Once I regained my composure, I found myself in a parking lot. How long had I been there? When I looked at the clock in the dashboard, an hour had passed from the time I left the jail. I turned on my car and made for the exit.
There was quite a bit of work to do once I got back to Stone Harbor. First, I’d need to go to Valentine Park, to Hangman’s Tree. Whatever my father wanted me to find there was the last piece of the puzzle. It was the last thing I needed to do to wrap up the mystery of my missing parents.
After going to Valentine Park, I’d need to find my out where my mother was buried. I wanted to go there and pay my respects. That shouldn’t be too hard. It would probably just take a little research on my laptop.
The exit to the highway was only three miles away. Once I got on it, I’d make a straight trip back to Stone Harbor. It should only take a couple of hours. If everything went well, I’d be back home by nightfall.
I reached a four way intersection. The red light in front of me meant I had to stop. So I did. Taking a look around, I realized the road I was on was remote. My GPS had never done me wrong before, so I squashed down any worry.
The light turned green and I drove out into the intersection. I did so with the expectation that the path before me would be clear. Before I could do anything about it, a truck sped down the road perpendicular to mine and slammed into my car. When the impact occurred, I blacked out.
I woke up in a dark room. From the floor above me, I could hear the muffled sounds of loud music, dancing and talking. Around me, I could barely make out kegs and boxes of liquor. I must’ve been in a bar or club.
My head was killing me. I felt what must’ve been blood trickling down from my scalp, down my forehead. The side of my ribs hurt intensely. I knew I broke something. It would have been a good idea to go to the hospital. First I had to get out of that room.
When I tried to get up, I found myself unable to. My wrists were bound to the armrests of the chair. I looked down at them and saw layers of silver duct tape. No matter how much I struggled, I wouldn’t get out.
I heard someone open a door, then start to walk down some stairs. They were behind me, so I couldn’t see but the sounds were unmistakable. Who were they? What were they planning on doing to me?
“I hope you’re comfortable,” said a voice I did not recognize from behind me. There was an Italian American accent to his words.
The lights switched on. My first observations were correct. All around me was liquor and beer in cases, kegs and boxes, stacked almost up to the ceiling. It made a maze of cardboard.
The man walked out in front of me. Instantly, I recognized him. I’d seen him at Sunny View, and outside Kevin’s house. He’d been following me. I didn’t know for how long. But it became obvious that his intentions were not good.
“That’s a lie. I don’t care if you’re comfortable or not. In fact, you’re going to be very uncomfortable in a few moments. Unless you tell me what I want to know.” The man was muscular and even more heavily tattooed than Harlan. He had a scar running down from under his left eye to his cheek. It looked like a knife wound.
The man punched me in the side of my head, unprovoked. My vision got distorted after the blow. Around me the room started to spin.
“Sorry, where are my manners? Before we begin I should introduce myself. It’s not like you’re going to be able to tell anyone. My name is Salvatore Lazio. And I am under the employ of one…”
“Harlan Greene?” I asked, interrupting him. He may beat the hell out of me, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of hearing himself talk.
Salvatore smiled, and bent over in order to be face-to-face with me. “Smart girl. If you know who I work for, then I’m willing to bet you know what I want?”
“Let me guess… his money?”
“That’s right. His money. Once he gets it, I get paid.”
“Yeah, and what happens to me?”
Salvatore hit me again. This time he hit me in my side where my ribs hurt. The pain was extremely intense. I couldn’t help but yell out. He mocked me by imitating my scream.
“Nobody can hear you, so scream all you want. You’re not leaving this room until you tell me exactly what I want to know.” Salvatore hit me again. This time in the jaw. He wasn’t exactly helping his cause.
What Salvatore didn’t realize was that he was sitting right next to a large stack of boxes. It’s funny how your brain works in life-threatening situations. I put together exactly what I needed to do in seconds.
Salvatore approached me. He got close and whispered into my ear, “It’s just money, girl. Give it up and live. It’s that simple.”
As my kidnapper whispered into my ear, I summoned all the remaining strength in my legs. With the burst upwards, my shoulder hit his jaw. More importantly, one of the back legs of my chair landed on Salvatore’s foot. I could hear a crunch.
Salvatore howled in pain. He fell backward as he lifted his foot and tried to grab it. As if that would’ve eased his pain. That was my opening. I stood, as well as one could when duct tapped to a chair, and threw my full weight against a nearby stack of crates. At first, I couldn’t knock them over. They were too heavy. When I tried again, they fell over, on top of my kidnapper. There was a crash and a sickening crunching sound.
I needed to move on to the next problem. The chair attached to my wrists needed to go. I’d seen people in similar situations in movies. They’d find something to break the chair on. Usually, they did it on other people.
I decided to use a wall to break the chair I was bound to. Without giving it a second thought (if I had I probably wouldn’t have done it), I threw myself, back first, into one of the cement walls. The first try didn’t work. So I tried again. That time, the chair shattered under my weight.
As I got up and tried to get the duct tape and small pieces of chair off of me, I heard some loud noises. Salvatore was getting up and moving the boxes off of himself. I couldn’t allow that to happen.
I limped over to Salvatore, who was still on the ground and in the process of freeing himself. With images of Harlan laughing in my head, I started stomping on my kidnapper. It wasn’t until I felt nothing moving underneath that I stopped.
I took off the duct tape and made my way through the maze of boxes. Finally, I reached a staircase that led upstairs. What would I find up those stairs? I had no idea. But I was sure as hell going to find out.
The Way Home
At the top of the basement stairs was a heavy metal door. I had to press my body against it to get it open. And as soon as I did, I was assaulted by very loud electronic dance music.
Salvatore had brought me to a nightclub to interrogate me. It seemed like an awfully strange choice. Mainly because the place was very crowded. I couldn’t even see over all the people to the exit.
I emerged out of the basement to find myself in a nightclub. There was an enthusiastic crowd full of partiers to make my way through. I did my best not to attract any attention.
It wasn’t hard to employ stealth to get to the exit. All the flashing lights and dancing people made for an easy path. But I was still very nervous. Anyone there could’ve been working with Salvatore or Harlan Greene.
I was able to make my way out of the nightclub. What I saw outside wasn’t familiar. Wherever I was, I needed to get home.
First things first; I needed to find out where I was. Asking one of the various people outside the club who were staring at me was out of the question. That could just land me in more trouble. No, there were quicker ways.
I spotted a newspaper vending machine on the corner. It took me a little while to get there. My legs and hips ached.
When I reached the newspaper vending machine, I looked inside at the paper nearest the plastic display window. The name at the top of the paper inside was the “Richmond Gazette.” So, I was in Richmond. Now that I knew where I was, I could call for someone to pick me up.
Who would I call? I searched my pockets for a cell phone that I knew wasn
’t there. And sure enough, it wasn’t. That made my decision on who to call significantly easier. There was only one number I had committed to memory.
I spotted a payphone next to the club. Hopefully, it worked. It would’ve been unfortunate if it didn’t. As I made my way over to it, I remember thinking, Who still uses payphones?
The payphone was absolutely filthy. There was gum stuck to the rectangular casing around it. People had scribbled graffiti all over. Black marks were left behind from where people put out cigarettes against the plastic. Thankfully, I was not a germaphobe. And getting home was much more important to me than staying clean.
I picked up the phone. There was nothing in my pockets and that included coins. There was no choice but to call Lisa Williams collect. After dialing the collect call service, I punched in her phone number.
“After the tone, please say your name,” said the robotic operator of the collect call service.
“Riley.”
The phone rang a couple of times. Then Lisa picked up. She sounded like she was in the middle of something. And whatever it was, it sounded was fun. I could hear people laughing in the background.
“Riley, is that you?”
“Lisa, I need help.” Damn, it was nice to hear her voice.
“Where are you?”
“Richmond. I’m in Richmond.”
“Hold on one second.” I could hear Lisa’s footsteps as she left whatever room she was in. Then I heard a door close behind her. “Okay, I should be able to hear you now. Did you say you need help?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Can you pick me up?”
“Can I pick you up? Where are you?”
It was a good question. Where exactly was I? Richmond was a big city. I took a couple of steps back and searched the front of the club for a sign that had its name on it. And I found it.
“A club called the Triumph.”
“Triumph, in Richmond? Give me a minute to look it up. I’ll be right there. You gonna be outside?”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Okay, hang in there. Bye.” Lisa hung up. All I had to do was wait for her.
* * *
It took an hour for Lisa to get to the Triumph. I ended up sitting down on the sidewalk with my back against the bar. People at the club probably thought I was just drunk. In the low light, they wouldn’t have been able to tell that I was hurt. I was tired, but I couldn’t rest yet. Who knew who might be lurking around the corner, or if basement guy might wake up.
I heard Lisa’s voice. “God, Riley, what happened!?” Before I could answer, she put my arm around her shoulder and lifted me up. Then Lisa basically dragged me to her car.
As Lisa started to drive away, she took glances at me, than back at the road. “We need to get you to a hospital or something. You’re a mess.”
“No, no hospital. Take me to Richard’s house.”
I was so close to not only solving the mystery of my parents, but also figuring out who was behind the drug ring. Sitting there outside Triumph, I put together the puzzle pieces in my head. It was Harlan who had sparked my suspicions. I would need to go to Richard’s house to confirm them.
“Are you kidding me? You look like you went ten rounds with Tyson. You need medical attention, Riley!”
“No hospital,” I reiterated as I rested my head against the cold glass of the passenger side window of Lisa’s car. She kept talking, but I faded away into sleep. And in my short rest I dreamed.
I was in a theater. Though I’d never been, I assumed it was the Roxy. What else would it be? My dreaming brain just knew where I was, as tends to happen.
There was a full crowd in attendance around me. All of them wore white plastic rabbit masks. And none of them even seemed to notice I was there.
The curtains on the stage opened. On stage there were three people, limp and held up by marionette strings. One was Jimmy Alvarez, with the chunk of his head I took missing. Another was Officer Rodriguez, in full uniform. Lastly, the third man was my father. He looked like he had the day he left.
I got up from my seat. As soon as I stood, everyone in the crowd turned to look at me. Their clean, white masks all suddenly had blood splatter on them. It was unnerving. But I tried to ignore their stares and headed towards the stage.
An invisible puppet master started pulling on the marionette strings and made the men connected to them dance. It was macabre. Their limbs flailed at the manipulator’s whim.
When I finally reached the stage, everything stopped. I looked back at the crowd. They were gone and, instead, empty and deteriorating seats were left behind. The grim puppets stopped moving and their heads and limbs drooped.
I tried my best to see who the puppet master was. But no matter how hard I tried, couldn’t get a good look. It was as if they were avoiding me. Or, my mind wouldn’t allow me to figure it out. My mind was protecting me.
I was woken out of my dream by Lisa. She was gently shaking me, in order to wake me up.
“We’re here. Wait here, I’ll get Richard. He can help me get you inside.” I watched Lisa get out of the car through eyes that weren’t quite awake. She ran up to the Greyson home.
After a couple of minutes, Lisa came back with Richard. He was in his pajamas and robe. Richard opened the passenger side door. I almost fell out. The old, but strong, man caught me and lifted me up out of the vehicle.
“Thank you, Lisa. I got it from here,” said Richard as he carried me towards the house.
“You sure?” asked Lisa, concerned.
“Yeah, I’m sure. Thank you.”
Lisa got in her car and left as Richard carried me inside.
Hard Truths
The night I returned to Stone Harbor was not an easy one. Richard insisted on me icing my swollen face. He also gave me a handful of over-the-counter pain killers.
Something wasn’t sitting right with me, either. As Richard tended to my injuries, I couldn’t get what Harlan told me out of my head. He suggested that someone close to me was under his employ. That couldn’t have been Officer Rodriguez. We had no relationship, friendship or otherwise.
Then there was my dream. Who was the puppet master? Who was pulling those strings? It would have to be someone of authority, someone respected and followed, someone like my adoptive father.
Richard had wrapped my ribs with an ACE bandage, and then sat me down in the living room with an ice pack. He sat back in his recliner, and poured himself a full glass of amber liquor. He had a strange look on his face, and a single tear almost escaped his eye. At first, I just thought he was sad to see me injured. But then he started to talk.
“When I first met you, at the station, I felt bad for you.” Richard’s voice was monotone. He didn’t look at me. Instead his glazed-over eyes were fixated on the floor. “I felt guilty, too.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You told me about your parents and how they were missing. I could see that you were scared. It was my fault that you were alone. It was all my fault. So I gave you a home, I took you in. I hoped it would atone for…for all of my sins.”
I thought about Sam’s argument with his dad over the phone calls, the photos he found, and Harlan’s comments as I was leaving. He’d find someone closer to get to me. Now, I knew. Richard knew something. He must have known something dirty was going on, or knew who the drug ring had in their pocket. What I didn’t know was what that had to do with Richard feeling guilty about my parents.
“You’re freaking me out. What are you talking about?”
“Nothing. Forget it.”
Forget it? I couldn’t forget it. “I went to see Harlan Greene in jail. You ever hear of Harlan Greene?”
Richard didn’t answer.
“I asked you a question!?”
Richard’s eyes left the rug and looked up at mine. “Never heard of him.” He was lying. I could see it.
“Really? That’s funny, because he was maybe one of the most p
revalent criminals in three states, including here in Virginia.”
“That so?” Richard averted his eyes away from mine.
“He told me he had people working for him in the Stone Harbor Police. Is this true?” I was lying. Harlan didn’t tell me that. But I needed to hear from Richard whether or not there were people on the take in the department.
“Yes.” Richard’s answer shocked me. I knew there had been corrupt cops in our small town, but hearing the ex-detective admit it still shocked me.
I needed to know how much Richard had known all these years.
“One of them was Officer Rodriguez. Sam caught him trying to burn down the Roxy last night. He’s dead. Rodriguez, that is. He confessed to burning down the marina, Sister Mary’s and Fresh Horizons. But he wouldn’t admit who he worked for.” I looked for any reaction on Richard’s face. There was none. He just kept looking away.
“What do you want from me, Riley?” asked Richard.
“I want you to look at me. Look at me!” I could feel the anger building inside of me.
Richard looked up at me. Only once had I seen the same look in his eyes that I saw that night. It was when his wife died.
I pointed at my bruises. “Was this you? Was this your fault? I need to know! There are too many coincidences, too many clues that point to you being involved. I don’t want to believe it, but….”
“Yes,” admitted Richard. “It’s my fault. And I’m sorry for what happened to you. I never meant for you to get hurt.”
My legs felt weak underneath me. I sat back down. I was just bluffing, and it worked. Suddenly, I found myself wishing that it hadn’t.
“I guess it’s time for you to hear the truth. You deserve as much. It started a long time ago. When I first met your dad, he was dealing some weed and a little coke. He wasn’t into anything too big or bad. I arrested him a few times. And I never gave him much thought.
“Fast forward a few years, and Molly got diagnosed with cancer. After a couple months of treatment, the cut-rate health insurance we got from the county reached its maximum. That left me with a choice. Either I went bankrupt trying to keep up with the bills or I had to find another way to make some money.
Jamie Garrett - Riley Reid 03 - Ends and Beginnings Page 7