Drift

by L T Ryan

  Jake held up his cast. “I guess it’ll be a while before you can teach me those moves.”

  “Nonsense.” She lifted her scarred arm into view. “When this happened, my arm was useless for a very long time. I adapted and overcame it, learning to shoot with my left.”

  A glimmer of hope spread across his face. “You can still show me how to feign an attack?”

  “Of course. Sometimes an injury can be one of the best ways to lull an opponent into a false sense of security, making the attack an even bigger surprise.”

  “Enough of all this talk of surprise attacks and violence. I think Jake’s been through enough today.” Hatch’s mother stood. “We’re going to head home. Are you coming with us?”

  “I’ve got some work to do with the Sheriff.”

  Her mother looked down at the gun and badge. She whispered, “Whatever you do, please be safe.”

  The sentiment shocked Hatch, and she had no witty reply. The automatic sliding doors opened and a cold wind enveloped Hatch as her mother and nephew slipped into the night.

  Hatch turned to Savage. “How about we get a bite to eat? Nearly dying’s got me famished.”

  “Sounds good to me. I know just the spot.”

  17

  Clay’s Diner smelled the same as she’d remembered from her high school days. A mix of maple syrup and coffee. The moment the aroma hit, her mouth watered and her stomach knotted. Hatch surveyed the scattered pockets of patrons sipping coffee or having a late meal. For being in a town with a population of less than three thousand, the restaurant always seemed to have customers. More so now. And Hatch assumed it had to do with the shift work at the mine.

  Danielle Franklin walked over as Hatch and Savage took a seat in a booth. “Well, my goodness. Look what the cat dragged in. If it isn’t Rachel Hatch?”

  Danielle had been two grades below Hatch in school, but in Hawk’s Landing the two knew each other well enough. The years had not been good to Danielle. She was frumpy, not fat, but she had a look of perpetual exhaustion. Sadly, Hatch remembered the girl bragging about getting her first job, starting out as busser here at Clay’s. The first job apparently became the only job Danielle would know.

  “Hi, Danielle. It’s been a long time.”

  “My gosh, girl, what happened to you? Looks like you’ve been to hell and back.”

  “Aw this? Been through worse. Got in a car accident.” She shot a glance at Savage.

  “That one over on Main Street?”

  “That’s the one.” Hatch didn’t need to ask how the waitress would know about it. In this town, everybody had heard the news before her truck finished spinning.

  “I’m sorry to hear about Olivia. She was a real sweetheart. She’d come in here from time to time with her kids. They love Clay’s milkshakes.” Danielle paused and looked over at Savage, as if she’d just realized he was there. “Oh goodness, I’m just over here running my trap. I didn’t even see you there, Sheriff. Would you like the usual?”

  “That’d be great.”

  “How about you, Rachel?”

  “I’ll do the meatloaf with a side of mashed potatoes.”

  “Sure thing.” Danielle gave a slight bat of her eyes toward Savage.

  As Danielle started walking away, Hatch called out to her, “Can you add a short stack to my order as well?”

  Danielle gave a thumbs up without breaking stride.

  “Did you just add a side of pancakes to your meatloaf dinner?”

  “Yup. I told you I was starving.” Hatch smiled.

  “What?”

  “Looks like you’ve got yourself a little bit of a fan club.”

  Savage shrugged her off and changed the subject. “Why don’t you lay out your theory on why you’re hell bent on going after Chisolm’s company?”

  Hatch reached into her back pocket and pulled out the piece of paper, unfolding it on the table between them.

  “What’s this?”

  “Take a look and you tell me.”

  Savage leaned forward, looming over the table as he examined the image. Hatch again got the scent of licorice. “Looks like the lake. Not sure what the boundary lines are. Where’d you get this?”

  “Olivia’s room. I found it in her journal.”

  Savage sat back. “Any idea why she had it? Anything noted in her journal?”

  “No. It was just stuffed inside.”

  “And you think this has something to do with her death?”

  “I do.” Hatch tapped her finger on the red circle. “That’s Jed Russell’s property. Speaking of, what did you end up doing with him?”

  “Sinclair got a sworn statement from him. He denies having any contact with your sister and continued his claim that he was fishing on the night she disappeared. He added his conspiracy theory about members of Nighthawk Engineering coming by and harassing him after he refused a buyout option. And then he was returned home.”

  “So, you believe him?”

  “Not necessarily, but we have his statement. Once I compile the evidence, I’ll determine if we’ve got enough for an arrest warrant.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me?” Hatch pushed back in her seat. The old vinyl squeaked. She sipped her bitter coffee. “I just showed you the map. Russell’s property is being sought after by Chisolm.”

  “Land deals happen all the time. Hell, from what I understand, that company has bought up a bunch of places around the lake over the last few years.” He tapped on the map. “I’ve got a different theory. This map with Russell’s home circled was in your sister’s possession. Maybe she went to his place to try and sway his decision. Maybe Chisolm decided using a softer approach might yield a more positive result. Your sister goes to the house and Jed decides to take out his anger on her.”

  “Please tell me you’re not seriously entertaining this idea.”

  “I don’t know. All I’m saying is sometimes the simplest solution is the right one. Your sister was murdered on his property. He’s obviously got some anger issues.”

  “Does he seem like the type of guy to tie up a girl in his shed? I’d be more apt to follow your train of thought if she’d been found with a gunshot wound. And you still haven’t accounted for the fact that I saw one of Chisolm’s guys moments before my crash.”

  “Bo’s shop is closed. I put a call in. Hopefully, I can ease your suspicion.”

  “Or confirm it.”

  Savage slid the paper back across to Hatch’s side of the table, and she returned it to her pocket. The waitress returned and halted the conversation. She placed Savage’s plate first. “Here you go, Sheriff.”

  Hatch received her food but with less care. “Anything else I can get you two?”

  Savage shook his head. “I think we’re good for now. I wouldn’t mind a top off on my coffee when you get a chance.”

  Danielle smiled and then went to check on her other tables.

  “Something I’ve been meaning to ask,” Hatch said.

  Savage stopped before taking a bite into his tuna on rye and waited. The sandwich hung in front of his mouth and he sighed.

  “Licorice.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve noticed it several times. Do you have some secret obsession with the candy?”

  Savage laughed. “I used to smoke. Tried quitting a million times. Nothing worked. Then one day a guy I arrested had a bag of it on him while he was being booked. I asked him about it. And he told me it was how he quit. Of course, I was leery to take the advice of a murderer, but low and behold—it worked.” He pulled a bag containing bite-sized squares of black licorice from the inner pocket of his jacket. “Never leave home without it.”

  She laughed. “Tell me—how did a licorice-eating homicide detective from Denver end up in little old Hawk’s Landing?”

  Savage took a bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly as if buying time. Hatch waited and dug into her meatloaf. It tasted as she’d remembered. The hot sauce Clay blended into his ketchup topping lingered on her to
ngue with just the right amount of heat.

  Savage swallowed his sandwich, then cleared his throat. “I shot a kid.”

  Hatch stopped chewing. She nodded and held no judgment in her eyes, though inside she played out a short film of what might’ve happened. In her core, she felt every emotion Savage might have in the moments and days following the incident. But nothing in her world was ever black and white. In the blurred gray was a truth few could understand, unless they’d walked the same path.

  “Well, he wasn’t a kid,” Savage said. “He was nineteen, but a kid to me.”

  “Did the department hammer you for it?”

  “No. That’s the thing. I was heralded as a hero. But it just made it worse.”

  Danielle came back over with her pot of fresh coffee. Steam rose as she refilled both cups. She must’ve noticed the intensity of the conversation because she made no attempt at flirtations or small talk before departing.

  “I was assisting the robbery squad. They were tracking a crew hitting a bunch of Burger Kings at closing. A real professional group. They timed their hits when the stores were empty, just before locking up. Three of them. They used guns to threaten the workers and control them, pushing them into the manager’s office where they would go for the safe’s cash.” He paused to add a spoonful of sugar to his coffee. He stirred, staring at the swirling black liquid mix with a fading foam head. “They were good. Fast and effective takeover. And long gone before any units arrived. We had no leads.”

  “Then how’d you catch up to them?”

  “They’d hit most of the Burger Kings in that section of town. We later learned the ringleader was a former employee who got fired for stealing. That’s why they were so familiar with the store’s layout and routine. There were only three more restaurants in the area, so we staked them out. Every night for a week. On the seventh day, we saw the crew pull up. The orders were to take them upon exit, once they were clear of any potential hostages. Their M.O. had been to lock the employees in the manager’s office after each hit.”

  A plate crashed in the kitchen, causing Savage to snap his head. Retelling the story had put him on edge.

  “I didn’t mean to dredge up the bad stuff,” Hatch said. “Feel free to tell me it’s none of my business.”

  “No. It feels good to talk about it. Not something I’ve done enough of.”

  “I understand that completely.”

  “Everything was going according to plan. While the crew was inside, my partner and I staged behind their getaway car. A few minutes later, they exited. When the three men were within a few feet of their vehicle, we revealed ourselves and began giving commands. It went sideways quickly. One of them ran and my partner broke into a foot chase, leaving me alone with the other two. I told them to drop their guns and get on the ground. One kid complied, the other didn’t. He raised his gun. I got off three shots before he could fire on me.”

  “Sounds like a clean shoot to me. Kill or be killed. He made the choice and you answered.”

  “I guess.” He slid his mug from his left hand to the right, and back again. “Except it wasn’t a gun.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It was a pellet gun. Realistic as hell, but it wasn’t real.”

  “Under those circumstances nobody would be able to tell. I mean, some of those things are perfect replicas. How manufacturers get away with it is beyond me.”

  “It doesn’t take away from the fact that I killed a nineteen-year-old boy holding a plastic pellet gun.”

  Hatch could see the pain in his face. She could feel it tightening her lungs and diaphragm, knotting her stomach. Her words didn’t console, and they were ones he’d probably heard a thousand times over from friends and coworkers and therapists.

  She bit her lip. “Maybe it’s time you heard my story.”

  Savage looked relieved, as if shifting the topic lifted his burden.

  Hatch said, “I was assigned to a unit tasked with locating and interrogating high value targets. I won’t talk much about that for reasons you already assumed when trying to backdoor my military records. To say the job was dangerous would be an understatement. I was in charge of interrogations but was brought on the capture missions so I could begin the rapport building immediately when the target’s mind would be the most unprepared and disorganized.”

  “I can only imagine the training you had to go through.”

  “Good reason you should probably listen to my gut on Jed Russell. I rarely misread a person or situation.”

  “Point taken. Please continue.”

  “We were deep in an area of the country not too fond of American soldiers. Not many places are, but this was worse than most. We were pinned down by a sniper. Our team leader was working on calling in air support when I saw this girl. Hard to tell her age because of the abaya she wore. It’s like an outer garment cloak. Her face was covered. But I remember her eyes, a golden brown. If I had to guess, she was in her teens. Something was off. She kept approaching our Humvee, taking small steps. In the dress, it almost looked as though she were floating across the terrain. I raised my gun and gave her commands in Arabic to stay, but she kept coming, step by delicate step. By the time I saw the cellphone in her hand, it was too late. I’d allowed her to get too close. I pulled the trigger, but the bomb strapped to the girl’s torso exploded.”

  Pain seared through her arm. She unclenched her fist and traced her hand along the web of scar tissue.

  “That’s how you got that?”

  “The tattoo? No, that was at a parlor in Florida.” She gave him a weak smile.

  Savage returned it with about as much emotion as he could in the moment. “What’s it say?”

  She held her arm out. “You can’t figure it out?”

  He took her hand in his. His touch was gentle. His fingers rough. “It’s no use...uh, going back...to yesterday? Is that right?”

  Hatch nodded. “Because I was a different person then.”

  “And that’s from Alice in Wonderland?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s the last thing my mother and I enjoyed together.”

  He glanced at the table as though he had another story to tell. “Back to the scar.”

  “Got it that day,” she said. “A constant reminder to never let my guard down. And to always trust my instincts. But this arm is nothing. I lost a good friend to that blast. A blast I could’ve prevented. Now, do you see why you made the right call in that Burger King parking lot? You saw a threat and addressed it. Hesitation costs lives.”

  “Is that why you left the Army?”

  “Yes and no. Rehabilitation of this arm took a while. It functions at about sixty percent of what it used to. So, I learned how to use my left. Retraining my firearms and hand-to-hand skills to my weak side took time. I had to prove myself to my old team. Go back through the Q Course a second time.”

  “The Q Course? Isn’t that the Green Berets?”

  “Yes. But any member of our task force, regardless of position, was required to successfully pass the twenty-four-day selection course. It was one of many obstacles to become part of my unit. I was the only female to have ever attended and completed the course on two separate occasions.”

  “I’m impressed. But I’m not shocked. I’m looking at a person who’s eating meatloaf and pancakes after being crushed in a brutal car crash.”

  All the memories of the day and the past escaped with Hatch’s burst of laughter. Savage joined in. The lightness was welcome, if brief.

  “Well, the Army didn’t see it that way,” Hatch said. “Even after passing the requirements and with the endorsement from my former unit’s team leader, the Army said no. I was allowed to remain on active duty, but I was assigned a desk job. You probably wouldn’t guess this, but I’m not exactly the office type.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.”

  “Yeah, right. So, I packed up and left. The Army was gracious enough to give me a medical re
tirement. It’s not much, but it supports my drifting habit.” She sliced up a pancake with her fork. “I’ve been trying to find my way since.”

  “You’re here now. Maybe the silver lining in this whole thing is you belong in Hawk’s Landing. Maybe this is your second chance at things.”

  “Let’s figure out who killed my sister before I start worrying about second chances.”

  “Fair enough. What are you thinking?”

  “Trust me enough to make decisions now?”

  Savage shrugged.

  “Got access to the town hall after hours?”

  Savage took the last bite, finishing off his sandwich. He extended a large key ring from a lanyard clipped to his belt. “I’ve literally got the keys to the city.”

  18

  “What are we looking for exactly?”

  Hatch popped her head up from a file cabinet. The musty smell of dirty carpet and old manila folders filled her nose. “Not sure. I’ll know it when I see it.”

  “Makes it kind of hard for me to help with the search.”

  “You did help. You unlocked the door.”

  Savage rolled his eyes.

  “Basically, I’m looking for all the land deeds and records of sale since Nighthawk Engineering came to town.”

  Savage walked over to a closed office. The stenciled letters read, Town Manager. He jingled the keychain. He tried several before caving to the fact the key was missing. “Any of your special training ever include picking a lock?”

  Hatch returned a file to its rightful place and stood, closing the cabinet. It squeaked on uneven tracks and banged shut. She walked toward Savage with a broad grin. “Of course.”

  Within a matter of seconds, Hatch had the door open.

  “MacGyver, eat your heart out,” Savage said.

  “Just wait until you see what I can do with a bobby pin and a couple of rubber bands.”

  Savage chuckled as he entered the office space of Town Manager Thad Cramer. He walked over to the four-drawer file cabinet near a bookcase by the window. He toggled the latch and pulled the handle and the top drawer rolled open. “Shall we?”