Broken Boys_The Extractor

by L. J. Sellers

  “We keep checking side roads, watching for any sign of tire tracks or trash on the ground.” Rox downed the rest of her soda, thinking it had never tasted so good. “Based on where we found the camp last time—exactly three-point-five miles from an asphalt road—we can limit how far we drive on each search.”

  “You mean turn around after four miles on each dirt road?” Marty sounded weary but nodded his agreement. “We still have at least two paved options to explore as well.”

  The task seemed overwhelming, and they were quiet for a minute. But a sparkly morning sun peeked through the trees, and Rox felt encouraged. “Yes, but we only traveled twelve miles from the first junction last time, so we’ll turn around at fifteen on each.” She pulled the map from the glovebox. She had studied the area online the night before and needed a refresher. “I doubt if any of the artery roads are listed, but a visual reminder of the topography could help us decide where to start.” She suspected that most of the roads led to old mining camps that weren’t operating any more.

  She started to open the map but Marty grabbed her arm. “Shhh. Listen.”

  The faint hum of an engine came from higher on the hillside. Unexpected anxiety gripped Rox. “If it’s the transport van heading back, we should get out of sight.”

  “Yep.” Marty fired up the truck. “I think they knew they were being followed last night, and I don’t want any trouble.”

  They pulled out onto the road, then put the truck in reverse. “I think I can back through those two trees.”

  “Only if we pull in the rearview mirrors.” Rox rolled down her window as Marty eased the truck off the pavement. The sound of tires on the road grew louder, especially when the vehicle accelerated out of the curves. They both yanked in their mirrors, then rolled the windows up. Bushy branches slapped at the front window as the truck squeezed between the two pines. “We’re scratching the paint,” Rox warned.

  “I don’t care.” Marty stayed focused. They mostly used the vehicle for surveillance, slapping an electrician sign on the side for cover. He kept backing until the density of the forest forced him to stop. He killed the engine, and Rox opened her window a few inches. They were a hundred feet from the road, and the dark green truck blended into its surroundings.

  Thirty seconds later, the white van flew past. They waited for the sound of braking, but it didn’t come.

  Marty turned to her. “Now we know we’re on the right artery.”

  Which cut their work in half. Still, they had to find the correct dirt road—a daunting task. “We’d better get started. This could take all day.”

  After an hour of searching, Rox’s work phone rang. Was that the number from the hospital? Worried about the camper they’d rescued, she put in her earpiece. “Karina Jones.”

  “This is Sadie.” Her voice was weak but clear. “The girl you found in the woods.”

  Relief washed over her. “I’m glad you’re okay.” Rox gestured for Marty to stop.

  “Only because of you. Thank you!” The girl started to cry.

  More unexpected tears. Why were people so emotional? “Are you all right?”

  “Mostly.” Sadie took a moment to collect herself. “But I have nightmares every time I close my eyes.”

  The poor girl would need counseling, but why had she called?

  Sadie cut into her thoughts. “My mom said you were looking for the base camp to rescue another student. I think I can help you.”

  Thank goodness! “That is great news. I’m out here in the wilderness now. Tell me everything you know.”

  “When we moved the camp the other day, I remember seeing a hiking-trail sign that said Quail Run. Does that help?

  They had passed it a while back. “What comes next? How far out and which dirt road do we turn on?” Rox gestured at Marty to turn around.

  “I’m not totally sure, but I know it’s not the first one. I heard Janine say to try a new area when we passed it.” Sadie started to cry again. “I had almost graduated, and they were letting me stay at base camp to prep food. Then I said something stupid and Janine got mad. She was going to make me start over!” Sadie sobbed so loudly she was hard to understand.

  Her mother came on the phone. “We need to get her calm again.”

  “Tell her I said thank you and best wishes.” That was too informal, but she was still learning. Rox hung up and turned to Marty. “After the Quail Run sign, we turn on the second or third side road.”

  “Good enough.” Marty pressed the gas and headed back the way they’d come. “That little piece of info just saved us five hours.”

  At the third turnoff after the sign marker, Rox noticed a dark, unexpected spot in the dry red dirt. She squatted, stuck her finger in it, and sniffed. “This is engine oil.” They’d skipped driving up the second dirt turnoff, which had been narrow and looked like a trail used for ATVs.

  “We must be close.” Marty stood nearby, scanning the area. “These tire tracks look fresh too.”

  “Let’s do this." Rox stood and wiped sweat from her brow. The sun was rising in the sky, and even filtered through trees, the heat was building.

  They both climbed in the truck. Marty started forward again, steering around the deepest ruts in the narrow road. “It feels weird to do an extraction without a plan.”

  “I know, but this is a bare-bones scenario. What kind of con could we pull off?” She looked at her stepdad. “Seriously, is there something I haven’t thought of?”

  “We could try to convince them we’re law enforcement.” He sounded doubtful.

  “Not a chance. They’ll ask to see our badges. Also, they have documentation that says Josh is in their custody.” Worried, Rox tried to assess the situation. “How many Ridgeline employees do we expect? Five?”

  “Not in the camp.” Marty sounded confident.

  “You’re probably right. Some of the counselors, or whatever they’re called, will be out on long hikes. We may only encounter one or two at the base camp.”

  “How many kids?” Marty asked. “Ten?”

  “Fewer, I think. They keep the teenagers busy.” Rox really had no idea. The camp might be huge with twenty or more people. But that would require structures, and based on how quickly they’d picked up and moved last time, she doubted they set up anything permanent. “I’m worried Josh won’t be around.” She took a long slug from her now-warm water bottle. “I’m willing to hike out to find him, but it could be a fool’s errand without a guide.”

  “We’ll be as disruptive as possible.” Marty shrugged. “It’s public land. They can’t make us leave. The longer we’re there, the more distracted their students become.” Marty used air quotes around the word students, something he rarely did.

  Rox almost laughed, but this was too serious. “These programs thrive on isolation and secrecy. They’re almost cult-like that way.” Rox snapped her fingers. “Camera! I brought my Go-Pro. I’ll strap it on my wrist and record everything. That should be intimidating.”

  “And I’ll have my weapon.”

  “No, Marty.” Rox squeezed his upper arm. “There could be kids in the camp, and the counselors won’t be armed. We just have to be brash and insistent.”

  “It’s your life motto.”

  That did make her chuckle. It also made her change her mind. “Let’s run a diversion. Once we spot the camp, I’ll get out and slip into the forest. You drive up closer and get everyone’s attention. Pull them away from the tents.”

  Marty was nodding. “Then you go in and find Josh.”

  “We’ll meet up with you down the road.”

  After a moment, her stepdad backtracked. “I don’t know. You could run into trouble by yourself. How will I know when to drive off?”

  “If I don’t find Josh, I’ll make myself known.”

  “You’re kind of hard to miss.” He gave her a quick grin.

  Rox tried to smile back but she was too worried.

  For twenty minutes, they drove slowly up a bumpy dirt road, chuggin
g through deep ruts and rounding blind curves. The trees were often close enough that branches slapped the sides of the truck and came in through the windows. But without air conditioning, they had no choice but to leave them open.

  As they entered a flat, straight stretch of road, Rox spotted a gray truck parked in the woods about twenty yards off the road. “There!” She pointed, a pulse of adrenaline surging. Beyond the vehicle were several tents, a dirty-white canopy, and a big passenger van.

  “Bingo!” Marty braked.

  Rox looped the camera strap around her wrist—tightening it so her hands could be free—and started to get out.

  Marty reached over and grabbed her arm. “Be careful.”

  “This is nothing compared to the Sister Love Cult or the survivalists.” Both groups had been armed, and to rescue the girl from the cult, they’d ended up in a direct confrontation. She met Marty’s eyes. “You’re the one who’s engaging them, so you be careful. But leave the damn gun under the seat.”

  “Bossy.”

  Rox climbed out and quietly closed the truck door. In the distant clearing, she heard someone chopping wood and two other people talking loudly. Maybe the staff had spotted them already. She bent over and jogged into the forest, the dry pine needles crunching beneath her feet. Ahead, she spotted a clump of silver sage and scurried behind it. She dropped to her knees and watched the action through a gap in the foliage. As soon as the Ridgeline people headed toward Marty’s truck, she would move into the camp.

  Chapter 35

  Marty rolled up to the spot where the Ridgeline vehicles had crushed a path through the woods. He backed into it, blocking anyone from getting out and prepping the truck for a quick exit. In the rearview mirror, he saw a bearded man in his early thirties jogging up the path. Marty climbed out and faced him.

  “What are you doing?” the man called out. He wore a red T-shirt, dirty jeans, and a gauze bandage on his temple. “You can’t be here.”

  “This is a national forest, and I can stop and pee anywhere I want.”

  “We have a special permit for this area. Move along.” The bearded man stopped about five feet away.

  Marty could see that the gash on his head went beyond the bandage. Had he fallen and hit his head or had he been assaulted? He hadn’t expected to find a counselor injured. “What’s your name?” he asked out of habit from his patrol-cop days. The question came out loudly and with authority, as usual.

  “I don’t have to tell you. Just move along.”

  Marty pointed at the logo on the guy’s T-shirt. “I know you work for Ridgeline. I also know the owner, and I’ll get you fired if you don’t cooperate. Tell me your name.” He was stalling, not wanting to mention Josh until he had to.

  The beefy guy crossed his arms and glared. “I’m Ace. How do you know Ridgeline’s owner? What’s his name?”

  “Curtis Fletcher. He drives a red BMW and lives in Portland on Skyline Boulevard.”

  Ace blinked a few times. “What are you doing here?” On the path behind him, a woman strode toward them. She looked forty-something, had short-cropped hair, and wore shorts that revealed her muscular legs. She moved with the confidence of someone in charge. Marty waited for her to get into hearing distance. He wasn’t in a mood to repeat himself. He glanced beyond the woman, hoping to catch a glimpse of Rox, but she wasn’t in sight.

  “I’m looking for Josh Lovejoy,” Marty announced. “His father hired me to take him to his aunt in Seattle.”

  “I don’t believe you.” The woman stepped forward. “My understanding is that Josh’s father in is jail.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Janine Sanders, Ridgeline's program manager for the Cascade region.” She pointed a finger at him. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Martin MacFarlane, a thirty-year officer with the Portland Police Bureau.” A true statement.

  Ms. Sanders was silent for a moment, her eyes busy trying to decide if she believed him. She squared her shoulders. “Ridgeline has a contract with Josh’s mother that gives us custody until we determine he’s ready to leave, or until she submits a waiver to release him.”

  A surge of feistiness hit Marty. “Carrie Lovejoy is dead, so her contract is invalid. Josh’s father, Isaac Lovejoy, has full custody now and he wants his son out of here.”

  The program manager crossed her arms. “Mr. Lovejoy will have to take it up with a judge. Josh is a minor and currently in our custody. I’m not releasing him to a stranger without a court order.”

  “I’m not leaving without him.” Maybe it was time for Plan B—create a ruckus and get all the teenagers in the camp riled up. If there were any around. Marty didn’t see much movement. The person cutting wood had stopped, but he couldn’t see them. Only a thin teenage boy was visible under the canopy. He stood at a makeshift table but was watching the interaction on the road.

  “You’re making a mistake,” the manager declared. “This is the best place for Josh.”

  “Let’s ask him. Oregon police officers don’t even return fifteen-year-old runaways to their parents if they don’t want to go. A court will not take your side.”

  For a long moment, Ms. Sanders didn’t speak or move. Finally, she said, “Mr. Fletcher’s instructions are to leave Josh here.”

  “Curtis Fletcher isn’t related to Josh, and I’m not leaving without the boy.”

  “I’ll get my satellite phone and call Mr. Fletcher to see what he says.”

  Marty didn’t want to let her do that. He started to speak, but the sound of a vehicle approaching made them both turn toward the road. A black pickup slammed to a stop, and two guys in red shirts climbed out.

  Chapter 36

  As the butch-looking woman barreled toward Marty, Rox sprinted into the clearing. A skinny teenage boy stood at a plywood table, packaging food into plastic bags. He didn’t match the photo she’d seen of Josh, who was heavier and had darker hair. She ran up to him anyway. “I’m looking for Josh Lovejoy.” She kept her voice low but urgent.

  The boy’s eyes popped at the sight of her, and he opened his mouth—but didn’t speak. His green shirt was filthy, and he had dirt caked on his arms.

  “This is important!” Rox let her panic show. “Josh could be suicidal.”

  “He already tried.” The words came out as a whisper. “He’s in the infirmary.”

  Oh shit.

  The skinny boy pointed at a small beige tent that was set back from the clearing. Beyond it, a creek gurgled over rocks. Probably the same one from the first campsite where she’d found the girl, maybe only a few miles away. The normally idyllic setting and sounds made her skin crawl. Everything was so wrong here.

  Rox charged over to the beige tent, spotting another kid on the way. He stood near a pile of logs, holding an axe. He too stared at her without speaking. The tent’s flaps were open, and Rox stuck her head inside. A male teenager lay on his side with a walking stick duct-taped to his leg. His hair was dark, but he looked too scrawny to be Josh. Was that blood on his head?

  “Josh Lovejoy?” Rox called out, just checking.

  The boy rolled on his back, and she saw his face for the first time. Lips swollen and bruised, an eye with a dark shadow underneath, and a deep scratch on his chin. Rox’s stomach clenched. The bastards had beat him, and they would pay!

  “Yeah. Who are you?”

  “An extractor. Your dad sent me, and we’re getting you out of here.” She stepped into the tent and kneeled next to him. “What’s wrong with your leg? Can you walk?”

  “I fucked up my ankle and maybe fractured my shin.” He sat up. “But if you’re taking me home, I’ll crawl if I have to.”

  Rox helped him to his feet and put an arm around his shoulder. “No matter what happens out there, just stay with me. I’m working for your dad.” She remembered the photo of Isaac Lovejoy with Fletcher—and the sensation of being followed earlier. It didn’t matter, she was taking Josh to a relative. “Do you like your aunt in Seattle?”

  “Ye
ah, why?”

  “That’s where we’re going, for now.”

  “The farther away the better.”

  Rox inched toward the tent opening, supporting the boy as much as she could. He moaned with each step, but he kept moving. As they passed the fire pit in the middle, someone near the road started shouting. Rox jerked her head up.

  Two big guys in red shirts had Marty pushed up against the truck.

  Goddammit! She spun toward the skinny boy at the table. “I need your help!”

  He jogged toward her, still watching the commotion near the road.

  “Josh is going home, so help him walk to that truck!” She pointed as she shouted. “I need to assist my partner.” She transferred Josh’s weight to the other boy and sprinted toward the road.

  One of the big guys had his forearm across Marty’s chest and was yelling at the top of his lungs. “Get in the fucking truck and get out of here.” The other guy stood close by.

  The butch woman and the bearded counselor had taken a few steps back and were silently watching the bruisers rough up an old man. Rage filled her chest and threatened to erupt into a primal scream. Rox raced past the spectators and darted around to the driver’s side of the truck. She yanked open the door, pulled Marty’s Glock from under the seat, and spun back.

  The second thug was coming around the front hood, straight at her. Heart pounding, she brought the weapon up with both hands and aimed at his chest. “Back off! I’m a trained police officer and CIA agent. I will not miss!”

  “Whoa!” The big guy stopped short. “Let’s not get crazy.”

  Rox shouted at his thug partner. “Let the old man go!”

  The bruiser complied and stepped back. “Hey! We’re just doing our jobs.”

  “So am I.” Rox stole a glance toward the camp and saw Josh and Silent Boy struggling along the path. She looked at each of the four Ridgeline employees. “Get over there by that big tree and lay on the ground.”

  No one moved.

  Shit! She couldn’t let anyone grab and restrain Josh, but she hated using the damn gun. Marty scooted around the truck to where she stood. She handed him the weapon, then yelled at the Ridgeline people again. “Get on the ground. My partner likes to shoot people even more than I do!”