by Ben Follows
Then she caught a glimpse of him jumping a fence onto the next street over. It was just for a moment as he climbed over, but it was enough. She knew where he was. She turned and ran faster than she had ever run in her life, adrenaline coursing through her veins and her arms pumping as she ran. She turned the corner and then another, seeing Sam turn into the park. She knew the park followed a short trail that led to another residential street.
“Franklin!” she shouted. “This way!”
She had no idea where Franklin had gone, but maybe he had heard her shout.
She ran into the forest, her breaths coming in ragged bursts.
The dirt trail was wet and moist in the melting snow, but Amelia kept running. The sunlight from the other side of the forest began shining.
Sam glanced over his shoulder at her, looking scared and red-faced. He exited the forest.
Amelia heard Sam scream and curse, but didn’t see the cause until she made it to the edge of the forest.
Sam was on the ground, face-first, with Detective Franklin’s knee in his back. The police car was a few feet away, with Damien sitting in the back seat.
Amelia caught up with them, panting and putting her hands on her knees. “What the hell happened?”
Franklin looked up and smiled. “People think they’re smart going through parks and forest. Everyone tries to escape that way. It’s easy to predict. Good job chasing him down. I’m very interested in talking to the two of them.”
“Fuck you,” said Sam from the ground.
“You’ll have plenty of time to talk,” said Franklin, pulling him to his feet.
“Who the hell are you?” said Sam, turning to Amelia.
“I’m Amelia Sweetwater.”
For a moment, there was a look of pity and shame in Sam’s eyes, but then it was gone. He turned away from her, refusing to meet her eyes again.
Franklin led Sam to the car and shoved him into the back seat. Damien glanced at him but said nothing.
“I’m looking forward to this,” said Franklin, smiling as they climbed into the front seats.
Chapter 38
Amelia sipped at a cup of coffee and watched the interrogation through the two-way mirror. Damien and Sam had been put into rooms on opposite sides of the observation room, so Amelia could turn back and forth to see each of them.
She wondered where Meghan was. She could be on the other side of the country by now, but that was unlikely. She was probably waiting in Boston for everything to blow over.
Amelia’s phone rang again, and she checked the caller ID. It was Harold, calling her for the twelfth time. She declined the call and slipped it back into her pocket. She didn’t know what he was calling about, and she didn’t care. She had told him repeatedly to learn how to text, but he hadn’t.
The door to the room that contained Damien opened and Detective Franklin entered. He was holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a folder in the other.
“Damien Peters,” he said, taking a seat with his back to the two-way mirror and sipping his coffee. He didn’t offer Damien anything, “How are you feeling?”
“You have the wrong guy,” said Damien. “I didn’t do anything.”
Franklin laughed. “That’s why you kidnapped Norman Green? That’s why you were hiding Sam? That’s why you were lying to me when I was at your front door?”
“I want a lawyer,” said Damien, crossing his arms.
“Do you have one? Or do you want us to appoint one for you?”
Damien shifted awkwardly in his seat. He looked to the ground and awkwardly said, “Get my parents’ lawyer.”
“Excellent,” said Franklin. “I’ll get that set up. You have fun in here while I do that.”
Franklin left the room before Damien had the chance to say anything else and walked over to Sam’s room. Amelia turned around and looked into the other room. Franklin took his seat and sipped his coffee.
“Do you know what Damien just did?”
Sam was hunched over. He looked scared and nervous, much more like the nervous wreck that Norman had told her about than the supposed criminal mastermind that had kidnapped him.
Sam looked up at Franklin but said nothing. He looked back down at the floor and shifted awkwardly in his seat.
“He asked for a lawyer,” said Franklin.
Sam didn’t respond.
“Do you know what that lawyer is going to tell him?”
Sam didn’t respond.
Franklin grinned. “That lawyer is going to tell him to make a deal to sell you out and tell us everything about the night you kidnapped Norman Green. He’ll tell Damien to take a deal involving some community service but no prison time and nothing on his record. And do you know what Damien is going to do?”
Sam looked up through his bangs, his eyes wide.
“He’s going to take it,” said Franklin, “because that’s the smart thing to do. Damien comes from a rich family, Sam. You know how the old-money rich folks are. Their reputations matter more to them than anything.”
Sam looked away. His eyes kept darting toward Franklin, but he didn’t say anything.
“Suit yourself,” said Franklin, picking up his cup of coffee and the folder. “I’m sure you’ll be fine surviving in prison with hardened criminals.”
He walked to the door and grabbed the handle.
“Wait,” said Sam, so softly Amelia could barely hear him through the glass. “I’ll tell you everything. Just don’t send me to prison.”
Franklin turned back. He had a serious expression, but Amelia caught a moment of triumph as he turned back to Sam. “Well,” he said, sitting back down. “Let’s hear it. I can probably get you six months house arrest and some community service, assuming Norman doesn’t push any further charges.”
“Alright,” said Sam, his face covered in sweat and his expression frantic. “I’ll tell you everything. I’m not a bad person, I swear. I just needed the money.”
Franklin grinned. “Start with where the warehouse is that you took Norman Green and who hired you.”
Chapter 39
“Do you mind if I ask you a question, Norman?” said a soft voice.
Norman clenched his eyes shut against the light. His head was pounding from where he had been hit repeatedly. His entire body hurt. Thomas had sent two gigantic men to torture him, and they had done so thoroughly. They had beaten him within an inch of his life. He was covered in cuts, bruises, blood. Every part of him hurt, and his eyes were so swollen he could barely open them.
But he hadn’t told them anything, even though they had asked him repeatedly who else might know about this warehouse.
“Norman, I know you can hear me.”
Norman forced his eyes open as far as they could go. He waited for a few moments while his vision stabilized and came into focus. His cell was covered in his blood.
Thomas was hanging through the bars, looking down on him.
“What do you want?” said Norman. His voice was weak and cracked. His throat hurt when he spoke.
“Why are you doing this?” said Thomas. “Just tell us what we want to know and we’ll stop. Tell us who else knows and what you know. That’s all we need. Who are you protecting?”
Norman had spent a lot of time asking that exact question. He could have given up at any time and stopped the pain.
But he was finished giving in to the easy way. He had ruined his entire life in a single moment of weakness when that doctor had offered him the steroids. The doctor had insisted they were untraceable and no one would ever know. Despite his shame and embarrassment, Norman had chosen his dream over his pride, and he’d suffered for it.
Thomas laughed. “You should know that medical examiner is dead. Zach Novak, I think his name was. We couldn’t have him telling anyone else what was in Joel Sweetwater’s bloodstream. We shouldn’t have any more issues.”
“You won’t get away with this,” said Norman, straining to make the words.
“What’s that?” said Thomas,
leaning through the bars. “I couldn’t hear you over your inability to speak.” He laughed. “You never answered my question.”
“What question?”
“Why are you holding out? Just tell us what we want to know and we’ll let you go.”
Norman thought for a moment. “Because fuck you. That’s why.”
Thomas grinned. “You’ll end up telling us sooner or later.”
Norman leaned back against the wall, trying to ignore the pain. The door to the stairwell opened. Norman opened his eyes to see a man walking in and whispering something in Thomas’s ear. The man seemed familiar, but Norman couldn’t focus long enough to figure out who he was.
Thomas listened, his eyes opening wide.
“Get everything out,” said Thomas. “Move to the other location.”
“What about him?” said the man, nodding toward Norman.
Thomas thought for a long moment. “Kill him. Like the other one.”
The man nodded and took a gun from inside his jacket.
Thomas turned to Norman. “Have a good life.” He turned and walked out of the cell block.
The door closed, leaving Norman alone with the man.
Norman closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. “Just do it,” he said, his voice rasping and hurting his throat. “Put me out of my misery.”
“I have no intention of doing that, Norman. I’ve done enough damage. I never signed up for this.”
He looked up at the man, trying to make out his face.
He was a thin man in great shape, although his eyes were deep with a sorrow that Norman couldn’t fathom. He took out a key and unlocked the cell door.
“My name is Keith McCray,” he said. “I’m Gary Thorne’s brother-in-law. I used to be, anyway.”
Norman frowned, staring through the open cell door at the man. “You’re the one whose wife died.”
Keith nodded. “This place tried to save her, but not even they could accomplish that. We need to get out of here.”
He took a set of keys out of his pocket and slipped them into the lock. The door slid open.
“Can you walk?” he said.
Norman looked up at him. “Why are you doing this?”
Keith sighed. “I should never have trusted these people. I never signed up to kill or torture people. And to be perfectly honest, I need you to back me up when the police get here. I need you to tell them I was working against Thomas and his schemes.”
Norman could barely focus. “Get me out of here,” he said, rubbing his eyes, “and I’ll tell them whatever you want.”
“Come on,” said Keith. He unlocked the cell, walked inside, and put an arm around Norman.
Norman grunted in pain as Keith hoisted him to his feet. Norman tried to put weight on his legs and gritted his teeth against the pain.
“Ankle,” Norman muttered. “Sprained.”
“Shit,” said Keith. “You’re going to need to muscle through this. Come on, you’ve got this.”
Keith and Norman took one step at a time, Norman hopping on his good foot and letting Keith guide him out of the cell block and up the stairs. They had to stop at least a dozen times as they made it up the stairs, but slowly they made it to the top. By the time they made it to the top of the stairs, a quarter of an hour had passed.
Once they approached the top, Norman could hear sirens coming from the street.
“Thank God,” Norman muttered, his strength failing.
“Come on,” said Keith. “Just a few more steps.”
Norman felt his eyelids drooping. He didn’t have enough energy to make it.
He made it to the top step and stumbled through the door. Keith lost his grip on Norman, and he fell to the ground.
He managed to get an arm in front of him to soften his fall, but then he was done. He had no energy left.
“Norman!” a familiar voice shouted.
He used the last of his energy to turn his head. The warehouse was crawling with police officers moving amongst the equipment. They were gathering evidence from all the machines. None of the doctors or guards could be seen anywhere. They must have all fled.
“Norman, thank God you’re okay!” said the voice again. Norman realized it was Amelia’s.
He looked up. Amelia and Detective Franklin were running toward him.
A sense of relief washed over him as everything went black.
Chapter 40
Norman blinked and waited for his eyes to adjust to the light overhead. He didn’t know how long it had been since the events at the warehouse, but he was able to open his eyes all the way. That was a good sign.
He was sitting in a hospital room, covered in bandages. His bed was on a slight angle, and he had to wipe spit away from the corners of his mouth. He touched his head and recoiled from the pain.
There was a bandage on his forehead. He blinked a few more times and took in his surroundings.
He was in a hospital room. The window overlooked the Gardiner Expressway. A news report played on the television in the corner. He could see the silhouette of a cop standing outside the room.
“Hey!” he shouted, his voice rasping. “I’m awake.”
The cop walked inside. Once he saw Norman was awake, he said, “I’ll get Franklin.”
“Can you get me some water as well?”
The cop scoffed. “I’ll tell the nurse.”
He left. A nurse came running in a few moments later with a glass of water. Behind her came a doctor, who asked Norman a series of questions about his health and how he was feeling. Norman answered them to the best of his knowledge, but he was tired. He had apparently been out for two days hours, and most of his injuries were only on the surface level. They looked far worse than they actually were. He would be able to walk within a day, and, as long as he took his painkillers, he would be fine.
The doctor left, saying he wanted Norman to stay under observation for a few days.
Detective Franklin walked in with two other cops.
He smiled and crossed his arms. “How are you feeling, Norman?”
Norman looked up at him, frowning. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“You’re welcome,” said Franklin. “I’m the one who saved you.”
“You were being paid off by fucking Thomas Ruutu. What the hell are you talking about?”
Franklin sighed and turned to the two cops. “Do you two mind getting Miss Sweetwater from the waiting room?”
The cops nodded and left the room. Franklin took a seat and looked up at Norman. “Thomas Ruutu was behind this?” he said, taking out a notepad. “That’s what Sam said as well. Was he the one who did that to you?”
“I’m not talking to you,” said Norman, crossing his arms. “You’re working for them.”
Franklin sighed. “Amelia thought the same thing, and I convinced her she was wrong. I’m on your side, Norman. I understand you don’t trust me, and I can’t blame you. I’m sure you can understand why I was furious with you.”
“Why?” said Norman.
Franklin shook his head in disbelief. “For the past few months I’ve been investigating a new street drug that goes by the name ‘Burrow.’ Extremely addictive but not very strong. I kept my name out of it because I assumed the person running it had power. I discovered that it was Thomas Ruutu, confirming my hypothesis. Thomas had previously spent time in prison for selling cocaine. His father’s company had the connections, and he has the money in a trust fund. It fit together perfectly. I had Thomas arrested. We charged him with the crime, but he was out on half-million-dollar bail within twenty-four hours. Then, while we were trying to put together a case against him, you came into the picture. You were looking into him as a suspect in Joel’s murder, but you didn’t have enough information. You let him convince you to work for him and to find the detective who had gotten him caught. You led him right to me. You put my entire investigation at risk. For what? Money? Mortgage payments?”
“I gave it back,” said Norman. “I s
ent the money back where it came from. I had to return my girlfriend’s engagement ring. She broke up with me because of it.”
The door to the room entered, and Amelia entered, smiling from cheek to cheek. She ran up to Norman and wrapped her arms around him.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said.
“I’m fine,” said Norman, returning the hug. “Why is Franklin here?”
“He saved you,” said Amelia, pulling back. “Without him, you’d still be in that basement.”
Norman looked over Amelia’s shoulder at Detective Franklin.
“Go on,” he said, “you were talking about Thomas Ruutu.”
Franklin nodded. “After you told Thomas it was me who had come after him, his lawyers sent me a letter essentially saying they would sue me for everything I had if I didn’t stop my investigation. It doesn’t matter how you knew, but it does matter that you know.”
“Why doesn’t it matter how I know?”
Franklin shrugged. “I don’t care, Norman. My ex-wife took my kids to live in Seattle with her parents, and I have a year left until retirement. I’m going to take my pension and go live near my kids. I haven’t seen them in a decade except for a few weekends a year.” He sighed. “I assume you have a source inside of the police department. I won’t ask who it is.”
Norman nodded, thinking of Vince. “And I won’t ask about yours,” he responded.
Franklin nodded. “My best source has been feeding me false information about you this entire time. I thought you were in on it, just like you thought I was.”
Norman crossed his arms. “Why did you think Robin’s murder was random?”
Franklin shrugged. “My source told me it was.”
Norman shook his head. “Robin was killed for talking to Zach Novak, the medical examiner.”
“We don’t know who pulled the trigger,” said Franklin, looking contemplative, “but we know the motive. That’s something.”