by J. T. Baier
“Is this standard procedure?” Riker asked.
“Of course.” She could see the confusion on his face. “I’m guessing that you haven’t visited a school recently.”
“Not since I attended high school, so it’s been a long while. People just came and went last time I was here.”
She gave him a half-smile. “The world has changed a great deal since then.”
“Yes ma’am, it has.”
Riker thought that the idea of security made sense, but the implementation was laughable. He simply filled out his name on a sheet of paper along with the time and then the woman at the desk pointed him in the direction of Megan’s room. He wanted to tell the school that their security protocols were close to worthless, but then he considered that the shoddy protections were simply there to make parents feel better in a world that made no sense.
He stood outside the open door to Megan’s classroom for a moment, watching her as she instructed young minds. Her energy filled the room while she spoke about the root causes of the Revolutionary War. The teenagers were actually paying attention to her lecture.
Megan noticed the figure in the doorway and stopped her lesson. She waved for Riker to enter the room.
“Class, we have a special visitor today.”
Riker stood in the doorway, hesitant to enter. He had intended to wait outside the room until the class finished up. Now he would be the center of attention, which was just about the last thing he wanted.
Megan moved across the room to Riker and grabbed his hand. “Looks like Mr. Riker needs a little assistance.” She pulled him toward a spot in front of her desk.
“This is Matthew Riker; he is a former US Navy SEAL.” Heads snapped to attention and a murmur went through the room. “If you don’t mind me calling a bit of an audible, I thought we might end today's class with a little Q&A session.”
Riker’s eyes bore into Megan’s. “I don’t think that I am very relevant to your class. I can just wait outside until you finish up.”
“Don’t be silly.” She continued before Riker had a chance to respond. “We’ve studied numerous wars in this class, but we never study the men and women who stand on the battlefield. This is a great opportunity for these students. I’ll start things off. What country did you spend the most field time in?”
“I am really not allowed to discuss—”
Megan cut him off. “Please speak up and address the entire room.”
Riker couldn’t help but smile. He knew exactly what she was up to. After his reluctance to talk about his past last night, she was going to grill him in a place where he couldn’t avoid her questions so easily. The small woman in front of him could have served as a commanding officer. He did as he was told and addressed the class.
“I’m sorry, but most of the missions were classified, so I really can’t answer any specific questions.”
“Fine, even though we collectively pay for all those missions I suppose you are bound to the rules of the military. Does anyone have any questions for Mr. Riker that are less mission-specific?”
A hand in the front of the class shot up, and the young man spoke without waiting to be called on. “Have you ever killed anyone?”
Riker gave Megan a look to see if she wanted him to answer the question. She nodded back at him.
“Yes,” he said evenly. “It’s not something I talk about much, but that is part of some missions.”
The class was silent for a moment. The realization that a killer stood in front of them changed their attitude. A boy in the back of the room wearing ripped jeans called out, “Can you do something cool?”
“What did you have in mind?”
The kid gave a mischievous smile. “I don’t know. Chop a board in half with a karate move or throw a knife through something. If you’re such a badass killer then do something cool.”
The class stared at Riker and waited.
After a moment, Riker said, “Megan can I borrow your scarf?”
She handed it to him and he wrapped it around his eyes, using it as a blindfold. Every student leaned in towards Riker.
“There are twenty-seven of you in this room including Ms. Carter. Of the twenty-six students, twelve are male. There are five windows in the room, three on the west wall, and two on the south. The window in the southwest corner is most vulnerable to a sniper positioned on the building across the street. There are large steel scissors on the right side of the desk and there is a paper cutter on the east side of the room. Either could be used as weapons. The fire suppression system has a strobe light two feet from the door. This could be used to temporarily blind a target.
“The kid sitting in the second row over, three seats back is wearing a hoodie that could conceal a weapon as is the girl in the back center seat. The top of Ms. Carter's desk is metal and should be able to stop a small-caliber handgun bullet if used as a shield.” Riker took off the blindfold. “The coolest thing that the SEALs taught me was awareness. I am alive because I know my surroundings. I am always aware of possible dangers and potential weapons. This is how we survive.”
The class was silent again. Megan stood with her mouth slightly open as Riker handed her the scarf.
Then the student who’d asked the question said, “A backflip would have been way cooler.”
The class burst out laughing.
The student continued. “What do you do now? I mean what could compare to being a SEAL?”
Riker smiled. “I’m a beekeeper. I tend to my hives and sell the honey.”
Another round of laughter came from the class.
“That doesn’t sound very exciting.”
“No, it’s not, and that’s the point.”
The bell rang and students grabbed their belongings and flew out the door. Megan and Riker grabbed some food and found a spot outside to eat their lunch.
“Thanks for coming here today. I really wanted you to see the school and my class.”
“Thanks for putting me on the spot in front of said class. I don’t think that was my finest moment.”
Megan tried to cover her smile with a drink of soda. “Probably not. You came close to impressing them for a moment, but I don’t think making honey impresses the kids like it used to.”
“Say what you will, taking care of the hives is a responsibility that I take very seriously. I certainly don’t do it to impress a bunch of teenagers.” He looked around at the students eating their lunches on campus. “I have to confess, seeing you wasn’t the only reason that I wanted to come here for lunch.”
“What other reason did you have?”
“I’d like to meet the kids on the wrestling team. I know that sounds a little strange, but they might have information about what Coach was up to in his last days. If the team was as important to him as it was back in the day, those kids probably saw him more than anyone else.”
“You just can’t stay out of trouble can you?” She pointed to a table with a dozen kids sitting around it. “Those kids sitting over there are wrestlers if you want to give it a shot.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll stay out of trouble.” Riker stood up without waiting for a response and walked over to the table. The kids’ conversation stopped and all eyes turned to the strange man standing next to them.
“Hey sorry to bug you guys, but I used to be on the wrestling team here.”
The kids continued to stare.
A kid who had been in Megan’s class spoke. “This guy is the Navy SEAL that I was telling you about.” He turned back to Riker. “I recognize you. Matthew Riker. Your picture is up in the wrestling room on the Wall of Honor.”
Riker smiled at that. The Wall of Honor displayed all the wrestlers who’d made it to the state championships over the years, so he should have known he’d be on it, but hearing that he was warmed his heart.
A couple of kids scooted over, making room for Riker on the bench seat.
“It was a long time ago, but yeah this is my hometown.”
Another kid
shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe that this podunk town produced a Navy SEAL.”
“It wasn’t the town that gave me the ability to become a SEAL. It was Coach Kane. That’s why I’m back in town, to pay my respects.”
The kids all looked down. The loss of their coach was still fresh and one of the boys quickly brushed some moisture from his eye.
“I can see that he meant a lot to you guys,” Riker continued. “He meant a lot to me too. I want to do anything I can to honor his memory.” He paused for a moment. “I’d like to make sure that his death isn’t meaningless. I’m trying to figure out why he died.”
“He died because some asshole shot him.” It was the kid who’d wiped away the tear, trying to sound tough now.
“I know, and I like to figure out who did it and why. I heard he was trying to get rid of a bad element from town. Do you guys know anything about that?”
Most of the kids looked down again. One of the smaller boys spoke up. “Don’t be a bunch of pussies.” The kid looked Riker in the eyes. “We all know why Coach died. He didn’t roll over when bad things happened, unlike everyone else in this town. Like with the drugs. He was always trying to get the police involved. Anytime he caught a student with any of that shit he would make them tell him where they got it. Then he would give that information to the police.”
“That must have pissed off the people selling the drugs,” Riker said.
“Not really. The police never arrested anyone.”
Riker shook his head. “Let me guess, when the police questioned the dealers it was his word against theirs.”
“Pretty much. And the dealers kept selling that stuff to anyone who would buy.”
“What about Gabe Sullivan? I heard Coach was looking into who sold him the drugs that killed him.”
The kids exchanged nervous glances.
The first boy, the one who’d been in Megan’s class, spoke again. “Oh come on, you guys. It’s not like it was a secret.” He turned back to Riker. “Yeah, Coach got deep into it. He questioned each of us multiple times. He hounded the police about it. Talked to every dealer he could find. He was hell-bent on figuring out who got Gabe hooked.”
“Do you think he ever found a lead?” Riker asked.
The kid shook his head. “I don’t know, man. But he did seem different the last couple of days. Maybe hopeful or something. It’s gotta me wondering if maybe he found somebody who knew--”
“Matthew Riker,” a gruff voice behind Riker called, cutting off the younger man. “I can’t believe that you came back.”
Riker hadn’t heard that voice for eighteen years, but he knew it immediately. He’d sat in the principal’s office enough times to recognize the occupant’s voice. He stood up and turned to face an elderly man.
“Mr. Harlen, I didn’t know that you still worked here.”
“Yes, some of us support our communities and the people we grew up with. Your father was one of those people.”
Riker met the older man’s gaze with a cool stare. “That man was far from an upstanding citizen.”
“Your opinion doesn’t hold any weight with me,” Mr. Harlen said. “You shouldn’t be on school grounds. Hell, you shouldn’t be anywhere but a prison cell.”
“You’re entitled to your opinion. I’m here at the invitation of my cousin.”
“Consider your invitation revoked. You can leave now or I will call the police.”
Riker turned to the kids at the table. “Thanks for letting me sit with you for a minute. I’m glad that Coach was still the same guy that I remembered.” He turned back to Harlen. “Though some people could probably do with a change.”
“No one really changes, Mr. Riker. That’s how I know you are still a piece of trash.”
Riker took one step towards the old man. Harlen flinched and backpedaled two steps. Then Riker gave him a nod and left the school grounds.
5
Dewitt Construction’s headquarters was a squat brick building on the edge of downtown Kingsport. The company had another location just outside town where they stored their heavy equipment, but here was where the deals got done. And here was where Riker went looking for the owner of the small company.
From the conversation at the bar the previous evening, Riker knew that Luke had followed through with his high school plan to one day take over his father’s construction company. And, as much as he didn’t want to, Riker knew that this was his next step in finding out the truth.
He paused at the door for only a moment, his hand resting on the cool metal handle as the memories came rushing back to him. Luke’s father had started the construction company before his son was born, and he’d somehow managed to eke out a modest living despite the few construction projects even available to bid on in his hometown. Riker remembered that he’d often take work on other crews out of town, sometimes being gone for weeks at a time. Thankfully, rent in downtown Kingsport was low enough that he kept his small office—which just so happened to be a great place for his son and his friends to hang out away from the prying eyes of adults.
Coming back here so many years later felt odd to Riker. The fun-loving kid who’d spent so many hours here during high school felt like a completely different person than the man he was today.
After pausing for another moment, Riker pulled open the door and stepped inside. The familiar old bell chimed as he crossed the threshold. Riker was surprised by how little had changed. The carpets were the same color as in his memory. The three desks were arranged as they had been back then. Even the smell was the same—a unique combination of sawdust and cleaning product.
Only one desk was occupied this afternoon, and the man behind it looked up as Riker entered. Luke smiled at his old friend. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
Riker made his way across the room and sank into the chair before answering. “I’m trying to get the lay of the land. Hoping you could help me out.”
“Sure. What are you looking for?”
“Grant Park. Can you point me in that direction?”
Luke’s smile faded as he looked at his old friend. “I heard you already found that last night.”
“I guess I did.” He paused, regarding his friend. The fact that he already knew about the arrest spoke volumes, confirming Riker’s suspicions. “What are you mixed up in, Luke?”
Luke’s face flushed, and his eyes went to the desk, but to his credit he didn’t bother lying. “I’m no saint, Riker. Things around here have gotten tough. I’ve done what I needed to in order to get by.”
“But selling drugs?”
Luke didn’t answer for a long moment. “Is this going to be a problem for you? Are you some kind of narc now?”
“No. But I’m not going to pretend it’s not happening either. Whatever you’re mixed up in, I might be able to help you get out of it. I owe you that much.”
Luke scratched at his beard, then looked back up at his old friend. “That kid you shoved into the dirt? His name is Randy Howard. He spent the night in jail, but he’s out this morning.”
Riker’s face betrayed no expression. “You bail him out?”
“No. They dropped the charges.”
“Why would they do that?”
Luke shrugged. “Point is, he stopped by here after he got out. He told me the story.”
“Did he tell you he pulled a gun on me?”
“Guess he might have left out some details,” Luke said with a smile.
“Are you his boss?”
Luke considered that a moment. “No. More like his co-worker.”
Riker frowned. He didn’t much like where this was headed. “I’m going to say it plain. Coach changed my life. For better or worse, I wouldn’t be the man I am today if not for him.”
“No argument there.” Luke shifted in his seat.
“Megan told me Coach was fighting the drug problem. Sounds like he may have been getting somewhere, too. I’m starting to think maybe his death wasn’t a random carja
cking. You know anything about that?”
The uneasy expression on Luke’s face dissolved into anger. He answered through gritted teeth. “You’re really going to ask me that? You know I loved that man as much as you did. I wouldn’t have hurt him. Not ever.”
Riker looked at Luke for a long moment. He was pretty good at discerning when someone was lying, and Luke seemed to be telling the truth. And yet, Riker had been fooled before. “So you wouldn’t hurt him, but you’re part of the very problem he was trying to clean up.”
“Things in Kingsport are complicated.”
Riker leaned forward. “I’m going to try to finish what Coach started. I owe him that.”
Luke’s eyes were flashing with anger when he looked at Riker again. “You’re just going to sweep in and solve all our problems, is that it?”
“Not all of them,” Riker said flatly. “I just need to understand what happened to Coach. His killer is walking around out there, and I can’t sleep easy while that’s the case.”
“Matt, Coach Kane isn’t the only person you owe a debt of gratitude.”
Riker didn’t answer, though he felt a wave of memories wash over him again. A blood stain. A broken plate on the floor. Johnny Cash skipping on the record player.
“When you needed help, I was there,” Luke continued. “I didn’t ask questions. I just trusted my friend and did what needed to be done.”
“And I’m grateful for it,” Riker said.
“Well, I’m calling in that chip now. Go to the wake and the funeral. Pay your respects. Then go home. What’s going on in Kingsport doesn’t concern you.”
Riker met his friend’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t do that. That’s not how I’m wired.”
Luke’s expression hardened. “Then we’re done here. See yourself out.”
A twinge of regret prickled Riker’s skin. Here was his oldest friend asking him for a favor that was definitely owed, and Riker was saying no. He wished Luke had asked him for something else. Anything else. He would have done it without question. But this…this would mean betraying both Coach’s memory and his own code of honor.
He stood up and made his way to the door. As he was reaching for the handle, Luke spoke again.