by J. T. Baier
“I’m afraid it’s not. At best, he’s been looking the other way and burying the drug cases. At worst, he might be involved in the production. Either way, that story he’s been selling you about working with the DEA is a fairy tale.”
She looked like she might be sick. “My God. If you’re right…”
“I am.”
She nodded slowly. “All right. I’ll take your word for it for now. I’ll watch him.”
Riker watched as they drove off in the police car, wondering if Doc Hanson was right on El Leon. Either way, Riker knew there was much more work to be done.
29
Riker slid into the guest bed at Megan’s house as quietly as he could. He needed rest and the sun would be up in a few hours. He hoped his cousin had managed to get some sleep. A lot of work was ahead of them, and performing the required task would be hard with no rest.
Sometime later, he startled awake, hearing movement in the house. For a moment he was disoriented. He didn’t remember falling asleep, and now the sun lit up the shades in his room. He sat up and recognized the sounds in the house as meal preparations in the kitchen. The smell of bacon hit his nose and he relaxed. He could also smell himself and decided a shower would make breakfast more pleasant for all parties.
After he was clean and dressed he found Megan putting the food on the kitchen table. It was a traditional breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, hash browns and coffee.
“Thanks. You didn’t have to do all this.”
“Well, you didn’t have to save our lives. I figure breakfast makes us even.”
Riker smiled and took a seat. “Even Steven.”
“Where did you go last night? I saw that the car was in a different spot this morning.”
Riker chewed on a piece of bacon for a moment. He wanted to share a normal meal before talking about what he’d discovered that night. By the time he finished his bacon, he’d decided there was no point in delaying the inevitable.
“I went to see Doc Hanson. He is a part of everything that has been happening here.”
Megan shook her head. “That’s impossible. Doc is on the city council. He looks after everyone in town. He’s a good man.”
Riker told her all about the previous evening. His conversation with Doc and the confession he provided. When he finished Megan’s mouth was half-opened and there were tears at the corners of her eyes.
“I’m sorry that he betrayed the people of this town.”
Megan wiped her eyes with the palm of her hand. She drew a breath and sat up tall. “I’m sorry about that too, but I’m glad that he’s going to get what he deserves. Most of all I’m glad that this is all over. Now that we weeded out the problem we can give the people of this town the help they deserve.”
Riker saw the determination in his cousin's eyes. She reminded him that there was still good in the world and some people are worth fighting for. “I know you will put in the work to get this place back to the way it used to be. There is one last problem that we need to deal with. It’s a rather large one.”
Megan raised an eyebrow. “I thought blowing up the lab and finding the man who was running everything would be the end of it.”
“It is. The problem is Hanson wasn’t the one running the operation. He was working for someone much worse. The production here represented a major investment from a cartel leader. I have a feeling that he will not just let my actions go.”
“The cartel? Like a South American drug cartel? They were here in our town?”
“I’m afraid so. I’m guessing that they are sending a force here to try and salvage the operation. Even if they decided to let this operation go they will want to make an example of the people that destroyed their business.”
“You think they will come after you out of spite?”
“I think they will come after all of us out of spite. They work in a business that relies on fear and cruelty. Even if attacking the people of this town doesn’t make any logical sense they will do it just to keep from looking weak. We are dealing with the worst of the worst.”
“So what now?”
“Finishing breakfast sounds like a good first step. After that we need to figure out who is coming and when. I’d love to figure out who is pulling the strings from south of the border and pay them a visit, but I think we need to take care of the immediate threat first.”
“Is that the kind of thing you do? Go into foreign nations and kill bad people.”
“It was the kind of thing I did. I thought that I had gotten out of it, but life never seems to go along with your plans.”
Megan smiled. “I suppose that’s true. I never thought that dealing with a drug cartel would be on my to-do list, but there it is. Item number two after cleaning up the dishes.”
“I’ll be glad when we can check that off the list,” Riker said with a laugh.
For a brief moment, time seemed to stop for Riker. He looked at Megan sitting across from him with a smile on her face. Steam rose from the coffee and caught the light of the morning. Danger was on the horizon, but for this moment they were safe. He realized this was the first breakfast he ever had with family.
Megan caught the distant look in Riker’s eyes. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just realized that I’ve never done this before.”
“Done what?”
“Sat and had breakfast with family.”
Megan laughed. “You can’t be serious.”
“I never really thought about it until this moment. My dad hit the sauce hard every night. My mom and I always moved around the house like mice in the morning so we didn’t wake a grumpy bear. Clattering around in the kitchen was out of the question. After I left I joined the military and then lived on my own. It’s just never happened for me until I came back here. You are my only real family left.”
“I’m sorry Matt. That’s horrible.”
Riker shook his head. “It’s really not that bad; it’s just the way things turned out for me. I just wanted to say thank you. You showed me something that I didn’t even know I was missing.”
“I know it’s been a long time, but home is home. Now let’s finish this extravagant meal that I made for you,” she said with a wink.
He ate for a few minutes before he spoke again. “I wish I would have come back here years ago. Maybe I could have helped make a difference. Maybe things would not have gotten so bad.”
“Sometimes people take the long way home. Your path was just a little longer than most. I’m glad that you made it back.”
“Me too.”
Before their plates were emptied there was a pounding on the door. Riker stood up and grabbed a knife from the block on the counter. He palmed the handle and the blade faced backward along his forearm. “Wait here. I’ll see who it is.”
He went to the window in the living room and crouched low. The pounding came again on the door in a frantic series of knocks. Riker carefully pushed back the blind enough to peer at the front door. He saw Luke pounding on the door. He wasn’t holding a weapon that Riker could see, and he looked panicked.
Riker moved next to the door and spoke loud enough for Luke to hear him. “Fair warning, Luke. I’m done holding back.”
“I know things are really messed up right now, but I need to talk to you. Things have gotten out of hand. I don’t know who else to turn to.”
“Sorry to tell you this, but you knocked on the wrong door. I know you were there the night Coach died.”
Luke’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly recovered. “I’m sorry I lied to you about that, but I didn’t have anything to do with his death. I can explain.”
Riker eased the door open and peered out at his friend. “I think we’re a bit past that point. I don’t believe a word you’re saying. You’re in trouble and you’re just trying to save your own ass.”
“No man, this isn’t about me, it's about who’s coming to Kingsport.” Luke stared at Riker, his eyes pleading. “It’s the cartel. They are on their w
ay, and when they get here they are going to kill every one of us.”
30
Eighteen years ago
As Matt saw his father’s fist smash into his mom’s nose, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. The smell of stale cigarette smoke that always permeated their small house, the fragments of the broken plate on the floor at his mother’s feet, the distant sound of Johnny Cash, the record skipping now—all of it disappeared. All he saw was his dad hitting his mom.
It was easy enough to piece together the broad strokes of what had happened here. Dad had come home early, probably laid off from his job again, and taken a bottle to the living room to start drinking. He’d turned on his music and proceeded to get completely and thoroughly day-drunk. Then he’d come to the kitchen for a snack and stumbled across his wife. Maybe she’d said something that annoyed him. Maybe she’d just made a noise he didn’t like—two plates clacking together as she stacked them perhaps—and it had set him off. Now here they were. And Matt made three. The happy family was together once again.
Matt’s hands clenched into fists and his body began to shake with rage. “Get away from her!”
Gary Riker looked up suddenly, like a startled animal, and for a moment Matt imagined he saw a flash of shame on the older man’s face. Then his eyes settled on Matt, and the shame disappeared, replaced with a wicked smile.
“Matty. Your mother and I are just having a little conversation. Go to your room. I’ll get to you in a few minutes.”
Matt took a step forward, the anger inside outweighing his mounting fear. “I’m not going anywhere. Get away from Mom.”
Gary’s smile widened. He was actually amused by his son’s attempt to interfere. “I know your heart’s in the right place, kid, but this is adult stuff. Go to your room right fucking now, or you’re going to get hurt.”
Matt’s rage was so strong now that he could only utter a single word in response. “No.”
Now Gary’s eyes went cold. “Sure about that? Remember what happened last time?”
Matt certainly did remember. He’d spent days afraid that his jaw might be broken. His father, on the other hand, easily rebuffed his attempted attack and had left without a single bruise. Still, that had been over a year ago. How many hours had Matt spent in the weight room since then? How many hours on the wrestling mat?
What his father said next made Matt wonder if his face was so easy to read.
“You might be hot shit on the mat, son, but here in the real world, there aren’t any rules. Ain’t no referee to make sure we fight clean. In a world like that, your old man can still lay you out without breaking a sweat. So I’m going to tell you one more time. Go to your room.”
Matt paused for a moment, then nodded, doing his best to make it appear his spirit was broken. He saw the beginnings of the smile returning to his father’s face. Then he charged.
He covered the three steps between them in an instant, moving with a quickness earned from years of conditioning with Coach Kane. But somehow, impossibly, his father reacted even more quickly. Despite being drunk, Gary Riker had impressive reflexes. He brought his hands up in a boxer’s stance and threw a quick jab. The fist connected with Matt’s chin, sending him staggering backward.
“Tried to tell you, boy.” Gary stalked toward his son as he spoke. “It may have been twenty years since I served, but the Army boxing team taught me well. Your old man can still throw a punch.”
It was so powerful a blow that Matt had to blink away the tears from his eyes. He was so angry now that all conscious thought was gone. That was okay. That left the other part of him in control. The part of him that had gone all the way to the wrestling state championship. The warrior.
His father was right—in a boxing match against him, Matt wouldn’t stand a chance. But he was right about something else too. There were no rules here. This wasn’t a boxing match. He could use whatever means necessary.
Matt dropped low and sprang forward again. This time, Gary wasn’t ready. His son had challenged him a few times over the years, but a single punch was all it had ever taken to stop him. Gary wasn’t expecting this second attack.
Matt wrapped his arms around his father’s legs and pressed forward, driving him to the ground in a vicious takedown. The old man’s head hit the linoleum with a thud. Matt brought back his fist and drove it into his father’s stomach, forcing the air out of his lungs. As the older man gasped, Matt hit him again, this time punching him in the eye.
“Whoa, Matt! Hold up!”
The voice came from behind him, but Matt ignored it. He punched again, and his fist connected with his father’s nose.
Arms wrapped around Matt’s chest, pulling at him, attempting to drag him off his father. Matt threw an elbow back at his attacker and felt it connect. He looked over his shoulder and saw Luke staggering backward, his hand going to his nose.
“Shit! Luke!” Matt’s conscious mind was beginning to return now. He got up off his father and took a step toward his friend.
“It’s okay, man. I’m good.” Luke blinked hard as he surveyed the scene in the kitchen. “What the hell is going on here?”
Matt stammered, not sure how to even begin to explain. Luke’s life was different from Matt’s. His dad was caring. Affectionate. Matt would be willing to bet his scholarship that the man had never laid a hand on Luke or his mother. How could he even begin to explain the domestic war that took place in his home on a regular basis?
Out of the corner of his eye, Matt saw his father struggling to his feet. And his hand was reaching out toward the stove and the cast-iron pan waiting there.
Matt’s focused again, sharper than ever. He’d stood up to his father, even got the better of him. Gary Riker would not let that stand. He’d put Matt or his mother in the hospital as payback. Maybe both of them. Matt couldn’t let that happen.
As his father reached for the pan, Matt charged. Once again he went for the legs, wrapping his father up, taking him to the ground where he didn’t stand a chance against his wrestling champion son. Matt tackled his father hard and fast, and mid-takedown, he heard a loud, terrible sound, like a thud and a crack. For a split second, he thought it might be a gunshot. Then he saw the strange angle of his father’s neck, and he realized with mounting horror what had happened.
His father’s head had hit the edge of the counter at exactly the wrong angle. That had combined with the downward force Matt was applying resulted in his snapping his neck.
Matt let go of his father, and the man sank the rest of the way to the floor, his head rolling loosely, as if all the muscles supporting it had melted away in an instant. A strained wheeze escaped the man’s mouth. Then the light went out of his eyes, and he lay still.
Matt’s eyes went to his mother, who hadn’t moved since he entered the kitchen. Blood seeped from her split lip, and her left eye was already beginning to swell, but the horror was still clear on her face. “My God, Matty. What did you do?”
Though he didn’t want to, Matt turned back to his father. His strangely twisted head lay on the linoleum, and his wide, vacant eyes gaped at Matt, as if they wanted to swallow him.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, motionless and afraid. It felt like hours, but it must have been far less than that. He had no idea what to do next. It was as if he was waiting for someone to come fix this problem. But no one could.
And then someone did.
Luke marched back into the kitchen, something clutched in a kitchen towel in his hand. The light flashed against the object, and Matt recognized it. His father’s pistol. Luke wrapped his arms around Gary Riker’s limp body and lifted him, leaning him against the kitchen counter and holding him there in some semblance of a standing position. Then he put the gun into the man’s right hand and carefully inserted the limp index finger through the trigger guard.
“Cover your ears,” Luke said. Then he aimed the gun at the far wall and pressed down on Gary’s index finger hard. The pistol went off, its report echoing throu
gh the small kitchen, its bullet punching a hole in the drywall.
Then Luke carefully slid Gary Riker back to the floor. He left the gun where it fell by the older man’s side.
“Okay, we’re going to call the police,” Luke said, turning to Matt and his mother. “But first, we have to remember what we all saw. Mr. Riker was drunk and beating on you when Matt and I came in, Mrs. Riker. Matt tried to stop him, and they fought a little. But then Mr. Riker pulled this gun out of his waistband and started waving it around. He took a shot at Matt, but he missed. He started to aim again, but Matt tackled him. His head hit the edge of the counter on the way down and we heard his neck snap.” He turned to Matt. “Is that what you remember happening?”
Matt drew a deep breath and felt his mind begin to clear under the conviction of his friend’s story. “Yeah. That’s exactly what happened.”
“Good.” Luke turned to Mrs. Riker. “And we witnessed it going down just like that. It was self-defense. Matt saved his own life and probably ours too. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Riker?”
Sharon Riker stared at her husband’s limp body for a long moment. Then she nodded weakly.
“Good,” Luke said. “Then I’ll make the call.”
31
Riker stepped out onto the front porch causing Luke to step back. Once Riker got a good look at him in the morning light it was clear his old friend hadn’t slept recently. He looked as if he was on the verge of a panic attack.
“Put your arms out to the side.”
Luke shook his head. “If I was here to kill you I wouldn’t have knocked on the front door.”
“Maybe, but I’d rather be certain that you aren’t bringing any weapons into the house.”
Luke did as he was told and lifted his arms. After a quick pat down, Riker was satisfied and let him into the house. Riker pointed to the couch and he took a seat.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Megan said as she entered the room.