was it. This was all he would get for his efforts. He locked the memory card in his safe, thinking that it might still be useful if he could find the right person to help him retrieve the data from it.

  Dan thought about what he could glean from what he did hear. For starters, he was sure that the call related to the Black case. There had been no other statements issued on any other topic by the Department in recent weeks. But even with that knowledge, it was difficult to understand its meaning. Had the Chief been talking to Mayor Baylor? Who else would he call “sir”? And what operation was he talking about? The questions swirled in Dan’s head all night, keeping him awake and alert.

  Even without a clear statement, the effort to obtain the recording had proven worthwhile. The Chief had said enough to confirm his suspicions. Now he knew it for certain. They were brothers on the same force, but they weren’t serving the same communities.

  Dan watched the sunrise through his bedroom window. The skies were clear for the first time since the big storm and a new light shined down on Glacier Village.

  42

  Ben, Drew and Penelope stood up from their seats as Sam and Cara walked through the door at Glacier Surge.

  “Oh my goodness! Come here, sister,” Penelope said, giving Sam a hug that initiated more hugs and greetings within the group. “We got you guys hot chocolates.” She pulled Sam to the chair beside her.

  “How stupid do you have to be to attack a detective’s daughter?” Drew asked as everyone settled into their seats around the table. “I hope they throw away the key. Dude is a psycho.”

  “So, Sam and I were talking,” Cara started, her cheeks turning pink. “Would anyone be interested in taking martial arts or self-defense lessons, if there are any in town?”

  “Oh, I’d totally be into that,” Penelope said, almost cutting Cara off with her reply.

  “Yeah, me too,” Drew echoed. “Brother, you in?”

  Ben nodded. “Sure.” He shifted in his seat and kept his eyes on his drink. Sam watched him rub his mug with his thumb and noted that the whipped cream on top had not been disturbed while Drew and Penelope’s cups were half empty.

  “Alright, the notorious Angel of Karma hasn’t posted anything new yet,” Drew said. “We should figure out what we want to publish to get ahead of whatever they’re going to push.”

  “Wait a sec,” Penelope said. “Ben, do you know about Wesley’s vid—”

  “I haven’t had a chance to fill him in,” Drew interrupted. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to anyone about anything since last time.”

  “Okay. So, Ben,” Penelope began, “we think Wesley and Mack might have been involved in your kidnapping. Someone from our group had to have been involved to know exactly where you were that night. And we found a video he made that shows—”

  “Alright, just wait,” Drew interrupted again. “The video suggests that they were involved, but have we totally ruled out psycho Wade? I don’t think so, right? I mean, after what he did to Sam—”

  “He was involved,” Sam said, looking at Cara. “The number we got from Cara’s seller was traced back to Richard Pratt.”

  Puzzled looks shot back and forth across the table.

  “Wade’s uncle, Dick,” said Cara, sounding surprised and refusing to fix her eyes on anything for more than half a second.

  “Was Wade the reason your phone was broken during orientation?” Sam asked as gently as she could.

  “He saw me helping Ben and Drew at the BEE and got the wrong impression. It was just another bad misunderstanding.”

  “And, did he look through your phone regularly, Cara?” Sam asked.

  Cara nodded. “He always went through my browser and phone history. I don’t have anything to hide, so I didn’t really care.” Cara paused before an idea came to her and she let out a tiny gasp. “Do you think that he recognized his uncle’s number when he was looking through my phone and tipped him off? I didn’t know that he had anything to do with stealing Ben’s stuff. I swear, guys.”

  “I think Uncle Dick is our creeper and our seller,” Sam said, turning from Cara to the group. “Here’s a picture of him. One of the houses on Diamond Ridge captured this image on their security cameras. My dad says he’s a suspect in a string of auto thefts up there.”

  “The Creeper! Look at that badge on his jacket!” Drew said, picking up the photo. “Alright, then he’s our kidnapper too.”

  Sam gave her hot chocolate a stir and took a sip. She kept her eyes on her drink and her lips closed tight.

  “Wait a sec. He stole Ben’s stuff, that’s a fact. But are we sure Wesley and Mack weren’t involved at all? I’m not so sure. How are we going to prove it was either Wade and his Uncle Dick or Wesley and Mack?” Penelope asked.

  “P
ublic humiliation?” Cara suggested.

  “Yeah,” Drew said, nodding. He rubbed his hands together as he vocalized his thoughts. “Alright, we have to update the site with all the new information. Pile on the public pressure. We can get our own shirts printed with #JusticeForBen. Chief Constable Joe won’t have any choice but to revamp the investigation. If we can do all this, the cops should be able to help out at least a little bit, I hope. Ugh. The system is so useless. We might have to see this thing through to end all by ourselves, guys.”

  “We could start a fundraiser, raise money for our own private investigation too,” Penelope suggested.

  “Yeah, exactly. Hire our own guns who answer to us, and only us. Mack would be heading the private investigation for the Blacks, but if he’s involved in the kidnapping, he’s probably doing jack. You know what, Wes might not even be wittingly involved. What if Mack was tracking you and Wes the whole time, Benji? That’s his job as head of security, isn’t it? Alright, alright, we have a lot of updating to do.” Drew picked up his phone. “Someone needs to go to jail for this.”

  Sam glanced at Ben. He was staring into his mug, his shoulders caved in towards the table.

  Last night, Sam had been sure about her decision, knowing in her gut that she had done the right thing. But sitting here now, she felt a tiny seed of doubt in her belly as she listened to the questions being asked around the table. What if he didn’t say anything? How long would her friends continue looking for answers, especially if they were determined to see this investigation through to the end? Was she really prepared to let it drag on for the rest of her life? Who else would get implicated and join the list of casualties, and how would they suffer from being accused? What if someone was arrested? Or convicted? Wouldn’t it have been smarter not to have handed over the only piece of evidence that could have laid all these questions to rest?

  Sam could see Ben’s hand shaking as he picked up his mug and brought it to his lips. Drops of hot chocolate spilled over the lip of the mug and he put it back down without taking a sip. The sound of a low rattle vibrated in her ears as the mug clattered on the table.

  “Wait Drew,” Ben whispered.

  This was it, Sam thought, holding her breath. She felt a dull ache in her heart as she imagined what Ben was going through.

  “It was me.” Ben’s voice was barely audible.

  The table fell silent as Drew, Penelope and Cara exchanged looks of confusion while Sam and Ben were focused on the drinks in front of them.

  “I staged the kidnapping.” Ben’s chin trembled as he spoke. “It wasn’t supposed to happen the way it did. Ryder’s death is my fault and everything that’s happened to Sam…it’s all my fault. I don’t know how to live with myself, guys.” Ben looked up to face his friends, his red eyes filled with tears. The look of anguish on his face was unmistakable.

  His comments were met with stunned silence and Sam could hear the splat of his tears as they hit the table. Ben reached over to a stack of napkins, exposing a bandaged wrist as he pinched one between his fingers.

  “Oh my goodness, Ben! Did you…?” Penelope gasped as her eyes widened in fear and shock. Ben pulled his hand back sharply and didn’t answer.

  Sam had thought that getting the vindication she had worked so hard for would make her feel happy, relieved and satisfied. But she didn’t feel any of those things at all. How could she? Her heart was breaking for Ben.

  “You’re kidding, right Benji?” Drew said, not noticing Ben’s bandage or realizing what Penelope had been referring to. “Wes got the kidnapper’s text when we came down from the mountain and I saw your iPhone in your sleeping bag. I brought it down with me.”

  “I got a burner phone. That’s why I was late meeting you at the BEE before orientation.”

  The image of Ben playing with his flip phone as he melted snow at the first campsite flashed through Sam’s mind. She hadn’t registered it then, but now she could see the scene clearly.

  “But how did Wade and his uncle steal your stuff?” Cara asked.

  “I packed a small bag — the one Sam mentioned last night — in addition to my avalanche bag. It had extra gear in it, but everything was gone when I opened it up after leaving camp. I found a blanket inside instead. They must have swapped it at the first campsite when Wes tented with Drew and me and we left our bags out.”

  “I don’t get it, brother,” Drew said, his brows furrowed as he struggled to understand. You’ve got your trust fund. That ransom doesn’t even make a dent.”

  “It wasn’t about the money. I just…I needed to know if Jefferson would step up. I figured he’d get the text, confirm payment and it’d be over in an hour.”

  “But he did confirm payment. Wesley told Drew that your dad handled it,” Penelope said.

  “Yeah. I know your dad is pretty tough on you, but you really didn’t know that he would care enough about you to pay a tiny ransom? I mean, he is your dad after all,” Drew said.

  Ben stared at the mug in front of him, rubbing at the print.

  “Just because someone is related to you doesn’t mean they really care. I get why you did it, Ben. It’s better to know than to wonder,” Cara said. Her gaze fell to the table and her voice grew softer still. “I wondered for years, but I know now.”

  “At least your dad came through for you when it counted, right?” Drew said with a hopeful smile, obviously trying to make everyone feel a little better.

  Sam watched Ben as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat again. He had been rubbing the print on his mug so hard that it now read “Glacier urge.”

  Ben’s Adam’s apple jerked up and down several times before he spoke. “Yeah. I sent the ransom text just outside of camp. Figured I’d hike down the mountain myself once I got a reply, but the storm got me. I got disoriented and I thought I was heading down, but I ended up on this cornice on the other side. It broke off, I broke my leg and I was lucky there was a cave right there to crawl into. Couldn’t get any bars for my burner in there. And then Sam found me.”

  Ben glanced up at Sam and she knew that the look had been driven by insecurity. He was unsure if she would reveal his secret. She pulled her chin up into a semi-smile in an effort to comfort him. She had no interest in telling anyone about the text messages she had read on his flip phone last night. No one needed to know that Ben was lying. Not about receiving a message back from his father after he had received Ben’s ransom note but about what that response had said. If Ben didn’t want to share the fact that his father had refused to pay the ransom, that he didn’t care about Ben’s safety, and that he hadn’t even responded after Ben sent a second text pleading for help after getting lost, then Sam wasn’t going to tell anyone either. That was his secret.

  “We should delete the site and all the social media right away,” Drew said, his voice firm.

  “So suddenly the truth doesn’t matter anymore, Drew? No offense Ben, I’m not saying anything about publishing anything or taking anything down. I’m just wondering what happened to ‘Mr. The Truth Needs To Come Out.’ You were more than happy to publish smack about Sam and Steve and Aiden,” Penelope said.

  “Ben is my brother,” Drew said.

  “And the Blacks are rich and powerful and you don’t want to step on any toes?” Penelope said. “Sorry Ben.”

  “It’s not that at all,” Drew said.

  “What is it then?” Cara asked.

  Drew shrugged and gazed out the window. When he turned back to face the group, his forehead was creased with concern. “Sam, I’m really sorry.” His voice had notes of sincerity and regret that Sam had never heard from him before and she felt a tiny burst of relief. He was never on Wesley’s side, she realized. He was on Ben’s side. They were brothers, even if they weren’t related by blood. Family were people who wanted more for you than they wanted from you, who thought about you not only on special occasions, who offered help discreetly when it wasn’t convenient and who would do anything to protect you from being hurt. Drew might have b
een the only real family Ben had. And though Ben was a member of a large pedigree of Blacks, he was alone. But he did have Drew. And now, after everything she’d learned, Ben had her too, even if he didn’t know it.

  “It doesn’t matter. I don’t care what people think. I know the truth,” Sam said, recognizing that she would rather have died than said those words only a few days ago.

  “No. That’s not how this is going to go down. Take everyone off the Persons of Interest list. Just delete that section completely. I’ll write a post or make a video,” Ben said. “The truth should come out.”

  43

  Ben uploaded his video confession that afternoon with help from Drew and Penelope. It stayed online for three hours before Mack asked Drew to delete the website, the video and all social media sites associated with the campaign. But three hours was enough time for the news to spread, for trolls to comment and for anonymous Internet users to download the information and reupload it to other sites.

  Mack took care of the copies quickly, like he was a grandmaster whack-a-mole champion of torrents and scrapers. Copies got taken down within an hour of publication and soon died off as Mack tracked the IP addresses of offenders and compelled their compliance in stopping the spread of the materials, a feat that is usually impossible for any digital material already on the Internet. But clearly, Mack could be very persuasive.

  Ryder’s autopsy report had been leaked to the Times, who published the story immediately, claiming that Ryder had been “hopped up on drugs” at the time of his death and had been unfit to aid the Glacier Rescue team on that callout. But it wasn’t enough that he had died. According to the Times, he had endangered the other members of the group with his careless use of drugs, an opinion the newspaper published without interviewing any member of Glacier Rescue. There was no response from the Conway family, a result of being paid off, shamed, or otherwise silenced, some villagers speculated. They wondered who would pick up the Conway family’s side of the story anyway?