Red Ochre Falls

by Kristen Gibson

  Garrett pulled the guy off the ground, slammed him against the wall, and with an arm at his neck, started firing off questions. “Who sent you?”

  No response.

  “Who sent you?!” He pressed.

  Still, no response.

  “Do you need an incentive to talk?” Garrett pressed harder.

  No response, but I heard some gurgling. Then the guy shook his head ‘no’.

  “Then tell me,” Garrett said. “Why are you here?”

  “We were told to find her. To get the key,” the guy struggled, but Garrett wasn’t letting go.

  “What key?”

  “Some key she got yesterday.” It was obvious by his helium-pitched voice the guy was losing oxygen the longer Garrett held him there.

  “Go back to your boss. Tell him the girl is off limits. So is the key.”

  “Please. I’m just doing a job,” the guy said, and I could swear there were tears in his eyes.

  “No key. If it’s so important, your boss should ask for it himself.” Garrett said, and threw him out into the rain.

  Zorro ran to the van, which was sitting at idle. The driver must have missed the show. The now unmasked bad guy yelled at the driver in a foreign language then they sped away.

  “I can’t believe Ruggiano sent his goons again.”

  “No,” Garrett told me. “That guy wasn’t part of his gang.”

  It bothered me Garrett had worked for Ruggiano. Even worse, he’d done something that required him to know members of Ruggiano’s gang.

  “Who do you think we’re dealing with now?”

  “I’m not sure, but I have a hunch it’s someone worse.”

  “There’s someone worse than him?” I started to shake. Garrett noticed.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Not really, just wet.”

  “We’ve got to get you somewhere safe, and dry.”

  “I’m fine. Glad you were here. Where’s your car?”

  “Detail shop. They’ll deliver it when the rain stops.”

  “We need to get into Chloe’s. Tom said the answers could be there.”

  “It’s too risky now. They may be watching it.”

  “But Garrett, there might be proof she didn’t kill herself.” He knew how much it meant for me to prove this for her parent’s sake as much as my own—I wanted to make up for times Chloe was there for me, and relieve myself of the guilt I carried around for not helping her sooner.

  “Mattie, there is no way to take away their pain. You can only help ease it. The best way to do that isn’t by getting yourself hurt, but by staying safe.”

  I wouldn’t budge.

  When he shook his wet hair, droplets showered the floor. His blue eyes focused on me. I was just about to agree with him.

  “Fine,” he said. “The least you can do is try and be safe.”

  I shrugged. “I’ll think about it. After we search Chloe’s”

  “Here’s the deal. If you’re that determined, you’ve got energy for a lesson. Dry off and change into your gear. We’ll run to the gym, then go to Chloe’s.”

  I didn’t feel like defense maneuvers, but he’d offered to check out a lead. I wasn’t going to argue.

  I dried off quickly, changed, and made it back downstairs in record time for me. He was already waiting. Was he Superman, or maybe, he wore workout gear under his regular clothes? Although, his bulging biceps made me want to believe the Superman theory.

  “Looks like it’s the Hellcat or the hearse. Mind if I drive?”

  “Go ahead.” It wasn’t my car, but since it was a loaner from his mechanic, at his request, and my car repairs were being paid on his dime (currently), he deserved a chance to drive such an awesome machine.

  “We’ll figure this out,” he reassured me as we zoomed through the streets.

  “I know.” But these answers didn’t come easy.

  He slowed the car near construction. I reached up to grab something for support, but missed and cracked my knuckles on the glass. He gave me a sideways look.

  I shook out my hand. As if it might make the sting or the embarrassment go away. No such luck. I looked back at him. “What? I never pretended to be coordinated. Besides, it hurt me not you.”

  “It never ceases to amaze me, the number of things you run into and yet you’re still here.”

  “Stubbornness pays off.” I rubbed my hand.

  “I guess so. Maybe if we practice some usable skills, you’ll outlast the bad guys.”

  “You think I’ll have to outlast a lot of them?”

  “From what I’ve seen, you attract trouble. So, yes.”

  “But, people like me…most of the time.”

  “Bad guys don’t care if you’re likeable. If you get in their way, they’ll come at you until you get out of their way…or stop breathing.”

  “Sheesh,” I grumbled as we pulled into a parking lot in an area of town I’d normally avoid.

  It really was time to focus. This was a gym unlike any I’d ever seen. It was a hole compared to the last place we’d gone. No fancy reception area, no neon snake, and no scary guys with semi-automatics. All fine by me. I felt more at ease here despite the fact it was crumbling around us.

  We entered a big room with an old boxing ring near the center. A series of training stations surrounded the ring. The place was drafty and smelled like old shoes, probably from years of intense, sweaty use, and old shoes.

  We walked around the outside of the room past a big guy punching a heavy bag, and a woman working with a special bag that kept springing back at her. Garrett called it a reflex bag. He told me it was even harder than it looked.

  We turned toward a partially mirrored wall—I guess boxers, like dancers, benefitted from watching their moves. We walked a few more feet and saw a speed bag hanging from a splintered wood disc. It was barely attached to the wall by a black bracket secured with only one bolt, where I think there used to be two, or even three. I saw another guy taping his hands. We set our gear down near the mat we’d be using. There were a few others working around us.

  What really startled me was the kid across the room—his baby face looked about ten, but his emergent muscles put him somewhere around puberty. He morphed into and out of adulthood as he practiced.

  The boy was scrapping with a guy in his late thirties, but the kid held his own. Garrett must have noticed my staring.

  “They’ve been here a few times.” Garrett noted an even younger boy standing along the wall near them.

  I watched and wondered. “They look so young. Why are they doing this? Shouldn’t they be playing soccer or something?”

  “The first time I saw them here, the kid working out was beat up pretty bad. Someone had done a number on him. His friend’s uncle brings them in a couple times a week.”

  My eyes focused on the older guy. Built like a tank wearing lots of black and a crew cut, probably military.

  “They practice here. Sometimes they film the sessions then post the videos online.” Garrett was beside me now. “They want to help other people deal with the bullies in their lives.”

  “Those kids are amazing and brave.” I admired the kid as he broke free from a chokehold. “Bullies suck.”

  Garrett’s eyes were on me now.

  “Bullies do suck. But, killers are worse. It’s time to get serious. Before the next guy comes after you.”

  We were all desperate fighters in this dark place—men, women, and children. We came here to learn how to protect ourselves from something, or someone bad.

  I was in way over my head and had absolutely no idea what I would do if someone attacked me. Other than scream loudly, if I could even do that. A chill raced up my spine. I felt the urge to run away, but ignored it. I took a breath, clenched my fists and found my resolve. “Where do we start?”

  “Remember your fighting stance,” Garrett said. “Left leg out front. Right heel up, so you’re ready to pounce, defend, whatever.”

  “Got it.” My hands we
nt up, my chin went down, and my feet bounced around to let him know I was ready.

  “All right,” he sounded impressed. “Let’s see what you’ve got. We’ll go over the stuff I showed you last time. Then we’ll work on things, like choke holds and gun threats, if there’s time.”

  That sounded intimidating, but I steeled my nerves and waved him on.

  “Mattie, I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m going to come at you harder than last time. You need to do your best to keep me away. Just yell ‘Time’ if you need a break.”

  We stood there. I looked at him and blew out a big breath to calm myself. “I’m ready,” I told him, but didn’t say anything about being worried one of us might get hurt.

  Garrett came at me from the front, and reached me before I could think of what to do. He stopped when he realized I wasn’t ready. He stepped back and awaited my signal.

  My brain processed the exercise. This was ‘hand meets face’. I couldn’t remember the technical term, so I shortened it to something memorable. Keep it simple. It’s what this type of training was all about.

  We nodded at each other and started up again. He moved toward me, I closed the distance and put the heel of my hand up to his face. Only his chin took the impact, which was to say my effort did nothing to stop him. He grabbed me and put me on the mat before anyone could blink. I was flat on the floor, but at least I was trying.

  Garrett helped pull me up. I shook it off.

  “Okay, let’s try again. Remember, close the distance. Thrust upward.”

  When he came at me, I bent my arm and thrust the palm of my hand upward. He managed to pull his head back just before the contact.

  “Nice job. If I hadn’t moved out of the way, you’d have busted my schnoz. One more time.”

  The same thing happened. I struck and he moved his face to avoid collision.

  “That’s it! Injure the nose. Distract the attacker. Get away.” He sounded giddy about me almost giving him a broken nose. Strange, but I was excited too.

  “Now, we’ll see if you can break my hold. I’ll grab you. Bring your arms up the middle then back down over mine.”

  I remembered this one. Garrett stepped forward and grabbed my shoulders. I pushed my arms up and over. My arms came down on his and broke his hold on me. Yes!

  “Nice.”

  “Thanks.”

  “This time, come back with the thrust move after you break my hold.”

  We tried a couple times, but it didn’t quite work. He stopped to show me in slow motion, and I did better the next couple times.

  Garrett spent an hour teaching me ways to break free from an attacker. With each attempt, we moved faster, and breathed harder. Distractions fell away, instinct kicked in—and something sparked.

  I tried to break free from his come from behind attack, but couldn’t. Pinned in his arms, my adrenaline surged. So, I improvised. My body weight shifted, enough to get him off balance. Then I grabbed his thumb and bent it back to force him to let go, which gave me space to move. It was enough for me to grab his arm and twist it backward until he was on the ground.

  “Okay, you got me!”

  I let go and helped him up.

  “Nice improv. You may need it when the time comes.”

  To hear him say ‘when the time comes’ like that shook me up. It would take a lot more practice for me to get comfortable with all this. A lot. I just hoped my mind wouldn’t blank out if my life depended on it. Bad things happened to more people than me. How did they handle this fear? He must have sensed my apprehension, because his serious face faded.

  “I think we’ve had enough sparring for one night. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Agreed.” The workout made me warm, but everything got hotter when he grabbed me, and pulled me closer. I was ready for something other than fear of death; whatever he had in mind. My finger caught the edge of his t-shirt and played with it.

  “You look hot,” he grinned, picking up on my signals. “Maybe you need a cold shower.”

  “Not exactly what I was thinking, but I’m willing to listen.”

  “If you towel off, we can do some investigating before dinner.”

  Investigating. Right. I was definitely distracted. Did I mention it was hot? “All right, but I get to drive.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Garrett and I went to Chloe’s apartment. A place called The Reserve near Fourth and Race Streets. I’d heard about it. The 15-story tower was originally built in 1927 in Cincinnati’s Fourth Street Historic District. A commercial builder converted the Federal Reserve Bank offices into high-end urban dwellings. The kind of place Chloe, or her parents, could afford.

  I punched in the code Tom gave me to get inside. Polished accents lined the way to a sitting area decorated with luxurious chairs. There were fresh flower arrangements on several tables around the room. The place glowed and smelled slightly of wood polish.

  We bypassed the elevators and took the stairs—Garrett said it would be good exercise. Sure, walking up fourteen flights of stairs was good exercise, but it meant I’d be starving soon. Having already burned a ton of calories, I intended to savor dinner after this.

  We searched her floor until we found the apartment. I pulled out the LEGO keychain when we got to her doorstep. A decorative wreath, the fresh kind you can order from Maine, or Vermont hung on her door. I looked over the balsam green wreath dotted with brown and ivory accents, and scented with cinnamon sticks. This felt like an invasion of privacy. Something on the other side of this door could provide us the break we need. I stuck the key in, and turned it to open the lock.

  Garrett suggested he go inside first, in case there was a problem. I thought it might be a good idea too, even though we were opening a locked door—a good sign in my book. I watched him walk inside. He took one step and stopped. I nearly rear-ended him it happened so fast.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He immediately put a hand up, and nodded a quick ‘no’ to me. I got super quiet then glanced over his shoulder and knew immediately why he stopped. The place was trashed. No indication from the outside, but inside it was clear someone had been looking for something they really wanted to find.

  There were some intense moments of not knowing what, or who, might still be there. But seeming satisfied with his scan of the room, Garrett entered and pulled me closely behind him.

  “My God, Chloe. What were you into?” I murmured as we entered.

  The apartment was beautiful, except for the mess of files, papers, and couch cushions spread all over. I wondered if the local police knew about this. Why would a woman who allegedly committed suicide have this happen? Something much bigger was going on and we’d just stepped into the middle of it.

  “Look at this place. There is no way she left it like this. Chloe loved order. This would have given her a heart attack.” It wasn’t a joke. She wouldn’t have left it like this. There was never a hair out of place on the girl. She even organized her socks, so this could not have happened before she died.

  “Looks like it, but we’ve got our work cut out for us. The police can’t dig into a closed case unless they have something concrete. And this,” he looked at the mess. “This could just be a case of a poorly timed break-in.”

  “Really?” I stood defensively. “How would they explain the television and artwork are untouched?”

  “Hey, I’m not saying it isn’t something more. I’m just telling you we’re going to need real evidence before we ask the police to go looking for a killer. We need to be cautious. We don’t want to accuse anyone, cop or coroner, of making a mistake just yet.”

  “Even if that’s what happened?”

  “Yes, even then. It’d be difficult for Cal to help if we had the cops on our bad side. Plus, it puts the bad guys on high alert.”

  “But they already know we’re after something. I haven’t exactly been quiet about investigating Chloe’s death.”

  “Yes, and it’s why you’ve got bad guys after you.” Intensity
flashed in his eyes. “But from what I’ve seen, they’re only trying to figure out what you know, or scare you off. The longer we keep quiet, and build the case, the better.”

  “Stay low.”

  “Right. And figure out what Chloe is trying to tell you.”

  “Tell me?”

  “You said it yourself. She called you about the case. Sent Tom Clark to give you the key. There’s something you can do more than anyone else.”

  “Run into bad guys and brick walls?”

  “Besides that,” he chuckled. “Mattie, you have a lot to offer. Don’t let your situation determine your value.”

  “Thank you.” I softened, and took a deep breath. “I guess we’d better be thorough.” I knew it was a long shot, especially, if public or elected officials were involved. Still, questions remained, like why someone powerful, and probably loaded with cash, was trying to cover up my friend’s death?

  “You take this part of the room.” He headed to the other side of the room. “Look for anything out of place.”

  “You mean besides the tossed papers, and shredded couch?” I had to find something sarcastic to say to take the edge off. Danger hovered over this ‘investigation’ of ours. The fact that someone I knew was murdered scared me.

  “Yeah, try to overlook those. You knew her. Look for anything out of the ordinary, and anything too ordinary. Something she may have tried to hide in plain sight.”

  “Great, so we’ll be here a while.”

  “Plan on it.” He picked up a lamp and put it on an end table.

  My stomach grumbled. I snarled just a little, but shook it off, and dug into a pile of papers around her desk.

  It looked like a tornado hit here. There was not a good starting place, so I decided to work my way from left to right.

  The papers on the floor to the left of her desk looked mostly like household stuff. Appliance manuals, credit card statements, and electric bills.

  The mess under her desk looked even less interesting. Rental policies and meeting notices.

  On the right of her desk were some notes, but there wasn’t much there either.