The Town (Rob Stone Book 2)

by A P Bateman

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “I heard they upped and left quickly.”

  “You hear a lot. For someone who just came into town yesterday.” Bart looked at him cautiously. “That’s close enough as well.” Stone stopped walking. “Where were you? Veteran.”

  “Afghanistan. I heard you were too. Jarhead.”

  “Army?”

  “Yep.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Marines have enough problems of their own.”

  Bart smirked. “Well, ain’t this all sweet and nice?” He shifted his weight, but kept his back against the tree. “I bought those two townies out fair and square. I had nothing after I left the marines. Claude invested in me and I paid him back quickly. I took to this line of work real natural too. Those fags got the trees planted and established, but I’m the one who got all the fruit off them. You have to train them, like new recruits, grunts. Lick or kick them into shape. Hell, some years I’ve cut all the apples off, some big branches too, off hundreds of trees just to get them into better shape for the next year. Those townie assholes didn’t have a clue.”

  “So where did they go?”

  “Who cares? They wouldn’t know what planet they were on anyway. I burned a ton of weed when I cleared the sheds out. They had plants everywhere. Left them behind. They were too stoned to get a good business going out here. Driving around town giving barrels of apples away because they were scared they’d rot. Once I pick mine, I move them through the storage huts by cold water canal. It washes them, and moves them without bruising. I have a cold storage room with a humidor. Cost a hundred grand, but the apples can lie dormant for almost a year and I get the best prices when the markets are good and leave them be when the market doesn’t pay. I bought it after taking my gluts of apples to a brewer and asking them to consider making cider and splitting the profits. Now I make the cider and cut out the middle man. I’ve worked my ass off getting this place right.”

  “Just you, or do you need help?”

  “Just me and a couple part timers from town. They work four days a week each. Then from September to the end of November they all need picking. I need a lot of help then.”

  “Casual labour?”

  “Sure.”

  “Where from?”

  Bart looked at him and shook his head. “Nah, I figure I’ve talked enough for the day.”

  “Your brother has a logging concern. I bet he has a lot of labour.”

  “You’d better ask him.”

  “I’m going to.”

  Bart smiled. “Good luck with that.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. He ain’t real amiable like me.”

  “Two guys working for Claude knocked me out and put me in the trunk of a car last night. You know anything about that?” Stone watched the man, but gleaned nothing from his silence or expression. “Two more came to take me for a ride about an hour and a half ago. They’re not in great shape. But better off than their buddies are, that’s for sure.”

  “You’re getting soft.”

  “No. Just practical.”

  “Well good luck with Dave. I’ve got work to do.” Bart turned to go. Stone stepped forwards to stop him, but froze as Bart swung back, the M4 carbine held in his hands, the muzzle aimed at him. Steady and unwavering. A veteran’s experienced hands. “Now, don’t go making sudden moves like that. It unnerves me. You should know that, being a fellow veteran and all.”

  Stone looked at the weapon, then back at the man’s face. “You need that for tending to apple trees?”

  “No,” he said. “Pests and varmints.”

  “Big pests.”

  “Bears, cougars, wolves. They’re all hungry this time of year. Plus, there’s all sorts of vermin out here lately, trying to affect my business and all.”

  Stone looked at the weapon. It was fitted with Weaver Picatinny rails which allowed certain accessories to be a fitted. Bart Conrad’s weapon had a tactical flashlight mounted to the side with a laser marker on the other, a retractable bipod underslung and a compact x4 sight on the scope mount. The magazine was a standard thirty rounds but with a Perspex inspection window strip running from top to bottom. The visible sections of brass cases indicated that it was indeed full. Stone guessed the sights would be infrared. Serving Navy SEALS would be jealous. “You need a custom M4 like that out here?”

  “I don’t know. Do I?”

  “No, I guess we’re done,” Stone said. “For now.”

  Stone walked back up the slope, half expecting to hear a shot. Or simply fall to the ground having not heard one. But as he reached the car and it was evident he was going to be ok, he not only breathed a sigh of relief, he also knew that one of his most important questions had just been answered.

  15

  Big Dave Conrad. A man who played college football and had been given a shot at the sportsman’s dream. A big man gone to seed and sporting an old injury which had cost him his football career. Stone imagined that the man was always going to be bitter to say the least. A man with a grudge against anything or anyone who either stood in his way, or disagreed with him.

  Stone looked at him as he pulled the big Ford to a halt outside a timber framed storage shed. It was big enough to park twenty rigs and their trailers under its steel roof. Stone got out and slammed the door shut. He had left the keys in the ignition, the car facing back outwards. The ground was muddy, torn up by vehicles. There had been a ton of gravel poured down recently, but most of it looked to have been covered with mud.

  Big Dave Conrad stood outside a log cabin which had office written above the door, burned into the wood. Stone thought that contract drivers would haul or deliver sometimes, to warrant the sign. “I was wondering when I’d see you,” Conrad said. “You’re like a dog that won’t quit. I had an old dog like that, used to stray. Always turned up where he wasn’t wanted. Had to lop off his nuts in the end. Subdue the son of a bitch. Show him he couldn’t go doing what he wanted all the time.”

  “I’m more of a cat person,” Stone replied. “They’re less predictable, more independent. More intelligent.”

  “You don’t say?”

  “Spoke to your brother?”

  “Which one?”

  “Bart.”

  “Not today.”

  “Really?”

  “You hard of hearing, boy?” A couple of large bearded men in trucker caps strode out of the office and stood behind their boss. Conrad looked back at them, then turned to Stone and smiled. “State your business. I’m real busy.”

  “You short of a couple men?”

  “Why? You want a job?” he smirked, then said, “I haven’t checked the manifests.”

  Stone nodded towards the Ford sedan. “You short of a pool vehicle?”

  Conrad frowned. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying a couple of men attacked me and put me in the trunk,” Stone said. “They had plans, I changed those plans. Now I’m looking for whoever sent them.”

  “You’re making an impression in these parts.”

  “Those same guys beat up Maggie at the hotel,” said Stone. “You know Maggie, don’t you?”

  “Nice lady,” Big Dave sneered. “Great fuck.”

  “That’s what I heard you’d been saying,” Stone smiled. “Except I don’t believe she’d do anything like that with someone like you. She told me you’d made it all up. Her husband took a beating from you. He disappeared not long afterwards.”

  “Try the lake.”

  “Seems they did,” Stone said. “No flow, no predators. He’d have floated up if he ever went in.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Just a guy.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you that lake has got catfish five feet long in there and even though they don’t have big teeth they would chomp their gums on bones and break them like twigs. They suck and gnaw and chew and grind those jaws of theirs, feeding on anything lying in that mud. Including each other. They would work thro
ugh a body as good as sharks would in the Florida Keys. Hell, your friend Gator McClusky would know that. He was a swamp guy in the glades, he knows what big catfish are like. He’s stirring shit with you, boy.”

  “How do you know I was talking to Gator?”

  “Small town. Everybody knows everything in Abandon.”

  Stone stared at him, closed the gap by a few paces. “What about Deborah?”

  “What about her?”

  “Well, she seemed to think you warned her off serving me.”

  “Maybe I did. It’s my establishment, I employ her. Maybe I just don’t like your face. Although I see somebody tried to improve it,” he laughed. “Maybe I’ll have another word with Deborah real soon.”

  “She said you threatened to rape her.”

  “Hah! She likes to play games. I told her I’d make her pay if she served you. Seems I’ll have to do that still, teach the bitch who’s boss.”

  “I got the impression you’ve done that before. Made her pay. You rape her before?”

  Big Dave Conrad stepped over, his heavy steel toe capped boots caked with mud. “Now listen here, city boy, I never raped no one. Deborah likes it a bit rough and we’ve had our times. She likes to beg you to stop, say no, but she really means yes. Got that?”

  “No,” Stone said. “I think she meant no. I think she meant stop. I think you’ve got her down there working for nothing, holding back her wages and working her all hours. She came to search for her son, and I think you know something about what happened to him too.”

  “She’s stuck there working off a debt!” Dave Conrad shouted. “She spent all her money, and then some on hiring that private detective. He suckered her into more and more money. She borrowed the money off me!”

  “And you thought you’d collect it in kind?”

  “Bitch owed me! She borrowed money, she earns less than minimum wage and has her room and board deducted. I lent her thousands! How long do you think it would take her to pay it back?”

  “Three years and counting, I’d say. And she’s not an underclassman. She’s not some Mexican immigrant working pots and pans, and keeping under the radar from the IRS. She’s a US citizen and is entitled to minimum wage. You ordered Gator not to mend her car,” Stone said. “What, to stop her running out on you?”

  “Bitch would have upped and left!” Conrad walked right up close to Stone and the other two men followed. They took another step forwards in unison. “Now, what’s it to you?” He growled, his teeth clenched tightly.

  “If you raped her, you’ll pay. Maybe I’ll lop of your nuts, like that dog of yours.”

  “Like I said,” he snarled. “She likes to play games, likes it rough. You or she won’t prove any different. Now get the hell off my property!”

  “You know anything about the owner of the car I drove here in? Your brother Bart seemed to know who owned it. Said it was a buddy of his.”

  Conrad spat on the ground. It landed an inch from Stone’s boot. “Then you know what you need to know.”

  “No,” Stone said. “I asked you if you knew anything.”

  “Seen it around. What’s it to you? You steal a car now as well?”

  “As well as what?”

  “As well as beating up on people.”

  “Self-defence.”

  Conrad grinned. “Well, you seem to be finding trouble all over.”

  “The guys who last drove that car are both dead. They thought they could drive me off into the wilderness and bury me,” Stone said. “They thought wrong.”

  “And you killed them?” Conrad said. He turned to each of the men beside him. “Well, I think we’d be justified to make a citizen’s arrest.”

  The two men hustled forwards but Conrad was a big man and they had to move around his shoulders. Stone dropped low and spun around, his calf catching the nearest man’s lead leg at the back of the knee. He bought up his right arm, striking the man in the left side of his neck as he hooked out the leg. The man was pulled one way, pushed the other and slammed down hard into the mud. Stone didn’t have time to finish him and dealt with the next attacker, catching hold of his jacket and twisting his right hip into the man’s groin as he threw him over his shoulder and he slammed down on his back, winded. Conrad, frozen in surprise, had regained composure and hustled in fast. Stone ducked a punch and followed it up with a left jab to Conrad’s nose and a hard body punch to the ribs. Conrad wheezed but remained standing. He had moved back about a pace or two and was holding his fists up like a boxer. The first man to fall was getting back up. He was on his knees with his back to Stone, when Stone lunged forwards and kicked him in the groin. It was a field goal kick, and the man lurched forwards a few feet and collapsed in the mud screaming and sounding as if he was going to choke. Conrad was back on the attack and he punched wild and fast forcing Stone to dodge and block with his forearms. The punches were powerful. Stone caught Conrad with two good body shots, but missed a hook to the man’s jaw. Conrad punched at the same time as the man Stone had thrown had got up and got both arms clamped around Stone’s waist. The punch was wild and telegraphed, but Stone couldn’t move. It was a rib-breaking body blow, but landed squarely on the frame of the big Colt in Stone’s pocket. Conrad’s eyes went wide and he held up his smashed knuckles, clasping the fingers with his other hand. Stone’s breath left him in a single gasp as the wind was knocked from him. The blow had done some damage. Conrad pranced about in the mud screaming. Stone came to his senses and whipped his head back, cracking the man on the bridge of his nose. The grip released at once and Stone turned and punched the man on the same spot. The man reeled backwards but Stone was on him, punching in left, right combinations. The man was going down when Stone shoulder charged him and dropped on top of him in the mud. He brought his knee up into the man’s groin, and powered down a punch onto the tip of the man’s chin. His lights went out and Stone rolled off and got to his feet.

  Conrad stood there breathing hard, his right hand clasped in his left. He looked warily at Stone. “What now?”

  Stone looked at him. “You cut Deborah loose. I don’t care what she owes you. You have a big business here; you can lose a grand or two. She must have paid back a chunk by now.”

  “Barely scratched the surface,” Conrad said.

  “What is it, a four thousand percent deal like your brother Claude was prosecuted for?”

  “That never stuck.”

  “I heard. Witness intimidation.”

  “Like I said about Deborah. You have to prove it.”

  Stone looked past Conrad. A few men had gathered near the office. Another two were walking up from what looked like the entrance to the saw mill. A truck pulled up and stopped. The man jumped down and walked over, standing behind the others. Stone looked back at the two men on the floor. The gathering men were colleagues to these two men, regardless of any ill feelings they may harbour towards their boss. Stone thought back to the closed-in streets and villages of Afghanistan. Sometimes people gathered after a conflict or a patrol stalled for one reason or another. Sometimes the numbers swelled and it was simply curiosity. Other times they gathered and it would signify an attack. Sometimes just people gathering after trouble was enough warning to leave and live to fight another day.

  He looked at Conrad, glanced at the two men on the floor. The field goal guy was moving on the ground still clutching his groin, still whimpering. Stone hoped he had already fathered children. “I’ll be checking with Deborah. Checking to see her debt has been cleared.”

  Conrad turned around and looked at his men. There were ten now, standing shoulder to shoulder. “Don’t think I’ll be doing anything you say,” he looked back at Stone, then froze when he saw the Colt .45 in his hand, the muzzle pointing at him.

  “You were saying?”

  “Nothing…” Conrad said.

  “Sure?”

  Conrad nodded. “Okay mister. I’ll have a word with her. Is that all?”

  “For now,” said Stone. He backed away a f
ew paces then turned and walked back to the big Ford. He started up and drove off, watching the group of men in his rear view mirror, who by now were all gathered around their boss.

  16

  Stone headed halfway down the strip, past the hotel and took the right which headed west. It was the only way he hadn’t driven yet. The houses were bigger here, but there were no more than twenty of them and most looked empty. The lots were large, good parking for two vehicles, grass out front, yards to the rear. A few pines had been allowed to grow, clusters of four or five, all seemingly larger than the fringe of forest beyond. More light, less competition for soil nutrients.

  The Sheriff’s office was purpose built. A single-storey unit with smoked glass, and Abandon & Aldridge Valley Sheriff Dept. written in gold on the middle pane. The outer panes both had Endeavour & Overcome. Written twice, in case you missed it the first time. The walls were brick and the roof was in keeping with the forest and made from cedar tiles. Out front there was parking for five or six vehicles. The Dodge Challenger police cruiser was outside, looking aggressive, powerful and purposeful. Stone thought it to be a brilliant choice for a police vehicle. Not much outside of a racetrack would get away from it. Alongside it was parked a big Chevrolet double-cab pickup, painted and written in the same livery. Four-wheel drive, utilitarian, imposing, rugged. Another good choice, especially in winter and given the location.

  Stone looked at the empty looking houses on the other side of the road. He guessed the sheriff wasn’t going to be the busiest law enforcement officer in Oregon.

  He climbed the steps and pushed the door open. It was like law enforcement offices the world over. Just on a smaller scale to most. A processing desk and waiting area, a door which Stone guessed led to the Sheriff’s office and a heavier looking door to the right which Stone would put money on led to the cells. Or cell. Stone looked around the waiting area. He felt a chill when he looked at the notice wall. Missing persons. A lot of missing persons.