by Matt Hilton
‘These guys are amateurs,’ Po decided. Which didn’t go far to allay any fears they might be hired guns … not every would-be assassin was a slick, highly trained ex-spy. Po halted the Mustang. ‘Nobody get out,’ he cautioned.
Behind them the truck came to a shuddering standstill as the driver reacted to the unexpected stop. It was still distant enough that the occupants were largely invisible.
Po threw the Mustang into reverse. ‘Let’s see how they want to play things, shall we?’
He hit the gas and the muscle car powered backwards, briefly fishtailing on the flooded street. He hit the brakes. The car stopped with bare inches to spare between the vehicles’ fenders. Tess checked out those within the truck’s cab. She saw two men, both of them unshaven, one whose beard was more established though he looked more a hipster than a mountain man. Both men wore looks of momentary panic at Po’s unexpected maneuver: neither face was familiar to Tess. The hipster in the passenger side was talking, his hands gesticulating, and she guessed he was exhorting the driver to get them out of there.
Po saved them the trouble. He took off, tires spinning for traction, and showered the truck’s windshield with a deluge of dirty water and fallen leaves from the curbside gutter. If those in the truck intended to pursue, he didn’t give them an opportunity. He took the next left turn at speed, streaked along a residential street lined with trees and within seconds cut to the left again. The road they were on was an elongated crescent, and looped back to join Allen Avenue, but at a point behind the truck. Po pulled into the oncoming lane and crept the Mustang to the intersection, staying back just far enough that the roadside shrubbery hid them.
‘They still haven’t moved,’ he said.
The truck was where they’d left it less than a minute ago, barely a hundred paces away. Tess figured the occupants were still trying to come to terms with what had just happened, and they were undecided on how they should respond. Who were those guys, and what was their purpose in following her? As a cop, and more recently as a private investigator, Tess had conducted surveillance on various people; it was an uncomfortable sensation when the shoe was on the other foot.
‘What do you think they’re up to?’ she wondered.
‘Probably still checking their shorts for stains, them,’ said Pinky. To Po he added, ‘For a second there even I believed you were about to ram them off the street.’
‘That was my intention,’ Po admitted. ‘I just wanted to gauge their response; they ain’t givin’ me much to go on.’
‘I got a look at their faces, but didn’t recognize either of them. You didn’t give me time to read their tags before you took off again.’ Tess craned for a better view of the truck. She couldn’t distinguish the detail of the license plate other than that it was local to Maine with the Vacationland slogan and pine forest silhouette.
‘I’ve a suggestion,’ said Po. ‘Let’s go an’ ask them who they are and what the hell they want.’
Her interest was piqued enough that Tess wasn’t averse to his idea, except for one thing. ‘Missed our opportunity. They’re moving.’
The truck pulled away slowly, and didn’t exactly build up a head of steam as it trundled down Allen Avenue. The driver was proceeding with some trepidation, she guessed. He didn’t take the left turn as Po had earlier, so it was apparent there was no intention to try to pick up their trail again. Without any debate, Po followed. He stayed back far enough that the Mustang would be indistinguishable behind its headlights, matching the truck’s slow progress. Unlike Po had earlier, those in the truck didn’t think to check who was behind them. As far as they knew, Tess and friends were probably miles away by now.
‘Get us in close enough so I can read their tags,’ said Tess.
‘I can do better than that.’
Po hit the gas and the Mustang rocketed. Within seconds they were gaining on the truck, and as he got within a couple of car lengths Po repeatedly flashed his high beam and then peeled around the truck. He cut tight towards the curb, forcing, for the second time, the truck to shudder to a halt. Before those in the truck could respond he was out of the Mustang and marching towards the driver’s window. He rapped his knuckles on the glass, and when he didn’t get the reaction he wanted, he yanked open the door, leaned in past the driver’s shoulder and whipped the keys out of the ignition. By then, Pinky was on the opposite side and glowering through the rain-streaked glass at the passenger. Almost as bewildered as the men in the truck, Tess clambered out to join Po. She danced through water almost topping the sides of her shoes even as Po tugged the driver out to join them in the rain.
‘Tell me what business you have followin’ us or you and me are gonna have a problem,’ Po growled.
‘You won’t get any problems from me, pal. I’m only doing my buddy a favor.’ The driver was burlier than Po, though not as tall. He had the thick forearms and neck of one used to heavy manual labor, but he also had a fleshy, soft appearance to his face and gut. If he took umbrage at Po’s threat he didn’t react with violence. He held up both palms in surrender, and glanced frequently at his passenger to intervene on his behalf. Tess and Po exchanged glances too, before Po shoved the driver aside, with a command to stay put.
Tess bent inside the cab so she could see the passenger clearly. He was the one with the hipster beard. She was alert to him going for some kind of concealed weapon, or indeed launching at her, but he was held in flux at the sudden turn of events. He blinked in confusion at her. ‘Want to explain yourself?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know what—’
‘Don’t lie. You were following us and we want to know why.’
Pinky rapped on the side window. When he wished, he could make his usually jovial features appear sinister. He mouthed something at the guy – a warning he’d better do as he was told – and the man looked again at Tess, dry swallowing as he tried to dredge up the correct words.
‘Let’s start at the beginning. What’s your name?’ Tess prompted.
‘I’m, uh, I’m …’ he dug his fingers through his beard, tugging on it as if it were a memory aid. ‘I’m Jeffrey Lorton. I’m, uh—’
‘You’re Hayley Cameron’s biological father.’ Tess had learned from Jessie Cameron that Hayley’s birth dad was allegedly an abusive drunkard who’d abandoned his partner and child, and in her mind she’d formed an image of him. She’d conjured a florid-faced thug, wearing a beer-stained wife-beater tank top. Jeffrey Lorton didn’t fit the cliché. But then, she knew from past experience that looks could be deceptive, and even the mildest looking person could be a monster towards somebody under their control.
Lorton nodded glumly, as if ashamed to admit it. ‘Not that I’ve been much of a dad to her,’ he added.
Tess frowned. Thinking furiously. Lorton’s appearance here threw cold water on a theory she’d been considering for Hayley’s disappearance. ‘Why follow us?’
‘I heard you guys had been hired to find Hayley by her adoptive mom … I hoped by sticking close, I might finally get an opportunity to see and speak with her after so many wasted years.’
Tess exhaled slowly. She’d wondered if Hayley’s disappearance was due to hooking up again with her father. It wasn’t unknown for adopted or fostered children to later seek out their birth parents. Occasionally it wasn’t unknown for such kids to abandon their adoptive family and return to their original roots, for some only as long as it took to find the grass really wasn’t greener. Partly she’d expected Hayley to return with her tail between her legs. And yet, according to Lorton, they hadn’t yet met in person. Knowing Hayley’s biological father was back on the scene, and that he might know where Hayley was, Tess had planned seeking him out; in a fashion events had cut to the chase. However, she hadn’t planned speaking with Lorton in the middle of the street, soaked through by battering rain.
‘Following us around like this wasn’t your wisest move,’ she said. She looked to where the driver was silently being menaced by Po, although her partner had got
ten the gist of the situation. Pinky also wore a grimace as rain dripped off his eyebrows and the tip of his nose.
‘I didn’t know what else to do,’ Lorton admitted. ‘If I’d’ve contacted you directly, you wouldn’t have given me anything, not when you’ve been engaged by Jessie Cameron. I thought that by shadowing you, I’d be able to make my own approach to Hayley once you’d found her. Bob over there’ – he indicated his driver – ‘he’s innocent in all this. He’s just an old buddy trying to do me a good turn by driving me around. I, uh, don’t hold a driver’s license these days.’
‘Why’s it so important you get to speak with Hayley now?’ Tess asked.
Lorton frowned. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’
‘I wouldn’t have asked if it were.’
Tears shone in Lorton’s eyes. His voice warbled as he spoke. ‘I’ve finally gotten my act together. I’m making no excuses. Back when Hayley was born, I was a mess, a drunken mess and no kind of father to her. I booked out on her and her mom, but you have to believe me, I’ve regretted it every sober minute of my life since. Now I’m in a better place, well, I hoped to try to make up for lost time. You understand?’
Tess caught the shake of Po’s head. He didn’t buy Lorton’s wheedling excuse, but he’d a bitter sentiment regarding parents who abandoned their children. Tess thought that Lorton’s words were genuine and heartfelt. ‘I’m making no promises, and it’s finally down to Hayley whether she agrees to see you or not, but if you give me your contact details I’ll drop you a message when I’ve found her.’ She waited for Lorton to nod in agreement, then fished in her jacket pocket for a business card. She aimed it at him. ‘In return, you must do two things for me. First, if you learn where she is or of anything that can help me find her, you must let me know immediately. Second, you don’t follow me around or interfere in my search again.’
‘Sure, I, uh, think that’s probably for the best.’
‘It is. We got off on the wrong foot just now. Things could’ve gone much worse.’ She pushed her business card towards him. ‘On there’s my cell number. Drop me a message so I have your contact details.’
As Lorton nodded in agreement, Tess backed out from under shelter, and she was again assaulted by the full power of the downpour. Po’s hair was flattened to his skull, making his features more ascetic than usual. The unnecessary soaking didn’t faze him. He dangled the truck’s keys before the driver. ‘Git goin’, Bob,’ he warned, ‘and don’t let me catch you in my rear-view again.’
Before she was fully ensconced again in the dry interior of the Mustang Tess heard a ping from her cellphone, and knew that Lorton had come through on her instructions. As she clambered in the back, Pinky reclaimed the passenger seat with much huffing and puffing. He shook droplets off his hands, then wiped his face and forehead. Po’s hair dripped on his collar, and his leather jacket glistened wetly. He stared momentarily in his mirror, checking out Lorton and Bob, who were yet to get moving.
‘You think Lorton was sincere?’ he asked without turning to Tess.
‘I’ve no reason not to.’
‘According to Jessie, he was violent and abusive towards Hayley’s mom; who’s to say he isn’t still that person now? What if we’ve got this wrong and Hayley’s gone into hiding to keep outta his way? You recall why Jazz ran away, right?’
Jasmine Reed had left town to avoid the man who’d once raped her. Though history accused Jeffrey Lorton of being an abusive alcoholic, Hayley had gone into the system after her mother’s suicide, not as a result of her absent father’s alleged behavior. In adulthood Hayley had never met her father, but she could have formed a maligned impression of him – the way that Tess previously had – so could indeed be fearful of coming face to face with him again. It was possible Lorton’s return was responsible for her going into hiding, even if for the wrong reason. However, Jacob Doyle had given no hint that Hayley feared her father. No, Hayley going incognito was for reasons yet unknown, and possibly for her own benefit. Tess shouldn’t discount the other Doyle brothers’ character assassination of Hayley, whose opinions made her out to be selfish, and manipulative, at the best.
Judge as you find, Tess cautioned herself. Good advice, but she must find Hayley first.
NINE
Expecting a beating, Mike Toner had steeled for the first of numerous blows, so it was all the more shocking when his captors employed a subtler approach to ensure his compliance. The bearded one was grudgingly subordinate to the first man Toner had spotted on the pier. He stood aside as the other moved in close and bent close to Toner’s face.
‘Do yourself a favor, Toner, and listen to what you’re being told without any argument.’ Up close, the man’s eyes were glassy, showing weariness with no appetite for a prolonged debate.
‘That’s the problem: I don’t know what’s expected of me. There’s no need to threaten my daughter’s life without even giving me an idea of what I’m supposed to agree to.’
‘You love your daughter, right?’
‘Yes, of course I do?’ Toner beseeched him. ‘Are you a father? Even if you’re not, you must still understand the importance of a child to any parent?’
‘My parental status isn’t the one in discussion here. If you care for her as much as you say, you should show it by protecting her. The only way you’ll do that is to do exactly as asked.’
‘Asked what?’ Again Toner’s voice grew strident. Frustration warred with fear for dominance. ‘I still don’t know what you people want from me.’
‘Due respect,’ said the man. ‘This has been stressed more than once. It appears the concept’s taking some sinking in with you.’
While they’d talked, Toner had grown unaware of the bearded man’s position. He’d moved back, out of Toner’s peripheral vision, and he’d collected the sack Toner had worn during the drive here. Without warning he yanked it down over Toner’s head, though not this time as an impromptu blindfold. He dragged Toner backwards against the chair’s headrest and he gathered the open end of the sack tightly around Toner’s throat, strangling him. In the same instant the first guard snatched down on Toner’s flailing wrists, forcing them down on the armrests. He squeezed in, his knees between Toner’s so he couldn’t be kicked.
Toner struggled, but it was only a fight for oxygen. The throttling didn’t relent, and agonizing pressure built in his straining lungs. They felt as if they were withering in his chest, even as his brain expanded, threatening to burst from his earholes in the next few seconds.
The pressure was released, from throat and wrists, and Toner buckled forward, retching to clear his windpipe. In the next moment he reared back, gasping for air. The bag stayed put over his head: panic made him reach for it, to get rid of it so he could breathe unimpeded. His hands were slapped down. Behind him, the bearded man grunted a question, and having gotten a response he dragged off the bag. Toner’s eyes streamed and bloody saliva hung from his lips. The man in charge asked, ‘Was that unpleasant? Believe me, Toner, we can make things much worse for you. Imagine if it was your daughter sitting where you are; if Dom squeezed her neck that hard her head would tear right off her shoulders.’
‘If you hurt her in any way I’ll—’
‘Do not make idle threats.’
The bag returned without warning, and once more Toner flailed in desperation as he was throttled. This time it was as though Dom used more strength to prove the point, and to Toner it felt as if his head was about to be separated from his vertebrae … Lord help her if it were Madison they tortured.
He must have blacked out. When next he was aware of his surroundings the bag had been removed. His neck ached, but he must have gotten past the bout of hacking coughs that’d helped rouse him. His eyeballs felt too large and mucus dripped from both nostrils. Saliva had gone cold on his chin. Shamefully, he could feel damp warmth at his crotch and the seat of his pants: he’d pissed himself. When he looked again at his guards it was in abject dismay.
Both men had moved aside, no lo
nger threatening him. It was apparent they’d concluded their job. Toner had to agree. He would be nothing but compliant from now on.
The woman returned to the room.
She walked past Toner, one eyebrow raised, asking an unvoiced question. Toner lowered his gaze and heard her laugh.
‘That was quick, Arlen,’ she said, a note of congratulations aimed at the first guard. Toner now had the first names of two of his abusers – Dom, the bearded one, and Arlen, his superior – but the woman’s identity remained a mystery. He wondered who she was working for; when first he’d been grabbed Arlen told him he was going to meet his new employer. ‘He’s the one you’ll owe for allowing your daughter to live another day,’ Arlen had said, stressing the male gender. Had the woman left the room in order to communicate her progress with her mysterious boss, or because she didn’t have an appetite for the torture she knew was coming? No, though he’d first thought her pleasant looking, it was only skin deep: from her nasty laughter he could tell she delighted in other people’s pain.
She sat primly at the far side of the table. Her silence added further disquiet. Finally Toner couldn’t resist looking. As his eyelids flickered and he raised his head, she appraised him with the same half-smile as before. ‘So, you accept that you now work for us?’
Toner nodded, because that was expected of him.
‘Good. Let me be the first to welcome you to our company.’ The woman reached across the table, extending her hand. Her manicured fingernails looked sharp enough to pierce skin. Toner was tentative. He lifted his right hand in response, but was unsure what her game was. Was this some introduction to further torture? Dom sniffed, shifted his weight, and it was enough for Toner. He reached and accepted the woman’s hand. He was tempted to squeeze it with all his might, break every damn bone in her hand, but retribution would be swift. Her skin was cool to the touch, soft … and it made his hide crawl.