“Wow. That’s pretty dramatic. A long-time employee test-drives a car. Did you call SWAT?”
“Just shut it, okay?” Pavlov stopped, raised a leg. Ty said, “I’m thinking what’s up with that? Tony’s taking a car out before it goes through the process. He only works a couple hours a week, and he’s not a salesperson—in fact I don’t even know what the hell he does. So I ask Miranda about it, and she says it’s just something Tony does from time to time. He always signs it out. No big deal, and Harvey gave his okay. ‘So why do you care?’ she wants to know. I say, ‘Forget I asked,’ and went about my business.”
Pavlov moved on. Cory thought the bush looked like it was hit by a firehose.
Ty said, “Well, as luck would have it, the Civic shows up in my detail station the next day. I’ve got my trusty crevice tool out and am working between the door and the front passenger seat—and see this.” Ty pulled something shiny out of his pocket, gave it to Cory.
It was a necklace. Cory knew it looked familiar, but couldn’t quite place it. A thin silver chain with a small angular cross for a pendant. The clasp was still intact.
“Flip it over,” Ty said.
Cory looked at the back of the pendant. Squinted, saw KS♥OT etched in the silver. Then he remembered where he saw the necklace. Kayla wore it at the CPR class. It dangled from her neck when she was doing chest compressions. She had to tuck it into her T-shirt, but it kept falling out, interrupting her rhythm. In fact he made a joke about it: And the coroner’s report said death by pendant. The OT must have been Oliver Tice.
“It’s Kayla’s,” Ty said.
“I know. How do you know?”
“She had it on at that party. She kept twisting it when we talked.”
They walked in silence for a few paces. Cory didn’t feel as hungry as he did when they started their walk. “So this strange thing that happened at work is really about you wondering how Kayla’s necklace got into the car that Tony was driving?”
“Yup.”
Cory flashed back to his conversation with Kayla, when she told him why she was in the gazebo smoking weed: It relaxes me. So I come here and smoke up before I have to do something I don’t want to do. Dots started to form. He just needed to connect them.
“When did Tony take the Civic?”
“Yesterday, around five.”
“Can you get the sign-out logs from Miranda?”
“Way ahead of you, bro.” Ty pulled three folded sheets of paper from his back pocket. They had entries from the past three months. “I copied them when she was on her break. And no one takes more breaks than her.”
Cory scanned the entries. Ty had highlighted all the dates with Tony’s initials. There were four, dating back to January 7. The most recent was yesterday. Cory was looking for something about three weeks ago that would correlate with when he was walking in the park and saw Kayla in the gazebo. And there it was, five up from the bottom:
May 10 | 5:00pm OUT | 5:35pm IN.
The dots connected. He handed the sheets back to Ty. “You think Tony’s taking cars from the lot and using them to hook up with Kayla?”
“That’s right. But why?”
“I don’t know. But there has to be a good explanation.”
“Like what?”
“Maybe he was counseling her.”
“Right. And she takes off her necklace for that?”
“All right. Maybe he found her necklace at the park and was going to give it to her, borrowed a car from the lot instead of driving his own car, and then lost it in that car just before he gave her the necklace.” Cory knew that wasn’t the answer either, but he had to say something while his brain tried to come up with a better explanation.
“Wow,” Ty said, his eyes wide with mock admiration. “And I thought you were going to say that he was slipping her the old wicked weasel. Of course he just randomly found her necklace, randomly checked out the car on the same day you were randomly in the park, and then randomly lost the necklace, which I just happened to randomly find—on the passenger side of the car. Of course that’s what happened! You’re such a freaking genius!”
Stalling for time, Cory said, “Wicked weasel? Where’d you hear that one?”
“I was watching cartoons with Justin.”
Cory suppressed a smile, thinking that whatever truth Ty had uncovered here, it would not be funny. He looked at the necklace again, felt a seed of anger rising that he hadn’t felt since Portland, since that night when Benny showed them the motorcycle and sent their world spinning. He took a breath and pushed it down. Cory showed the necklace to Ty. “Can I hang on to this?”
“Sure. Are you going to give it to Harvey?”
“No. That would make it worse.”
“Kayla?”
“No. I think it was there for a reason.”
“Tony?”
“No. That would just be stupid.”
“Then what the fuck, Cor?”
Pavlov hunched his back and dropped a steamer. Cory thought the timing was perfect.
“It’s time for an op.”
LUSTER, OR.
FOUR MONTHS AGO
45
In the great before, as in before Benny hurt his back jumping off the forklift he drove for eight hours a day, five days a week for seventeen years; before he stole pills from his friends’ bathrooms between bouts of downing beer and whiskey like it was holy water; before their mother wrote that note on the refrigerator; before Benny carried a grudge against life in general because it conspired against him at every opportunity; and especially before Tirk and all the shit he brought into their lives—Cory and Ty used to play a game in their backyard. They draped painting tarps over lawn chairs to make an FOB (Forward Operating Base) and sent each other on Operations of Doom. Every op had to have a name. This time around, Cory picked Operation Majula, after the central town-hub in Dark Souls II, which was everything and nothing like Luster.
They knew patience and vigilance would be key to a successful op because Tony didn’t sign out cars very often, and when he did it happened fast. A successful op also needed a camera with a decent lens, so he bought a Panasonic with a 30x digital zoom.
They looked for patterns to help anticipate when it might happen; the only consistencies they saw were that Tony was never gone for more than an hour, and all four sign-outs since January were two-door coupes bought at auction, had tinted windows, and were dark, either black or gray. Ty asked Miranda if she’d share the list of cars bought at auction, and she was always ready and willing to exchange favors with him. When Ty saw a monsoon-gray Audi TT Quattro, 55k miles, six-speed manual with tinted windows was arriving from Boise on Wednesday, he told Cory to be ready for a text.
Cory was ready. The car arrived; the text didn’t. But it did the following day when Cory was at Bravo flipping burgers.
TY
Operation Majula is
a GO!
Luckily it was a little after four in the afternoon, so they weren’t slammed with orders. Cory asked Brian to cover the grill, then asked Rebecca if he could borrow her car (Tony would recognize the Volvo) to buy some allergy meds at Walmart, because otherwise he’d have to wait for Ty and by then it might be too late.
Rebecca asked, “Too late for what?”
Cory said, “You’ll know when the blood starts coming out of my ears.”
She gave him the keys.
He shouldered his daypack and blew out the door.
Phase One was to establish recon at Woodland Park in the southeast lot, farthest away from the gazebo and sheltered by trees. He would wait there to see if Kayla showed up, then watch for a gray Audi TT. All events transpired as expected—except one. Kayla didn’t get into the Audi. It did a slow pass through the lot, then headed due east on Constitution Ave. Cory had to make a split-second decision. Stay with Kayla to see what she did, or follow the Audi. He followed the Audi.
Cory caught up to the car at a red light and followed it east into a residential neighborhood
named Fairview Heights with modest one- and two-story homes. He maintained a distance that he hoped wasn’t conspicuous, yet close enough to not lose track of the car. He turned off the Hollywood gossip channel Rebecca was listening to so he could concentrate. The Audi made a right, then left, then turned in to a cul-de-sac and drove up a driveway. Tony lived in a third-floor condo with a view of the golf course, so this wasn’t his place. One of two garage doors opened, and the Audi drove inside. The door closed. Cory parked a half block away behind a red pickup and texted Ty:
CORY
At a residence in Fairview
Heights. TT in garage.
Will hang for 15min.
TY
Roger that.
Three minutes later the door opened and the TT backed out. Cory hoped Tony wouldn’t head toward him, because if he did he’d have to duck below the dash, then pull a Uey, allowing Tony to disappear in this maze of streets. Luckily the Audi headed west. Cory waited for a Subaru wagon to pass, then pulled out behind it.
Tony’s route took them away from downtown Luster, toward an older part of town on a quiet tree-lined street. One side featured run-down homes needing new roofs and paint jobs. The other side had a sports complex with two baseball diamonds, a soccer field, and four tennis courts. The entire facility was closed pending construction of a new aquatic center. The tennis courts didn’t have nets, and weeds grew up through cracks in the asphalt. The baseball diamonds had tumbleweeds piled up ten feet high against the backstops. Tony slipped into a spot next to a hedge, nose in, facing the tennis courts. The brake lights went off. Cory pulled up to the curb fifty yards away on the opposite side of the street. He noticed that the Mott’s Lot license plate was gone. It had been replaced by a regular Oregon license plate. Tony must have switched it in the garage. What’s up with that? He dialed up max zoom and snapped three pictures of the car. A silver-haired woman was two houses down, cutting back roses in the front yard. He snapped a picture of her just for something to do, then looked for Kayla’s yellow Bug. Couldn’t find it. Maybe this whole thing is a bust. He texted Ty:
CORY
At future site of Aqua
Park. No KS.
TY
How long can you wait?
15min
K.
One minute later, he saw her walking across the parking lot toward the Audi.
K spotted! Approaching TT.
Even though she was wearing a gray sweatshirt with a hood pulled up and sunglasses covering half her face, he was certain it was her. He recognized her gait, balanced and straight like she was crossing a beam. Cory searched for her car. It had to be here somewhere. Then he saw a splash of yellow—it was parked on the other side of the big sign with a picture of the future water park. Cory opened his daypack, took out the camera, and snapped pictures of Kayla as she walked up to the TT, opened the passenger door, got in. He also snapped a picture of the bogus license plate. Then he sat back, eyes on the TT, and pondered his next step.
According to Phase Three of their plan, he would leave the scene undetected. Phase Four would involve confronting Tony with the pictures, give him a chance to explain, and if it wasn’t good enough to ease the worst of their fears, then threaten to take the evidence to Harvey (or CPS) unless he stopped. But as the minutes ticked by, Cory grew increasingly uncomfortable with Phases Three and Four. There were too many holes, too much deniability for Tony. Without physical proof, Tony could say he and Kayla were doing Carpool Karaoke—instead of, as Ty would say, “slipping her the old wicked weasel.” With those tinted windows it was impossible to get the evidence he needed to truly help Kayla, assuming she did want his help.
With four minutes remaining before he had to return to Bravo, Cory reminded himself that Kayla was the important person in all this. She told him flat out that she didn’t want to do whatever it was she was doing. Then he remembered Tony’s words on the deck that night in Sunriver: I like her a lot. She’s a special girl. Those words had sounded so genuine then. Thanks to the necklace in his pocket, the entire context had changed. He felt that seed of anger expanding in his gut. Cory had hoped it died with Benny in the fire. But it was there and flowering and this time he couldn’t make it stop.
Cory opened the door, walked across the street, camera in hand. Since he couldn’t see through the tinted glass, he approached the Audi from the east, using the hedge as a shield. There was a small gap between the hedge and the tennis fence. He thumbed the mode setting to where he wanted it, then squeezed through the gap, camera held up, and aimed at the windshield.
His heart stopped.
It wasn’t Tony.
STUMPTOWN
NOW
46
The melted-snow-in-the-water-bottle idea is a bust. The melting part worked okay. But apparently the snow-to-water ratio is like ten-to-one because a nearly full bottle of snow, mixed with dirt and pine needles, reduced down to an inch of brown, sludge-like liquid. I offer to filter it through one of my socks but Astrid passes.
“How about the soup?” she asks, nodding to the cans on the shelf. “You could even warm it up over the candles.”
“I’ve already thought about that. First, I don’t have anything to open them other than the hammer, and we’d lose most of it. And even if I did manage to open a can, we shouldn’t eat it.”
“Why not?”
“I know a few things about cooking—and high-acid foods, like tomato soup, will last up to two years. Those cans date back to the 1950s. They’re not worth the effort.”
A silence descends as we both consider our narrowing options. A few hours ago, there were only two: wait for Ty, or go. Looking at the shape she’s in and the resources we have, waiting is off the table. And on top of that, if Ty was going to show up, he would have done it by now. So we have to leave. The question is, how soon? We’re down to just a few swallows of water. I’ll drink the sludge. She can have the good stuff. But that won’t be enough to get her down that slope to the creek. The ground will be too slippery for me to carry her. To make that journey she’ll need more water than what we have left. I need to refill the bottles. Period.
I crawl to the door, lift the flap, and peer out beyond the stump. The snow has turned to rain—I’m liking that development. Unfortunately there is still too much snow remaining for me to go without leaving tracks. I wasted the day talking and sleeping. I should have left sooner. I return to my bag, mentally kicking myself for being so stupid.
She says, “He’s still looking for us.”
“Maybe. Or he could be long gone.”
Astrid responds with a squinty-eyed glare. Then says, “Cory, I’m sick.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want to die in here.” She glances at the stove. “There are too many dead people in here already.”
I smile. “We’ll leave soon. But no way you’d make it down to the creek without more water. It’s getting dark, and using the headlamp would be risky. Soooo…I can either leave now or wait until the morning.”
“I’d rather you didn’t leave now.”
“Then morning it is. First thing.”
“Okay.”
“We should get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.”
I snuff out all but one candle. There’s about an inch left, so it probably won’t last the night. I doubt we’ll get much sleep anyway, but I keep the headlamp handy just in case. I worm my way down into my bag, seeking warmth, then turn and face her. She is looking at me. I reach out and brush her hair aside, which is really a move designed to touch her forehead. I frown, thinking about the infection raging inside of her.
She says, “You think I’m hot?” and bats her eyes.
“Like, obviously.”
A beat. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being who you are.”
My body starts to shake. It could be the cold seeping in, but I know it’s not. I think about Benny behind me in the stove, about his pathetic hoard of mon
ey and how that worked out for him. Just once, I wanted to look into his eyes and see something other than an unending tide of disgust. That I was somehow less than human and undeserving of what little love he had to give. My eyes start watering because this girl I hardly know, who may not survive the night because of me, knows me better than he ever did. Even in this small dark hole I am free to feel good about my place in the world. She waits patiently while I pull myself together. I smile and say, “The people of your country say very nice things. I must visit sometime.”
“They would welcome you.”
A few moments pass. The candle dims.
She says, “Tell me a bedtime story.”
“What would you like to hear?”
“The one about the boys that steal a car.”
“I told you that one already. It’s not that interesting.”
“I suspect you skipped the good parts.”
I think back to where the shit really hit the fan.
“Did I mention that I bought a camera?”
LUSTER, OR.
FOUR MONTHS AGO
47
Harvey was behind the wheel, eyes closed, a thin smile on his lips.
Kayla was in a bra, doing something down there with her left hand. She saw Cory and screamed. Harvey opened his eyes, saw Cory, and struggled with his pants while Kayla pulled on her hoodie, flung the door open, tumbled out of the car, and ran away. The entire scene lasted twenty seconds tops. Despite the disturbing images burned into his brain, Cory managed to keep the camera up and clicking through it all. He lowered the camera to chest-high, took a quick glance across the street at the woman. She wasn’t working on her roses anymore. She was watching them.
Harvey’s window slid down halfway. He hissed, “Give me the camera!”
In the background Cory saw Kayla’s car leave the lot. He raised the camera, moved to the window, and aimed it at Harvey. His hair was askew, his tanned face red with rage. He said, “You fucking idiot!” The door clicked, started to open. A city maintenance truck pulled into the lot, parked fifty yards away in front of the construction sign. The TT door closed, but the window stayed down. “C’mon, Cory,” Harvey said in a softer tone. “Let’s be reasonable here. You made your point. Give me the camera. Please.”
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