When we arrived at Fresh Horizons, I almost didn’t recognize it. The well-manicured lawns and bushes were overgrown. Its parking lot was empty. Yellow police tape barred every entrance. And that was just what we saw from the car.
Upon exiting and getting a closer look, the full extent of the facility’s downfall was visible. The path to the front door was covered in broken glass. Food wrappers, beer cans and cigarette butts littered the area in front of the shattered main door.
“What happened here?” asked Lisa as she stepped gingerly around the refuse.
“Squatters and maybe some high school kids looking for a place to party,” said Amy as she took out her flashlight. Then she went through the broken main doors, careful not to cut herself. Lisa and I followed.
“Funny, I was just here a couple of months ago. So much has changed,” I commented as we went through the main lobby. Two of the chairs that had been there on my previous visit were missing. The two that remained were overturned and had their padding ripped open.
I looked at the front desk and in the shadows could picture the young woman who greeted me when I first had come. The scene was a bit sad. Even though it was a front and an essential cog in a drug ring that ruined countless lives, seeing it so ruined was a shame. It could have been used for other things. Hell, it could have even become a real rehab center.
“Where’s the records room, Riley?” asked Amy. She shined her flashlight at me. For a brief moment it blinded me, so I shielded my eyes with my left hand.
With my right hand I pointed down the hallway. “Just down there. I’ll show you.”
Amy and Lisa followed me down the hall. Officer Paxton’s light gave it an eerie glow. I half expected ghosts to appear right in front of us. My imagination produced spectral sounds of children playing and phantom footsteps.
“How much further is…” Amy started to ask me where the records room was but her question was interrupted by an explosion.
Just thirty yards in front of us, the door to the records room blew off. It flew out and hit the opposite wall. Bright flames of red, magenta, orange and yellow followed. Burning scraps of paper floated out, carried by superheated air. The warmth was more intense than anything I’d ever felt before. It almost seared my skin, even from our distance.
Lisa, Amy and I all hit the floor. I think it was instinct. There’s an explosion, you get low. When we all got over our surprise and fear, we started moving. What we saw upon rising was an already raging fire spilling out of the records room.
“Don’t get too close!” yelled Lisa as I approached the flaming entrance. Or at least that was what I thought I heard her say. It was hard to tell. My ears were still ringing from the earlier blast.
Lisa had no reason to worry. I had no intention of getting too close. Even if I wanted to, the heat was too much for me to take. When I took a quick glimpse, I saw the metal file cabinets glow orange and start to melt.
“Whoever did this must’ve mixed thermite with some kind of explosive,” I said as I backed away.
“What makes you say that?” asked Amy as she repeatedly opened and closed her mouth. The pressure change must’ve popped her ear drums.
“The thermite is everywhere in there. By itself, it ignites but doesn’t really explode. At least not like that. It’s a smart move. That stuff burns through anything. We’re not going to be able salvage anything.”
Amy ran away. Lisa asked, “Where are you going?”
“To find a fire extinguisher!” answered Amy, mid stride.
“Don’t bother. You can’t extinguish this stuff. We just have to let it burn out,” I informed Amy. She stopped.
“Let it burn out? This whole place will burn down.” Amy took the radio off her belt. “Dispatch this is county 11 copy, do you come in, dispatch?’
I heard a voice on the other side of the the radio. “County 11, this is dispatch. You’re coming in loud and clear.”
“10-70 at the Fresh Horizons Rehab Center. I need assistance, copy.”
I heard another explosion. It wasn’t seen but from the shaking, I knew it was close by. Against any survival instinct, I started to run down the hall towards the loud boom. Amy and Lisa followed.
I tracked the explosion to what was once a gymnasium. The wood floor was ablaze, and near the exit on the far side of the gym was a man in a white plastic rabbit mask.
When the man in the familiar mask saw me, he fired several shots. None of them were even close. It was almost like he was trying to miss me. They ended up hitting the wall above and behind me. Maybe they were a warning. But it was one I would not heed.
Amy and Lisa caught up with me. The man fled upon seeing them. We went after him. There was no way of knowing whether or not he was planning on blowing up any more thermite bombs.
Navigating the length of the gymnasium was hard. The fire was spreading fast, and it was hotter then hell. I would be lying if I said I didn’t consider turning back hallway through. But I was committed and angry.
Amy was the first to reach the other side of the gymnasium. She disappeared behind the same set of double doors as the bomber. I would have been right behind her, but I had to help Lisa.
Somewhere along the way, Lisa got surrounded by fire. The floor in front of her, in back, to the left and to the right was impassable. To make matters worse, the longer we stayed in the gym, the toxic smoke that was being produced from the chemical coating on the wood was starting to take effect. I was getting a little lightheaded and could only assume my best friend was, too.
“You’re going to have to jump!” I yelled as the flames around us grew.
“I can’t!” Lisa yelled back. I knew she was just afraid. Not only did she have to jump in order not to burn to death, but Lisa was a track and field star in high school. Those long legs were perfectly capable of vaulting her body out of danger. Her nerves held her back.
“Yes, you can! You don’t have a choice!”
I’m not sure if Lisa could hear me over the fire. It was getting loud in the echoic room. That didn’t really matter, because Lisa gathered her nerves and leaped. Watching her jump over the fire, she appeared to go in slow motion. We embraced each other as she landed next to me in relative safety.
Lisa and I made our way out of the gymnasium and into the courtyard behind it. Amy and the bomber were nowhere to be seen. Then I heard a third explosion. That time, I could see the windows blow out on the second floor, followed by smoke and more flame. It was a clear indicator of where the bomb went off.
I couldn’t immediately see how to get from the courtyard to where we’d seen the bomb explode. It cost us a minute or two, which ended up being important. When we arrived at the site of the third bombing, we found Amy slumped against a wall.
During her pursuit of the bomber, Amy had been shot in the arm. It shattered the bone in her forearm and she was bleeding out. Chasing the bomber no longer mattered. We needed to get her out and get help. I was extremely frustrated, especially when I heard the fourth and final bomb go off.
Lisa and I helped Amy down to the first floor and out one of the doors. When we got outside, there were police and firemen arriving. Sam was there, and as soon as he saw us he came over to help.
“What the hell happened here?” asked Sam as he took Amy off our hands and guided her towards and ambulance.
“We…uh,” I didn’t have a good explanation or lie. Lisa bailed me out.
“We were here to check some records that Riley said were here. And soon after getting here, boom!” Lisa mimicked an explosion with her hands. “Then we started chasing the bomber down and got separated.”
“Then Amy got shot,” I added.
Sam gave us both a disapproving look. “That was incredibly stupid. You guys know that, right?”
“We’re sorry, Sam. But there’s a chance that the guy who did this is still around. We have to go look for him,” I wanted to catch that guy so bad it hurt.
“I’ll stay here with her,” offered Lisa, referr
ing to Amy. “You guys go and get that son-of-a-bitch.”
I led Sam to the back of Fresh Horizons, which was now almost engulfed. It was a huge bonfire that lit up the rural area where it was located. Smoke filled the night sky and blocked out the moon.
When we got to the back of the facility, we found nothing but tire tracks. Sam reckoned that they were made by a truck, probably a pick-up. That was all we found.
For all of the risk we took that night, we got nothing. We were no closer to finding the arsonist. We were no closer to finding out who was behind the drug ring. All we got was an injured friend.
A Little Elbow Grease
I needed a break after the night at Fresh Horizons, so I spent the morning of July 7 in the office. To be more specific, I was on my laptop. The Chesapeake Chemicals company was the query of my research, and what I learned scared the hell out of me. The sheer amount of dangerous chemicals you could order online was unbelievable. It was a one-stop shop for domestic terrorists.
Once I got over my shock, I looked up contact information. They had a fax and telephone number, and they had just opened. So I decided to give them a call.
“Chesapeake Chemicals, this is Todd, how may I help you?” Nobody talked like that. It sounded like Todd was a new hire. He must’ve just repeated whatever script a supervisor had given him.
“I’m Detective Williams with the Stone Harbor Police Department.” Sometimes you had to tell some little white lies to get what you need. I’m not ashamed of it.
Todd sounded a little flustered. I felt a little bad for him. If it was his first day, the last thing he wanted was to have to deal with a detective’s questions. “How … what can I do for you, Detective?”
“You could answer a few questions for me.”
“Maybe I should get my supervisor. I’m not sure I’m qualified to…”
A supervisor might’ve called me out on my bullshit. I couldn’t let that happen. “Do you sell powdered iron oxide and aluminum at Chesapeake Chemicals?”
“Umm, let me check.” I heard Todd’s typing over the phone. “Yes, it appears that we do.”
“Todd, I need know who has bought iron oxide and powdered aluminum in the last six months, along with magnesium rolls.”
There was a pause. That wasn’t a good sign. “I’m not authorized to access that information, Ma’am. If you are willing to wait a minute, I can get my supervisor and he can…”
Again, with the supervisor talk. I cut Todd off. “Just tell your supervisor to fax over a copy of any orders for iron oxide and aluminum.” I fumbled around for my purse. Inside my purse, I had one of Sam’s cards. I took it out. “Fax it over to 230-480-6649. Thank you for your time Todd.”
Before Todd could say anything else, I hung up. I hoped that he would get his supervisor to fax over those records. Chesapeake Chemicals was the only supplier for at least a hundred miles in every direction. Chances were, whoever was setting these fires got the ingredients for thermite from them.
I figured that my best move was to go to the Stone Harbor police station and wait for the fax. It would have been better to be there so I could intercept it. Then I wouldn’t have to explain it to Sam. At least, that was how I justified it to myself. The truth was I wanted the information to myself. I’m big enough to admit my own selfishness.
After locking up, I left my offices. I looked down Main Street in both directions. There were no black SUVs, or men in white plastic rabbit masks. It was safe. My grip loosened around the handle of my .38 concealed in my purse. If people are really after you, is it paranoia?
My car was parked around the back of the building again. It wasn’t a long walk to get there, but I found myself moving at a fast pace. I no longer felt safe out in the open like that. I felt exposed. I felt vulnerable.
The only other soul in the dark recesses behind my office was a homeless man. He was talking to himself and relieving his bladder next to a dumpster. He wasn’t exactly threatening. With that said, I still kept my eyes on him as I entered my vehicle.
I can clearly remember dozens of bad horror movies where the protagonists put their keys in the ignition and they try to start their car. Of course, the engine doesn’t start. While watching that cliché on screen, I ask myself: “Who has luck that bad? Why don’t they get their car serviced before investigating the local serial killer? How often does that really happen?”
On that night, I lived the cliché. I turned my key. Nothing happened. I tried again and the engine gave no sign of life. The third time, my car gave a brief splutter before dying again.
At that point, I was starting to get a little nervous. The homeless man was staring at me in a creepy way. There were no lights. If it were a horror movie, then it was a perfect setting for a murder. That was the last clear thought I could remember from that night.
With a fourth attempt at turning my engine on, I met success. The car came to life with a rumble. I reached for the gear shift to put it in reverse. When I looked in my rear view mirror I saw a black shape in my back seat. For a moment I froze, trying to figure out what it was.
I kept staring at the shape. Slowly I reached into my purse for my gun. The shape started to move, it uncoiled. Then I saw its face. It was a white plastic rabbit mask. A split second later a thin rope was around my neck. An intense pressure was applied from behind, making it nearly impossible to breathe.
Instinctively, I put my car in reverse and pressed down on the gas pedal. My car slammed into the back of my own offices. Luckily, the building was strong and hardly took any damage. For a second, the rope around my neck was loose, but I was too dazed to take advantage of the opening.
I could hear the person in my back seat groan through the mask. It was a man’s groan. He was stunned, too. The way I saw it, I had two choices. Either I could hop out of the car and make a run for it. Or I could get my gun and stand my ground.
I opened the driver’s side door. When I tried to get out, there was a sudden and frightening choking sensation in my throat. It was so violent and painful, I thought it was the end. In my haste to escape, I forgot about the rope around my neck.
In a panic, I shifted the car into drive and put as much force as possible onto the gas. With one hand I tried to pry myself out of the masked man’s garrote. My other hand was on the steering wheel.
The world around me was beginning to go dark. I was experiencing a lack of oxygen. If I didn’t get free, I was a goner. All efforts to get free were futile. Even if I was physically stronger than my attacker, he had leverage on his side.
I sped down Main Street. The masked man pulled tighter. No matter how fast I went, there was no getting away.
What happened next unfolded in a split second. Later, I would learn that the driver of the other vehicle was a man who was on his way to pick up his kids. Thankfully, he was alone in the car at that moment. I’m still grateful for that.
The minivan slammed into the side of my car. It was my fault, I ran a red light. But considering the circumstances, I didn’t feel all that bad about it. I wasn’t exactly in the position to make safe driving decisions. Upon impact, I blacked out.
The next thing I knew, I was waking up on the floor of the passenger side front seat of my car. There were broken shards of glass all over me. But the rope wasn’t around my neck anymore.
Every part of my body ached. I couldn’t help but moan as I got up. From inside my car, I could see the minivan that hit me. Its hood was crumpled up like a squashed beer can. Behind the wheel I could see a man’s head, hunched over.
I took a glance into the backseat of my car. The masked man was gone. Where did he go? Maybe he got thrown out of the car during the crash? That was wishful thinking. But I didn’t have the time to worry about it.
When I opened the driver’s side door, I toppled out. The pain when I hit the asphalt of the street was intense. I couldn’t let that stop me. There were more important things at stake than me.
There was someone in that van and they might need help
. I felt like a newborn doe, trying to walk for the first time. Both my legs wobbled. No matter what, I wasn’t going to give up.
I reached the minivan. In the front seat I got a closer look at the driver. He wasn’t moving, except for his breathing. Even though I’m an atheist, I thanked God for that.
“Don’t worry…” I tried to tell the man that everything would be okay. Before I could, something grabbed me from behind.
The masked man had taken a hold of my shirt and spun me to the ground. He was strong. But from the ground, I could see his limp. His right leg had been injured in the crash. It was soaked in blood.
“Ou gob dab biff!” The masked man was yelling at me but I couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying. His mask muffled it.
Jamie Garrett - Riley Reid 02 - Fire and Lies Page 5