“Ha!” the guy laughed at me. “Hiddenite is the emerald capital of the United States. There’s a guy there who sells all the emeralds in the area. He has a compound there. I took it to him.”
So, there really was an emerald selling factory.
“What’s his name?”
The guy snorted at me. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll never get in.”
“You got in.”
“I had an emerald with me that looked like a green pepper!”
He had me there.
“Fair enough,” I said. “Then you’re going to take us there.”
“No. I’m not. Why would I? Ricky brought me that emerald; not you.”
“He stole it off me!”
The man tsked over his teeth and seemed to roll an invisible toothpick back and forth between his lips.
“Wait here,” he said, and suddenly started toward the hallway. “I’ll grab my coat.”
“Huh? Hang on,” I said, following him after I realized he was simply walking away from me.
He ducked into a bedroom, dashed over to a nightstand and turned around with a pistol pointed at me.
“Back up! You march in to my house making demands. You tie up my friend. If you don’t get the hell out of here right now, I’ll shoot you and your girlfriend out there!”
I couldn’t believe how stupid I was for letting him get away from me like that. He backed me up all the way to the front door.
“Get out of here!” he yelled again, cocking his gun.
I ran out the door and bolted to my car. I heard the crack of a gunshot behind me and yelled to Alison, “Get in the car!”
We both jumped in and left with all four wheels throwing screeching. I could hear Ricky cackling over the noise as a bullet thunked into the back of my car.
7
Hiddenite
With some quick map work on her phone-thankfully, we had service now-Alison found Hiddenite. I headed for the interstate and turned east. A little more Googling verified what Blatch Dawson had told me. Hiddenite is definitely the emerald center of North Carolina, and one man in particular was at the heart of the trade. Between what Blatch had told us and a few random posts on a dark web message board, we were able to pinpoint the location of the supposed emerald seller’s compound. The GPS happily supplied me with directions.
A few minutes later, we had to turn off the paved road again, but not very far this time. We knew we had found the compound when we reached a gate across the road and an armed security guard walked over. He wasn’t particularly rude, but it was clear that we were getting deeper into a tense situation.
An awkward conversation ensued, but we eventually got our story across. Naturally, he played the dumb card. He hadn’t seen anyone come in or out. There was no emerald delivered. And no, we were not getting in. I insisted on giving him my business card, which he promptly crumpled in his hand, promising to deliver it to his boss.
Dead end. We had no choice other than to leave. When we got back to the highway, I turned the car toward home. I got my gear back and neither of us got hurt. I suppose that should be enough. But I couldn’t help but think about the massive emerald. It was life-changing stuff.
My phone rang. A smooth voice that reminded me of Morgan Freeman answered. After a few conversation twists and turns, I worked out that this was the guy who was running the emerald operation out in Hiddenite. I’m not sure if it was the reassuring voice or the words he was speaking with it, but I trusted him. He said he hadn’t received any stones in the last couple of days that matched the description I gave him. But, if I somehow got possession of my emerald back, he’d be more than interested in taking a look at it. I hung up with him and the realization that Blatch Dawson had sent us on a wild goose chase.
I was angry and I might’ve taken the U-turn a bit abruptly, skidding, and dropping my tires off the edge of the road.
“Whoa now! Easy, big guy,” Alison said, clutching the ‘oh shit’ handle above her window. “What was that all about?”
I relayed the gist of the conversation with Morgan Freeman, the emerald wholesaler, to her and how Blatch had obviously just fictionalized a story to get rid of us.
“So, I guess we’re headed back to pay him another visit?”
“We are.”
We didn’t speak for the drive back, but I got the sense that Alison might be a little anxious, like she was riding around with a modern day Ahab hunting for the white-or in my case, green-whale.
We reached Blatch’s house in the late afternoon, and I parked my car down the street far enough where it wouldn’t be seen. I wanted this trip to be more of a secret than the last. In fact, I was hoping to find the house empty and find a way to get inside.
Alison stayed back in the car at the entrance to the cul-de-sac. Then, if she saw either anyone coming toward the house, she would honk the horn twice to signal me to get out right away.
The house looked dark and I didn’t see any cars out front, so I snuck around the back to the garage. I looked in the window, but in the dusk light, it was too dark to see anything clearly. I eventually convinced myself that there was no car there.
There was an exterior door on the side of the garage. I kicked it in with surprising ease and went inside. I glued myself to the inside wall next to the house door just in case someone came out, but no one did. I wondered how I had gone from photographer to cat burglar in the space of a weekend. But this was my stone. I found it and no backwoods bandit was going to take it from me.
The shelves were full of random tools and boxes. The contents looked like any two-car garage, anywhere in America. It didn’t look like a place to keep a million-dollar emerald, so I tried the door to the house, and like every home with a garage, the interior door is left wide open for any Tom, Dick, or Harry to waltz right in.
I tiptoed inside. No lights. No sound. No alarm panel flashing on the wall. I did a quick scan around to see if anyone was there. I found no one. I had that same creepy, scary feeling that I had back in Ricky’s house, but my gut started to untwist as I became certain I was alone.
The house was small with only two bedrooms and a single bathroom. One bedroom seemed to be used mostly for storage, so I started in the one that he obviously slept in.
The bed was made—a fact I noted. I had assumed Blatch was single, but most bachelors didn’t make their beds. First, I opened the nightstand where he had gotten the gun earlier, but there was no sign of the piece. I checked under the pillows and under the mattress, but no gun, no emerald. I went through every drawer and still came up empty: just a bunch of clothes and random junk that piles up in drawers-pens, pencils, pennies, and paperclips. I pulled the louvered closet doors back to reveal a surprisingly small amount of hanging clothes and behind that, I found it. I found my emerald’s most likely hiding place: a safe about two feet tall sat against the back wall of the closet.
It was the kind of safe with a combination lock and a huge lever on the front. If only I had thought to bring a stethoscope. Everyone knows that’s how you crack these things. I looked around for the combination written on a sticky note or inside the closet wall or anywhere else around-no luck. I tried to rock the safe forward to look at the back, but it was too heavy.
I went back to the junk drawer scouring every scrap of paper for three two-digit numbers but again came up dry. I was about to check the storage bedroom when I heard a vehicle pull in the driveway and the telltale clunk of a car door opening and closing.
The curtains were closed, but I saw a tiny gap where they met in the middle. I risked a quick peek and saw Ricky’s truck. Dammit.
I fell down below the window on my hands and knees and I tried to think. Why didn’t Alison honk? Did she honk and I didn’t hear it?
There was a loud double-knock on the front door, and I looked around for a place to hide.
I army-crawled around to the back side of the bed and inched my way underneath.
Thankfully, it was mostly clean and box free, all the more
reason to be suspicious of this guy. Who cleans under the bed? I began to formulate the opinion that Blatch must have a maid.
Two more knocks at the door, more insistently now.
I wasn’t there more than five minutes when I heard Ricky’s truck start up and pull out of the drive. I slid out from under the bed and bolted to the window and to catch a distant glimpse of his tailgate as he left.
That was close; I needed to hurry. This room was a bust, except for the safe, so I went to the other bedroom.
I call this a bedroom, but it didn’t look like anyone used it regularly. There was a single sized mattress lying up against the wall, a wicker set of shelves with small baskets on it, and a small desk with a laptop on it. No clothes or personal effects. I didn’t think anyone was living in here. I checked the baskets, more random junk.
The closet had double sliding doors, so I slid open one side. It was full of stacked boxes and luggage. I opened a small box on top and found it full of watches and rings. Another one was full of random gold jewelry.
The other boxes were bigger, so I set one on the floor and opened it. It had a gaming console and half a dozen games. So did the next one.
I tried the luggage. Two were stuffed full of expensive-looking dresses. A smaller bag had camera equipment—good stuff, but not professional level. Another was full of bottles of wine.
Stolen goods?
My emerald was not in there. I had to believe it was in the safe. The fact that there was jewelry just sitting out told me whatever was in the safe must be especially valuable to Blatch.
I was putting back all the boxes and bags when I heard a door bang shut loudly.
I froze and listened as intently as I could. Two people were talking, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I had to hide—quick! The bed was up against the wall—impossible to get behind. I eased the closet door closed hoping it was well oiled. It squeaked once and I was sure it was loud enough for the two people who had come into the house to hear.
Jack had tried warning me, but I didn’t think it would be so cold. I had a jacket on, but with the car off and no heat on, I was frozen. Everything felt damp and miserable, including me! My hair was turning into one giant frizz ball. Plus, my mood was pretty dark and grey right now, so if I saw Ricky driving by, I might just shoot him instead of honking to warn Jack.
I thought about starting the car for a few minutes, but didn’t want to risk blowing Jack’s cover. I just hoped that he got back soon so we could get out of there.
The passenger door suddenly jerked open and the shotgun that was lying beside me suddenly jumped up and away.
“Shit!” I screamed as Ricky’s face dipped into view.
I jerked my door open and bolted. Unfortunately, running in the woods isn’t very efficient, and Ricky had me by my collar within seconds.
“What’re you doin’ here?” he growled.
“I’m not doing anything,” I blurted out. I wondered if he could feel me shaking.
“Where’s your boyfriend?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t gimme that shit. I seen both y’all in the car right before you got here. Seen you tryin’ to hide.” Ricky jerked my collar and pushed me ahead of him, not releasing his grip. “You’re comin’ with me.”
His pickup was parked right behind Jack’s car. How had I not heard him? He must’ve coasted with his car off the last bit. He opened the driver’s door on his truck and shoved me in ahead of him.
He drove to the Blatch’s house and got out of the truck, taking the shotgun with him. He opened it up, saw that both barrels were loaded, and snapped it back shut. “You try to go anywhere, I’ll shoot ya.”
I watched him walk toward the house. No flippin’ way I was staying in this truck. I’d just wait for him to go in and I’d make my exit.
Ricky looked back at me twice while he walked up to the front door. I tried to time my effort to open the door with his knock.
My idea didn’t work. The door screeched when I pushed it open, and Ricky spun around and started running toward me.
I jumped out and took off as fast as I could. I ran down the driveway and onto the road. I don’t think I’ve ever run that fast in my life, but it still wasn’t but a few seconds till I got jerked back by my collar again like a dog on a leash.
“What in tarnation? I told you I’d shoot you,” Ricky shouted at me.
“So, why didn’t you?” I shouted back.
He said nothing, but pulled on my collar again with so much force, I almost fell over.
I twisted my head around to look at him. “Well?”
“Shut yer trap,” he said, and he dragged and pushed me back to his truck.
As soon as he got me inside again, he started the engine and put it into drive, making a big circle in the front yard to get back onto the road.
A few minutes later, I was back in Ricky’s filthy kitchen. He duct taped me to a chair and went out the back door. He had cardboard over the broken window in the door. That, too, held fast by duct tape.
He returned with a huge fistful of greens. Big leaves and small were sticking out between most of his fingers, and fat roots were sticking out between the others. I watched him cut them into pieces on a wooden cutting board, then separate the biggest leaves and dump the rest of the collection—roots and all—into a cast iron skillet. He placed the skillet onto the stove and turned it on.
“What the hell are you doing?” I hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but his head whirled around.
“Cookin’ supper. You wanna eat, doncha?”
Though I was startled, I couldn’t help myself. “But aren’t you cooking the wrong part? You just left out the leaves and put the roots and stems in to the skillet.”
“That’s burdock. You can’t eat the leaves, just the roots. The rest is chickweed. You can eat all o’ that.”
“I’ve never heard of either one of them.”
“Most people ain’t. They forgot how to find their own food. If the grocery stores ever closed down, they’d all starve.”
“My grandma used to cook a lot of greens, but she never cooked burdock or chickweed.”
“Can’t help that.”
After a while, he went to the refrigerator and retrieved his package of hot dogs. It looked like he’d eaten more since Jack and I had some. He scooped the greens onto two plates and put the hot dogs into the skillet.
He put one of the plates of roots and greens in front of me, along with a fork and said, “I’m gonna untape one o’ your arms.”
He had both of my upper arms taped to the back of the chair and both ankles taped to the chair legs. He unwrapped the tape from my right arm and glared at me but didn’t say anything.
“Why are you doing this? Aren’t you just gonna kill me?”
“If I was, don’t ya think I woulda done it already?”
Fair enough, I thought. But what was his game? Maybe he was just a thief, not a murderer.
I picked up the utensil and said a silent blessing that the dirty fork and plate wouldn’t kill me; nor would the weeds I was about to eat. I hadn’t realized I was so hungry until the boiling water began to breathe an interesting, fresh aroma into the air.
Ricky shoved a big forkful into his mouth and worked the overflow in like he was eating spaghetti. I took a tentative bite.
The chickweed wasn’t half bad. It looked a lot like parsley and tasted sort of like a weaker version of it. The burdock roots were similar to turnips. Never my favorite, but I wasn’t about to complain. At least he was feeding me.
He wrapped the hot dogs in slices of white bread and put ketchup on them. I was so hungry, it actually tasted good.
“Thank you for the food,” I said. It couldn’t hurt to be nice to him. I had no idea what he had planned.
Ricky took away the plates, and I asked him, “Why are you doing this? Kidnapping me, stealing the emerald?”
“I been lookin’ for emeralds and other gems all my life. Ain’t right
that two city kids come up here and dig up a giant emerald on vacation.”
Even with one arm and both my legs tied to a chair, I felt my hackles rise.
“Vacation! This is not a vacation! Let me tell you something, mister. I work hard for my money, and so does Jack. And it’s not like we make a lot, either, but we go out and try! We investigate. We experience new things. We went to a known gem mine and found an emerald. That’s how you find emeralds! Not digging around in some secret place where you have no good reason to expect to find anything at all! You think you can just waltz in and steal Jack’s emerald and claim that you deserve it? That’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard! If you want to find an emerald, go to an emerald mine and look there!”
Faster than I expected, he jumped up from his chair and stuck a finger into my sternum.
“You ain’t got no idea what hard work is,” Ricky he said. “I worked hard every day at the sheet mill, just like my daddy did and his daddy before him. Then they closed the mill and sent all the jobs to Mexico. And what did I git? Nuthin’! That’s what.”
“You got paid every week didn’t you? Get another job.”
“There ain’t no other jobs!”
“Oh, give me a break. Asheville has tons of businesses, and every small town around here has a factory in it. If you couldn’t get another job, it’s because you didn’t try.”
Ricky kicked at my chair so hard it almost toppled backward.
“Don’t you preach to me. You got no idea what I been through.”
“I don’t care what you’ve been through! Look what you’re putting me through! You think kidnapping me is gonna solve your problems? You just magnified your problems a hundred percent when you started kidnapping!”
Ricky grabbed my free arm and taped it to the chair again. Maybe I pushed him too far, but I didn’t care. “What are you going to do with me? Have you thought about that yet?”
“No I haven’t thought about it!” Ricky screamed at me. “You think I wanted this? I don’t want you. I just want you and your boyfriend to git the hell outa my life!”
Diners, Dives, and Dirty Deeds Page 7