Long Way Home (Matthew Riker Book 3)

by J. T. Baier

  “I may have gotten off to a rough start, but I’m a long way from finished with this. Tonight was a reminder for me. I was unfocused and undisciplined. If I’m going to get justice for Coach, I need to remember my training.”

  “You need to be realistic. You’re badly injured. I know that you used to be a soldier, but you are clearly outmatched.” Doc glanced toward Donnie, who was staring down into his paper bag now. “You want to tell them what happened to Sam? I know it’s difficult, but he needs to hear it.”

  Donnie swallowed hard, his eyes still on the bag. “Sam and I got it into our heads that we were going to do something about the drug problem. We worked at it for weeks, trying to figure out the structure of the ring, where they kept their stash, all sorts of stuff. Then one night, we had a few beers and decided to take a more direct approach. We decided to burn the whole thing down.”

  He paused, looking down at his feet.

  “We didn’t think there’d be so many of them. They overpowered us, tied us up. There was this guy there I’d never seen before. Huge Columbian guy. He bent down and stared at me with these cold, dead eyes, like he was trying to see into my soul. Then he did the same to my brother. The Columbian nodded toward Sam. The guys rolled out this steel drum and shoved Sam inside. They poured gasoline on him and dropped in a lit match. His screams went on for a long while. When they finally stopped, the guys untied me and let me go. It was like they didn’t even think I was worthy of a bullet.”

  “Jesus. I’m so sorry, Donnie.”

  “So you see, Matt,” Doc said, “you can’t go after them. No good can come of it.”

  “I’m truly sorry about what happened to Sam.” Riker met the older man’s gaze. “And I appreciate the input, Doc, but I didn’t ask for a vote.”

  Donnie looked down at his feet, unable to make eye contact with Riker. Doc stood with his mouth open, unable to believe what he’d just heard. Only Megan was smiling, a proud expression on her face.

  Riker stood up on his good leg. Crutches were waiting for him next to the bed. He grabbed them and moved to the supply drawers along the wall of the room.

  “What are you doing?” Doc asked.

  “I’m going to need some materials to make a good splint.”

  “You have a fractured leg. You need a cast, and you need to stay off of it for a minimum of six weeks.”

  “No, that’s what I should do. Just like I should tuck tail and run. But that’s not what I’m going to do. I’m going to rig up a splint for my leg so I can be as mobile as possible. Then I’m going to get to work.”

  The doctor said nothing. He simply watched as Riker gathered supplies and wrapped a splint around his leg.

  Megan helped Riker. She followed his instructions and secured the injured limb.

  “You’re a fool Matthew,” Doc Hanson said. “But at least let me give you something for the pain.” He pulled out a small pad and started to scribble a prescription on it.

  “If you’ve got some aspirin I’ll take it, but I don’t need anything else.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’ve played hurt before, Doc. The pain helps me focus and I can’t risk the haze that drugs will put over my mind.”

  Doc Hanson walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of aspirin. He tossed it to Riker. “Suit yourself. I hope you’ll reconsider. I don’t want to bury another good man.”

  “Thanks for the help Doc, but don’t count me out yet. I’ve been known to beat long odds from time to time.”

  “Don’t get cocky, tough guy,” Megan said. “But I do like your attitude.”

  Riker used the crutches as the two left the office. Just before they walked out the door, a voice called from behind them.

  “If you need help let me know,” Donnie said from the corner of the room.

  Riker looked him in the eyes. “Don’t offer if you don’t mean it.”

  Donnie kept eye contact with Riker. “I would have made a move against those bastards a long time ago if I wasn’t such a chickenshit. I’m done being scared. I’ve got nothing left to lose.”

  Riker gave him a nod. Then he and Megan headed out.

  14

  Riker shoved the crutch under his armpit and forced himself to his feet with a grunt. He was careful to keep most of his weight on his left side and the rest on his crutch; even still, his fractured leg buzzed with fiery pain.

  “You sure I can’t change your mind about those pain pills?” Megan asked. “I could call Doc.”

  “I’m sure.” Riker gritted his teeth and hobbled forward. He wanted to keep his head clear tonight. He didn’t expect he’d be sleeping anytime soon, but he wanted to lie down in bed, stare up at the ceiling and think about things. Those long, dark hours were when the truth often came to him. Pieces that seemed unrelated in the daylight worked themselves together in his mind, forming a clearer picture.

  When he finally reached the door to his bedroom, he turned back to her. “Thanks, Megan. For everything.”

  She let out a chuckle. “You kidding? I’ve been trying to get you to visit for years. This is great.”

  “All the same, I’m sure you didn’t imagine having to nurse me back to health when you asked me to visit.”

  “No, that’s just an added bonus.” She paused a moment. “You were serious about what you said at Doc’s, weren’t you? You’re going to keep going? Keep looking for answers?”

  Riker turned his head, shooting her a crooked grin. “It’ll take more than a couple baseball bats to stop me.” Now it was his turn to pause. “It’s going to get more dangerous before it’s over, Megan. Not less. Maybe you should consider leaving town for a while.”

  “Maybe you should consider biting me.”

  “Very mature,” he said with a laugh.

  “Don’t ask me to leave my town, Matt. I’m in this just as much as you are.”

  “All right. I won’t ask again.” With that, he hobbled off to the guest room, eased the door shut behind him, and collapsed into bed.

  Just as he’d predicted, sleep did not come easily. As he lay still, the sharp pain in his leg dulled into a steady, almost rhythmic throb. His ribs felt a bit worse, reminding him of their injury with each inhale. He let his mind drift, hoping it would find something to catch onto. The item that grew in his thoughts and ultimately took over his brain surprised him—Donnie Wagner.

  Riker hadn’t known the Wagner boys well, but everyone in school knew better than to mess with them. They took any perceived slight as a welcome excuse for a brawl. Donnie and Sam hadn’t been the greatest wrestlers on the team, and in fact, probably should have been cut. But off the mat, they were some of the fiercest fighters in school. The last three years of high school, Riker tried to focus his aggression toward the wrestling team and avoid any outside altercations. The Wagner boys were the complete opposite. They lived to tussle; wrestling was just a way to blow off a little steam when they couldn’t find a real fight.

  Their wrestling careers, such as they were, came to an abrupt end after a tournament in Des Moines. A kid had quickly pinned Donnie, and he had made the mistake of whispering some trash talk about Mrs. Wagner into his ear while he had him on the mat. After the match, Donnie and Sam proceeded directly to the nearest janitor’s closet where they grabbed two heavy wooden broom handles. They then went straight to the home team’s locker room. They beat the trash-talking kid and two of his teammates bloody with those broom handles. After that, they’d turned in their singlets to Coach Kane, walked out of the gym, and hitchhiked home.

  It was difficult to see how that scrappy kid who was always looking for a fight was even the same person as the broken man Riker had spoken with at Doc Hanson’s. For a moment, he wondered what could have caused such a change, but he already knew the answer. He thought back to Donnie’s story of how his brother had been burned alive. That would probably be enough to break any man.

  Riker shifted his position, ignoring the subsequent jolt of pain in his leg. It seemed
that the deeper he dug into this, the more people he found who had been hurt. The Wagner brothers. Gabe Sullivan, the boy who’d OD’d. And of course, Coach Kane. He couldn’t bring back the people who’d died, but maybe if he proved who killed Coach Kane he could bring about some justice.

  The thought was still running through his head when he heard something outside his window. It was a small sound--a twig snapping, maybe--but knew immediately it had been caused by something large. He remembered the half-spoken threat against Megan, and he wished he had his SIG.

  He rolled out of bed, grabbing a crutch and getting to his feet, pushing the pain aside. Another noise came from the window, this one louder than the last. Someone was tapping on the glass.

  Riker lumbered over, instinctively standing to the side of the window as he pushed the curtain open and looked out. Luke’s face glared back at him. Riker’s eyes searched the darkness for other figures, maybe men with bats, but there were none. Luke appeared to be alone.

  “Open the window.”

  Luke’s words were muddled through the glass, but Riker heard them well enough to understand. He hesitated only a moment before opening the latch and pushing up the window.

  “Where are your buddies?” Riker asked. “I was thinking maybe you stopped by for a rematch.”

  “They’re not my buddies. I came to talk. That’s all.”

  Riker shifted his weight a bit, putting it onto his good leg. “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m not in a chatty mood. I’ve had a weird night.”

  “Yeah? I was part of a gang that jumped my oldest friend. It’s been a weird night for me as well.”

  Riker inspected Luke’s face. The only light was coming from the streetlamp behind Luke, and it was difficult to read his expression in the darkness. “Is that why you came here? You feel bad about kicking the shit out of me?”

  “Of course I feel bad.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, things won’t go that way next time.”

  “I feel bad, but that’s not why I’m here. I came to make sure you got the message. That you’re leaving town.”

  “No can do, buddy. I’ve got a funeral to attend tomorrow.”

  “Pack up in the morning and leave. Don’t spend another day in this town.”

  Riker looked at his old friend for a long moment before speaking again. “You know, people keep telling me that. Telling me to leave. You want to know why I’m not leaving?”

  Luke crossed his arms in front of him. “Cause of some misguided belief that you’re this big hero who’s going to come back and save your poor hometown?”

  “No. Because what I’m seeing here doesn’t make sense. Beating me up just for having the audacity to ask a couple questions? Killing Coach? Burning Sam Wagner alive? These are not the moves of small-time drug dealers looking to protect their territory. Something bigger is happening here.”

  “That’s not a road you want to walk down,” Luke said, his voice low.

  “Coach walked it. I’m starting to think he found some answers. And if he found them, I can find them too. That’s why I’m not leaving. And I won’t until the job is done.”

  Luke was quiet for a long moment before he answered. “Matt, what I said about Megan in the alley, it wasn’t a threat. It was a warning. I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

  “It won’t. Not while I’m around. And if you’re running with guys who would hurt an innocent woman, you need to take a good hard look at what your life has become.”

  “Yeah?” There was anger in Luke’s voice now. “Maybe I should have just run out on my town and my family like you.”

  “That’s not what happened, and you know it.”

  “No? Seems to me you could have come back. They give you leave, even in the SEALs, right? You had working phones. Or maybe you just thought the people you left behind weren’t worth keeping in your life.”

  “So it’s my fault that you’re a damn drug dealer?”

  “No. Not your fault. Not your business, either. Go home, Matt. Kingsport doesn’t need your help, and neither do I.”

  “Tell me about your boss, Luke. Tell me who you work for.”

  “Matt, go home.” Luke turned and walked away.

  Anger surged through Riker. The answers to so many questions were right there in front of him. Maybe he just needed to ask a little harder. “Don’t turn your back on me!”

  Luke just kept walking.

  Riker let out an angry grunt. If Luke wasn’t going to stop on his own, Riker would have to stop him. He turned and hobbled to the door, pushing on through the living room, his teeth pressed together in pain. By the time he opened the front door and looked out, Luke was halfway down the block.

  Peering out, Riker could see a line of fences not that different from the one he’d so easily vaulted over earlier that day or the ones he’d hopped near Grant Park the previous night. Even climbing over that fence would be a herculean task in his current condition.

  Fists clenched in frustration, Riker watched as his old friend disappeared into the night.

  15

  Riker woke with a sense of purpose the next morning. He wrapped a tight splint around his shin. A look in the mirror revealed areas of black and blue all over his body. He grabbed four aspirin and headed out to the kitchen.

  He was greeted by the smell of coffee and freshly cooked bacon. He was glad to see that Megan was an early riser as well. He put his crutches next to his chair.

  “Looks like you survived the night,” she said as she put a steaming cup of coffee in front of him.

  “Yep, there is still a little life left in me. Thanks for cooking.”

  “I figured that you could use some sustenance to help the healing process.” She set a plate of eggs and bacon next to his coffee. “Do you think you will be okay to make the funeral today?”

  “Not an issue. I actually have a lot more than the funeral that I am hoping to attend to today.”

  Megan raised an eyebrow. “I figured that you would rest up and lick your wounds. I know you tough guys need time to recover from a bruised ego.”

  “My ego is fine. I wasn’t beaten by the guys in the alley; I was beaten by my own mistakes. I was acting careless. Blinded by emotions.”

  “Huh. I thought that you were beaten by baseball bats.”

  Riker smiled. “Okay, I was beaten by my own mistakes and baseball bats.” He took another sip of coffee.

  “What else do you have to do today?”

  “I’ve got to file a police report.”

  “Really? It seemed like you didn’t have any faith in the police. Why the change of heart?”

  “No change of heart. I don’t think the police are going to do anything.”

  “Then why file the report?”

  “I want to take a look around the station and meet some of the officers.”

  Megan looked at her cousin. Her eyes narrowed as she put the pieces together. “Do you think they are doing more than just losing the battle against the drug ring?”

  “I think that it’s a good possibility. The criminal element here seems much stronger than the police in the town. I’m guessing that they have someone on the take. I’d like to know who that is and how deep they are.”

  “That sounds exciting. I’ll drive.”

  “I’ve got it. I can work the gas and brake pedals with one good leg. You don’t need to involve yourself.”

  “I’m already involved. I live in this town, my friend was killed, and my students are in danger. Besides, right now I’m tougher than you are.”

  Riker saw the look of determination in his cousin's face and knew that this battle had already been lost. She really was cut from the same cloth as he was. “Okay, we’ll head to the station after we finish up this wonderful breakfast.”

  The police station would have been easy to miss if you didn’t know the town well. The unassuming brick building nestled between several other nearly identical structures had a small police sign over the main doors, but
even that would be easy to miss. When Riker hobbled in on his crutches he noticed that the interior was as nondescript as the exterior. An older, out of shape man sat behind a reception desk. If he had not been wearing a police uniform, this place could have been mistaken for a dental office.

  The fluorescent lights made the man behind the desk look pale and sickly. The scent of cigars filled the room.

  Riker was standing directly in front of the desk before the man looked up from his paper.

  “What can I do for you this fine day?” He did a double take when he saw Riker’s condition. Then his eyes lit up as he spotted Megan.

  “Megan, you didn’t beat this fella up, did you?”

  She gave a polite laugh. “What can I say? He got out of line, and I had to show him how to treat a lady.”

  Riker’s glare let them both know that his injuries were still a little too fresh for jokes.

  “All kidding aside Ed, this is my cousin, and he was attacked last night. We came in to file a report.”

  Ed shook his head. “I’m sorry to hear about that. I just don’t know what this world is coming to. Officer Alvarez is here. She can take your statement and open up a file.”

  Riker regarded the elderly police officer. “Ed Peterson. You don’t remember me, do you?”

  Ed cocked his head and looked closely at Riker. Then his eyes widened. “Matthew Riker. I remember you. It looks like you grew up. I don’t think I’ve seen you since--”

  “I remember,” Riker said, cutting him off. He didn’t like to think about the night when he’d last sat in this police station. “I joined the military right after graduation. I haven’t been home since.”

  The three stood in awkward silence for a moment.

  “We’d better get that report filed. Thanks, Ed.” Megan walked down the hallway towards the main part of the station, and Riker followed on his crutches.

  The hallway led to a large room with four desks in it. Three of the desks were empty. Officer Alvarez sat at the fourth. She looked up from her computer screen when they came into the room.