The Edge of Alone - 07

by Sean Black

  “Just elected. Learning the job.”

  “So you may have missed something?”

  That got a reaction. Finally. The Sheriff shifted buttocks. The chair he was sitting in creaked at the adjustment.

  “Are you sure you’re here asking questions for someone who’s looking to send their kid to Broken Ridge?” he asked Lock, elbows suddenly propped on the desk.

  “A young girl dies, that’s going to be a cause for concern. Two die plus one staff member is murdered and that’s a major red flag. Wouldn’t you agree, Sheriff?”

  It was the Sheriff’s turn to try to stare Lock down. Lock let him have his moment.

  “I’m just trying to ensure that the deaths weren’t suspicious and that it’s a safe environment for my client’s son,” said Lock. “That’s all. I apologize if it comes over any different than that.”

  The Sheriff appeared to be studying him from across the desk. “No,” he told Lock. “They weren’t suspicious. They were both accidents. Well, a suicide in one case. But what you, or anyone else has to understand, is that the kids that get sent to Broken Ridge, they already have all kinds of problems. Otherwise they wouldn’t be sent there by their parents in the first place.”

  It struck Lock as a slightly circular argument. But it was one that was well rehearsed by anyone connected to an institution like Broken Ridge that had run into a problem. It was simply an extension, as Lock saw it, of telling parents to expect horror stories from the letters home that they received.

  “Well, in that case, your word is good enough for me. Like I said, I’m sorry if I came off pushy, but this is a good client of mine, and he wants to make absolutely sure that he finds the right place for his son.”

  The Sheriff switched buttocks once more, and nodded sagely. Lock rose from his own chair and reached out to shake the Sheriff’s hand.

  “My client’s one of those guys that as much as he doesn’t like his son’t behavior, if anything happened to him at one of these places. . . well, let’s just say it would get real ugly, real fast,” said Lock, turning and heading for the door. “And he has the money to do it.”

  “Hold on,” the Sheriff called after him.

  Lock turned back.

  “Close that door for me, would you? Then come sit back down for a minute.”

  Lock did just that, easing into the chair. He’d hoped that the suggestion of a scorched earth reaction to any problems would get this kind of response.

  “There was nothing suspicious about any of what happened. But, and this is completely off the record, and stays between us. . .”

  Lock stretched his arms out. “Absolutely. It goes no further. All my client wants is a recommendation from me. He’s not big into the fine details unless he has to be.”

  Truth be told, Lock was starting to like the sound of this fictitious client he had just invented. He sounded like he’d be a lot lower maintenance than the people who actually hired him.

  “Here’s the thing. The lady who runs Broken Ridge, well, she inherited the place from her father. And he had some quite old fashioned views about how kids should behave. Y’know, he was real old school.”

  Given that this was all off the record, Lock wished the Sheriff would get to the point.

  “I get it. Old school.”

  “And perhaps the place hasn’t quite moved on. Not that some of the kids they get don’t need discipline. They do. Otherwise they wouldn’t end up there. But Gretchen can get a little heavy handed. At times. Most of the time she’s very pleasant.”

  “What are you saying?” Lock pressed. “She has a temper.”

  “Yeah, that would be it,” said the Sheriff. “A temper. Sometimes.”

  Lock didn’t want to push too much more than he already had. He could already sense the Sheriff’s unease at talking about this. The unease was perhaps more revealing than what he was actually saying.

  “So perhaps Broken Ridge may not be the best fit?”

  “Not what I said. Not my words. And that’s not for me to say really.”

  Lock rose and shook his hand again. “Thanks for taking the time. I appreciate it.”

  He continued on, walking out past the Deputy who was still pecking away at the keyboard with two fingers. His cell phone rang. Ty’s name flashed up on the screen. Finally.

  38

  Ty stood at the edge of the blacktop, cell phone in hand. He was still sweating from having run all the way down here. He’d told Chris that he’d promised to call his girlfriend today, and when he’d left it had been too early. Chris had offered the landline in the ranch house. Ty had politely declined.

  Lock took a little time to answer.

  “Where are you?” Ty asked him.

  “Local Sheriff’s Department.”

  Ty heart sank a little. “Shit.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you to let you know that the local Sheriff and Gretchen are tight. Like related tight. Broken Ridge kicks money into the department.”

  “That would make sense,” Lock said.

  “They give you a hard time?”

  “Not really. But he was kind of reticent about saying anything negative. But listen, I used a cover. Said I was a PI working out of California who was looking at various school options for a wealthy client. Made out that it was a standard background check.”

  “He bought it?” Ty asked.

  “Seemed to. Listen, you have to remember, this isn’t LA.”

  Ty grimaced at that. “No, it’s worse. It’s easier to ping on these folks radar.”

  “Ty, relax. It’ll be fine. They’re not going to make a connection between you working there, and my showing up to ask a few questions.”

  “I hope you’re right,” said Ty. “You know not much happens round here. Two people they don’t know show up at the same time.”

  “Okay, look, if you think they’re getting suspicious just get out of there.”

  The suggestion that he run away didn’t sit well with Ty. He had never run away from anything in his life. He didn’t plan on starting now. Plus it wasn’t exactly what he considered a high-risk environment. What were they going to do? Put him in the barn too?

  “Forget it. I’ll be fine. And don’t worry if you don’t hear from me. They have a signal blocker up at the school to stop the kids using cell phones.”

  “Huh,” said Lock. “That sounds kind of over the top.”

  “Well, they may not be dangerous, but that doesn’t mean they’re not a little bit out there.”

  “So how’s Ruth? You seen here?”

  “Not exactly, no.”

  Ty quickly filled Lock in on Ruth and her friend’s punishment. Lock was silent until Ty finished.

  “Okay, well, keep an eye on the situation as best you can.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Ty. “I’m on it.”

  39

  Lock finished the call with Ty. He opened the driver’s door of the Ford Explorer and got in. Even though he’d parked it in the shade, the interior was boiling hot. He turned on the engine and cranked up the air conditioning.

  For the first time since they had taken Donald Price on as a client, and promised to find out what they could about his daughter’s situation, he had a feeling of real unease. He wasn’t overly worried about the connection between Broken Ridge and local law enforcement. At least not in the way others might have imagined.

  It was Ty’s mention of the barn that had done it. Jennifer Oates had committed suicide. She had hung herself. She had tied a rope around a wooden support in the barn, and jumped from the top of the hay loft. Suicide or not, suspicious or otherwise, it was enough to give Lock chills.

  Ruth Price was in that same barn.

  40

  Sheriff Dwyer massaged his temples with the tips of his fingers. He could feel a migraine forming at the front of his skull. He knew what had brought it on. It was the thought of the phone call he had to make.

  Maybe she would
be out. Or away from her desk. He could leave a brief message and then head out on patrol. With a little bit of luck she might give up on reaching him. But he would have made the call, so he’d have done his part. Yeah, that might work.

  He lifted the phone. The number was already programmed. It was number five on his pre-set speed dials. He didn’t have the name written next to it like the other numbers (his wife (who had as little to do with her sister as she could), their son who lived in Phoenix, the State Police, the local Fire Department), but it was in there none the less.

  He hit the pre-set button and waited. It started to ring.

  Someone picked up. Gretchen. Her voice was unmistakeable. She had a very particular voice that she used to answer the phone. It made his skin crawl. It was so fake and phony, just like she was.

  “Hello,” she sing-songed.

  “Gretchen, it’s me. I got something I thought you might want to know about. I had a visitor this morning.”

  The phone call took around four minutes. It seemed a lot longer. Gretchen tended to freak out about stuff like this. Even after all these years. People turning up and asking awkward questions.

  He’d had to explain to Gretchen that was why he’d put the guy off the idea. He hadn’t told Gretchen over the phone what he’d said about her. He told her that he thought Broken Ridge’s fees were steep compared to some other places.

  She had been pissed that he’d said that. But he’d patiently explained to her that she didn’t want the child of a parent who was already prone to hiring private investigators at Broken Ridge. She’d agreed.

  That had always been the policy. Never to take a child into the program who wasn’t being sent by someone who was completely onboard with how they did things.

  It cost the school money. But only in the short term. In the long term it was smart business.

  He told Gretchen he’d see her at the next family dinner, and not to worry. This PI would go back, report to his client that he should go with a different program at another school and that would be that. Crisis averted.

  Gretchen hadn’t sounded convinced. She was paranoid. Always had been. Her old man had been the same. Thankfully, his wife hadn’t seemed to have inherited that gene. Only Gretchen had.

  Gretchen hung up on him in mid-sentence. He had stared at the phone for a moment. “You’re welcome,” he said.

  41

  On the drive over to speak with the parents of Jennifer Oates, Lock called Don Price. He answered almost immediately. Whatever anyone thought of the man, including, and perhaps especially, Don’s ex-wife, Lock had never doubted the man’s love for his daughter.

  “What do you have for me, Ryan? How’s Ruth?”

  Lock had been dreading this question. But there was no way to avoid it. What other question was Ruth’s father going to ask?

  The problem was that from early on, almost as soon as he had retained their services, Don Price had been pushing for a more forceful intervention. One that involved taking Ruth out of Broken Ridge without either his wife or the school’s permission.

  Like Lock, Don Price’s attorney had told him it was a crazy idea. His wife had custody. She had assigned just under half of that to Broken Ridge, as was the industry standard with these places. That meant any attempt to remove Ruth, without her mother’s say so, would be regarded as a serious matter by the authorities. In short, and somewhat ironically given how Ruth had been taken there, it would be seen as abduction. With all the legal ramifications that carried.

  As soon as Broken Ridge knew that Ruth was missing, they would contact law enforcement. If Don Price was lucky they would be picked up before they crossed the state line and it became a Federal case.

  His best bet would be to get Ruth out of the United States. But even that wasn’t without risk. There were extradition treaties and the US authorities had a very long, powerful reach. Which Don Price would have known given his current work and status as a high-level government employee with the State Department. Not only would he lose his job, and possibly his pension, he’d be a fugitive from justice. Until he was caught. And then he’d be in prison.

  Of course, Lock knew that Don was aware of all of these things. But he was desperate, and desperate people often did foolish things. They also had a tendency, in Lock’s experience, to be impulsive.

  Lock had outlined a different strategy that didn’t involve directly breaking the law so much as pushing at the edges. First, he had asked Don Price to let him and Ty establish whether Ruth was in harm’s way. If she was then they would gather evidence, and present it directly to Don’s wife. If she didn’t respond by removing Ruth from Broken Ridge they could then go to the relevant authorities, and to court. If reason failed, they would try for a legal remedy. If all that failed then, and only then, would Lock discuss other the extra-legal options open to them.

  Reluctantly, Donald Price had agreed. Like any concerned parent he didn’t want to see his child go through any more torment than they absolutely had to. Lock got that. But first they’d had to establish that she was at risk. Maybe it was, as Ty had argued originally, not the worst thing in the world to be sent to be a place like this.

  The reality though, as Ty had quickly discovered, was less certain. There was discipline, and creating boundaries, neither of which were bad. And then there was manipulation and exerting psychological control to create short term results with potentially damaging effects in the long term.

  With all that in mind, Lock chose his next words with care. “Ruth doesn’t appear to be in any immediate danger. She’s in good shape physically. Overall, she seems to be holding up well, but we have some concerns.”

  Don Price began to interrupt, but Lock quickly cut him off. “In any case, Ty is on the inside now, and he’s not going to allow anything to happen to her or any of the other kids in there. You have my word on that.”

  “What are your concerns?” Don Price asked.

  Now was where Lock had to be even more careful with what he said. It was important that he chose his words with care. Right now, Donald Price was a loaded gun. The last thing Lock wanted to do was say the wrong thing, and flick off the safety.

  Lock took a breath. “Our main concern is that the program at Broken Ridge may be detrimental to her well being in the long term. If she stays there long enough.”

  “Come on, Ryan. Why don’t you just come out and say what you have to say without all this dancing around. I’ve been in D.C. long enough to know when someone’s trying to BS me.”

  “You told us Ruth is quite a sensitive kid, correct?”

  “Yeah,” said Don. “She has that whole teenager outer shell thing going, but she’s sensitive to stuff, always has been. When she was growing up there were times I’d wish she was a little tougher, but that’s not who she is.”

  “Okay, well, from what we knew already, and Ty’s now seen, this isn’t a place best suited to kids who don’t have a thick skin,” said Lock.

  “I knew that already. That’s why I called you in the first place.”

  Lock could hear the frustration in Don’s voice. It was tough to know whether it would be better to level with him, or whether that would just be lighting the blue touch paper.

  When he was placed in this kind of situation with a client, he usually asked himself how he would want someone to handle the situation if their roles were reversed. In this case it wasn’t a hard question to answer. He’d want honesty. He’d want the truth. Even if it was hard to handle.

  “Okay, she’s not playing by their rules and they’re punishing her for it.”

  The frustration that had been in Don Price’s voice switched to something else. Panic.

  “What do you mean punished? If one of those assholes has laid a figure on her, I swear, I’ll. . .”

  “Hold on. No one has touched her. That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “Then how has she been punished?”

  Lock told him about the barn. He dialed down some of the details that Ty had given,
but he told him. He emphasized to Don that she was with another girl, so she wasn’t alone. They’d be be able to look out for each other.

  Don Price listened in silence. He was so quiet that for a moment Lock thought that the call may have dropped.

  “Like I said, she’s not in any immediate danger, but it’s not good either.”

  On the other end of the line, he heard Don exhale. “I think I should be there.”

  This was what Lock had worried about. The last thing they needed right now was Donald Price marching to the rescue. It would be a disaster. He would be arrested, Ruth would be sent back to face who knew what fresh hell, and they would no longer have a clue about what was going on.

  “Don, you know that you can’t just turn up here like the cavalry. That’s not how it would work. We have to stick with our strategy. Gather evidence. Present it to Sandra, and if that doesn’t work, present it to a judge.”

  “You think my ex didn’t know what that place was like before she sent Ruth there?”

  In any argument there were three sides. One side, the other side, and then the truth. For a divorced couple at loggerheads over how to raise a teenager that went double, maybe even treble.

  “What it was really like? No, I’m not sure she did.” Lock wasn’t lying. He knew that Don was convinced that his wife had punished Ruth to piss him off. Lock didn’t doubt that there may have been something in that. But he also knew that the troubled teen industry was extremely persuasive, with some very slick marketing. The kind of marketing that came with a multi-billion dollar income stream.

  “She’s punishing me by punishing Ruth,” Don said.

  Lock didn’t buy that. Of course people used kids during or after a divorce or separation. That was undeniable, not to mention commonplace. But very few mothers would place their daughter in harm’s way to make a point, or for revenge.

  “Listen to me,” Lock interrupted. “Our best chance here is to gather the evidence and then present it to Ruth’s mother.”