Down the Broken Road

by J. R. Backlund

  “Shit,” Hughes said, as if struck by a memory. “I forgot to tell you. Gulani swore he didn’t call Gordon.”

  “It had to be him,” Rachel said. “He was the only one who knew I was going to his office. Gordon even said it was him.”

  “He didn’t deny that he had called someone. He just swore it wasn’t Gordon.”

  “He wouldn’t tell you who?”

  “I almost had it out of him. I could tell, he was gonna break. But then, of course, we were interrupted.”

  “Well,” Braddock said, “he won’t be telling us anytime soon.”

  Rachel suddenly remembered what she’d been about to do before Hughes stopped her. She jumped up and said, “They could be here.”

  Hughes asked, “Who?”

  She ran for the admissions counter, and they jogged after her. Then it hit Braddock. “Damn, she’s right. This is the only hospital in the area.”

  “Who are we talking about?”

  “Gordon and Martin. She dislocated Gordon’s knee and shot Martin in the calf.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  Rachel put her hands on the counter and said, “Ma’am?”

  The nurse looked up from her computer.

  “I need to know if someone was admitted last night.” She figured the gunshot wound would be a certainty. “His name’s Seth Martin.”

  The nurse moved the mouse around, clicked it several times, and studied the screen. Her eyes moved side to side as she said, “Nope. Sorry.”

  Rachel was stunned. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. There’s no record of him here.”

  Braddock said, “Maybe they drove him to Charlotte.”

  She looked back at the nurse. “How about Riley Gordon?”

  A few more clicks, and she said, “Yep. He checked in last night.”

  “Is he still here?”

  The nurse eyed Rachel with suspicion. “Are you a family member?”

  Braddock unclipped his badge from his belt and held it up for her to see. “We need to ask him a few questions.”

  “Good enough for me,” she said. “He’s scheduled for surgery this afternoon. He’s on the third floor.”

  They started for the elevators, but a booming voice yelled, “Detective Hughes.”

  They stopped and turned to see a man in uniform entering from the double doors. He looked irate.

  Hughes said, “That’ll be the sheriff for me.”

  “I’d like a word with you about this goddamn gunfight you started in my town.”

  Hughes said, “You two go on. I’ll handle this.”

  Rachel and Braddock didn’t need to hear it again. They made for the elevator. As they waited for the door to open, Braddock leaned over and said, “I almost feel kinda sorry for him.”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Gordon was asleep when Rachel and Braddock came into his room. His leg looked like it had been reset by the ER staff, though the surgery would be needed to fix the internal damage. Presently, it was splinted and wrapped with gauze and bandages to keep it immobile. Rachel walked up to the side of the bed and slapped his foot.

  He woke with a start and growled, “Goddammit. What the…?” He saw Rachel, then looked at Braddock, caught sight of the badge on his hip, and went quiet.

  “Hi there, Flash,” Rachel said. “Did we wake you?”

  He looked at the ceiling.

  “Aw, what’s the matter? Not happy to see me?”

  “You should leave,” he said. “If I call my mother and tell her you’re here harass—”

  Rachel laughed. “Did you just threaten to call your mommy on me? You’re even more pathetic than I thought you were, Flash. And don’t forget, I know how you got that nickname.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Hey.” She put her hand on top of his knee and pushed. “Watch your mouth.”

  He groaned, looked over at Braddock, and said, “Come on, man. You just gonna stand there and let her torture me?”

  Braddock said, “I ain’t seen a damn thing.”

  “You’re in a lot of trouble, Flash. I know what you did in Afghanistan. I know you murdered that kid.”

  His eyes became defiant. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And even if that was true, you couldn’t arrest me for something that happened in another country. Much less a war zone. Hell, come to think of it, you can’t arrest anyone for anything now. You’re just some bullshit private eye.”

  “Oh, I won’t be the one to arrest you. We’ll let the Monroe police or the sheriff’s office take care of that.”

  “For what?”

  “How about for beating Adam Hubbard to death with a brick, you sadistic little shit.”

  His expression changed. He went back to staring at the ceiling.

  “That’s right,” she said. “I know all about it. You found out he was talking to a reporter and decided to shut him up for good, didn’t you?”

  His eyes moved to hers for an instant, then looked away. A reflex that told her he had heard something that wasn’t right. Some part of her narrative was wrong. Or maybe just incomplete. She made a mental note and pressed on.

  “In case you haven’t heard, Stoller tried to kill Manish Gulani today. But he blew it. Manish is going to live. He’s here now, in surgery. As for Stoller, he’s on the run, but it’s only a matter of time before the cops catch up to him. Him and your buddy, Seth. When that happens, one of you is going to cut a deal for a lighter sentence. My money is on Seth, but you could prove me wrong and do yourself a favor.”

  “Yeah? And what kind of deal would I get?”

  “That would be up to the cops and the DA, but I’ve been through this a thousand times before. Trust me when I tell you, it’s your best option. And you can start by telling us who else is involved in this. We know Manish didn’t call you to tell you I was going to his office, so who did? Who’s Stoller trying to protect?”

  His mouth formed a little smile, smug and fatalistic. “If you were so sure Manish was going to survive, you wouldn’t be trying this hard to work me over. You want to know what Stoller’s up to? Go ask him yourself.”

  * * *

  Gordon refused to say anything else. Out in the hall, Braddock let out a sigh and said, “Well, at least we know he’s not going anywhere.”

  Rachel was thinking about Gulani. How he had tried so hard to convince Hughes that he had not sent Gordon after Rachel. Hughes had thought that Gulani was on the verge of telling him who he had called. If he truly was a part of this conspiracy, he likely would have lawyered up when interrogated by a cop. The fact that he was willing to talk said otherwise, but he hadn’t managed to get it out. He had hesitated, probably out of fear, giving Stoller just enough time to silence him.

  So who was Gulani afraid of? Rachel knew of one person in particular that intimidated him. But that was because she held a position of authority over him, with the ability to ruin his career.

  Suddenly, she heard Gordon’s voice in her mind. If I call my mother …

  It was more than just an infantile response induced by pain and heroin withdrawal. He knew his mother could protect him. Like she could exert some power or influence, particularly at this hospital.

  Rachel ran back to Gordon’s room and threw the door open. “Who’s your mother, Flash?”

  He looked away. His jaw muscles flexed as he gnashed his teeth.

  She went back into the hall and pulled her phone from her back pocket, opened it, and tapped on the background check app.

  “What was that all about?” Braddock asked.

  “Hang on.” She typed in Gordon’s name. When the results came back, she scrolled down and touched the Relatives tab. “I’ll be damned.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s Gordon’s mother. Looks like she used to work here at the hospital.”

  “And?”

  Rachel looked at him with a half smile. “Now she runs the drug treatment center where Gulani works.”

  “Oh … shit. You t
hink she’s the one Gulani called?”

  “Yep.”

  Near the nurse’s station, Hughes stepped out of the elevator with the sheriff in tow. He looked around and spotted Rachel and Braddock and started walking toward them. The look on his face told them to brace themselves.

  “Am I to understand,” the sheriff boomed, “that there’s a murder suspect in that room, and you two have been in there questioning him without talking to me first?”

  “We’re sorry, Sheriff,” Braddock said, stepping forward. “We’re just trying to do our part to help, seeing as how you’ve got a manhunt going on. I’m Danny Braddock, chief deputy of the Lowry—”

  “I know who you are, Chief Braddock.” He looked at Rachel. “And I know who you are too, Miss Carver. You’ve been in the news enough lately. Seems like whenever you two get together, people start dying. I should arrest you both on principle.”

  They looked at each other, and Rachel said, “Sheriff, I can explain everything.”

  “Save it.” He pointed a thumb at Hughes. “He’s already told me more about this mess than I ever wanted to know. If he says you’re in the clear, I guess that’ll have to do. For now, anyway.” He nodded toward the door to Gordon’s room. “Did he say anything?”

  “Not much,” Braddock said. “But Rachel managed to figure out that his mother runs the drug treatment center where the shooting victim works.”

  “The Monroe Outpatient Center?”

  Rachel nodded. “We believe the victim called his boss, Pamela LeMay, to tell her I was…” She flushed. “Well … to tell her that I was planning to break into his office. She, in turn, must have told her son.”

  “And that’s when he came and kidnapped you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Hmph.” He seemed to study her for a few seconds. There was a hint of admiration in his expression. “Glad you got away.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff. So am I.”

  “Before he got there, did you manage to break in?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Well, hell, I guess we can forgive you for that.” He looked at Braddock and Hughes, pointed at Rachel, and asked, “Is there anyone around here who’s got a better handle on this situation than she does?”

  Both men shook their heads.

  “All right then, Miss Carver. Congratulations. You are now, officially, a consultant for the Union County Sheriff’s Office on this case. Assuming you still want to get to the bottom of it?”

  “Bet your ass I do. Thank you, Sheriff.”

  “Don’t thank me.” He tipped his head toward Hughes. “It was his idea.”

  “I figure it’ll be the best way to keep you out of trouble,” Hughes said.

  He smiled, but Rachel could see tension in his eyes. Some part of him still didn’t trust her. Not completely. He’d spent too much time chasing her, seeing her as a suspect in Ramirez’s murder. Rachel didn’t blame him. It was a hard thing to shake off.

  “So what’s our next move?” the sheriff asked.

  Rachel said, “We figure out exactly how Pamela LeMay fits into all this.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  The sheriff sent a deputy along as an escort. He stopped on the street as Hughes turned his Crown Victoria into the driveway. LeMay’s house, a small mansion sitting on the edge of a golf course, was covered in stone and gray brick. It had high-pitched gables and broad windows and was surrounded by immaculate landscaping.

  Hughes whistled. “Curing drug addicts must be a lucrative business.”

  In the back of her mind, Rachel recalled Gordon telling her about his family’s land, and how most of it had been sold off. She wondered if LeMay had used the money from that sale to buy this house. And maybe to purchase her one-third share of ownership in the treatment center.

  They made their way to the front door, and Braddock rang the bell.

  “I wonder if she’ll actually answer.”

  Hughes, peering through a haze of frosted glass said, “Here comes someone.”

  Rachel could see a tall figure running toward them. The door burst open, and LeMay stood there with a phone in her hand, panting. There was panic on her face.

  “Thank God you’re here,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “I was just trying to call you.”

  “Calm down, ma’am,” Hughes said. “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s Colin Stoller. He’s the one who did the shooting this morning. Manish Gulani is my employee.”

  “We know all of that, Doctor,” Rachel said. “We’re searching for Mr. Stoller now. Do you have any idea where he might be?”

  “He was just here!”

  Hughes went wide-eyed. “Son of a…”

  “How long ago?” Braddock asked.

  “He just left a few minutes ago … maybe fifteen.”

  Braddock ran to the deputy’s patrol car, yelling at him to get on the radio and call it in.

  “Fifteen minutes?” Hughes said. “And you’re just now getting ready to call someone?”

  “I was locked in my room … I didn’t know for sure he had left … I didn’t have my phone on me—”

  “Do you know where he’s going?” Rachel asked.

  LeMay nodded, swallowed hard with her hand on her chest, and said, “He’s going after someone else. He said there’s a witness. He said he was going to make sure the kid never talked to anyone again.”

  Rachel turned to Hughes. “He’s going after Corey Staples.”

  “Dammit.” Hughes pulled his phone out and hit a number on speed dial, listened for a second, then said, “Julie, we got a problem.” He started running for his car. “The shooter from this morning is on his way to Siler City. He’s going after Corey Staples. Yeah, Wendy’s boy. You gotta find him. Get some units over to his house…”

  Braddock was running for the car. Rachel grabbed LeMay by the wrist and said, “You’re coming too.”

  “What? I’m not … What are you talking about?”

  She was trying to fight her way back inside. Rachel yanked hard, looked her dead in the eyes, and said, “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Doctor. Right now, you look like a coconspirator in this nightmare. You either come along now and help us figure this out, or I’ll have that deputy arrest your ass. What’s it going to be?”

  LeMay’s expression changed, just for a moment, and Rachel glimpsed the harsh, intense woman she had met two days earlier. But she relented, following Rachel to Hughes’s car. They jumped in the back seat, and Hughes backed out of the driveway and sped toward Siler City.

  FORTY

  Stoller was being cautious. No one would be looking for him in the Tucson, but he didn’t want to chance that there might be a roadblock on the shortest route. So he took the long way, jumping on I-85 and heading to Greensboro, where he’d circle around and come into Siler City from the north. It would add ten minutes to the trip, but it was safer that way.

  It was a shame that the boy had to die. If only the reporter had left things alone. After all, it was his fault that Stoller knew anything at all about Corey Staples.

  When the article had come out speculating that Larson’s real killer was still on the loose, Gordon had panicked. He had wanted to kill the reporter right then, but cooler heads had prevailed. Then the reporter had started talking to Hubbard, who suddenly seemed incapable of keeping his mouth shut. It became clear that the story wasn’t going away on its own.

  After Hubbard died, Stoller had suggested that they surveil the reporter. To see how close he might get to the truth. Martin had acquired bugs for his car and apartment. He’d gotten them from the same site where he’d purchased the GPS tracker. And he’d installed them too—Martin had been good at that kind of work.

  They spent the next few weeks monitoring him in shifts. But day after day, nothing happened. They started to think it might have been a waste of their time. They were all but ready to quit when a phone call came in that changed everything. A tip from a detective in the Wake County Sheriff’s Office. A new lea
d for the reporter to run down.

  As it turned out, that new lead had been a legitimate threat. As soon as Stoller heard the reporter interviewing the Staples kid over the phone, he knew it was for real. A witness who had actually seen Stoller kill Larson. Who had seen him get in the car with Gordon and take off.

  If Stoller had done it by himself, he wouldn’t have bothered making the trip. His fate was already sealed. But if the boy was able to testify that he had seen Gordon in the getaway car, Gordon would go to prison. And that would devastate LeMay.

  Stoller couldn’t let that happen.

  * * *

  Hughes had the siren blaring and the visor lights flashing as he pushed the Crown Victoria along Highway 49 at close to a hundred. Braddock was on the phone with the highway patrol and the various counties along the route, trying to see what could be done about setting up roadblocks and advising troopers to be on the lookout for a large white male, armed and dangerous, speeding toward Siler City in a black F-150.

  Rachel turned to LeMay and said, “It’s time to start talking, Doctor. Why did Stoller come to see you?”

  There was sadness in her expression. A look of mourning. “He wanted to say good-bye.”

  “Good-bye? If that’s all he wanted, why were you locked in your room?

  “He told me he was going after the boy, and I tried to talk him out of it. He became angry … violent.”

  “So why would he want to say bye to you in the first place? How do you know him?”

  “Colin was a patient of mine.”

  “Like Adam Hubbard and your son?”

  “I never treated my son.” LeMay’s eyes fixed on the window, gazing into the wooded countryside.

  “Come on, Doc. Keep talking. Help me understand what’s happening.”

  She looked down at her hands, resting in her lap, then back out the window and said, “When Riley got out of the Army, he stayed close with the other members of his team. Adam and Colin both had problems. Adam had become dependent on prescription painkillers, and Colin was suffering from PTSD.” She glanced at Rachel. “He was suicidal.”