Inside, Marty stopped near the elevator and noticed the button for the second floor was lit. Rather than follow his target into a confined space, he scanned the directory board, starting with the second floor. He stopped at Fletcher & Sons Investments. The father’s business? Marty jotted the name in his notepad and headed back to his car to wait. Twenty minutes later, Fletcher exited. Marty decided to stay with him for a while. He didn’t have anything pressing to do. His dinner date with SiriKaren wasn’t until eight, when she got off work.
Fletcher’s next stop was Swanson’s Funeral Home, not surprising considering the man’s girlfriend had just died. If Fletcher was making final arrangements, it might take hours. Did Carrie have other family here? Marty considered heading home and letting Fletcher go for the day, then changed his mind. He circled around the block, then parked across the street from the white-brick mortuary. Expecting the visit to take a while, he leaned back in the seat and rested for a minute.
A while later, he blinked his eyes and shook himself awake. Sleeping on the job. Great private eye he was. Marty glanced across the busy street, relieved that the BMW was still at the funeral home. After a short five minutes, Fletcher hurried out and climbed back in his car. Marty stayed on his tail until they ended up at a strip club called Wild Girls Galore.
That was one way to deal with grief!
Chapter 19
Rox arrived at the restaurant early and waited in the tacky lobby. She’d chosen a funky but tasty Chinese diner to keep the meal casual. Yet she’d changed into a silky blouse. Just a meeting with a client, not a real date, she reminded herself again. Still, if it went well, she intended to pursue the relationship after she closed out the case. Tonight would be strictly professional. The black-and-red walls with gold-dragon images were annoying enough to keep the encounter naturally short. She caught sight of herself in a gold-rimmed mirror and scowled. When had she started looking forty? Maybe it was time to invest in some good skin-care products. At least her sky-blue blouse was flattering.
Her client walked in a few minutes later, and his attractiveness made her heart flutter. Scott was probably out of her league. Goodwin, she corrected herself. Law enforcement people called everyone by their surnames, and she’d retained the habit with her clients—except when she worked with couples who had the same last name.
Goodwin came toward her smiling. “Hi, Karina.”
Damn, he was tall. She forced herself to smile politely, instead of grinning like she wanted to. “Hello.”
“Thanks for meeting me on such short notice.” He had fresh breath too.
“No problem. I had to eat anyway.” Rox gestured toward the hostess. “Let’s get a booth.”
When they were seated, Goodwin reached over and touched her shoulder. “That’s a lovely color on you.”
Her heart surged. “Thanks. Blue is the only color I wear.” Damn. She had not intended to say that.
He blinked hard, then gave her a sweet smile. “If it looks good, why not stick with it?” He picked up his menu, still smiling.
She hoped he meant it. Because that was her real self. “I know you want an update on your missing nephew, but I don’t have much to report.”
“It’s okay. It’s only been twenty-four hours.” He touched her hand this time. “I mostly wanted to see you.”
Yes!
A waitress walked up and offered them hot tea. Rox nodded. “I’m ready to order.” She looked at her client. “Do you need more time?”
“Nope. I always have spicy pork.”
His consistency made her smile. Maybe this could work. Rox ordered her usual crispy chicken with cashews.
While they waited for their meals—which tended to arrive in five minutes—she told him about her trip to the missing-person unit at the bureau. “I wanted to get the investigator’s take on Tommy’s disappearance.”
“What did he say?”
“He’s uncertain. He sensed that Donna didn’t seem as worried as he would have expected, but that she also seemed shaky, like an alcoholic.”
“I knew she’d been drinking heavily. That’s why she’s avoiding me.” Goodwin sighed. “I don’t know how to help her.”
His concern was touching. “We’ll focus on finding Tommy first.”
“At this point, I hope you do find him in one of those programs. At least I’ll know he’s alive.”
Rox had tried not to go there. “Even if we don’t locate him, that doesn’t mean he’s dead.” She wanted to comfort the poor man, but she wasn’t good at it. She squeezed his hand, then quickly sat back. “Sometimes teenagers run away from their parents and move across the country. They may stay out of touch for years, but they usually come back.” Her sister had been well beyond her teenage years when she chose to separate from her family, but the effect had been just as painful.
“You’re right. I’ll stay optimistic.”
The food arrived a few minutes later, and Rox’s stomach growled audibly.
Goodwin laughed. “That was fast! And I’m glad you’re hungry. I like a woman with an appetite.”
Better and better.
While they ate, they talked about families, and she learned that he had been married for a few years when he was younger but had never had children. “I like kids,” he added. “I do a lot of volunteer work with them. But there are so many who need attention I don’t feel right about bringing more into the world.”
“I feel the same. Only I’ve never actually volunteered to hang out with children. You must be a saint.”
“No, just a kid at heart.” He laughed, then changed the subject. “Tell me about your work as an investigator. It must be fascinating.”
“The extractions can be intense, with high adrenaline pumping.” Rox put down her fork, determined not to eat and talk like the slob she usually was. “But most of what I do involves reading through files and checking a lot of websites that don’t pan out.”
“Do you ever tail people?” His amber eyes sparked with interest.
“Sometimes. But I don’t really like doing the divorce cases. They’re tedious and depressing.”
“How do you pull it off? Following someone and not getting caught?”
“I’m still new at it, but most people don’t expect to be followed, so they don’t really pay attention.”
While they ate, she asked about his work.
Goodwin laughed. “Tedious and depressing.” He waved it off with his hand. “Owning businesses that you’re not directly involved in is easy, but boring. That’s why I volunteer with kids.”
He asked about her time in the CIA and she chuckled. “Tedious, but only depressing when we failed our objectives.” She couldn’t speak freely about what she’d actually done there so she changed the subject to politics, and they had a long lively discussion.
As they finished their meals, he asked, “Did you find out anything about Ridgeline? That wilderness camp you mentioned?”
“A few details, but I still haven’t located where they actually take the kids.” She was still hoping to hear from someone who’d read one of her flyers or seen her social media posts. “I’m probably going out tomorrow to do some of the tailing we just talked about.”
“Good luck.” He grabbed both her hands. “If you find Tommy, call me right away.”
“I will.” Rox pulled her hands back. He was still a client. “I need to get going. I have to pack and do more research tonight.”
As she stood, her personal phone rang in her purse. “Excuse me.” She turned and pulled it out. Marty. “I have to take this.” Rox walked toward the cashier at the front, intending to pay for both meals. She’d taken a considerable retainer from Goodwin. But for the moment, she stepped into the lobby for privacy and answered the call. “What’s up?”
“I’ve been tailing Curtis Fletcher all day, and you’re not going to believe where he is right now.”
“Surprise me.”
“A strip club called Wild Girls Galore.”
Huh?
“That’s a little weird for a guy who’s supposedly grieving. Unless he killed Carrie and is out celebrating his freedom.”
A pause, then her stepdad said, “I went inside to check it out.”
Rox smiled. “Of course you did. Like any good investigator would.”
“Exactly. But here’s the thing. Half of the girls in there look thirteen. I really think they’re underage.”
Her instinctual dislike of Fletcher deepened. “I’m sure the place was full of guys who like ’em young. That still doesn’t prove he killed his wife.” Rox wanted her client released from jail, so she hoped Fletcher would turn out to be guilty.
“Here’s another thing,” Marty added. “Fletcher didn’t act like a customer. He went into the back, then talked to employees like an owner.”
More disgust made her tense. “That’s just creepy. He runs abusive boot camps for troubled teenage boys while paying teenage girls to shake their breasts for dirty old men.” Rox started to wonder if Fletcher was a sociopath. Four percent of all humans were, and the mental condition was often genetic, passed down through generations. “We need to dig up more info on his business dealings.”
“I followed him to an office as well,” Marty offered. “Fletcher & Sons Investments.”
“Well done. I’ll check the business registry for it.” Rox glanced over and watched Scott Goodwin pay for their meals. She needed to be polite and get back to her date. “I have to go.” She hung up, hurried over, and thanked him for dinner. “It was very nice.”
Scott walked her to her car. “I enjoyed getting to know you.”
“I liked it too.” She wanted him to kiss her, but it was too soon. She gave him a shoulder hug. “I’ll talk to you later. Goodnight.”
At home, Rox checked her Yahoo account and found four more messages. Three were in response to her Craigslist ad and none were helpful. One pervert offered to make her Ridge Rock, whatever the hell that meant. The fourth email came from someone who’d seen her flyer at the YMCA. She read the long note from PartyBoyHunter: My friend saw your message on the board and told me to contact you. The Ridgeline camps are hell on earth, and you SHOULD NOT send your kid there. My cousin got shipped to the camp in Nevada that was supposed to make him not gay, and he killed himself while he was there. By drinking poison!!! Last summer, my dad forced me into the wildernesses bullshit program near Sun Ridge. I escaped twice, but the first time a local cop picked me up and took me back. By the time I got out again, I’d lost 20 pounds and now my lower back is fucked up from carrying heavy shit uphill all day. They treated me like a pack mule. Not all the kids had it that bad, but I’m only 17 and I have nightmares all the time. I’m somewhere safe now and my dad can’t find me. DO NOT send your son to Ridgeline or he will hate you forever.
Her body had tensed while reading the email, so Rox tried to make herself relax. But her fists were still clenched, and she had to push back from the desk. Why were these places even legal? Why didn’t they get sued out of business? Because parents signed airtight contracts and felt guilty for their part in the whole thing. Local law enforcement obviously protected the camps. Rox hurried to the kitchen for a beer, then sat down to read the message again. Where the hell was Sun Ridge? She googled Sun Ridge Nevada first, but no valid links came up. She tried Sun Ridge Oregon and landed on the town’s website. The map showed a location south of Bend. A five- or six-hour drive but still a hell of a lot closer than Nevada.
Rox sat back in her chair and took a long, cold drink of beer. The good news was that Josh was likely still in the state, somewhere around Sun Ridge. But finding and extracting him would be challenging. Central Oregon had thousands of acres of wilderness, and the base could be anywhere.
She hit reply and sent Hunter a message: Thank you for contacting me! I’m not planning to send my kid to Ridgeline. In fact, I’m a P.I. and I’m trying to rescue a young man who doesn’t want to be there. So I need to know exactly where the camp is. Please get back to me as soon as possible with as much information as you can. Or call instead, if that’s easier. She signed it Karina and left her work phone number.
She gave herself a fifty-fifty chance of hearing back from him. Assuming HunterBoy really was male. Girls were sent to the camps too. On Ridgeline’s website, they featured a photo of several young girls, with a caption labeled Bobcats, as if they were a Girl Scout group. Her research had uncovered other programs that were co-ed, but most separated the genders.
Rox sipped her beer, wishing she could call Isaac Lovejoy and give him an update. But inmates were inaccessible and could only call out—if they were lucky. All she could do for now was write him a note and snail-mail it to the jail. The fact that Josh still had to be rescued from the camp even though his mother had died frustrated the hell out of her. She considered calling the Sun Ridge police, hoping they might even know where the camp operated. But after reading Hunter’s message about the cops picking him up and taking him back, she hesitated. Law enforcement people hated custody issues and tried to stay out. Still, with a dead mother and a father in jail, they might cooperate this time.
Rox found the Sun Ridge Police Department’s number in a sub-level of the city’s website and made the call.
Chapter 20
Saturday, July 8, 6:45 a.m., Ridgeline base camp
Suddenly awake, Josh opened his eyes. Oh god, he was alive, and his suffering was real. He’d been dreaming about his body being broken into pieces, but now the excruciating pain was everywhere. He felt like he’d been hit by a train. His left ribs and lower left leg were the worst. He tried to feel his chest but could hardly move. Where was he? He blinked his eyes to bring the surroundings into focus. Despite the dark, he realized he was inside a sleeping bag. That was unexpected. And this was a tent, not just a tarp. Was he at the base camp?
Images crashed together in his mind. Leaping off the cliff into the air, then landing hard on the rocky ground and blacking out. That was his most vivid memory. He also had flashes of being carried off the mountain on a stretcher. Some woman had given him pills and taped his ankle. Josh pulled his arms free of the sleeping bag and winced at the pain in his left shoulder. Fuck! He had planned to die and be free of the pain and pointlessness. Now he could be crippled. And these fuckers might still make him hike.
Tears rolled down his face into his ears. He needed to be in a hospital—with a morphine drip. Why wasn’t his mother stepping in and taking him home? Had they not told her about his accident? It didn’t matter. He couldn’t count on her anymore. He was on his own. Wherever the hell he was. Josh unzipped the bag halfway and sat up, moaning like a baby. To hell with dying. If he was back at the base, this was his chance to escape. He tried to stand, but his ankle screamed in pain and he collapsed back to the hard tent floor. Maybe he wouldn’t leave today, but he would get free.
A fat guy in a red counselor T-shirt stepped into the tent and shouted, “Time to move.”
“I can’t. My ankle is broken.”
“No, it’s just badly sprained.” The counselor tossed a walking stick at him. “Use this to get into the van. But roll your bag up first. I’ll take care of the tent.”
“Am I going home?”
The fat man laughed. “Not until you graduate.”
Chapter 21
Saturday, July 8, 6:55 a.m., Portland
Rox opened her eyes and looked at the clock. She had five minutes before the alarm went off. Perfect. She hated waking to the noisy blast and almost never did it anymore, but today she would make a long trip to Sun Ridge. If things went well, she’d be driving home later tomorrow with a teenage boy. Then what? She sat up in bed, suddenly worried. Josh had no parents to go home to at the moment. Would the boy end up in foster care? According to Marty’s surveillance report, Curtis Fletcher felt no responsibility for the kid. Maybe Josh had other family, a grandmother or aunt who would take him in. She really needed Lovejoy to call her from jail. She had tried—and failed—to get permission to see him.
Rox climbed out o
f bed, hoping for the kid’s sake that his dad wasn’t a killer and would be released soon. She clicked off the alarm and stood, wondering if she should drop the case, give her client his money back, and let the authorities handle the situation. She thought it through. If social workers bothered to get involved at all, they would put Josh into foster care, which could be brutal. Once kids were in the system, getting them out could be difficult, even for family members.
She padded into the kitchen to make coffee, haunted by the email from Hunter, whose cousin had killed himself. Lovejoy was worried that his son was suicidal too. How often did that happen in these programs? She couldn’t leave Josh—even for a few more days. The risk was too great. Not to mention the physical abuse and captivity factor. Teenagers were young adults with free will, and forcing them to hike and camp for months at a time was inhuman. Her client would want her to follow through and bring Josh back to society. If Tommy Goodwin happened to be in the program too, she could at least let his uncle know where to find him.
With a new sense of urgency, Rox decided to skip her workout again, promising that she would do some hiking of her own when she wrapped up the case. While the coffee brewed, she took a quick shower, expecting Marty to show up any moment. He had wanted to leave by seven, but she’d vetoed the idea. They still needed location details. No one had answered the phone at the Sun Ridge Police Department the night before, but a friendly voicemail had invited her to leave a message. She’d briefly explained that her client had a family emergency and she needed to locate the Ridgeline camp.
Rox dressed for possible hiking, then checked her phone messages. No return call. She booted up her laptop and logged into her Yahoo account. A new email from Hunter. Yes! Rox opened it, surprised by the length. She skimmed through quickly: You may not be able to find that boy. The program makes kids hike to a new place every day and sleep on the ground with just a tarp. Kids who pass several levels get to go back to the base camp for short stays. But I never made it out of the first level so I eventually escaped and hiked into Sun Ridge. I might be able to help you find the base camp, but it won’t do you any good if the kid is out hiking. Sorry.
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