Generous Lies

by Robin Patchen

  He squeezed his eyes closed. Samantha needed to be rescued. Please... He didn't even know who he was begging, God or that voice she'd told him about. He just knew they needed help. Please let her be safe. Please let her escape. Please let her be rescued. Garrison didn't care as long as she stayed far, far away from Lionel and his goons.

  Sam needed to live through this. Then it would only be Aiden who Garrison needed to save. Aiden, his only son, who'd made a few bad choices but was still a wonderful, kind, generous, talented young man. He deserved to find out what the world had in store for him. Garrison loved his son more than his own life.

  He blinked back the affection—the fear—that tried to leak from his eyes.

  "You boys need to know," Garrison said, "that though most of us fathers try our best, we don't always know what we're doing."

  "Ain't that the truth," Frank said.

  "But we want what's best for you. Always." He lowered his voice, said it again. "Always."

  Aiden glanced his way, and Garrison met his eyes. "I love you, Aiden."

  "I love you, too."

  Garrison took a deep breath, shook off the emotion. He needed to be strong now, to be alert when the opportunity arose. "The thing is, it's hard for teenage boys to understand that no matter how much they think they know, they don't know as much as we do."

  Aiden lifted his eyebrows, and Garrison continued. "It's hard for you to trust us. But you need to trust us because even when we do it wrong, and even when we do it badly, and even when somebody gets hurt, we do what we do because we love you."

  Garrison held his son's gaze, willed him to understand. When the time came, Garrison was going to throw himself at one of these gunmen, and he'd probably get shot in the process. But if it gave Aiden time to escape, or time to fight back, then Garrison's sacrifice would be worth it. If he didn't survive, he wanted Aiden to know he'd sacrificed himself on purpose, and for a purpose. For him.

  Lionel groaned. "Either go back to sports or shut up. I can't stand this anymore."

  Aiden faced forward. A minute passed, then another.

  And then Frank said, "How 'bout them Yankees?"

  Chapter 46

  Samantha stared as the man and his partner jogged away. They crossed the street to a parking lot in front of a dark building, climbed into a small silver SUV, and took off.

  That was the car that had been behind them earlier. How long had they been following? Who were they?

  The sound of sirens had her standing too fast. Her legs still felt like jelly, but she managed to keep her feet.

  She couldn't get caught up in this. She had to get out of here, to figure out what to do next. She wouldn't look at the dead man. She jogged to her car, climbed in, and crept out of the lot.

  Less than a quarter mile away, a police car passed her going the opposite direction, its lights spinning. She continued straight, prayed she wouldn't get pulled over.

  She stopped at a red light and caught sight of the man's phone. He'd left it on her console.

  She pressed the button, swiped to open it. There was a passcode. She'd broken into enough iPhones to know how to get past that. It was a skill that had come in handy when she'd worked for the town. The cops had come to her often enough for help, usually trying to return a stolen or lost phone to its owner.

  She held down the home button, waited for the beep, and said, "What time is it?"

  The clock came up.

  A few more steps, and...

  Bingo.

  She was in.

  She dialed Brady's number and pressed the gas.

  He picked up on the second ring.

  "Brady Thomas." He sounded like he'd been asleep. Made sense. It was nearly midnight.

  "It's Sam."

  He cleared his throat. "What happened? Whose phone is this?"

  "Long story. Garrison and...I..." The words halted. A sob bubbled up, and she started to tremble. She pulled over, took a deep breath.

  Through the phone, she heard Brady speaking to Rae. "I don't know yet. Something's wrong." Then he spoke to her again. "Sam, what happened?"

  She took another breath, swallowed the rising nausea. How could she even explain it? What would she say? Where should she start?

  "I just witnessed a murder."

  "What? Where are you?"

  "You have to be quiet and let me talk. I was with a man, and he was shot. The killers were..." She started to say African American, but stopped herself. They'd both had accents, so they weren't American at all. "They were black. I only saw one from the front. He had darker skin than any man I've ever seen. And a scar on his neck. I don't know how old he was, or how tall." She explained where the auto body shop was and the type of car they were driving.

  "You need to call the Manchester PD."

  "Garrison and Aiden are being held captive."

  Brady had on his detective voice when he spoke next. "Start at the beginning."

  "First, call the police in Manchester so those guys don't get away."

  A short pause. Then, "Fine. Hold on a sec."

  She heard him speaking on another phone, Rae's, no doubt. He relayed the information she'd given him, claiming he'd received an anonymous tip. He came back on the line.

  "You'll tell them the truth tomorrow. Now, tell me what's going on."

  She pulled back onto the nearly deserted street. For the next ten minutes, she relayed all that had happened—leaving out the place where Garrison and the rest were being held—and ended with the murder.

  "Tell me where they are."

  "We have to figure out how to rescue them."

  "That's my job, Sam."

  "No. No. Look, I need your help, but if I don't go back there, he'll kill them. He was very explicit."

  "He had to say that so you wouldn't try to escape."

  She turned onto Route 101. "That doesn't mean he won't do it. I'm not going to risk anybody's life to protect my own."

  There was a long pause. His voice was quieter, the voice of a friend, when he spoke next. "Sam, Garrison won't want you to risk your life to save him."

  "Not him, no." She knew that. But Aiden. Garrison would do anything for his son.

  "Not any of them," Brady said. "And you're too important to me, to Rae, to all your friends. I can't let you step into harm's way."

  "You can't stop me. Either help me figure out how to do this, or I'm going to hang up."

  "You have to trust me. This is what I do."

  "I know. That's why I'm calling. But you can't guarantee anything."

  "Neither can you."

  "I can do something, though. I can get in the door, or maybe..."

  Yes, that was it. She had to make the man believe she had the package. It was her only leverage.

  "Samantha, tell me where you are, and we'll figure this out together."

  She couldn't do it alone. She'd need Brady's help.

  "Here's the deal, Brady. I'll meet you, and you can help me formulate a plan. But you have to promise me you're not going to charge in there, and you're not going to try to negotiate for their release. This guy...I don't think he'll hesitate to start killing people. And he's already pegged Garrison as his biggest threat. The first bullet will be for Garrison."

  SAM SPIED BRADY IN front of McNeal's, leaning against his pickup truck and tapping his foot. She parked behind him and shoved the man's phone in her pocket. By the time she stepped out of the car, Brady was there.

  He pulled her into a bear hug and held her tight. When he finally let her go, he shook her shoulders. "I can't decide if I'm happy to see you or ticked you're being so stubborn about this."

  "Let's go with happy to see me."

  "How are you holding up? You went to Manchester alone...at night."

  She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. "Wait. You know?"

  "That you never leave Nutfield?"

  "How long have you known?"

  Brady shook his head. "Sheesh, Sam. We've been friends forever. You think I didn't notice
? I am a detective, you know."

  "But...you never said anything."

  He shrugged. "Figured if you wanted to talk about it—"

  "Does Rae know?"

  "Why do you think we had our reception at the Lion's Hall?"

  Sam had believed Rae's reasoning. "I...but... She should've..."

  "She wanted you to be there. And she didn't want you to be afraid. And it didn't matter to us, as long as we were married. We love you, Sam. Which is why I can't let you do this."

  She'd told him her idea while she'd driven here, and he'd spent as much time arguing about why it wouldn't work as she'd spent explaining it.

  "This is the best way to assure that at least the teens survive. And if I can get his focus on the front of the cabin—"

  "They're at a cabin? The one where Garrison's been staying?"

  She hadn't meant to say that.

  "Which one is it?" When she didn't respond, he said, "I'll call Rae. She probably knows."

  "No, it's okay. I'll tell you, if you hear me out."

  "I'm not letting you put yourself in danger."

  "There are kids in there, Brady. Two teenage boys."

  "I understand that."

  "What if it were Johnny?"

  "It was Johnny!" His words reverberated off the downtown buildings. He took a breath. "Johnny and Rae were in danger, and I had about twenty guys with me."

  True. And Sam had thought Rae was crazy to put herself in danger like she had. Now, Sam understood. "You had a plan."

  "And Rae didn't trust me and could have gotten herself killed."

  "I trust you, Brady. You tell me how we can do this, and I'll do everything you say. I promise."

  Brady crossed his arms, stepped back. "Okay." He stared at the police station across the street. "Okay. I'll call the guys."

  "Not the whole town. It's quiet out there."

  "Which cabin?"

  She waffled, but in the end, she had to tell him. Had to trust him. Because there was no way Sam could do this alone.

  The man's phone dinged.

  A text message from a man named Lionel.

  You got the package?

  She scrolled up to read the other messages. Nothing too telling. She paused on one from the other man, sent just forty-five minutes before, and sucked in a breath.

  Take care of her as soon as you get the package.

  "What?" Brady said. "Let me see."

  She showed the screen to Brady.

  "Seems this Lionel guy doesn't plan to leave anyone alive."

  "He looked like a Lionel. Didn't look dangerous. Which was maybe the scariest thing about him." She scrolled back to the latest message. "Should I respond?"

  "Yeah." He took the phone, paused, and then typed into it. He showed her the screen. Just now. On my way.

  "Sounds right." He hit send. "Maybe we can use this."

  Brady looked at the phone, at her. "Eventually, he's going to know his man is down. The question is, how is he going to take it?"

  Chapter 47

  Garrison had been free an hour or more, and he still hadn't had any opportunity to act.

  He'd driven through Manchester on his way here. It wasn't that far. Samantha and the other man should be close.

  Lionel had sent a couple of texts. Both times, it was over so fast Garrison hadn't been able to move. And how could he possibly take out one gunman and keep the other one from shooting everybody?

  Garrison had been working on a plan all this time. So far, all he had was jump up, hurdle Matty, lunge at Lionel, and scream "Run!" If Frank would barrel toward Baldie, and if Garrison could get the gun from Lionel, then they'd have a chance.

  Too many ifs. He had to figure a way to tell Frank. But how?

  A distraction. Then he'd do it.

  Lionel's phone dinged. He lifted his gun and aimed it at Aiden's head. Then he read the message. Smiled. "Won't be long now."

  Garrison had to act before Sam got back. Because when Lionel had his package they would all die.

  But the guns remained pointed. Garrison was willing to risk his own life. Willing to risk Frank's. But not Aiden's.

  They'd run out of things to talk about. Garrison would start a conversation, but he couldn't take his mind off what he was planning. Because though he was willing to die, he didn't want to.

  He felt like he was finally rebuilding the relationship with Aiden that had been stripped away by divorce and drugs and lies. Garrison wanted desperately to see what kind of man his son would turn out to be. He wanted to see him healthy again. He wanted to see him graduate from high school, go on to college, meet a girl and marry her, become a father. Even the hard moments of parenting—and the previous months had been the hardest of his life—were worth it when he thought about the man his son could become. Garrison had earned the right to see it, hadn't he? Earned it with the late nights pacing the floor, the worrying. Earned it with all times he'd said I love you and received only a grunt in reply. And all of that—the good, the bad, the hard, the torturous—he'd do it all again and more if it would save Aiden.

  At least he'd told Sam he loved her. Stupid as it had been to blurt those words out, he was glad he had. He wanted to kiss her again. Wanted to marry her. Wanted to be by her side forever.

  He thought of his mother, always loyal to his father. And then he thought of his father. Garrison had been a disappointment to the man for forty-three years. No matter what Garrison had accomplished, Dad had never been impressed. Would Dad cry at his funeral?

  He would.

  Dad would be sorry he'd never spoken his true feelings. Somehow, though Dad had never said it, Garrison knew his father loved him. Knew beneath all that bluster and hate was a proud man who had no idea how to show his feelings. Was Garrison like his father? He'd always hoped not to be. But hadn't he spent all his life trying to prove himself? Prove he was strong, capable, independent? Like Dad. Dad, who never needed anybody. Dad, who'd never been happy.

  That wasn't the life Garrison wanted. To pretend he didn't need others when he obviously, desperately did. He needed Aiden. He needed Sam. He needed help, right now, so he could spend his life with those he loved.

  A quote by Kierkegaard popped in his head. The most painful state of being is remembering the future, particularly the one you'll never have.

  Chapter 48

  Six police officers surrounded the cabin. Two were hidden in the woods across the street. One was beneath Aiden's window. One was on the other side of the house, under the kitchen window. And two had crept up from neighboring cabins and were hidden on the lake side just beyond the back patio.

  They were all prepared to take the gunmen out if they showed themselves.

  Even with all those guns, Samantha feared this would go badly.

  She parked her SUV on the street in front of the house, where Lionel could see it if he looked, but far enough away that he probably wouldn't risk shooting at it—at her. She stepped out and stared at the cabin while Brady, who'd parked at the staging area about a quarter mile down the quiet road, crept up the narrow road to meet her. She was surrounded by familiar trees, secure trees, her trees. This was one of Sam's safe places, and Lionel was not going to ruin that.

  Brady yanked on her hand, and they both crouched beside her rear wheel. He handed her the gunman's phone. "You remember what we talked about?"

  She nodded, took a breath, and dialed. Brady leaned close to listen.

  Lionel's phone rang once. "Why are you calling me?"

  "It's Samantha. Plans have changed."

  "Put Prat on the phone right now."

  "Your man is incapacitated."

  A long silence. "Interesting. How did that happen?"

  "I saw your text, Lionel. The one where you told him to take care of me. I'd like to think you meant no harm, but your actions say differently."

  "Shall I kill Garrison first?"

  Her heart dropped, her stomach followed right behind. Brady mouthed stick to the plan.

  "Not if
you want your package," she said.

  Lionel blew out a long breath. "I'm curious. How did you incapacitate my man?"

  "I guess...Prat, did you say? Prat figured I'd go along with whatever he said. He figured wrong."

  "Keep going," Lionel said.

  She took a deep breath and relayed the story she and Brady had concocted. "He had to cut a chain to get into the lot. He left the bolt cutters on the ground behind him. So I whacked him in the head with them."

  Silence met her words.

  Brady nodded for her to continue.

  "He's not dead. I'm no murderer. I wrapped his hands and feet with duct tape."

  "You just happened to have that in your car?"

  "I keep a toolbox in the back of my SUV. When you own sixteen cabins, stuff breaks."

  "Where is he now?"

  "He and the package are close. When my friends are safe, you can have them."

  "You have the package?" Lionel sounded skeptical.

  "Of course."

  "What's inside it?"

  "How would I know?" Samantha said. "I'm not stupid enough to open it."

  "How much does it weigh?"

  "I don't know." She didn't—she'd never handled it.

  "Ballpark it."

  "Couple of ounces, maybe? I'm not good at guessing those kinds of things."

  A pause. Then, "So you expect me to believe that you came back here to make this trade all by yourself."

  "I thought about calling the cops. But I can't see any way all my friends would survive if you thought there were cops. You don't seem to be a hands-up-don't-shoot kind of guy."

  There was long pause. He didn't deny it, and even if he had, she wouldn't have believed it.

  Finally, he spoke. "Samantha, since you seem to think you're calling the shots, what now?"

  "You let Aiden and Matty go."

  "I don't think I will." His voice sounded calm, too calm. "I think instead of letting them go, I'll just start shooting them until I get my package."

  She looked at Brady, who nodded for her to continue. They'd considered this possibility. She took a deep breath and spoke. "You start shooting, and every cop in the county will be here in minutes. Then you'll have no opportunity for escape."