by Ethan Cross
The Director said, “Hopefully, we’ll catch the guy before anything escalates, but if shit hits the fan, I need to know that you’re on my side.”
“I thought we were all on the same side.”
“You know what I mean. I need you to create a buffer between the Shepherd Organization and the media, so that direct attention won’t be paid to the SO. And don’t forget, you’ll get the credit if we actually do good with this case as well.”
“I’m here, aren’t I? I’m ready to do my part. Have you heard from the hospital?”
“I talked to one of the nurses while you were getting your luggage. They said Powell’s going to be fine. In fact, against doctor’s orders, he’s already on his way back to the prison. Can’t say as I blame him. I’m anxious to get back there myself. There’s a tension in the air. Like something’s coming. You can just feel it.”
“You act like the place isn’t going to be there when we get back.”
The Director didn’t want to admit to Val that he worried exactly that, and so he said, “My team’s handling the case—and these kids are sharp, Val—but I want to help in every way that I can. I need to be there to do that.”
“Surely they can survive another few hours without you.”
“You would think. But I’d rather not find out. Especially with this group. They’re every bit as reckless and stupid as we used to be.”
Val laughed. “You make it sound like we’re old men. I still am reckless and stupid. And you may not be stupid, Philip, but you’ve always been reckless.”
The Director knew that there was a passive accusation in those words, and his mind immediately jumped to the memory of Powell’s last case with the Shepherd Organization. A case that involved a serial murderer dubbed the Cattleman, who liked to brand his victims with a big X on their left arm. He had murdered four members of a family outside of Amarillo and had kidnapped the family’s youngest daughter. Luckily, she was able to escape and had provided the information that had ultimately led the SO to her abductor. It was a long and difficult hunt, but their team eventually caught up to the Cattleman and put an end to him.
The little girl, Debra Costello, had been scared and alone with no one in the world to help her. She had no family and would have gone into the system, but lucky for Debra, Scott Powell and his wife decided to adopt her and raise her as their own.
But now, he feared the worst for Debra.
“One of the main reasons that I wanted to meet you personally is to discuss something of a sensitive nature and get your take on it.”
Val wore a tailored black suit and was picking lint off it in the passenger seat. He looked up from the inspection of his wardrobe and said, “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“It’s about Debra.”
Valdas said, “What do you mean? What happened to Deb?”
The Director explained about the woman in Judas’s video, and that, even though her face was never shown, Marcus had recognized the scar on Debra’s arm from a photograph he had seen on Powell’s desk.
The Director said, “She was scheduled to be gone on some mission trip to India. Supposed to have left a couple of weeks ago. But I contacted her friends from church. She never showed up for the trip, but they did get a call from her canceling on them.”
“She must have been alive when she canceled.”
“Maybe.”
“What’s maybe?”
“We checked the phone records and got the number she called and canceled from. That number is a burner cell, and it’s also the same number that has been calling Powell and leaving him messages that make it seem that Debra’s okay and is having fun on her trip.”
Val leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. “You’re thinking that he forced Debra to record some messages for her father and is sending them out automatically to make it seem like she’s alive? Why would he do that?”
“I have no idea.”
“What about this new fiancé of hers?”
“He’s our prime suspect, but that same burner phone has also been calling his number.”
“So he could be getting calls that make it seem like she’s okay as well?”
“Or he’s smart enough to make it look like he’s receiving the fake calls when really he’s the one who set them up in the first place.”
Val teared up and covered his mouth with a hand. After a deep breath, he said, “Do you think she’s dead?”
“We don’t have a body. So there’s always hope. But yes, I think the odds are good that she’s dead.”
“Does Scott know?”
“No, and I’m not sure how to tell him. Or even if we should tell him.”
“He needs to know.”
The Director said nothing.
Val said, “You want me to tell him.”
“It would be better coming from you.”
“What is it with the two of you? You didn’t even show up for his wife’s funeral.”
“I sent a card.”
“He was your best friend.”
The Director said, “He was my friend. But when he walked away from the SO, he turned his back on me as well. I didn’t go to the funeral because I knew I wouldn’t be welcome there, and I didn’t want to add to his pain.”
“I didn’t know things were that bad.”
“Old wounds. They may not be completely healed, but they don’t hurt anymore. Powell had a different path. A different view of the world. But he’s followed through with some of those dreams, and I respect what he’s built here. I’d like to see him keep it. I’d like to stop some maniac from burning it to the ground. Maybe if I can do that for him, then he’ll forgive me for whatever reason he left in the first place.”
Traffic came to a complete stop on the interstate, some kind of road construction ahead. The Director looked over at Valdas, whose face was a mask of shock and disbelief.
“What?”
Valdas said, “Are you saying that, after all these years, you still don’t know why Powell left the SO?”
“Well, I have some ideas.”
“You could have asked him.”
“He turned in his resignation, and I accepted it. He walked out of my office and never looked back.”
“You could have gone after him. Confronted him about it. Or even just called him at some point over the past ten years.”
“This isn’t a love story. We’re two grown men. If he wanted to talk, he knew the damn number. Do you know why he left?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Will you tell me?”
“No, I will not.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re two grown men, and if you want to know, you can damn well ask him yourself. You know the number. Now, how can I help you find the man who took my goddaughter?”
*
A large, blue and white sign read Foxbury Mine Company–No Trespassing.
Marcus could see the entrance to the mine around a few dirt mounds farther down the road. There was old gravel covering the path that he guessed was once a rocked roadway. He directed Reese to park the Audi about a hundred and fifty yards from the entrance. Their four police escorts, including one black tactical van, pulled alongside them, and the officers filed out, securing the perimeter as best they could in an orderly and professional manner.
Marcus wasted no time. He scanned the officers for Sheriff Hall and said, “Get Reese suited up with some body armor, just in case.”
Reese held up a hand. “That didn’t do Mr. Powell much good. Besides, I’m pretty quick, and I’d rather have full range of movement.”
Marcus cocked an eyebrow and said, “Listen, Bradley, we’re not going to be doing Greco-Roman wrestling in there. You’re wearing the vest.”
Sheriff Hall handed Reese the body armor and then held out a black shotgun with a pistol grip to Marcus. Hall said, “As requested, Special Agent Williams, one Remington 870P loaded with special breaching rounds.”
Marcus took the
shotgun, checked the weapon over, and gave a nod of approval. Reese glared at Marcus but accepted the black tactical vest that one of the sheriff’s deputies held out to him. He slipped the straps over his shoulders with deliberate slowness, and Marcus decided to let Reese catch up. He turned toward the mine’s entrance and moved off, checking his Sig Sauer pistol one last time before going into battle.
He heard Reese start pulling faster on the vest’s straps and cursing under his breath. “Wait up,” Reese yelled.
But Marcus didn’t slow his pace. He wanted Reese to fall in line behind him like a shuffling puppy following at the heels of its master.
Because Bradley Reese was one of two things. Their killer. Or someone whose ego could get in the way of the investigation. Either way, Marcus knew that he didn’t like the man. He just hadn’t figured out why, yet.
Reese caught up and said, “Did I run over your cat or something in a past life? What is your problem with me?”
“Just do exactly as I tell you in there.”
“Okay, I get it.”
Marcus added, “And keep your mouth shut.”
“Okay, you the man. I bet you’re a joy to be around really early in the morning.”
Marcus ignored the comment. The entrance to the mine was large enough to drive in a truck, but he could see that the tunnel narrowed after thirty feet. The old wooden support beams had been reinforced with concrete. He guessed that this was an old mine which had undergone a retrofit somewhere in the past ten to fifteen years. Maybe some old man struck gold down there. He didn’t know what they even mined in Arizona and, at the moment, he really didn’t care.
He refused to lose sight of his goal. His mind kept flashing to the Navarro woman and her son. The glass cage. The crushing weight of the sand.
As Judas had promised, they found further instructions and supplies sitting on an old wooden table to the right of the entrance. There were two flashlights, a map, and a cheap tablet computer. Marcus knew they could try to trace back the tablet to where it was purchased, but he doubted it would lead anywhere. Judas might have bought it off the street or a pawnshop or any one of a million Walmarts. All places where he could have paid anonymously with cash.
Reese picked up a flashlight and shined it on the map. It looked like the blueprints of an ant colony. Marcus scanned the map for a few seconds, committing the entire drawing to memory, and then he picked up the tablet computer.
He touched a button on the side of the device, and the tablet came to life and immediately started playing another video from Judas. The eerie white theater mask filled the screen, and Judas said, “Take the tablet to the spot marked on the map.”
Marcus tapped on the screen again, but the same video just repeated itself. He tried pushing different buttons. Maybe he could bypass Judas’s program? Maybe he could access another video before Judas wanted them to? But with each press and hold or combination of the two, the video repeated itself. He doubted there would be any Internet signal down in the mine, so whatever Judas wanted to show them must have been contained on the device. He rotated the tablet and flipped it over. Judas must have wiped it and loaded his own custom-built operating system. He considered the implications. It meant custom programming work. Maybe something that Stan could trace back through the code? Maybe there was some kind of log showing what networks the device had accessed?
With everything Marcus tried, Judas said, “Take the tablet to the spot marked on the map.”
After ten or so repetitions, Bradley Reese said, “I think he wants us to go to the spot marked on the map.”
“I told you to keep your mouth shut.”
Marcus picked up a flashlight, left the map, and headed for the mine’s inner entrance. He pictured the map in his head and imagined the next series of turns visually in his mind.
Reese said, “Hey, you forgot the map!”
“No, I didn’t. In fact, I memorized it.”
Reese snatched up the old map from the table. “If it’s all the same to you, Memory Man, I’ll take it along just to be sure.”
Marcus didn’t reply. He kept heading farther into the mine, toward whatever twisted game awaited them. But his focus wasn’t on the danger to himself. He could only think of the falling sand and a boy the same age as his own son crying out for help.
*
The Director parked the Cadillac in the Luhrs City Center parking garage, and then they had to walk what seemed like five miles to reach the damn building. The Director was sucking air and seeing his life flash before his eyes before they had made it half way. Valdas looked like he could have carried the Director from the car and still not been half as out of breath as Philip felt at that moment.
As they walked up, Val said, “You didn’t tell me that their office was in Luhrs Tower. I’ve always wanted to get a closer look at this place.”
The Director had forgotten that Val was an architecture enthusiast. He looked up at the building between gasps. To him, it looked like a fourteen-story office building and not much else.
Val continued, “I love how the designer combined the Art Deco styling with regional Southwest and Spanish colonial influences.”
They reached the front door, but the Director was feeling light-headed and didn’t think he could muster enough strength to pull the massive thing open. Struggling to breathe, he said, “Yeah, it’s great. Grab the door.”
Valdas pulled open the door, but the Director could see the questions in his old partner’s eyes. He stumbled through the opening and fell onto a bench in the building’s lobby, trying to catch his breath and get the world to stop rocking back and forth like a sailboat in rough seas.
Val took a seat beside him and said, “We’re not that old yet, Philip.”
“What’s that? I couldn’t hear you because my brain is slowly dying from lack of oxygen.”
“You haven’t even been to the doctor, have you?”
The Director said nothing. He just leaned back and closed his eyes and wrestled for control of his own body.
“You’re a smoker. It could be emphysema or something like that.”
“I quit.”
“The damage was long done by then, my friend. There may be some kind of medicine that could help.”
“I’m fine. Just fighting a bit of a chest cold. Probably from lack of sleep.”
With that, he patted Valdas on the knee and said, “Good talk. Let’s get back to work.”
They took the elevators up to the seventh floor and stepped out into the Phoenix offices of Prison Systems International. The Director had been shocked that the CEO of PSI, Robert Gordon, was actually able to meet with them in Phoenix. PSI was a global titan in the world of prisons and prison-related industries, and the Phoenix office was a mere outpost for them. He had actually been expecting and hoping to meet with an underling, some junior vice president. Those guys didn’t have their line of bullshit perfected yet. The lies were easier to spot.
The office’s styling spoke volumes as to the company’s position in the marketplace. Even though they had exited on the seventh floor, the ceilings reached up high enough that the Director knew this was both the seventh and eight floors combined. The outside walls were exposed brick. The inside walls were mostly metal and glass with a textured stucco filling the gaps. The reception area was two stories tall, but some of the rest of the second story appeared to be loft offices and a huge conference room. The designs were elegant and modern and looked like they cost a fortune, and the whole space smelled like a freshly cut cucumber.
After a few moments in the reception area, they were greeted by a young brunette wearing a conservative skirt that was a size too small and a revealing black and white top that reminded the Director of a Rorschach test. He noticed Valdas admiring the young lady and putting a little extra swagger in his step. She led them up to the executive boardroom which occupied a portion of the loft. She then directed them toward a pair of chairs facing a large black wall.
She said, “Have a seat. Mr
. Gordon will be with you in a moment.”
Valdas said, “I love your shoes. Gianvito Rossi, right?”
Her eyes lit up, and she gave him a big smile. “Yeah, how did you know that?”
He shrugged. “I just appreciate beautiful things when I see them.”
The young lady blushed and eyed Valdas seductively as she closed the doors. Once she was out of earshot, the Director said, “I just threw up a little in my mouth.”
Val grinned and asked, “Jealous?”
“Hardly. All that flirting, dating, and dealing with another person’s baggage. Whole thing sounds exhausting. My wife died a long time ago, and I have no desire to hunt down another.”
“Aren’t you lonely?”
“You saying that you’re not?”
Val smiled. “Touché.”
Abruptly, the black wall in front of them came alive and faded up from black to a picture of a man in a dark purple suit sitting in an office somewhere.
“Gentleman, I’m Robert Gordon, CEO of PSI. How can I help you?”
The Director said, “What the hell is this? When I contacted your office, they scheduled you to meet with me here at this time to answer some questions. Did something change?”
Gordon said, “No, that’s why I’m here. Ask away.”
“I thought you would actually be here.”
Gordon laughed. “In Phoenix? I’m afraid not. I’m actually in Cologne right now. But I have another five minutes where I can answer any questions you have.”
The Director looked to Valdas, who shrugged. The Director sighed and said, “I know you’re some big-shot executive and all, but if you didn’t have the courtesy to travel your ass down here, then you shouldn’t have made me hike my wrinkly old ass all the way here, especially when people’s lives are in danger.”