Ripples

by DL Fowler

  “So, you don’t have an alibi.”

  “No.”

  “Look, let’s say the girl’s real. You’re not just imagining things. How do you know she’s still out there? She could be anywhere by now.”

  Jacob throws the pack over one shoulder and rests the barrel of his twelve-gauge on the other. “I’m doing this, whether you like it or not.” He starts toward the sliding-glass door.

  I step in front of him. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “I’m not about to do anything stupid. I’m just looking for a lost girl.”

  I let him pass. “Got your cell phone?”

  “Of course.”

  “Keep me posted.”

  “Sure.”

  Once he’s gone, I wander into the kitchen and stop next to the marble-topped island. The man I’ve known for over forty years is more of a mystery now than the day we met. I turn and look down the hallway toward Jacob’s library. The door’s open. That means I have Jacob’s tacit approval, right?

  Okay, no expectation of privacy here. I pick up a stack and start perusing. In typical Jacob Chandler style, his desk is covered with neatly arranged stacks of files and papers. There are scores of pages of pleadings, depositions, affidavits, court transcripts and the like about the wrongful death claim filed by his former employee’s family. After thumbing through the stack, I lay the documents aside and sort through a similar pile—a set of correspondence having to do with the indemnity case against his old firm.

  On top of the third heap is a 9x12 envelope with a detective agency’s return address. Inside there’s a half-dozen page report about Celine’s abduction. I sit behind the desk and study the document. Page three stops me cold. I read the middle paragraph a second time. I squint and read it a third time to be sure I’m getting it straight.

  I feel around in the envelope and come up with a DVD, load it into Jacob’s computer. The images popping up raise more questions than they answer. The first photo shows Jacob’s son, Jesse, embracing a woman, a brunette—not Celine’s mother. In another shot, the same woman is holding a child—no more than a year old, but it doesn’t appear to be Celine. Why did Jake have a private detective following Jesse? And the woman. Was Jesse having an affair? Is this woman connected to Celine’s kidnapping? Something about the woman rings a bell.

  As I lean back in the chair to process what I’ve seen, footsteps echo down in the hallway. I press the eject button, stuff both the DVD and the report back into the envelope, and bury them at the bottom of the pile. I grab a sheet from the top of the pile and pretend to be reading.

  A moment later Deputy Sheriff Baker walks into the room. “We knocked and no one answered. The door was open.”

  “Can I help you?”

  “We’re here for Chandler.”

  “He’s not in. Is there something I can do?”

  “When are you expecting Mr. Chandler back?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “He didn’t say anything before he left?”

  “Not about when he planned to be back.”

  “Oh, what did he say?”

  “Nothing much.”

  “Don’t stonewall me, Samuels.”

  “I’m not stonewalling.”

  “There’s a deputy on the way with an arrest warrant—and a warrant to search this place.”

  “You’ve already searched the place once and arrested him, as well. He’s free on bail.”

  “Bail’s been revoked. We’re looking for anything that connects him to the murders, not just weapons. We have another body.”

  “Another body? You can’t possibly think ….”

  “Mr. Samuels, it takes more than thinking to get an arrest warrant. And I’m sure by the time we finish searching here we’ll have a few more loose ends tied down.”

  I gesture toward the door. “You’d better step outside while you wait for your warrant.”

  “And maybe you should join me.”

  “Sure. Mind if I use the bathroom, first?”

  “As long as you make it quick.”

  “After you,” I offer.

  Baker stops in the doorway and turns toward me. “Oh, and one more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t do anything we might consider obstruction.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it.”

  I cross the hall to the bathroom and watch Deputy Baker take his time walking to the kitchen and out onto the deck. My gut tells me those Jesse pictures could lead to trouble, especially if Baker gets his hands on the suicide note. Add Jesse’s accusations of emotional abuse to the Conroy mess, and there’s no telling what a DA’s imagination could make of it. Taking down a high profile guy like Jake could make a prosecutor’s career.

  I wait long enough to be sure Baker is out of view before darting back across the hall into Jacob’s library. I grab the envelope from the bottom of the stack and tuck it into the back of my pants, concealing it with the tail of my sports jacket. Before joining the deputy, I return to the bathroom, flush the toilet and wash my hands.

  When I step onto the deck, Deputy Baker scratches his head. “You know, it seems odd that your boss—I’m right, he is your boss?”

  “Client.”

  “It seems odd Mr. Chandler would go somewhere without taking his vehicle …” Baker points to Jacob’s Jeep “… and not give you any idea where he was going.”

  “I’m his business advisor, not his mother.”

  “It doesn’t matter what you are. Obstruction of justice means not being straight with us while we’re investigating a crime.” He stares hard. “It’s a felony that gets you hard time.”

  I grimace.

  “So one more time, Mr. Samuels. Where’s Chandler?”

  Jacob’s had more than half-an-hour head start. It would take hours for Baker to put together a search party. Besides, maybe telling the truth would create enough of a distraction to insure I can get away with the envelope I stuck in my pants.

  I look out at the lake. “Hunting.”

  “For what? Nothing’s in season, and we’ve impounded his firearms.”

  “The girl.”

  “Damn. Where?”

  I point. “Somewhere out there.”

  Baker wheels around and yells into the radio strapped on his shoulder. “I need a search party up here right now. And get the nearest K-9 unit you can find.”

  Jacob

  I click ‘Answer’ on my cell phone. “Hi, Carl. You’re not talking me out of this, so don’t even try.”

  “That’s not why I’m calling.”

  “Sounds like you’re driving.”

  “Yeah. On my way back to the city.”

  “So why are you calling?”

  “You need to be straight with me. Is there anything you haven’t told me that your attorney needs to know?”

  “There’s nothing I know for sure that he hasn’t been told.”

  “That’s not my question.”

  I don’t reply.

  “Jake, why did you have a private detective following Jesse?”

  “I’m not answering any more questions.”

  Carl pauses. “How are your survival skills?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Deputy Baker is organizing a search party, including a K-9 unit. He’s setting up a command post at your cabin.”

  “So, he’s decided the girl’s for real. Of course, he didn’t have a choice after that DNA report.”

  “That’s not it. Your bail’s been revoked. They found another body and he thinks you did it.”

  “Who? Where?”

  “A man. They didn’t say who he was. Shot in the face and chest with a shotgun.”

  “Where did this happen?”

  “There’s a dead-end road that angles back from the highway a half mile or so below the turnoff to your place. Leads to a couple of ranches.”

  “I think I know where you’re
talking about. I can get to it on foot from here.”

  “No. Better not show up there. It’s a crime scene and there might be cops all over the place.”

  “You’ve got a point.”

  Carl pauses again. “How do you know about this place? Seems like it’s a bit out of the way.”

  “Remember the ranch house I told you about?”

  “From the night your neighbor was shot up. You followed him there, and heard gunshots inside the place.”

  “Yeah. I think it’s the same place.”

  “Jake, things aren’t good.”

  “I know. Any chance they’ve tapped our phones?”

  “How would I know?”

  “Just in case, we’d better sign off. And Carl ….”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t call me. If the police get a hold of your phone records and see you’ve been calling me it could mean serious trouble for you. Think of Sandy and your family. The kids and grandkids.”

  “Jake …”

  “Yeah?”

  “Never mind ….”

  I check the cell phone display to be sure we’re still connected, then put the phone back to my ear. “You still there?”

  “Yeah.” More silence. Then Carl continues, “I was thinking. Are you sure you don’t want to rethink this whole thing? Turn yourself in.”

  “Not a chance. I’m going to find her. I know she’s out there. Only now, I can’t perch myself somewhere and wait for her to wander by. I have to keep moving or those dogs will find me.”

  “Okay—but don’t you think it would be a good idea to call your attorney and clue him in?”

  “I suppose you’re right. But, you make the call. I’ll be turning off my phone so its signal can’t be tracked.”

  “Jake, you will call if you really need help, right?”

  “Don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”

  I tap “End Call,” and sit down to rummage through my pack. I recall a cranky old neighbor from back when Ellen and I were first married. The neighbor lined the border of her yard with ammonia to keep dogs from peeing and crapping on her grass. Would have round-filed that memory, but my first big M&A deal involved a clever product that took the sting out of insect-bites. Its active ingredient was ammonia packaged in small pencil-sized vials so you could smear a couple drops directly on a bite.

  Who would have guessed? The same stuff that keeps dogs from peeing also stops insect-bites from itching. I dig through my backpack.

  Voila. Four vials. Too bad I left the rest in my desk at home. Back when I handled the merger, folks thought I was a genius when I handed out samples at cocktail parties and barbeques.

  I throw on my pack and start hiking.

  Chapter Eleven

  Mercedes

  I stare across the meadow at the two of them, RJ sitting behind her on the stallion, his hands on hers while she holds the reins. If that girl lets him make a move on her, I swear she’ll wish she was dealing with Bryce. That boy’s not teaching her squat.

  I watch over my shoulder as I walk into the hut. A bit later when the two come through the door—him laughing, her smiling, which she never does—I pretend not to notice. But my back is tighter than a bowstring as I work on the rabbit I bagged for dinner.

  RJ asks how ‘we’ can help.

  I wheel around. “So you’ve decided to give riding lessons. When do I get my turn?”

  RJ shrugs. “Sorry, I thought you didn’t like horses.”

  “Life’s not about what we like. It’s about surviving.”

  “I know. I just thought—”

  “Yeah. You just thought about what you wanted.”

  “Honest. I just thought you didn’t want to.”

  “I tore my feet up running through the woods because I couldn’t ride a damn horse. And I did it to save her ass.” I point my knife at Amy. “Next time, it’ll be my ass I worry about. And, my feet.”

  RJ rolls his eyes.

  “I’m not blind. I can see what’s going on here. You’re just trying to get into her pants.”

  “Please.”

  “Don’t 'please' me.”

  Amy steps in front of RJ. “I’m the one who should be pissed, not you.”

  RJ and I stare at her. Where’d this Amy come from? Her? Pissed?

  “What are you staring at? I’m the one who got left behind for two years of hell. And, if you didn’t want me around, why’d you risk your neck rescuing me?”

  RJ shoots me a stupid grin. I search my brain for a snarky reply. Instead I blurt out, “It’s the last time I’m saying this. Pull your weight or you don’t eat.” I stab the rabbit carcass with my knife.

  He sighs. “Tomorrow morning, first thing, I’ll teach you how to ride.”

  Amy picks up the water bucket and heads for the door. RJ follows. She stops and holds up a hand. “I can handle this.”

  When Amy is out of earshot, RJ turns to me. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “Me? I’m not the one playing the hero so I can sleep with her.”

  “I thought you were the one who knows what’s real.”

  “I know what I saw.”

  “Oh, I get it. You’re jealous.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I didn’t know you were into girls. It didn’t even occur to me that you guys were … you know… that you two had something going before you ran away.”

  “Shut up—jerk.”

  “Hey, if you want her she’s yours.” RJ throws up his hands.

  My jaw drops.

  His eyes grow wide. “I mean, did you run off because you got into some kind of fight?”

  “No, you freak. I ran away because I was being raped. Every other night he had one or the other of us. Sometimes both.” I start to sob.

  RJ holds out his hands. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t touch me.” I fold my arms across my chest. “I’ll decide when I wanna be touched.”

  RJ looks away.

  I glare at him. “Make yourself useful and get us some firewood.”

  After taking a couple steps toward the door, he turns back. “My mom brought a different guy home almost every night—most were druggies or drunks. Listening to them carrying on turned my stomach. Actually made me throw up a few times.” He shuffles his feet. “There are times I want you to touch me. But when you get close, all I can think is—my mother’s a whore and I don’t even know who my father was.”

  “Join the club. Bryce brought Amy to us when she was about four. Said he ‘found’ her. Never could tell with him. Anyway, her folks never bothered to come after her.”

  “Maybe she was lucky.”

  “Lucky? Bryce treated her like garbage. Always made her feel like something he kept around just to be used. Nothing could be worse than Bryce.” My voice goes hoarse. “That monster. Anybody who gives him a face full of buckshot … they deserve a medal.”

  RJ’s eyes are misty. He clears his throat. “What about you?”

  “Damn bastard. He called me ‘special.’’’ I almost choke on the words. “But here’s what’s real—that bitch Tess never lifted a finger to stop him even though she claimed to be my mother. At least I know Bryce wasn’t my father. She said the louse who knocked her up was a worse loser than him.”

  “Jeez. And I thought my old lady was bad news.”

  “No big deal. Not sure I believe her. She’s such a liar.”

  “Why would she lie about shit like that?”

  I shrug. “Lying’s in her blood.”

  RJ stuffs his hands in his pockets. “You know … we can make it. We just have to pull together.” He nods toward the door. “I’ll get some firewood. You okay?”

  “Go. I’m fine. But thanks for asking.”

  As soon as he’s outside, RJ’s shouts, “Mercedes! Get out here."

  I rush to the door. “What?”

  “It’s Amy. She’s taken off.”

&n
bsp; “She’s what? Why would she …?”

  The water bucket Amy was taking to the stream is lying on its side a few feet from the door. I look around for signs of her. She’s nowhere in sight.

  RJ points to the tree where he’d tied the horses. “The mare and her saddle are gone.”

  I scan the horizon. Nothing.

  He bolts for the stallion. “I’m going after her. She could get herself in real trouble.”

  “Wait. I’m coming with you. Let me get the crossbow.” I head back inside.

  He calls after me. “You’ll have to teach me how to use that … so I can start pulling my weight.”

  When I come back out of the hut, RJ has just finished cinching the saddle. He turns and his mouth gapes. He’s eyeing the two shotguns I’m balancing on my shoulders. “Where the hell did you …?”

  “Picked up this one at your uncle’s place, and found this one in the woods a few nights ago.” I hand him the one from the woods. “You know how to use it?”

  He studies me as he reaches for it. “Yeah. But it works best with ammo.”

  I pull some shells out of a side pocket of my quiver. “You mean these?”

  RJ grins. “Where did …?”

  “Your uncle’s.”

  Amy

  I drop the reins and stroke the mare’s neck, let her graze on the tall grass. I take a deep breath, deeper than I’ve ever breathed before. Taste the fresh air. Never thought I’d control anything, let alone an animal this big. RJ’s riding lessons have opened my eyes. I do have power. I’m free.

  I grit my teeth. But, I’m not going to trade one set of bullies for another. Back at the hut, when I threw the bucket on the ground and saddled the mare the way RJ taught me, freedom was the only thing on my mind. Now that I’ve had a taste, all I know is I want more.

  I look up at the horizon. Somewhere out there is a new start. With storm clouds gathering off to the left, that somewhere must be to the right. I take the reins and nudge the ‘old girl’ to ‘giddy up.’

  The mare snorts and jerks her head. A bear cub scampers into the meadow ahead of us. The horse rears back. The mare’s front legs land hard and she bolts to the right, breaking into a gallop. I lose my grip on the reins. My arms and legs flail. I tumble to the hard ground. Pain shoots through my elbow, shoulder, neck.