by Paul Sating
When Serenity spoke, her voice sounded like someone else's inside her head. “What color were their suits?”
Realization spread across Ida’s face, jaw falling, eyes widening as the answer flopped out. “Black.”
17
Back and forth, back and forth.
At this rate Serenity would wear a hole in the floor but the floor, was the least of her problems.
Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.
Repetition did nothing. She should have stayed on the reservation. She should have kept her butt in that worn chair and listened to whatever George had to say. Why had she caved to Mitzie’s decision? Mitzie was as clueless as she was.
Now Serenity needed tackle this problem on her own. No George, no Patch.
Jerrod covered for her about school.
The Black Suits.
They had been to the house. They knew about her and Jerrod.
Focus, all of her focus, went to remaining composed. Serenity exhaled slowly, choking back the tears. If the Black Suits could wipe out dozens of people right under the noses of coworkers, if the threat of their presence turned Patch into what she saw now, she didn’t stand a chance.
Shoving the stack of school books off her nightstand, Serenity growled as they bounced off her bed railing, flipping open and crashing to the floor. The corner of her chemistry book, her favorite subject, bent inward, but she kept pacing.
The room was a blur, none of it registering as Serenity tried to understand what all this meant. The Black Suits had been to her home. They had the brashness to walk up to the front door and make inquiries. Because that is how it worked for those outside the law.
Jerry had taught her that over and over. How young had she been when she no longer listened? Something in his heated rantings might have come in handy now.
The pictures of stupid hip-hop stars adorning her wall. The inspirational quotes she’d stolen from Instagram and wrote in creative cursive designs when bored or lonely. All of it just noise in the background. On the other side of her bedroom door, her brother and mother were going about dealing with this in their own ways, most likely with Mother staring off into the distance, alone at the kitchen table and Jerrod dancing out his stress in his room, though she didn’t hear the familiar thumping of the bass through the walls.
Serenity wanted to be close to them, but her own troubles made it difficult to think without having them around.
How had leaving the reservation been a good idea? George was an unknown quantity, and Patch? With him, there was something deeper, like she’d known him her entire life. Serenity realized it was a ridiculous thought, but it was equally undeniable. Maybe the Screecher had something to do with it, the tag it’d imbedded in her? Patch always knew where and when to find her, and as crazy as it was, it was too convenient to call it a coincidence. He’d almost said as much. That connection, Serenity wasn’t entirely sure that was the appropriate word, might be the reason for this sense of trust. Plus, at least Patch had proven himself. Everything he did, he did for someone else.
Yet I followed Mitzie.
She bent to pick up her books and noticed a small card laying next to her chemistry book. It had served as a bookmark. But a bookmark it wasn’t.
Deputy Rodgers’ business card.
Serenity snatched it, running her thumb over his name and phone number. He could help.
Stacking her books back on the nightstand, Serenity went to her bedroom door and listened for any noise coming from the other side.
Nothing.
Ida spent a lot of time in the kitchen whenever she was troubled. Cooking was her coping mechanism. If she was there now, escape would be impossible.
I have to try.
Serenity inched the door open, grimacing as the hinges creaked. She listened for a sign that the noise had drawn her mother’s attention. Metallic clicking echoed from the kitchen, and Serenity allowed herself a moment of pride at anticipating her mother’s actions. As a bonus, the creaking door hadn’t drawn suspicion.
Serenity’s heart thudded. The Gator was right outside. Jerrod always parked it close to the house because he was lazy. Serenity could find it blindfolded. Its proximity was also the biggest threat.
Biting her lip against every creak and crack of the floor, Serenity slunk to the front door, swooping up her sneakers even as she pulled the door open and slipped outside. With no way she’d go unnoticed, now, it was all about moving fast. The rocky yard dug into her feet forcing her to hop-run as she sprang around the corner of the house. She would put on her sneakers after she got away. Escape was all that mattered.
Dammit. The Gator wasn’t there. They’d parked it in the side yard, so where the hell was it?
Maybe Jerrod had taken it to look for her. In almost every way, Jerrod might be an ass, but when it came to being a big brother and a decent sibling, he would have driven around Rotisserie until the utility vehicle ran out of gas to find her. If he came home when it was still scorching outside, he might not have parked it in the usual spot.
Serenity scrambled around the other side of the house, her worst fear confirmed. The Gator sat underneath the Desert Willow, the only form of shade in the yard. Jerry had trained them to park the vehicle there each time they used it, once ranting about it until the neighbors checked to see if everything was okay. One of the few useful things he ever bothered to teach them. That lesson created a huge problem. The kitchen windows faced the tree. Game over, if her mother was still puttering around there.
Serenity slunk along the house, her back almost touching the stucco. She jumped when the air conditioning unit rattled to life. Though it drowned out sounds coming from inside and would disguise the noise of the Gator’s engine, it did nothing to help her thudding heart.
Hang out here and roast or go back inside, pace her room until her feet numbed, or make a run for it. One of them had to do something before they met the same fate as Patch’s family.
One person could help. Serenity had to see him; consequences be damned.
Serenity sprinted across the open yard, sliding into the utility vehicle. Her heart beat faster when the engine choked to life, but the tightness in her chest didn’t loosen until the house faded into the sea of identical dwellings. Whatever rage awaited her when she got home would be there when she returned, unless her absence went unnoticed.
Fists curled around the steering wheel as she rumbled into town, Serenity cursed herself for letting others always dictate what happened to her.
She wasn’t sure if she saw the world for what it really was anymore.
How can you when other people are writing your story?
Serenity scowled, shoving the accelerator down. The Gator lurched forward.
18
Deputy Rodgers leaned back in the chair, eyes wide, rubbing the length of his face with his hand. Serenity jumped when the deputy lunged and yanked open a desk drawer, pulling out a small hand towel and dabbing his forehead. The office was stuffy but not enough to sweat like that. Rodgers had left the door open to keep air flowing. They wouldn’t be disturbed since there were only two people manning the station, and he was one of them. The dispatcher was the other, and she was on the other side of the building. Everyone else was out with the posse searching for the Screecher.
Rodgers opened the towel so it covered his face and dragged it down to his neck. When he pulled it away, his skin was pink with irritation.
The deputy looked ruffled. Maybe coming here was a mistake.
As he tossed the towel into a cardboard box crammed into a corner, a flicker of doubt arced through her mind. What made her so sure he was on the up and up? Her trauma-clouded mind from the Screecher might have altered her judgment. The deputy’s urgency to help might have been a cover for his cooperation with the Black Suits.
Unease mutated into something darker--not yet panic, but close. Her mouth dried, and the room was like the desert outside.
Serenity’s teeth clicked together. She could almost hear his
boast. “You should have listened, Porkchop. I taught you about the world. But you never listened. You thought you were so smart. Stupid girl. Stupid, stupid girl.”
Serenity stifled that abusive voice. She would give Deputy Rodgers the benefit of the doubt. If he was playing for the other side, it was already too late. The Black Suits could be sitting in the parking lot, waiting for the signal to come in and grab her.
He’s my only chance.
“So,” the deputy said, “let me get this straight. You’re telling me there’s some secret government group threatening people in the Tri-Counties? And they’re doing it because of this damn animal that killed a man?”
Serenity’s hands moved before her mouth did, flopping around in front of her as she tried to formulate a response.
“Well, not a secret government group,” she said. “I don’t know exactly what they are.”
“Tell me what you know then.” The statement wasn’t friendly. The deputy caught his own tone. “Listen, Serenity, I’m sorry. I’m a little on edge. We’ve got this weird stuff happening up on Sunrise Peaks, your experience over at the Scales, and these men hunting the damn animal. Now you’re telling me we’ve got a group I’ve never heard of following people around, threatening them. None of this makes sense.” His voice rose and he bit his lip. “I shouldn’t be saying this to you.” He barked a laugh. “Or at all. I don’t have a lot of confidence in our abilities to handle this. I have to be cautious, but I need better information.”
Serenity coughed as if her lies were stuck in her throat. He deserved the truth, not this concoction she was dancing around. He had to know about the Black Suits. Without his help her family didn’t stand a chance. It had to happen now, or her family would face the fate Patch’s had.
Patch!
“There’s a man,” she said in a rush. “He can tell you more. He’s dealt with them for years. If you talk to him, you’ll be able to get everything you need.”
“A man? Who?”
“His name is Patch. He—”
“Patch?” Deputy Rodgers snorted, leaning back with a huge, somehow sad, grin on his face. “What does Patch know about these men?”
“Patch is the one who first told me about them,” Serenity said.
Getting the deputy to understand was the key to getting back to the reservation. They could talk about this in a patrol car while looking for Patch. She just had to get him interested enough to move.
“He told me about how they were involved with some experiment that happened here a long time ago. How they abused men who worked at this metal plant and how he avoided them for years. They killed his friends.”
The silence was more than awkward. Serenity tucked her hands under each armpit, embracing herself in a protective hug.
“Oh my God!” He burst out laughing. “Is that crazy badger still telling that story? When does it end with him? I swear, he'll be telling that story as they’re stuffing him in a coffin. No lie.”
Heat filled Serenity’s face. Deputy Rodgers stopped laughing when he saw Serenity and cleared his throat.
“Sorry. Listen, Serenity, I’m not sure what’s happened. I don’t have your answers and I know you didn’t get any out of the town hall meeting, and that’s our fault. I wish I had something for you then, just as I wish I had something for you now. I don’t.” He rested his elbow on the desk and pointed a finger to the sky. “What I do have for you is this, stay away from that man. He’s not right. He’s…” Deputy Rodgers paused, looking every bit a man struggling to find the ideal way to say something and failing. “He’s just not right, Serenity.”
“Sir.” Her father’s lesson about appealing to a cop’s authority kicked in. “That’s not true. Patch is harmless. He’s had an awfully hard life. Being homeless. The war. Everything that happened at the metal plant. And then…”
“His family?” Deputy Rodgers finished for her. “See, that’s the thing about Patch. And I need you to listen carefully, Serenity. He’s a wonderful storyteller. I’m speaking from experience, trust me. The first few times I met Patch I was responding to some trouble involving him. I’d get there, and whatever trouble he caused was always overblown. Patch would spend the next hour weaving tales of yesteryear for my education or his entertainment. It doesn’t matter which. He always said that, always said I needed to hear these things for my own protection.” Deputy Rodgers sat back, crossing his arms. “Patch believes his stories. He thinks those things happened to him. And that’s where people like Patch get ya’. Sucks you in with this air of authenticity. Be careful. You’ve got to use your head. Especially with people like Patch.”
Great. Another person to give me life lessons.
“I'm not naïve, deputy,” she said, trying to cover what she wanted to say with slow, measured words. “But I’m telling you, the things he says aren’t fairy tales. They’re true. I don’t know everything he’s ever said, but I can tell you everything he’s shared, everything he has warned me of, is all linked.”
Deputy Rodgers planted both elbows firmly on the desk, a hardness in his eyes. It reminded her of the way her mother looked at her whenever she did something she wasn’t supposed to. “What did he tell you about his family?”
Something was coming she didn’t want to hear.
“The horrible things the Black Suits did to them,” she said through tight lips.
Deputy Rodgers’ eyebrow raised. “The Black Suits? Is that what he told you? This team that bothered your mother? He told you that’s who is responsible for his family's deaths?”
“Yes.” The anile answer creaked from her mouth. She sunk in the chair.
“There was no secret government group, Serenity. No bad guys lurking in the shadows, stalking the people of the Tri-Counties, waiting for the right moment to pounce.”
“That’s not what he—”
“The fact is,” Deputy Rodgers interrupted, his tone defiant, “that Patch was a drinker. A heavy one. And, according to the reports we have in our files, he had a few run-ins with the sheriff back then. Fighting and such. But there was something else about Patch. I’m not saying this to bad-mouth him. You take his word as gospel and that could land you in a dangerous situation and it’s my duty to protect the people of the Tri-Counties. So please understand that’s where I’m coming from, okay?”
“Okay,” she croaked.
Deputy Rodgers drew a deep breath, his eyebrows raised. When he spoke his voice was soft. “Patch was an abuser, Serenity. He had a history of being rough with his wife and kids. Called it discipline. We have documentation. This wasn’t discipline, Serenity. It was abuse. He hit them. More than once. I’m not trying to make him out to be a monster, I swear, but the reports show what kind of man he was then, and maybe still is.”
“Th—that can’t be true,” Serenity said. “He loved them. I saw it! In his face, when he talked about them. He would never abuse them.”
Deputy Rodgers’ lips drew back as if biting a retort. “Remorse? I don’t know. I hate being the one to tell you this. He has a dark past. It's possible he’s changed. Having your wife pack up the kids and some belongings and racing across the state to get away in the middle of the night would be hard enough. But knowing your wife was so desperate to be anywhere but with you that she died in a car accident trying to escape? That’s damning. I can see why those memories would be hard.”
Serenity could only remember the kindness and compassion, the empathy, Patch had shown for complete strangers. Not just her and Jerrod, but everyone in the town threatened by the Screecher. He even cared about the men in the posse. He did that while being invisible to everyone. Patch had warned her that no one would give him a fair shake in this town. She thought he was talking about the current situation. What if the town never had?
“The Black Suits!”
Deputy Rodgers’ eyes lost focus, blinking rapidly and searching the top of his desk. She held back a bitter laugh. Now it was her time to lean forward. “The Black Suits are behind it. Then and now
. They drugged the employees at the metal plant. And what about the mysterious accidents and disappearances of the men who worked there? Has anyone taken the time to find out why so many of them died? Where else does that happen? I’m telling you.” She was so excited by the connections that clumped together; she didn’t care if she bulldozed her way through any response. “The Black Suits did everything they could to get rid of the evidence, even killing innocent people if they had to. And those they couldn’t kill, they drugged into a lifelong zombie state. They thought they’d done the same to Patch, but their drugs didn’t work on him. That’s why his wife and kids were killed. It was the Black Suits.”
“The records show—”
“Fuck your records!” Her voice echoed down the empty hall.
Serenity pulled her top lip down with her bottom lip. It wasn’t right. No matter how frustrated she was with the deputy or the situation, the last thing she could afford to do was to alienate the only person left who might be able to help. Thankfully, the deputy didn’t appear put off by her outburst.
“I’m sorry.”
Deputy Rodgers tapped a finger on the desk. His lips pressed together, unmoving.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
She bit down on her lip, hard enough to keep herself from filling the void of silence. This man wasn’t a controlling parent about to scold. He didn’t look ready to explore in anger, like Jerry did. Instead Deputy Rodgers smiled a kind, warm smile. “I want to help, Serenity. And part of helping is honesty, even when the honest thing to say isn’t necessarily what the other person wants to hear. I don’t know about the Black Suits.” He ran a hand down his neck. “You coming here today is the first I’ve ever heard that name or of any secret agency in Rotisserie. You’d think we’d have come across them at some point if they’ve been operating here for the past sixty or so years. I’m not saying I don’t believe you, I just don’t believe anything Patch has to say. So, I can’t act on unreliable information, even if we had the manpower. Which we don’t. I promise. I’m not shutting you down. But I need time to look into this. And I will.”