by Alex Grecian
“Me too,” Maddy said. “I’m helping.”
“Absolutely not. You stay right here where I know you’re safe.”
“Dad!”
“I’m not kidding.”
“If he’s hurt, he won’t come to you. He won’t come to you, anyway. You don’t know his secret language, and he doesn’t know you.”
“Well, what am I supposed to say to him then?”
“Let me help,” she said. “I’m gonna be all worried anyway. It’s not like I’ll be able to sleep.”
Brandon had always been a pushover when it came to his daughter. “Fifteen minutes we’ll look, but if we don’t find your dog in fifteen minutes, that’s it, okay?”
“Okay.” She had no intention of quitting before they found Bear, but she was willing to say whatever she needed to in order to get her dad moving.
Brandon took another look at the rollaway and sniffed, then led the way out of the room to the elevator. On the ride down he looked her over and frowned.
“Wish we had something better for you to wear. We get down there, you stay in the lobby where it’s warm. I’ll scout around a bit and see if I can spot your dog.”
“I’ll just go right outside, under that arch, okay?”
“Maddy, could you just do what I say without all the argument?”
“Probably not, Dad.”
“Stay in the lobby. And tell me what I need to say if I see the dog.”
“His name’s Bear.”
“Okay.”
“Tell him this, say amiko. It means friend. That way he’ll trust you.”
“Amiko?”
“Right.”
“Not sure that’s gonna help, since I shot at him already.”
“Yeah,” Maddy said, “there’s a pretty good chance he’s gonna eat you.”
The elevator doors opened and they stepped out into the lobby. Without saying a word, Brandon pointed at the couch next to the registration counter, ordering her to sit, and she veered off in that direction. Brandon walked to the revolving door and out. The hipster came out of his back room and smiled at her.
“How’s that rollaway working for you? Not too lumpy, I hope.”
She put a finger to her lips, motioning for him to be quiet, and she went to the emergency door, pushed the bar as slowly and quietly as she could, and slipped outside. The fog seemed like it was lifting, but she thought the air felt colder and wetter than it had before. She went to the fountain where she had told Bear to stay and walked around it, bent low, looking for tracks in the snow. She saw the dog’s big paw prints and followed them around the fountain, back toward the doors, then away again. There was a black smudge in the snow, and she scowled at it, kept walking slowly with her head down and saw another dark spot, then more. She knelt, her knees immediately freezing cold, and poked one of the spots, brought her hand up to her face. Her fingers were wet and red.
“Dad!”
Brandon came running, slipping and sliding past the big window. “I told you to stay in—”
“Dad, it’s blood. He’s hurt.”
“Let me—”
Brandon started to bend down, and Maddy saw someone move behind him, coming around the other side of the fountain. The fog made her think it was the hipster at first, but when the person got closer she recognized the man who had broken into her house. He was holding something that looked like a length of metal pipe.
“Dad!”
Her father looked up at her and started to turn around just as the other man brought the pipe down hard on Brandon’s head. Brandon fell forward into the snow. The man pointed at Maddy with the pipe.
“You’re a real pain in the ass, kid, you know that?”
12
Skottie took a helpless look around her. The house was a shambles. Curtains blew into the living room in the breeze through the broken picture window, the TV was turned onto its screen on the floor, and Emmaline’s best armchair was upended. Also there was a white man on the kitchen floor with his wrists handcuffed and his ankles bound together with duct tape. Christian Puckett was sitting upright with his back against the dishwasher, his head hanging down and his legs sticking straight out in front of him at an awkward angle. Emmaline leaned against the kitchen counter across from him. She looked up when Skottie entered, her eyes wide with worry.
“Maddy?”
“She’s okay,” Skottie said.
“Oh, thank God,” Emmaline said. “You found her?”
“She’s with Brandon.”
Emmaline shook her head. “That don’t mean she’s okay.”
“C’mon, Mom.”
“This ain’t legal,” Christian said. “I got rights.”
“You want me to call the police?” Skottie said.
Christian looked away and sniffed. His nose was running, and Skottie could see damp traces of tears on his cheeks.
“’Cause if I call the police, they’re probably gonna ask you what you were doing here in the first place,” Skottie said.
“Just let me go, man.”
“Maybe after you tell me what you were after.”
“Ain’t telling you shit.”
Emmaline kicked him.
“Mom,” Skottie said. “Be careful you don’t leave any bruises.”
Skottie went back to the living room and picked up her mother’s chair. She moved it out of the breeze from the window and tipped the television upright. She pulled both her own phone and Maddy’s from her pocket and set the broken phone on an end table. At least Maddy was safe with Brandon. She felt a delayed wave of relief and gratitude toward her husband. He had definitely earned an invitation to Thanksgiving dinner, provided Emmaline could be talked into letting him in the house. The thought of Thanksgiving dinner made Skottie feel how tired she was, and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with a glass of wine and sleep for two or three days.
Her phone rang.
“Skottie here.”
“Skottie, this is Keith.”
“Keith?”
“Your boss. This is my landline.”
“Right. Yeah, I was expecting . . .” She switched the phone to her other ear and went to the kitchen door. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, I forgot to call you back. A lot’s going on here. Maddy . . . My daughter’s okay. She’s with her father.”
“Did he take her? This a domestic kidnapping?”
“No, she ran off and he found her.”
“She . . . Great, okay.” He didn’t sound happy. “I better call some people back, let everybody know the situation’s resolved itself there. Except you had a break-in, right?”
“Right.”
“So you need to get hold of the local cops so they can get a report from you. Go ahead and tell them about one of their guys working for the Burden County sheriff. You have any idea what they wanted?”
“I don’t know what they were after, sir.”
Emmaline gestured to her.
“Hang on a second, sir.” Skottie lowered the phone. “What, Mom?”
Emmaline pointed at the deputy on the floor. “They thought they could scare you.”
“How do you know that?”
“I stepped on his knees.”
“Mom!”
Emmaline waved her off. “He’ll be all right.”
“Did he say what it’s all about?”
“No, but I could step on him again.”
“Never mind, I think I have a pretty good idea.” She put the phone back up to her ear. “Sir? Sorry about that.”
“This related to the Nazi hunter thing, Skottie?”
“Yes, sir. I think it is. They’re trying to scare me off the investigation.”
“There is no investigation. Not officially. And if there were, threatening you wouldn’t help them.”
“I think these guys have a long history of getting away with things. I don’t think they ever considered they might get tripped up, and they’re panicking now.”
Keith grunted. “Damn, Skottie.”
“I know, sir. You told me to stay out of all this, but things were already in motion.”
“Look.” He paused, and Skottie had begun to think the connection had dropped when he spoke again. “Take the morning off. Take a few days off, okay? I’m gonna get someone to cover for you.”
“I can work, sir.”
“No, you can’t. I’m serious. You’re on vacation until I tell you otherwise. Got it?”
“I don’t have vacation days yet.”
“So it’s unofficial.”
“Sir—”
“I’ll call you back after the holiday. We’ll sort this out.”
“Yes, sir.”
She hung up and stared at her phone, feeling slightly dizzy and nauseated. A text had come in from Travis while she was talking to the lieutenant.
NEW INFO. ON MY WAY TO YOU.
She didn’t bother to text back. The dizzy feeling was being rapidly replaced by anger and frustration. She hadn’t done anything wrong, but she was dangerously close to losing her job. She needed to take control of her situation, find the man pulling the strings, and put him down before he could cause more trouble for her.
“Baby?”
Skottie looked up at Emmaline and tried to smile. “It’ll be okay, Mom.”
“I know it will be. In your whole life, you never let anybody drag you down, and you sure ain’t gonna start now.”
Skottie’s smile felt genuine, if only for a second. She took a deep breath. On her way out of the kitchen she turned back. “Mom? You can step on him again if you want.”
OCTOBER 2018
Ransom Roan opened his eyes with difficulty and tried to sit up.
“You’re finally awake,” Rudy said.
“What the hell?” Ransom strained against the leather straps buckled tight around his wrists and ankles. He was bound to a metal table in a brightly lit concrete chamber that looked like a bunker.
“Bless you for trying,” Rudy said. “You’re not going to break those straps.”
Ransom forced himself to relax, to conserve his energy. “Hello, Rudolph Bormann.”
Rudy shook his head. “I haven’t been that person in a long time. But I remember him the way you remember einen alten Schulfreund.”
“You call yourself Goodman now.”
“That’s who I am.”
Ransom glanced back down at the metal table and then around the room, looking for anything that might give him a clue as to his whereabouts. His eyes locked on a drooling man who sat hunched on a stool in the corner.
“Excuse me,” Rudy said. “I should introduce you to my friend Kenny. Kenny, this is Mr. Roan. Mr. Roan, this is Kenny. You needn’t bother conversing with Kenny. He lacks a brain.”
“How do you know who I am?”
Rudy held up Ransom’s wallet. “I looked up your Noah Roan Foundation. It’s funny, you’d think I would have heard of it. But I suppose I’ve been too busy to care what you people have been doing.”
“Whether you have heard of us matters very little.”
“You should be very proud of yourself. What you do, sneaking around, spying on people.”
“I am proud,” Ransom said. “And you must know I am not the only one hunting you.”
“Hunting? As if you have some real purpose or power? As if I’m the deer and you are the wolf, circling and sniffing after me?” Rudy threw Ransom’s wallet at him and slammed his fist on the metal table. “No! I am the wolf, not you. I am the hunter and I am also the healer. I take life and I give it. I bring down the weak and the worthless, the Jew and the black, and I will teach you to respect me.”
“Rudolph, no one respects you. At least, nobody worth knowing. You run a church full of mouth breathers who do not have the foggiest idea who you really are. I know all about you. Your army out there, they are all sheep, too stupid or unaware to know what you really think of them.”
Rudy sat back and composed himself. “You’re right about one thing. They are sheep. But they’re my sheep, my flock, and I am their shepherd.”
“They would follow anyone. When I arrest you, they will find someone else to follow. And there will always be someone willing to exploit their gullibility.”
Rudy smirked. “Neither of us is going anywhere, Mr. Roan. If anyone is gullible, it’s you. You seem to be under the impression you’re going to walk out of here unscathed. I assure you, that’s not the case.”
“If you were going to hurt me, you would already have done so. As you say, it has been a long time since the camps. I am not so sure you want to slide back into your old ways. Life has been good for you in America, and you would not want to jeopardize that, would you?”
Rudy swiveled in his chair and picked up a red rag from a cart next to him, revealing an array of silver instruments beneath it. He dabbed at his eyes with the rag. “You amuse me, Mr. Roan. May I call you Ransom?”
Ransom looked at the instruments on the cart. “Perhaps I misjudged you. After the camps, you kept it up? The torture? The killing?”
“The camps were only a stop along the way. I’ve always had my work, my studies.” Rudy scowled. “Tell me, how many others like me have you found out there?”
“I have found seven of you.”
“Impressive.”
“And my research has helped others. As I said, they will hunt you. If I disappear, someone else will find you. My investigation into you is on file with the Foundation. You cannot stop this by killing me.”
“No.” Rudy stood up and walked away toward the corner of the room opposite Kenny, who was watching something imaginary crawl up the wall. Rudy stretched his arms high over his head and groaned. “I strained my back lifting you into the van, Mr. Roan. I might be getting too old.”
“You are going to be subpoenaed and dragged out into the light,” Ransom said. “You will be hounded and vilified and spat upon until you are finally deported. You will lose everything you have built here, and when you find yourself back in Germany, you will most likely be put in prison. If it is any consolation, you will probably die of old age before you are convicted of your crimes.”
“Then why come after me at all?” Rudy started back toward the table. “Why not let me be?”
“You mean nothing to me as a person. I had not even heard of you before a witness came forward. But you are a symbol of the evil that men do. You represent an ugly time in our shared history, and it helps to see you brought down.”
“Helps who?”
“Everyone. Society.”
“Your society?”
“You have to know this is wrong. All of this.” Ransom’s gaze took in the entire basement room, the cart, the metal table, the soundproofed concrete walls, poor Kenny. Even the old yellowed poster with the struggling cat on a tree branch. “Or maybe not. Maybe you like this ugly little room.”
“This room is my sanctuary.”
Rudy picked up electric clippers from the tray and turned them on. He raised his voice, ensuring that Ransom would hear him over the buzzing sound that echoed off the cinder-block walls.
“Killing is not my ultimate goal,” Rudy said, “but I don’t shrink from it.”
He moved to the head of the table where Ransom could no longer see him. Ransom felt a tug at his scalp and the cold business end of the clippers.
“I am a student,” Rudy said. “Yes, even at my age. When we stop learning, we might as well go ahead and die, don’t you think?”
“And what will you learn from my death?”
“I had actually hoped to keep you alive. You present a number of problems for me. As you say, you’ve come to arrest me. Obviously, I can’t let yo
u do that.”
Ransom saw a clump of hair, long and silver, land on the floor next to the table, and he shivered.
“If you kill me,” he said, “my sons will come for you.”
“And if I kill them?”
“You cannot kill everyone, Rudolph.”
“Yes, yes, an unending wave of Nazi hunters will come. How did you find me, by the way?”
“You made the same sorts of mistakes you people always make.”
Rudy cleared his throat. “You said there was a witness? Someone from the camps saw me?”
Ransom shook his head. “No.”
“I think so. When I have finished with you, I will find this witness and dispose of him. Or is it a woman?”
“No witness.” The pile of hair was building. Ransom wondered how long it would take him to grow it back. He wondered if he’d have the chance.
“I can’t spend the rest of my life in disgrace or in prison, Mr. Roan. Surely you understand that.”
“Whatever you do, that is the inevitable end of this. Unless you die first. You could kill yourself, you know. You have enough tools in here to do yourself in many times over.”
Rudy chuckled and the buzzing sound stopped. “No. That’s not what these tools are for. You’ve met Kenny. Kenny, show Mr. Roan your scar.”
The drooling man came to attention at the sound of his name. He jerked forward and pulled his hair back so that the arc of scar tissue at his temple was visible.
Ransom looked away. “You did that to him?”
“Thank you, Kenny,” Rudy said. “That will be enough. Why don’t you go upstairs and play with the girls? Go upstairs, Kenny. Hold the railing so you don’t fall.” He moved back into view and set the clippers on the tray. He looked at Ransom and smiled. “I should make him wear a helmet, he falls down so often. But I don’t suppose there’s much left for a helmet to protect.”
Ransom pulled at his straps again and tried to push himself away from the table. Rudy sat back and watched until Ransom had exhausted himself.
“To answer your question,” Rudy said, “yes, I did that to him. Or for him, depending on your point of view. He was a desperately unhappy man, and now he’s cheerful. He doesn’t talk much, but he still knows a handful of words and he has a smile for everyone he encounters. He helps out at the church when he can, doing menial work—sweeping the floors, picking up between the pews, that sort of thing. So who’s to say his operation was such a bad thing for him?”