by Sean Black
“I still think I should come down there.”
“And I can’t stop you. But I can advise strongly against it. You hired us to do a job. Let us do it. If our approach doesn’t work then we can talk about doing things differently. But you have to let us try this first.”
There was another silence. This time Lock took it as a sign that he might have gotten through.
“Agreed?” he prompted.
“Okay,” Don Price said finally.
“Good. If there are any new developments, I’ll let you know immediately.”
“Ryan?”
“Yeah?”
“Tell me I’m doing the right thing here.”
42
Mary hadn’t eaten. Her portion of the food Rachel had brought them lay on the floor, untouched. Ruth knew this wasn’t like her. Even when she was down, or depressed, Ruth hadn’t seen her leave a meal. She was usually a comfort eater. Ruth didn’t blame her for that. There were so few actual pleasures here that food became really important to a lot of people.
She stood by the small window, staring into the far distance as Ruth wondered what to do with the leftovers. Ruth was full, and she couldn’t just leave it in case it attracted more vermin. Someone would be here with lunch soon too.
Ruth bagged it all up as best she could. Maybe she could hang the bag somewhere? She didn’t like the idea of giving it back. Not when they were stuck in here by themselves, and relying on other people to eat.
“You’re definitely not hungry?” Ruth asked her.
Mary didn’t reply. She kept staring straight ahead. That wasn’t like her either. To shut Ruth out like this. To not eat.
“Mary?”
Still nothing.
Ruth walked over to where she was standing. “View kind of sucks.”
No reaction to that either. Mary didn’t look at her. It was as if nothing was registering anymore. She decided to try something else.
“I need you to be here for me too,” she told Mary.
That got a reaction. Slowly, Mary turned her head to look at her. “This would be easier for you if I wasn’t here. It would be easier for everyone.”
43
Lock had been surprised to find Jennifer Oates’ family living so near to Broken Ridge. It was a little over an hour’s drive away. In this part of the country, with its vast spaces, and meager population, that qualified as close by.
He used the time alone to work through a range of scenarios and how he would manage them. If it came down to it, and Ty thought that Ruth Price was in immediate danger, they could remove her from Broken Ridge. Perhaps they could even use what they already knew about the place as leverage. Leverage that would ensure that law enforcement wasn’t involved.
Ruth would have to be returned to her mother. Lock would insist upon that. He would even help Don’s ex-wife to find an alternative program for her daughter. One that checked out.
At the house, Lock parked up next to a black Minivan, and got out. Two dogs greeted his arrival, running alongside the car, tails wagging, excited at the arrival of a visitor.
Jennifer’s mother, Patricia Oates, was standing on the porch, waiting for him. The dogs hurtled around his ankles in circles, wrestling with each other, as he picked his way through the canine mayhem.
Patricia called them to her. They raced up the steps and onto the porch. Lock followed them at a more sedate pace.
“Sorry about them. We don’t get many visitors.”
“No problem. I’m a dog guy,” said Lock. “Thank you for taking the time to see me. I appreciate it.”
Patricia Oates nodded. “Please, take a seat.”
Lock sunk into a chair opposite as Patricia also sat down, the two dogs arranging themselves at her feet, tails still wagging.
“Sorry,” she said. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Some water? Juice?”
“No, thank you. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”
“You wanted to ask me about Jenny?”
“Yes,” said Lock.
“Is your husband joining us?”
“No, he’s out. Visiting with a friend.”
He quickly gave her the same story that he’d sold the Sheriff. This time he felt bad for the deception.
When he had finished, Patricia Oates looked up. “I would say your client should keep looking. I wouldn’t recommend that place to my worst enemy. Not after what happened.”
This was the part of the conversation that Lock had been dreading. He knew how hard it must be for this woman to re-visit the events surrounding her daughter’s death. It wasn’t something he would ask anyone to do lightly. Lock had his own ghosts. He knew how painful losing someone close to you was. It was an agony like no other.
“I know this is difficult for you,” he said. “But if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to ask you about the events surrounding your daughter’s death.”
Her look sharpened. “Why?”
“Because since I started looking into Broken Ridge on behalf of my client, I’ve become concerned that anyone is sending their child there.”
That wasn’t a lie. He was. Once you peeled past this glossy brochures and slick website, there was a lot to be concerned about. It wasn’t just Broken Ridge either. There were plenty of other institutions like it, some public, but most of them private.
Patricia sank back into her chair. “That’s good to know. For the longest time we were told we were being paranoid. That we had to find someone to blame.”
“I’ve read the official accounts,” he told her. “But I’d like to hear what you believe happened with your daughter.”
She got up from the chair. “In that case, you’d better come inside. I’m going to need something a little stronger than coffee.”
Lock followed her inside. He sat in the living room and petted the two dogs as Patricia made him coffee and got herself a glass of wine. He didn’t condone middle of the day drinking, but he could hardly blame her for needing one.
He studied the silver-framed family photographs scattered around the room. Jennifer featured in most of them, either with her mom, her dad or her older sister, or all of them together as a family group.
As a collection, there was an eerie quality to them. Jennifer remained in freeze frame at the age she had died, while in later photographs, everyone else aged, put on weight, and gathered wrinkles. Fashions changed. Time moved on. Only their daughter remained unchanged.
Patricia emerged from the kitchen with a mug of coffee and a glass of white wine for herself. She handed the mug to Lock. “Thank you.”
The dogs re-arranged themselves at her feet as she sat in a club chair next to the empty fireplace. “Jenny’s father is suffering from Alzheimers. Half the time he still thinks she’s alive.” She sighed. “I don’t know whether it’s a blessing or a curse.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“He took what happened really hard. He blamed himself. He was the one who thought sending her there would be good for her.”
Lock could imagine how the guilt of that decision would weigh on someone. Not that her father would have imagined any of what followed.
“I tried to tell him he couldn’t have known,” Patricia said. “But what was the point? He’d already convinced himself that it was his fault.”
“And now?”
“He still thinks she’s there.”
“At Broken Ridge?”
She nodded.
Lock sipped at his coffee. He had questions, but he was having trouble getting to them. Coming here, sitting in this room with a woman who had lost her daughter and had partly lost her husband, it all seemed intrusive.
“Your other daughter?” Lock said finally.
“She lives in Phoenix with her husband. She doesn’t like to talk about it.”
“She was older?”
“By three years. They were close, but very different.”
“Different how?”
“Well, Lacey was very well behaved. Good grades.
Never acted out. Never argued with us. Never gave us any cause for worry. Just very level headed.”
“And Jennifer?”
Patricia took a gulp of wine. She cleared her throat before she spoke. “Excuse me.” She had another sip of wine. “Jennifer was wild. Even when she was little. You know how toddlers can have tantrums? Well, she was like that right through. Don’t get me wrong, she could be a sweetheart. But she acted out. And when she hit fourteen, fifteen, it went to a whole other level. Drinking. Parties. Boyfriends. That was why we decided that we had to do something. We just couldn’t cope anymore.”
It was a familiar story to Lock. Some kids were just wild. It wasn’t necessarily their parents fault. That was just how they were. For most it was a phase. But if you were a parent or guardian in the middle of it, there was no way of knowing that. Not when you were in the middle of the storm.
“It put a strain on our marriage,” continued Patricia. “And it was starting to affect Lacey. Then, about three months before we sent Jennifer to Broken Ridge, three of her friends were killed. They’d been drinking and took someone’s car without permission. It really freaked us out. It could have been Jenny in that car. That was when we felt like if we didn’t do something that we’d not be doing our job. we didn’t have the know how, so we tried to find people who did.”
“I don’t think anyone would blame you for making the decision you did,” said Lock.
“Ironic, huh?” said Patricia. “We sent Jenny away to stop something bad happening to her.”
“Tell me about your experience of Broken Ridge,” Lock asked.
Patricia shrugged. The dogs at her feet stirred a little before settling themselves again. “They said all the right things. All the things that people in our position wanted to hear.”
“Which where?”
“That we’d made the right decision by contacting them. That they’d dealt with far worse situations. That they could turn Jenny around. That they could get her back on track. Everything we wanted, they promised. So, we re-mortgaged our home, and drove her there ourselves.” Patricia put down her glass of wine on a side table. “She cried the whole way. Told us that she’d behave. It was the hardest thing I ever did having to leave her there.”
She stopped to correct herself. “Second hardest.”
Lock guessed that burying her daughter took the number one spot. Not that he needed to ask or that she needed to say it out loud.
“That was part of the reason we moved out here. So we could be closer to her after she died. Does that sound crazy?”
He shook his head. “No, it doesn’t sound crazy. It sounds human.”
She was close to tears now. Much more wine and Lock wasn’t sure how much more he would be able to get out of her before she broke down entirely.
“Can I ask you what you think happened to her daughter?”
She looked up at him. The tears began to dissolve, evaporating in anger. “I think they killed her.”
“You mean drove her to kill herself?” Lock said.
“No. I think she was murdered, and then they tried to make it look like suicide.”
44
Gretchen pushed the door open, and walked into the room. Her hands were already slick with sweat. But she couldn’t be at rest until she had done this. She had to know.
It was too much of a coincidence. Or was it? All she knew was that she couldn’t risk having a spy in their midst. Not right now.
She had made a promise to her father before he died that she would continue his good work. That she wouldn’t allow anything, or anyone, to disrupt what he had started.
He had warned her then that there were dark forces who would try to do just that. He had been right. There were.
Gently, so it didn’t make a noise, she closed the door behind her. She took a deep breath.
How would she explain being here if someone walked in? She would think of something. She could tell them that she wanted to make sure everything was as it should be. That there newest member of staff had everything he needed. Yes, that would work.
She crossed quickly to the other side of the room. She bent down, and opened the bag. All the while she listened for the sound of footfalls beyond the door.
It was quiet. Everyone was either in class or finishing lunch. That was where he would be. As long as she was quick no one would suspect a thing. And what was wrong with what she was doing anyway? It was in the best interests of everyone to make sure they weren’t harboring a troublemaker.
Her hand slid inside the bag, pushing away the clothes that lay neatly folded on top. She touched something hard. Plastic. A box of some kind.
Her breath caught in her throat as she lifted it out and laid it on the floor. It was locked. But she knew what was inside. She wasn’t stupid.
She placed it back in the bag. She placed the clothes on top. She opened one of the side pockets, and peered inside.
More evidence.
Her instincts had been right.
The question now was how best to handle this? Confront him with what she’d found? Call the Sheriff? Terminate his employment?
Now of those seemed satisfactory. Someone coming here to spy on them deserved to be punished. To be made an example of so that perhaps in future anyone else would think twice.
She had dealt with troublemakers before. Pushing them out often caused more problems. They went to the press. They agitated. They told lies and made up stories.
No, she would bide her time. She would watch the watcher.
She started at the sound of someone outside in the corridor. Quickly, she closed the side pocket, and stood up.
Whoever was outside, walked past. The box she’d found troubled her. It meant that whoever this was meant business. She knew what she had to do. She would take it with her. See if they challenged her when they noticed it was gone.
She went back to the bag. Her hand reached inside, feeling for the carry handle.
45
Ty figured that he had about twenty minutes of free time between finishing lunch and being back into the dorm classroom to supervise the boys’ study. Enough time to go check out the barn.
He got up from the table where he’d been sitting with the boys from his dorm. Chris saw him, and got up from where he was sitting.
“Hey, how you finding it so far?” he asked Ty.
“Good,” said Ty, trying to close the conversation down.
Ty dumped his tray on one of the metal racks, and headed for the door. Chris followed him. This was like having a shadow.
“You got a couple of minutes? I wanted to ask you a couple of things about being in the Marine Corps.”
“I’m kinda busy now, Chris. Catch you after dinner?”
“Sure, sure. It’s no biggie.”
Ty strode past him and out of the dining hall. He headed down the corridor, pushed open the door and emerged into the bright sunshine. He hung a left, skirting around the outside of the building, and started towards the barn.
He was taking a risk. If he was seen, it would appear suspicious. Especially as he had already run down to the road to make a call earlier in the day.
If anyone asked him about it, he would blame his natural curiosity. He was pretty sure that Chris would buy that. Chris would probably buy any line that Ty fed him. As long as he was back in time to take care of his duties, he didn’t see why there should be a problem.
About two hundred yards from the dining hall he heard someone calling after him.
“Hey! Wait up!”
He turned to see Rachel. She was carrying a couple of canvas shopping bags and heading towards him. He stopped to allow her to catch up.
“Where you headed?” she asked him.
He noticed that she was wearing make up. A smear of lipstick and some eyeliner. He was fairly certain the girls were prohibited from having make up in their possession, never mind putting it on.
“Just stretching my legs,” he said. “You?”
She held up the ba
gs. “Taking Ruth and Mary some lunch. Want to come with me?”
The perfect alibi. Ty smiled. “Sure, I can do that.”
They began walking. “You want me to take those?” he asked her.
“Thanks,” Rachel beamed. “You’re probably a lot stronger than me.”
There was a vibe off her that made him uncomfortable. It was the way she looked at him. He wouldn’t have minded that kind of look if she’d been ten years older. But she wasn’t. She was still a kid, whether she realized it or not.
Ty took the bags, and kept moving. She struggled to keep pace with him. That was the idea. It was more difficult to bat your eyelids at someone if you were having to run to keep pace with them.
“So, Mr Cross? You married?”
Oh boy, thought Ty. This kid is something else.
“Nope.”
“Girlfriend?”
Ty stopped and turned towards her. “You think you should be asking me personal questions like this?”
“Just being polite,” said Rachel, the picture of innocence.
“Uh huh.”
“I dated a black guy back in high school,” she said.
Now Ty was really uncomfortable. “Excuse me?”
Her face flushed crimson red. “Just saying. I’m not prejudiced.”
“I didn’t think you were.”
“He was older too,” she added.
Ty put the bags on the ground. “Enough. For one thing, I’m old enough to be your father. For another, I work here, and you’re a student. Which makes this an entirely inappropriate conversation.”
“Maybe you should tell Chris that.”
“Tell him what?”
“About me being a student and it being inappropriate.”
For a second Ty wasn’t sure how to respond. Had she just told him she was sleeping with Chris?
“Although the way he’s been looking at you since you arrived,” she went on, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Maybe I have some competition. Although, I can definitely see the attraction.”