by Bryan Nowak
****
Mike found the police station just where the map indicated. Off the main road and across the street from a deli. Thankfully there were few cars transiting this little town and even fewer people walking around. The depressed little town gave the impression that time, and economics passed the once thriving Riapoke.
The rear of the police station opened up to a large parking lot. In it were three squad cars of a bygone era. The aged beasts looked like someone periodically wiped the cobwebs off of them and repainted the shield of the town on the side so they were more like static displays rather than functioning law enforcement tools.
As he thought through various scenarios of how to best approach the building, the front gate opened. The squad truck from the boat launch parking lot pulled in. Mike watched with horror as the conservation officer stepped out and opened the back door, escorting Kyle out of the vehicle, wearing handcuffs.
Stifling the urge to yell out to the boy, this situation plunged from bad to worse. Mike played with the idea of waltzing into the police station as an attorney and demand an immediate release. Although, after what happened to Waylon, such a brazen act might get everyone killed. Sticking to the original plan made the most sense. Besides, he didn’t exactly look like an attorney at the moment. Not to mention, he certainly didn’t smell like one.
He caught a slight movement out of the corner of his eye. Mike froze in place, watching a shadow move behind the fence. At first, the shadow looked vaguely bear shaped. It came out of the wood line and morphed into a man. Stubby fingers grabbed the chain-link fence and in a move impossible for such a large frame, deftly hoisted himself up and over. In the half-light of the back yard, the figure landed with a thud on the other side of the fence before ducking behind a rusted shipping crate.
The man’s dark shadow morphed again into the more familiar Harbor Master Bill as he moved into the light. Mike exhaled in relief at seeing the bear-like man again. Although, what happened to him still remained a mystery.
Skulking out from behind the old storage crates, the old sailor knelt down behind one of the ancient squad cars. Bill had no way to know Kyle sat inside the police station.
Mike wanted to shout out to Bill to have him wait while he had a chance to get into the yard. However, the door to the station opened and the officer walked out. He grabbed something out of the squad truck, stepped out of the gate, crossed the street and then disappeared into a small coffee shop.
Mike turned back toward Bill and caught sight of him entering the police station. He rushed out of the bushes to join him. If anyone else was inside the station beside Kyle, the older man surely would be at a disadvantage.
Running across the parking lot, as fast as possible, he tried to remain low to avoid any people passing by, he ducked under the awning at the back of the station. Grumbling about bad luck as the door handle refused to move, a very serious looking cipher lock stood in between him and Bill.
How the heck did Bill get in? There was no way he could possibly guess the code.
From inside the station, shouting erupted. Mike couldn’t tell who was shouting at whom, but whatever was happening wasn’t going well.
He tried yanking on the door handle repeatedly; however, the door simply refused to budge. Restraining himself with a calming breath, he tried pressing numbers in sequence which didn’t work either. The worn buttons on the old cipher were the one and the three. These two buttons likely were the most frequently used. Since ciphers were normally four digits in length, Mike started trying random combinations. Desperation set in as attempt after attempt only produced failure with the obstinately locked metal door.
Without warning, the impenetrable door flew open, knocking Mike to the ground. From inside the police station, Kyle rolled through the door as if he were thrown through a window in an old wester. Behind him, Bill walked out holding a gun.
Mike yelled, “Bill, what the hell are you doing?”
Bill smiled at him. “How convenient is this? Now I have everyone together in one place. The brat kid, and the hero from the resort. The reverend was dead on when he thought there was no way Matt was going turn you lose.”
Mike glanced over at Kyle, whose face was red. A small abrasion below his right eye indicated someone had been less than gentle with the boy. Otherwise, the gangly teen appeared no worse for the wear.
“Bill, what’s going on. Why do you have that gun?” Mike made a move to stand up.
“Slow it down there Mike. I don’t want to shoot you in broad daylight. I suppose it doesn’t matter though. The reverend will make sure to cover my tracks. He always has.”
“Bill, you mean … you’re one of them?”
Bill laughed, a hearty laugh that would be almost jovial if it were coming from a man not pointing a gun at them. “You really are dense, you know that? I suppose I can’t be too hard on you. Funny how things happen. You see, it’s probably a good thing The Hideaway never really checked my employment application that closely. If they had, they’d notice most of it was made up. I was in the service, that’s true, discharged for beating my lieutenant half to death. I spent a little time in the brig and then they returned me to my last known residence. Wanna take a guess where that might have been?”
Kyle spit on the ground in front of Bill, “Assholesville?”
“You’re funny kid, I like you. You’ve got spunk, but watch your mouth or I’ll slap you around a little more. They sent me back to my native home of Riapoke. Guess what I found? Reverend Swenson and his little demon. He tried to control me and I beat the shit out of Donny for his efforts. You can say we reached an agreement. I was allowed to live out of town and they would supplement my income in exchange for keeping an eye on the resort.” Bill leaned against the wall of the building and glared down at the two.
“I’ll put it another way. I’m a spy. The reverend needed someone on the outside to make sure no one got inside, if you catch my meaning. Keeping an eye on the other side of the lake is just one of the many things I do for the assholes of Riapoke. They pay me and I don’t have to take part in any of The Master’s nonsense.
“Yep, the good cultists of Riapoke. Once you get past the ritual sacrifices and that torture chamber down by the lake, this place ain't half bad. The bodies they dump in the lake make for nice sized bass. I think they like the eyes. Still, it’s been five years since I last came to town. Good thing too, Waylon might have recognized me if I’d hung around more often. Now get up Kyle and stand over there with him.”
Kyle stood up and joined Mike.
“Let’s all go back inside for a minute,” Bill said, using his gun to gesture toward the door. “I need to call someone. The reverend will be so please about this, seeing how we have mommy all tied up. And me, so worried about how I’d find Mike again and you literally delivered yourself to me. Thank The Master, as they say here in this backwards little hell hole.”
Bill kept his gun trained on Mike and Kyle as they marched into the station. Mike’s brain raced through all possible options. How is it that Bill had duped him over and over again? Suddenly, his reluctance to come here made sense. The signposts were there, Bill likely was trying to buy the reverend time.
“How did you even—”
“’Get away’, I think are the words you’re looking for. I have a cell phone which bypasses the cellular block on this place. I just had to get time away from you to make a phone call. The car you saw was actually sent to pick us up. When you disappeared into the alley, I decided to just head straight to the station. Don’t worry, Mike, your part in all this will soon be over.”
With Bill’s gun pointed straight at them, Mike couldn’t risk a fight. Bill not only had the advantage in terms of strength and size, he might pull the trigger and injure Kyle, or worse. Gambling with the boy’s life wasn’t an option.
Bill motioned for them to get inside the cell. “Going to lock you up for a bit while I make a few phone calls. I’m sure the good people of Riapoke will be happy to rewar
d me handsomely for my hard work. I gotta hand it to you, Mike. I did everything in my power to slow you down, even stop you. I guess I failed in that regard. For the record, if you had decided to return to the resort, there was no way I would have let you make it there alive.”
“How did you know about Kyle and Meghan?” Mike said, following the boy into the cell.
Bill stepped toward the cell door to close it. “Shortly after these two were picked up by the conservation officer, I got a call from Donny. While you changed your clothes, I got my marching orders. That’s when I put the brakes on our rescue mission. Yep, Mike, you sure are one tenacious son-of-a-bitch.”
As Bill moved to shut the cell door, they were all startled by the sound of the front door of the station creaking open. Walking in, hands full of food boxes, was conservation officer Matthew Chase. “Sorry Kyle, they were out of French fries so I got you chips instead—”
No one moved. Matthew’s eyes flew open wide, processing the two additional people in the office, one of whom held a gun. Bill stared back at Matthew, contemplating his next move. Kyle watched Mike, silently imploring for direction. Then Bill turned the weapon from Mike toward Matthew.
Instinctively, the trained officer dropped the food, while simultaneously drawing his weapon. Bill was faster to train his weapon on Matthew; however, Matthew had more training in such situations. In an explosion of gunfire, both guns went off. One bullet found it’s mark and the other bored harmlessly into the back wall.
Instinctively, Mike pushed Kyle to the cell floor, using his body as a shield. Mike peered back to see Bill grasp at his chest and fall backward into a shelf full of books. Sliding down to the floor, the stricken man grabbed at a chair, pulling it down with him as his gun skittered to a halt a few feet away.
Bill stared blankly up at the ceiling and said, “I don’t know how … I just … what happened. It’s cold.” With that, his hands fell to his sides into a growing pool of blood.
Keeping his own weapon pointed at Mike and Kyle, Matthew picked up Bill’s gun off the floor and put it in the drawer of a desk. “Alright, you two, come out of there. Actually, scratch that. Kyle, you stay in there. Other guy, you come out slowly, whoever you are.”
Mike edged out of the cell, his hands high in the air, his eyes intently focused on the business end of the gun which he knew had already killed two people. “Just take it easy, my name is Mike. I always pay close attention to anyone with a gun.”
“Good man. Thinking like that will keep you alive. Turn around. I need to make sure you’re not armed.”
Mike did as instructed. Matthew patted him down for weapons. Satisfied with the search, he motioned toward the second cell. “So far, so good. Get in that cell and close the door. Kyle come out of there, I want to deal with you first.”
Kyle was visibly shaken by the dead body now laying in his way. Gingerly, he stepped over it, while trying to do his best to avoid looking down at the slain man. Risking a glance downward, he made a repugnant face. “What about the harbor master there?”
“Oh, that’s what he was? Well, we’ll deal with him later.” Matthew sighed in exasperation. “He’s not going anywhere. I really object to people pointing weapons at me. ”
Mike stepped in the cell, closing the door behind him. It latched with a metallic click.
“Kyle,” Matthew said. “Get out of your clothes.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Kyle asked, dubious of the order.
Matthew glared at him. “Look, do you want to be cleared of the rape charge or not?”
Mike spoke up, “Kyle, don’t say anything. Rape charge? I’m this boy’s lawyer and I represent—”
“Look, Counselor, if that is what you really are,” the last of Matthew’s patience had run out. “I don’t think you understand the situation. I just shot a man, and I already have a lot on my plate. I am beyond done with today. I can clear this kid of the charge right now. And it may be the easiest thing to clear up. So, shut the hell up and let me do my job.” He turned back to Kyle. “Can we all agree that for the next few minutes everyone can just stay quiet?”
Kyle and Mike nodded in almost perfect unison.
Matthew took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Thank you. Counselor, I have little interest in sending this boy to prison. I just need to make sure he didn’t do what he was accused of. To be honest, I’m already convinced he didn’t do anything.”
Fearing making the situation worse, Mike decided to let the officer call the shots for now. Sorting out the legal ramifications of this situation could come at a later date.
Kyle did as he was told and Matthew handed him an emergency blanket to cover himself with. “I only need the underwear.”
“What are you going to do with them?” Kyle asked.
“If this were a big city, I’d send these off to a fancy laboratory and they’d analyze them for me. But, right now, I can only do what I can with what I’ve got. While it isn’t fool-proof, I can eliminate you as a suspect. At least good enough for me, anyway. The reverend thinks Beth was lying and something smells fishy about all of this.”
Matthew retrieved a kit from one of the cupboards and opened it up. “Your body produces a thing called acid phosphatase enzymes. It’s found in your semen. I have a simple chemical that can tell me in a few minutes if there is any present or not. Basically, no acid phosphatase, no sexual activity. Now, I can’t completely rule you out because if you took your underwear off then it won’t show. But, a negative on hers and yours really calls the rape charge into question. As I said, I have other reasons to doubt Elizabeth’s story, but this will seal the deal in my head anyway.”
For a couple of minutes, Kyle watched the officer test the pieces of clothing. After about a minute, he checked the results against a handbook that came with the kit. “Well kid, congratulations. I don’t think I have any reason to charge you with a felony. You’re free to go, but I wouldn’t advise it. As for you,” he said, looking at Mike, “I want to know what the hell you’re doing here. And who is that?” Matthew pointed to the still body of Bill on the ground in a pool of blood.
Mike was unsure what to say. On the one hand, the officer could be a bloodthirsty, cold-blooded killer. However, if he’d wanted to kill them, he would have already pulled the trigger. Since that hadn’t happened yet, there must have been a good reason.
“Well,” Mike began, “Officer Tanner, It all started when we took a boat out to find Kyle and his mother …”
Matthew listened in silence, only interrupting once or twice to ask questions. While Mike recounted the story, Matthew pulled a body bag from an evidence kit and had Kyle help put Bill’s body inside it. He stared at the dead man’s face for recollection after Mike mentioned that Bill was a native. Shrugging his shoulders, he zippered up the body bag unceremoniously.
Mike came to the end of his retelling of his part in events leading up to this moment. The three of them sat in silence. Matthew stood up and crossed over to the cell door. “Thanks for being straight with me. I suppose I really owe you the same. First thing, call me Matthew. Almost no one calls me Officer Tanner.” Unlocking the cell door, Matthew motioned to the table and chairs in the center of the room.
Kyle and Mike sat down and Matthew walked over to the coffee pot and started making coffee. For a moment, he stopped scooping grounds into the filter and stared off into the distance. “Yes, I killed Waylon. There is something you need to know.” A tear slipped from his eye. “Waylon Anderson, a good friend, was dead in a month anyway.
Matthew let a sigh slip as he remembered happier times. “Yes, I killed my friend. He’d asked me to end his life when the pain became too much for him to bear. The medicine was too expensive and his mother needed the money for other medications. The pain was almost unmanageable as it was.”
Mike sat in stunned silence as Matthew recounted his side of the story. His lawyer instincts told him Matthew was telling the truth. The pain on the officer’s face was too genuine to be made up. Shoo
ting his friend didn’t come easy and Matthew’s narrative of a mercy killing was plausible; given what they’d witnessed in the forest when he thought no one was looking. Mike remembered Matthew uttering the words, now the pain is over.
“So, why did the reverend want Waylon dead?” Kyle asked.
Matthew leaned back against the wall, watching the last few drips fall into the coffee carafe. “Okay, so that is where this gets really complicated.”
“Thank heavens for that,” Mike said. “The simplicity of this situation was too boring for my tastes.”
Matthew smiled at Mike’s attempt at levity. Pouring three cups of coffee, he continued his story. “You see, Waylon found something in the lake that was never supposed to be found. There is a belief that dates back from the Powhatan tribe that says a body thrown into Lake Oleander shall never surface. There’s a prophecy that one of Riapoke’s own will turn their back on its people and two strangers will come to town to bring it all to an end. The reverend thinks that Meghan and Kyle are the ones.”
Kyle jumped out of his seat at the thought. He hadn’t thought about his mother since Bill smacked him around the room. “You know where my mother is?”
“I do,” Matthew said. “She’s in great danger. We need to proceed carefully.”
“We?” Mike said. “Aren’t you one of them?”
Matthew leaned forward, cradling his coffee cup in his hands. Standing up from his chair, he crossed the room to the coffee maker. “I used to be, until I was forced to kill my friend.” Pouring himself more and then refilling Kyle and Mike’s cups.
Mike’s lawyer’s intuition again told him Matthew was being honest. Matthew appeared more and more like an ally in what was to come. “What changed?”
“I guess I started to ask myself why?” Matthew said. “I mean really, why would it be that a reverend should be all powerful over the town? The reverend is a cruel man. I became a deacon in the church to try and protect the people. That’s when they let me into some of the church’s darker secrets, if you can call it a church.” He sat down heavily in his chair. “Really, it is more of a cult, built around the Reverend Swenson and the one they call, The Master.”