by Sean Black
“Ruth Price, and Mary Harper, please come with me,” Gretchen said to them, turning on a flashlight.
Mary struggled to her feet somehow, and half walking, half limping, followed Ruth, who was following Gretchen. Chris and the other two staff members flanked them.
Ruth had a feeling where they were headed. They weren’t headed back to the dormitory. They were about to experience some of Broken Ridge’s alternative accommodation. It made the dormitories appear like a Four Seasons Resort by comparison.
It was in back. Way in back. Completely separate from all the other buildings.
When they got there, Gretchen stood back as Chris pulled the key to a padlock from the chain hanging from his belt. He unlocked the padlock and wrenched open the door.
Ruth heard something inside the barn, maybe more than one thing, scuttle for cover. The barn was big and open. There was moldy hay on the dirt floor. In the corner were three dirty old mattresses. In the opposite corner was a sink with a cold tap. There were two buckets to use as a toilet. That was it.
This was solitary confinement, Broken Ridge style. Not quite the most feared place there, that honor went to what the kids called ‘the naughty room’, which was a place where Gretchen was known to administer Electro Shock Therapy. But the barn came a close second.
Mary stumbled over to a mattress and sat down. Ruth stood, turning so that she was facing Gretchen, Chris and the two other staff members.
“One week,” said Gretchen.
Mary started to sob. Ruth was going to argue, but there was no point. Arguing would only get their stay extended further, especially when Gretchen was in this kind of a rage.
Gretchen withdrew along with Chris and the other two staff. Ruth stood in the middle of the barn. No change of clothes, not so much as a toothbrush. Just the mattresses, the sink and the buckets. Plus whatever else was living here.
The door was locked. The padlock put back on. It clicked shut.
Ruth walked over and sat down next to Mary. She put her arm around her.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Ruth. This is all my stupid fault,” Mary sputtered between sobs.
“It’s nobody’s fault.”
“No, it is. It’s my fault. If I’d looked where I was going. If I hadn’t been so slow.”
Listen,” said Ruth, firmly. “It’s this place. It’s evil. Pure evil.”
32
The full moon gave them some light through the barn’s only window. Without it, they would have been in darkness. That was something to think about before tomorrow night. They hadn’t been left with so much as a torch.
When Gretchen and the other staff had left, Mary had just sat there, sobbing. Ruth had comforted her as best she could, while she listened to the sound of Gretchen’s shuffling slippers fade away into the darkness.
There was part of Ruth that was relieved about being put in here here. Sharing your every waking and sleeping moments with at least a dozen other people was tiring in a way she could never have imagined. There was simply no let up. Even when you went to the toilet, if you hadn’t reached the necessary level of the program, someone was often posted outside the cubicle.
Ruth also knew that the enjoyment of being away from barked orders, and constant teenage girl bitchiness would fade. And probably quickly. To be replaced by what, she didn’t know. Whatever it was, she felt she would handle it. She had handled everything so far, hadn’t she?
Mary though? That was something else entirely. Mary needed help, from someone who knew what they were doing, a professional person – and fast. Ruth would do her best, but she wasn’t at all sure her best was going to be enough.
She was assuming that they’d be brought food of some kind. They weren’t just going to leave them here to starve for a week. Ruth made a mental note that they had better make sure to eat everything they were given, or to have it taken away when someone came. Even crumbs would attract more critters into the barn, and by the skittering sounds she was hearing, the barn didn’t need any more.
“Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do,” Ruth said softly to Mary. “We’re going to try to get some sleep. I’m going to be here right her next to you, okay? Things are always better in the morning.”
“This is all my fault,” Mary repeated.
“You need to stop telling yourself that. It’s not true.”
Ruth lay down next to Mary. She closed her eyes. She was beyond exhausted, but she knew getting to sleep would take some time, if it came at all. If she didn’t sleep then at least she could try to get some rest. Worried about whether you would sleep or not was a surefire way of not sleeping.
She lay there, trying to calm her mind. She listened to Mary’s breathing. It was cold and getting colder. She put an arm around Mary. Mary cuddled into her, like a little kid. After a while, maybe it was an hour, maybe it was two hours, Ruth finally fell asleep.
33
With Lock’s words of caution from the previous evening still at the front of his mind, Ty climbed onto the bus to take him back to Broken Ridge. Today would be his first day on the job. He had kept the motel room on, but he would be living in. At least for the next three days and nights.
He’d taken a last minute decision to pack his gun. He doubted he’d need it. But it was always better to be fully prepared. In any case, no one had told him he couldn’t have a gun with him. If someone saw it, and he was asked, he was sure he’d be able to explain it. This was not a part of the nation where having a handgun was seen as in any way as out of the ordinary. It wasn’t like he planned on sticking it on his hip and strutting around the academy with it.
Because cell phone coverage in the area was best described as patchy, he’d agreed to check in with Lock when he could. Meanwhile, Lock would be in town, asking questions, and getting more of a feel for how the locals saw Broken Ridge. Lock was also scheduled to meet with at least one former employee who’d been shut down from speaking publicly about the place by an NDA (non-disclosure agreement), but who seemed to harbor some serious concerns. Needless to say, Broken Ridge had described her as a disgruntled former employee with an axe to grind.
On the bus, Ty kept an eye out for the little old lady. He didn’t see her. Apart from a couple of sleepy-eyed farm laborers, he and the driver were the only people on the bus. The driver, the same one as the previous day, had given him a look when he’d seen Ty’s bag, but hadn’t said anything.
Ty decided to sit up front. Maybe the driver could use a little help to start talking. Once they’d pulled away, Ty leaned in a little.
“I’m kind of nervous. Starting a new job today.”
The driver glanced back at Ty for a split second. “Congratulations.”
“First real job since I came out the military. Tough economy, I guess. Been looking for a while,”
“Tell me about it,” said the driver.
“You serve?”
“Never got the chance.”
Ty had heard that one a lot. It always came from people who wouldn’t have taken the chance if it had come along. Which was fine. The military wasn’t for everyone.
“So, the people at this place seemed like good folks. I’d heard some mixed stuff. Y’know, like they’d had some problems.”
The driver’s eyes flicked in the mirror towards Ty and beyond him to the two dozing farm laborers. “Yeah,” said the driver. “I really wouldn’t know too much about it. The people there pretty much keep themselves to themselves.”
“Guess they don’t use your bus then,” Ty laughed. The driver seemed cagey and Ty figured it was best to back up and keep it light.
“No, sometimes they do. I’ve had the odd runaway.”
Ty’s ears pricked up. “Oh yeah? What do you do?”
“Drop ‘em off in town, and call the Sheriff’s Department. They usually come, pick ‘em up and bring ‘em back pretty damn quick.”
“Pretty damn quick, huh?” said Ty, pushing his luck a little.
He needn’t have worried. The dr
iver was warming to the topic. “Oh yeah, anything out there and the Sheriff is real responsive.”
“How come?”
The driver laughed. “Boy, you are new around here, ain’t you? Well, maybe I can save you putting your foot in it. The lady that’s in charge, Gretchen, the Sheriff’s her brother-in-law. Plus, and this between us, but with the kind of money that place makes, I’m guessing the school kicks in some bucks. Tax base is kinda narrow out here to keep things running. Hey, you know what they charge at that place?”
Ty did. In fact when Lock had told him, he’d made him repeat it and then write it down because he had refused to be believe it. Tuition at an Ivy League college was probably cheaper.
“No, what?” said Ty.
The driver repeated the same number that Lock had given him. Ty let out a low whistle. “No kidding.”
“Yeah, crazy, ain’t it?” said the driver. “I guess though if you have that kind of cash and you’re worried about your kid, it makes sense. Better than them ending up dead in a ditch somewhere or pregnant at sixteen, or jacked up on drugs.”
“Yeah,” said Ty. “Better than any of those things.”
34
As Ty stepped off the bus, he checked his cell phone for a signal. There was a single bar out of a possible five. He decided to give it a shot. He pulled up Lock’s number on the display and tapped the call icon.
No luck. The call wouldn’t connect.
He kept walking along the long road towards Broken Ridge, his bag slung over his shoulder. As he walked he started to tap out a text message for Lock that he could send as soon as he got a signal. He was sure that there was some kind of cell phone coverage in the area, it was just patchy.
Gretchen being related to the local Sheriff was hardly surprising. In small, isolated communities those kind of connections were far from unusual. By and large, people in these types of places tended to stick together. That went double when you factored in the money that a school like this brought into the local community.
As Ty finished up his brief text message to let Lock know about the local Sheriff’s connection to the school, all kinds of things were suddenly clicking into place. Such as why a school where three people had either died suddenly or been killed had been allowed to remain open.
That particular death did have an explanation, but knowing the connection between the school and local law enforcement, maybe it was an explanation that didn’t quite hold up. The staff member who had been killed was a young woman in her early twenties, by the name of Kelsey Reese.
Kelsey had taken a job at Broken Ridge immediately after graduating from college in California. Six months into her time at the school, she had been walking alone near the school. In fact she’d be on the dirt track that Ty was walking on now when she had been shot once at close range. She bled out before anyone found her.
A local man, Willard Lowsen, had been arrested. Willard had confessed to killing Kelsey. It was a confession he later retracted, but by then it was too late. He was already serving the first year of a life without possibility of parole sentence. Willard was talking about making an appeal against his conviction when he was stabbed to death in his cell by two members of a notoriously violent prison gang.
Before the murder, Willard already had a stack of convictions, and had only just been released from prison for a sexual assault. From what Lock had told Ty, no one was going to miss Willard Lowsen. And certainly not enough to ask any questions. He had motive, and he had opportunity. DNA on the murder weapon, and on the body of Kelsey Reese matched to him. It was pretty much a slam dunk, even without the confession he later claimed had been beaten out of him by the local Sheriff.
A couple of bars showing a signal finally appeared on Ty’s cell phone. He was about to hit the send button on the text to Lock when he heard the rumble of an engine closing in fast from behind. He stepped off to the side of the track as a pick up truck ground to a sudden halt. The rear tires threw up a plume of dust. Ty had to cover his mouth with his hand to avoid catching a lungful.
The driver leaned over to the passenger side of the cab, his face obscured by a ball cap pulled down low over his eyes. Ty turned slightly so that he was side on to him. The driver took off the cap, and Chris Fontaine grinned like an idiot at Ty.
“Sorry, man, I went to see if I could give you a ride from town, but the motel manager told me that he’d seen you getting on the bus,” said Chris.
That was weird, thought Ty. Chris hadn’t mentioned anything about picking him up. Nor was Ty sure that he had mentioned where he was staying to Chris. Although, to be fair, when it came to places to stay in the nearby town, it was a pretty narrow field. Ty wondered what else Chris had asked the motel manager.
Chris popped open the passenger door. “Hop in.”
“Thanks,” said Ty.
He had already decided that the less he said, the less chance there was he would slip up and mess up his cover story. At the same time, he realized that it would only get harder to maintain his new identity as time went on. He would start to relax, and that was when he was most likely to make a mistake.
There was still something that he felt he needed to say to Chris. It would be in keeping with the person he was pretending to be. Someone who really needed this job right now. What was it that actors always talked about? The character’s motivation.
“Listen, Chris, about yesterday, I kind of feel like I owe you an apology.”
Chris glanced across at him, puzzled. “For what?”
“Well,” Ty began. “I know you were really rooting for me to get this gig.”
“I was. Believe me. Positive male role models are really hard to come by for these kids.”
Yeah, no kidding, thought Ty.
“It’s easy enough for us to find women to work here, but guys are another story,” Chris continued.
“Anyway,” Ty cut in. “I really appreciate all your help. I just didn’t want you thinking I was trying to step on your toes yesterday. Y’know with that kid who was pretending that she’d hurt herself.”
Chris took one hand off the truck’s steering wheel and waved away the apology. “No problem. Don’t give it another thought. I’ve been suckered by some of these kids dozens of times. It’s easily done. And, you have to remember, some of them have had literally years of practice, pulling the wool over their parents’ eyes before they finally got called out on their bullshit and were sent here for us to straighten them out.”
“Cool. I didn’t want you thinking, well I don’t know what I was worried about you thinking. I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate the opportunity.”
Chris gave a broad grin that allayed any of Ty’s niggling worries. “Man, we’re lucky to have you. That’s what I told Gretchen. And don’t worry about those two girls either. We had more trouble with them last night at the fire pit, and we had to put them in the time out room.”
Ty had some questions immediately spring to mind, but he held off asking them.
“Believe me, it’s been coming with those two,” said Chris.
Before he got onto what time out involved, Ty figured he’d ask some more general questions. He knew that Chris would get off on playing mentor to the new guy.
“So, when a kid comes in, can you tell how resistant they’ll be?” Ty knew from reading the staff member’s manual that resistance was one of the buzz words at Broken Ridge.
It was a revealing word. It suggested the need to break down, to counter with an opposing force. It was a word that was Ty was familiar with in a military context. It often cropped up when talking not just about an enemy force, but interrogation. In fact, Lock had discovered that many of the psychological techniques used at private institutions like Broken Ridge were pretty much straight out of the CIA manual on enhanced interrogation techniques. They also had more than a passing resemblance to the techniques employed by cults. Techniques that were often highly effective, but that, according to psychologists, often came with a hefty price that w
as paid down the road by the person who had been exposed to them.
“Sometimes,” said Chris. “But it can go the opposite way too. Like that kid Mary for instance. She’s not openly hostile like some of the students are, but her behavior can be a lot more difficult to deal with.”
Ty decided to keep playing the eager student. “How do you mean?”
Chris slowed the truck to a crawl. They were getting close to the ranch house, and Ty could sense he warming to the subject, and keen to give the new guy the benefit of his experience.
“It’s not confrontational,” said Chris. “She’s not going to cuss, or be deliberately disobedient. It’s more that she works the angles. Like yesterday for instance, trying to get you to feel sorry for her.”
“I see what you’re saying,” said Ty, even though he really didn’t. Or rather, he did, but he didn’t agree. The kid had hurt her ankle. She hadn’t been faking. Maybe Ty had never done this job, but he knew the difference between those two things.
“And what about the other young lady? What was her name?”
“Ruth?”
Ty nodded. “Yeah. You think she just got drawn in by it?”
Chris laughed at that question. “No, she’s just straight up trouble. Has been since day one. Doesn’t think she should be here.”
Ty didn’t think it was wise to say anything to that. He stayed quiet.
“She’s still in complete denial. That’s why we put her in time out with Harper. See if we can’t start to break her down,” said Chris as he pulled up in back of the ranch house so that Ty could drop off his gear. “Course then we build ‘em back up again. Better than they were before. Like the military in that regard.”
It was the military way to some degree. Ty could see that. But there was also one important difference. At least in America, the people who served their country in the military volunteered to do so. Here, they were all conscripts.
Ty grabbed his bag and fell in behind Chris. They were headed for the dorm that Ty would be in charge of. He allowed Chris to go on ahead. Ty dug his cell phone out of his pocket. He still hadn’t sent Lock the text he’d drafted.