Bad Citizen Corporation

by S. W. Lauden

  He sat down behind the desk and brought the computer to life with a shake of the mouse. To his surprise the home screen was not password protected. He clicked on the email icon and scrolled through a few pages full of work-related subject lines. There was nothing obvious about Junior and Chris, so he checked Mikey’s browser history instead. It had recently been cleared. He was starting to get up from the chair when he noticed the framed photos on the wall again. He slid the mouse over to the “Photos” folder and sorted by “Most Recent.”

  The first few shots were of Chris surfing, obviously taken from the safety of the beach. He was two or three photos into the series when something in one of the frames caught his attention. He zoomed in and saw himself paddling to catch a wave in the background. The next series of pictures was from Ricky’s funeral, starting with several shots of Junior running from the church. The rest of the pictures from that day mostly focused on Greg and Junior at the reception afterwards. The final shots were of Greg leaving Junior’s house sometime after midnight. He was still going backwards in time through the photo files when Officer Bob walked in.

  “Find anything interesting?”

  “Come look at this.”

  Greg started at the beginning, quickly skipping ahead. There were a hundred shots of Junior cutting hair in her salon. Greg was caught off guard when he clicked further back in time and discovered a series showing Junior and Ricky holding hands on the beach. Officer Bob could sense Greg’s anger and urged him to step away from the computer all together.

  “Mikey’s a stalker on top of everything else.”

  “Or he was paying somebody to follow his ex-wife around. Wouldn’t be the first time somebody came up with that brilliant idea.”

  Officer Bob moved toward the office door. Greg immediately went back to the photos.

  “Take a couple more minutes, but then we have to move on.”

  Greg’s phone started buzzing in his pocket the moment Officer Bob left the room. He looked at the text message on the screen. It was from another anonymous number, like the ones that had sent him similar pictures earlier that week.

  Smile, you’re on video.

  Greg looked up and tried to locate the video camera. The phone buzzed again in his hand and he jumped.

  Fire alarm.

  This time Greg brought the phone up and typed a response.

  Where are they?

  The response came immediately.

  You’ll find out soon enough

  What do you want?

  Tonight. Will send details

  Officer Bob was waiting for Greg out on the sidewalk when he emerged from the house. There was a look of concern on his face as Greg approached.

  “You don’t look so good. Sure you’re still up for this?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Greg knew that raiding Mikey’s office would be a bust, but he had to go through the motions. He didn’t know what Mikey’s state of mind was and he wasn’t willing to jeopardize Junior and Chris any further just to follow police protocol.

  The receptionist was the only person in the lobby when Greg arrived. She was surprised to see him, but managed a big smile as he approached.

  “I didn’t know we were expecting you today. I just got back from lunch, so I’m not even sure if he’s here.”

  Her tone was friendly. She tried to pull up her boss’s schedule on the computer.

  “It looks like he should be here. I’ll just go up and check.”

  He flashed his BCPD badge and informed her he would be coming along. She led him upstairs and toward Mikey’s office. Greg noticed the plants in the boxes that lined the staircase were brown and dying. A couple of the ceiling lights up above were burned out.

  “Does anybody work here besides you and Mikey?”

  “Do I have to answer your questions?”

  “Might be a good idea.”

  “This place used to be full of real estate agents. Mr. Fitzgerald was forced to lay them off over the last few months, because of the economy.”

  “Does he hold many business meetings here these days?”

  She hesitated for a moment, considering his question. Deciding what to share.

  “Not too often anymore. He does have weekly meetings with one of his investors, but schedules those himself. I’m not even sure what her name is, but she is all business. I can assure you of that.”

  “In what way?”

  “She is very well put together. Stylish in a sort of severe way. And she has extremely specific needs whenever she is in the office. I can’t tell you the number of times I have had to drive half way across town just to find the right latte for her. I hate being away from my desk for all that time, but Mr. Fitzgerald insists that I cater to her every whim. She has South Bay tastes, if you know what I mean.”

  What Greg did know is that Mikey had a new girlfriend. And from the sounds of it, the two of them were into kinky office sex. If this mystery business partner with the expensive taste was half as controlling as the receptionist made her out to be, then she was definitely his accomplice in the real estate scam. Maybe the kidnapping, too.

  The receptionist knocked on the office door, waiting a moment before calling out her boss’s name. She turned the knob when she got no response. Unlocked. The office was empty, just like Greg knew it would be. She let him in and went back down to her post in the lobby.

  He was looking out the window at the reservoir and thinking about what the receptionist just told him. He pulled his wallet out and searched through the receipts and dollar bills looking for a specific business card. It was a long shot, but he knew he didn’t have anything to lose. He pulled out his phone and dialed the number. It rang four times before her outgoing voice message kicked in.

  “You’ve reached Margaret Keane from Bay Cities Venture Capital. Please leave a detailed message and I will get back to you at my earliest convenience.”

  He killed the call when the detectives flooded into the office and started going through Mikey’s things. Greg ducked out at the first opportunity to find somewhere private that he could check his phone, just in case.

  He slipped down the hall for the bathroom. Something was blocking the door. He pushed again with his fingers and then with his palms. Then he put his shoulder into it. The door gave a few inches. He recognized the designer shoes first and then quickly followed the line of perfectly creased pants. Mikey was lying motionless on the tiles. A mush of bone, blood and pulp where his head should have been. He was clenching a pistol in his left hand. Greg stumbled backwards, slamming into the wall and sliding to the floor.

  “Man down! Help!”

  The officers rushed down the hall and crashed through the bathroom door. None of them noticed Greg sitting on the ground behind them, staring at his phone.

  This doesn’t change anything. We’re still on for tonight.

  ›

  The scene at the bar was less chaotic when Greg returned that afternoon. Eddie was still pouring free drinks for the volunteers, but there weren’t many takers. Most of them were still out on the streets distributing missing persons fliers. Greg wanted to let them all know that their time was being wasted, but knew it was too much of a risk. The lull in activity gave him and Eddie a chance to talk. They took a table in the darkest part of the bar, so they could have some privacy.

  “Where the hell did you and Marco disappear to?”

  “There have been some developments, but I’m not really sure how much I can share.”

  Eddie frowned. Greg patted the table to emphasize his point.

  “We’re getting closer to finding them. You just have to trust me.”

  “Okay…”

  “Right now I can tell you this much—they’re alive.”

  A flush of red boiled up on Eddie’s face until it looked like he might explode. That didn’t change a thing
about how much information Greg was willing to share.

  “Stop it with all this cloak and dagger bullshit and tell me what the hell is going on. Do you know where they are or not?”

  “I’ll know for sure in a couple of hours. Then I’m going to get them back.”

  “So I’m supposed to just sit here twiddling my thumbs while you play the hero. That it?”

  The conversation was over, whether Eddie knew it or not. There was nothing else Greg could say to comfort him. He didn’t have all of the answers yet himself.

  “I know it doesn’t seem fair, but it’s all I have to give you right now. Promise me you won’t tell anybody.”

  “Christ. What about all these people who volunteered? Should I send them home?”

  “Keep your voice down, Eddie. Let them keep doing what they’re doing. We can’t let anybody think that we might have a lead. You have to understand what’s at risk here.”

  Eddie took a deep breath and stood up. He couldn’t look Greg in the eye any longer.

  “This is my family. Not yours.”

  “I know.”

  “I think I need a drink.”

  “Me too…but I’ll have to settle for a little chill out time.”

  Greg trailed Eddie back to the bar, grabbing the spare key to the salon on the way. The sickening exhaustion he’d been trying to ignore all day took hold when he let himself in. The air inside was hot and filled with the sickly sweet scent of hair care products baking. He went straight to the back of the salon and turned on the air conditioner.

  He wondered why barbershops didn’t have big, fluffy sofas like salons did. It was a fleeting thought. A sense of dread was already creeping in all around him as he kicked off his shoes to lie down. His tired mind was whirring, but his body felt heavy. He checked his phone one more time before setting it down on his chest.

  Greg was dead to the world in minutes.

  A familiar scene.

  The kid in the blue hat was standing on top of a dumpster trying to climb into a second story window. Greg leveled his gun and shouted ‘Stop! Police!’ The kid turned to look and then jumped down off of the dumpster. The floor of the alley became a giant splash as the kid disappeared under the surface of the water.

  Greg tossed his gun aside and dove in after him. His clothes absorbed the water and started dragging him down. He unbuttoned his shirt and wriggled out of his shoes and pants. He couldn’t see the kid anywhere through the murky, churning salt water. His lungs were starting to burn so he headed for the surface to catch a breath. He emerged with a gasp and found himself treading water in the middle of the ocean.

  Something was tugging at his ankle. He started paddling to get away. It had a firm grip on him. He dove down to see if it was the kid with the blue hat, but got tangled up in his surfboard leash. Chris was calling his name when he surfaced again.

  Greg climbed onto his board and started paddling. The sky went from sunny to stormy in the blink of an eye. Greg found himself rolling over massive ocean swells, chasing the boy’s voice. The wind was kicking up and a light rain began to fall.

  Chris was beside him now, waiting to catch a towering wave. Greg turned and started paddling with all of his might. The next moment Chris was standing up and carving across the face of an impossibly tall wave. Greg pushed himself up into a standing position as the wall of water curled overhead. They were in a glassy green cathedral now, their boards slicing across the endless glassy surface beneath them…

  The phone was buzzing. Greg gasped for air as he broke the surface from a deep sleep. He could still feel the tacky ocean water surrounding him as he forced his eyes open. The salon was dark and the air conditioner was blasting cold air at him. He grabbed his phone and found three text messages waiting. They had all come in over the last couple of minutes.

  It’s time

  Locals Only

  Come alone

  Greg stood up and stretched before heading for the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face and rubbed some onto the back of his neck. There was no way to know what lay ahead, but at least he knew where he was going. He walked across the salon and brought the door shut behind him. Dusk was settling in, wispy orange clouds streaking the sky along the coast. He climbed into the El Camino and drove into the darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The moon was overhead now, leaving a trail of shimmering lights that danced across the ocean far below. Greg brought the car to a stop. The badge was on the passenger seat beside him. Useless. His gun was in the glove compartment, loaded and ready.

  Greg could hear the waves crashing, the rocks grinding out a chorus as they forever chased the tide. There were no streetlights this high up along the cliffs, so the kidnapper must have seen him arrive. He flashed the high beams for dramatic effect and let the car idle.

  He knew what the BCPD wanted from him, but not the kidnapper. Whatever it was, Greg doubted that he could deliver. That wouldn’t stop him from trying to save his friends. He just had to wait. Greg turned up the volume on the stereo and listened to Rancid doing “Time Bomb,” one of Ricky’s all time favorites. He hit the repeat button and tapped along on his steering wheel, waiting for some kind of signal. The volume was too loud for him to hear the buzzing, but the screen on his phone lit up.

  Get out of the car and go to the trailhead…

  Greg felt like he was stepping on stage. He twisted the key out of the ignition. He shoved the Glock into the back of his pants and stood up in plain view. There was a strong offshore breeze kicking up. He zipped up his windbreaker and walked toward the cliffs. He knew the kidnapper would search him, but he wanted it understood that he had come to fight.

  He reached the trailhead and stopped to look around. The entire area seemed to be deserted. He couldn’t remember if he had been to the tidal pools at night.

  “That’s far enough!”

  A woman. The wind and background noise from the waves made it hard to identify where the voice was coming from, or who it was. Greg wondered if he had guessed correctly about Margaret Keane.

  He stopped and gave a little spin in place to show that he had heard her.

  “Take your jacket off!”

  Greg obliged, exposing the gun as planned.

  “Drop your weapon!”

  Greg pulled the gun out and tossed it a few feet away. He put both arms over his head, assuming that would be her next command.

  “Down on your knees or we’ll kill your friends!”

  Greg hadn’t even considered the possibility that there was more than one kidnapper. Not until that moment. It could also be a trick. He laced his fingers behind his head and waited.

  “Forehead to the ground.”

  He started to bend forward, lost his balance and had to steady himself with one hand.

  “Hands behind your head! Now!”

  Greg fell forward and banged his face on the rocky ground. He could feel a thin trickle of blood starting to form on his forehead. The sound of footsteps came thudding toward him from the direction of the trail. The kidnapper was soon patting him down. Greg could smell the strong scent of sweat mixed with a familiar aroma, something sweet and flowery. Was she wearing Junior’s perfume?

  “Was that your only gun?”

  Greg kept his forehead down. He answered quietly in an attempt to draw her closer. She didn’t fall for it. Greg knew that he wasn’t dealing with an amateur. The cold barrel of her gun was pressed against his temple. He repeated his answer, with more volume this time.

  “Yes.”

  “Get up, slowly.”

  Greg waited a beat and then carefully pushed himself up onto all fours. He could hear her taking cautious steps in response to his every move. There was no way to know how many others might be lurking around them in the dark, outside of his field of vision. The blood from his forehead was starting to deposit tiny drople
ts into the eyebrow over his left eye. His vision was getting cloudy as he rolled onto the balls of his feet and into a standing position. A blurry figure was standing a few feet away with both hands wrapped around the handle of the gun. It was pointed right at Greg’s face.

  “Are you alone?”

  “Just like you told me. You?”

  “Don’t think I can handle you on my own?”

  The shape in front of him slowly began to come into focus as he blinked the blood away. Her hair was still pulled back in a messy ponytail, just as it had been that morning at Eddie’s.

  “Quincy. What is this all about?”

  “I hate to see you bleeding. It won’t matter much longer.”

  “Who put you up to this?” Greg tried to control the fury that was building up inside of him. He was speaking loudly to be heard over the wind. “Whoever is making you do this, you can just stop right now. I can help you. Nobody has to die tonight.”

  “Oh, somebody is definitely going to die tonight. Maybe a few people. It all depends.”

  “What do you want me to do? Just tell me so we can get past this.”

  “Don’t try any police negotiation bullshit on me. I’m the one who made this all happen.”

  “You’re Mikey’s business partner?”

  Quincy snorted like a teenage girl.

  “I like to think I was more of a muse.”

  “Look, why don’t you put the gun down—”

  “SHUT UP!”

  Greg flinched as she tightened her trigger finger. She responded with another laugh, shaking her head in disbelief.

  “We have a lot more in common than you know. My brother was your biggest fan when we were growing up. He used to play your music all the time. It was still on repeat when I found him in his room, hanging from the ceiling fan.”

  “Quincy, I’m really sorry about your brother…”

  “Don’t be sorry. That’s the thing that brought us together. After he died I kept on listening to your music and digging up whatever I could about you. Once I found out that your brother died the same way as my brother did I knew that we had a special connection. That’s when I decided to find you. So we could be together.”