by Sean Black
The ground fell away as Ty kept running. The slope would offer him some protection. He kept moving in a broad sweep. Now he was closing in on the passenger side of the pick up.
Looking up, he couldn’t see the shooter. He had disappeared.
Maybe he had got back in the back. Or he was hunkered down behind the truck, waiting for Ty to get into range and give him a shot that no one would miss.
Ty hit the ground again. Just because he couldn’t see the shooter didn’t mean that the shooter couldn’t see him. Standing in place would have made the guy’s job a lot easier than Ty planned on making it.
He could make it out the side of the truck about thirty yards in front of him. He scanned the side window of the cab. It looked empty.
Then he saw the shooter’s legs. He was standing on the driver’s side. He seemed to be waiting.
Ty stayed put. He looked around for Ruth. She was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she had slipped back inside the barn. Or made a run for one of the dormitories.
The shooter was on the move again. He edged towards the back of the truck.
Ty crawled forward on his hands and knees in the opposite direction. If he could get behind the shooter he’d have some kind of a chance.
The shooter stopped. He switched direction once again. He marched back to the front of the truck.
He kept coming. The gun was down by his side, but he was heading straight for Ty. Ty was stuck in no man’s land. He didn’t have enough distance to make the next shot tough, and he wasn’t close enough to rush the gunman. With no cover and no options, it was only a matter of time.
But he did have one thing going for him. He could now see who was about to kill him.
Slowly, Ty got to his feet. He held up his arms in surrender. The shooter kept coming towards him, the gun down by his side.
There was no more than twenty feet between them. Ty stood alone,unarmed, naked from the waist up, and bleeding.
Chris Fontaine kept coming towards him. “Why’d you do it?” he said.
“Why’d I do what?” Ty asked.
Chris stopped and shook his head. “Come on, man. You know. Don’t blame dumb. Why’d you lie to me?”
59
Lock slid into a corner booth at the diner. He made sure he was facing the door. If the bearded man with gun had been waiting for him, he didn’t want to take any chances. Donald Price sat opposite. He glanced at the menu and tossed it back down on the table top as a waiter headed over.
“Coffee,” Don told him.
“Make that two,” said Lock.
Apart from the two of them, only one other table was occupied. According to the sign on the door, the place was due to the close for the evening in another hour.
“So?” said Lock.
Don Price knew what he was being asked. There was only one question that Lock would have. What the hell was he doing here when he’d been told repeatedly to stay away.
“I can’t do this,” said Don. “I know you’ve told me that I shouldn’t interfere, but this is my daughter we’re talking about. If something happened to her, I’d never be able to forgive myself.”
Lock waited. He wanted to make sure that Don had said everything he had to say before he made any comment.
“Ty’s with her. She’s fine.”
“Is she? You said yourself that there could be long term psychological damage. I’ve read up on some of these places. They use some of the same methods we use to break down detainees at black sites. You think I should just stand by and let them do that to Ruth?”
It was clear that Don wasn’t about to be talked round. He hadn’t come all this way to have a chat. The plan was going to have to change.
“Tell me what you’d like to do,” Lock said to him.
Don shot him a look that gave Lock chills. “What I’d like to do?”
“Okay,” said Lock, “Let me re-phrase that. What do you want to do?”
Don laid his hands, palm down, on the table. “I want to get Ruth the hell out of here. That’s what I want to do. Did you know that a girl around my daughter’s age killed herself there?”
Lock glanced out of the window as a Sheriff Department’s patrol car pulled into the parking lot and parked up next to his Explorer. For once he found their presence more reassuring than threatening.
“Okay,” said Lock. “I’ll help you as far as I can.”
Don Price glared at him. “What the hell does that mean? As far as you can? I contacted you because everyone told me that you get results. If I’d wanted a boy scout working for me, there are plenty of people out there who could have come a lot cheaper than you.”
The waiter arrived with their coffee. He set down the two cups and swiftly retreated back to the counter. Right now Don Price was giving off waves of rage.
“Am I allowed to make a suggestion?”
“Go for it,” said Don.
“Before we go for the nuclear option with all that entails. Let me speak to Sandra. See if I can’t persuade her to withdraw Ruth from Broken Ridge.”
“There’s no way she’ll agree to that. Especially not if she knows that I’m the one behind it.”
“So, we don’t tell her. I can tell her I’ve been asked to look into the place by another concerned parent and I’m contacting other parents to see what they’ve heard. If that doesn’t work I have a reporter at the Washington Post doing some digging too. Maybe she could be persuaded to contact your ex.”
“And how long would that all take? Listen to me, this has gone on long enough as it is. Every day Ruth’s in that place is another day too many.”
Lock leaned over the table towards Don. The crusier was still parked next to his Explorer, but the patrol cop hadn’t got out.
“You see that cop out there,” Lock said to Don. “You take Ruth out without your wife’s permission and he’s going to arrest you. You’ll go to jail, and Ruth will go right back to Broken Ridge. Why don’t you ask me how I know that’s how it’ll go down?”
“Why don’t you just tell me?”
Lock explained about the family connection to the local Sheriff, and to the money that Broken Ridge kicked across to he election campaigns.
Don took a sip of coffee. He swiped at his eyes. Lock couldn’t be sure, but he thought Don was crying.
“She’s my daughter. I can’t just leave her to rot away.”
“I’m not asking you to,” said Lock. He dug out his cell phone. “Let me call Sandra. If I don’t get anywhere then we can talk about the other options.”
Don looked at him, his eyes wet. “Okay.”
“You’re doing the right thing here. Believe me, another night or two isn’t about to make a difference.”
60
It was now or never. Ruth had never been surer of anything in her life. She didn’t know what the argument between Chris and the new guy was about. But it didn’t look like it was about to end well, and when it did there was no way of knowing what Chris would do next.
If she and Mary stayed they would be sitting ducks. Witnesses to a cold blooded murder. And there was no way either Chris or Gretchen would allow any witnesses. Broken Ridge would be over.
In the gloom of the barn, Ruth knelt down next to Mary. “How’s your arm?”
Mary’s voice barely rose above a whisper. “I think it’s stopped bleeding.”
“Okay, that’s good, because we need to get out of here.”
“I can’t,” said Mary. “My ankle still hurts. I’d only slow you down.”
Ruth reached down and grabbed under Mary’s armpit. She hauled her up onto her feet. “I’m not leaving you.”
Mary didn’t move. Ruth reached over and pushed away a strand of hair that had fallen over her eyes. “Listen to me. If we don’t get out of here, we are dead. You understand?”
Something flickered across Mary’s face. It looked like fear. As far as Ruth could see, that was good. Mary hurting herself and talking about suicide was one thing. Actually confronting death was something
else. It confirmed to Ruth what she’d suspected all along. Mary’s self harming was a cry for help, not a death wish.
“You don’t want to die, do you?” Ruth pressed.
“No.”
“Good. And neither do I.”
She led Mary gently by the hand across to the splintered door. She could hear the two men talking not too far away, their words drowned out by the rumble of the pick up truck’s engine.
“Okay, once we get out, stay close to me, and don’t pay any attention to anything else.”
Mary nodded, her eyes fixed on the floor. “Where are we going to go?”
“We’re going to get down to the road. Then we’re going to see if we can hitch a ride.”
Even to Ruth’s own ears it didn’t sound like much of a plan. But it was the only one she had.
Keeping Mary’s hand in hers, she edged towards the barn door. She slipped through the narrow gap, pulling Mary with her. Staying close to the barn, they slipped out and down the side.
Ruth stopped at the corner. She glanced back towards the pick up truck. Her heart leapt into her throat as she saw Chris standing over the man who had been the only one to help them. He was on his knees, head bowed down towards the ground. Chris had the muzzle of the gun pressed into the top of the man’s head, his finger poised on the trigger.
61
Even if it meant waking up his ex-wife at an unnatural hour, and perhaps because that’s exactly what it would do, Don Price wanted Lock to make the call immediately. Reluctantly, Lock agreed. They finished their coffee, paid the check, and headed back outside. The patrol car was gone. Perhaps its presence had been a simple coincidence, not a fresh reminder that Lock had worn out his welcome in the small town.
Lock leaned against the driver’s door of the Explorer, and tapped the call button on his cell phone screen. It took a moment for the call to connect. It rang three times and went to voicemail.
He held up the cell phone so that Don Price could hear the message. “Voicemail,” said Lock.
He pulled the phone back, and was about to leave his name and number when Sandra picked up. She sounded groggy. “Hello?”
Lock introduced himself, using his real name this time. He apologized for the lateness of the call and launched into his pitch. He fudged his interest in Broken Ridge without directly lying. He told her that he’d been hired by the parent of a student at Broken Ridge (true), who was concerned about the welfare of their child (true). He was canvassing other parents to see if they’d experienced any reason for concern.
Sandra listened patiently to everything he told her. “Well, I’lll certainly look into it,” she told him. “But everything seems fine so far. I get a letter from my daughter once a week. I’m sure if she was having problems she’d tell me.”
Lock probed a little more. He was getting nowhere. Next to him, Don Price was getting more and more agitated.
“Did you tell her about the kid who died? The girl?”
Lock hit the mute button so that she wouldn’t pick up the voice of her ex-husband in the background. “I swear, you interrupt me one more time, and I’m going to end this call right now.”
“Okay, okay, but can you at least get her to call the school and ask to speak to Ruth.”
“Hello? Are you still there?” Sandra asked.
He tapped off the mute function. “Yes, sorry, I’m here.”
“You really think I should be worried?”
She sounded anxious.
Lock took a breath. “I don’t wish to alarm you, but yes, I think there is cause for concern about how safe the students at Broken Ridge are. You know that as a private company it’s not subject to the usual oversights and checks that a state high school or state or federal facility would be?”
She hesitated. She wasn’t aware of that, but she likely wasn’t going to admit to her ignorance.
“There have also been a couple of students die while at Broken Ridge.”
“Die?”
Now she really was starting to sound panicked. Lock shot Don a thumbs up.
“Yes.”
He quickly ran through the story of Jennifer Oates and her parent’s suspicions that it hadn’t been a suicide. “But even if she did take her own life that still leaves a lot of questions over how they handled looking after someone who was vulnerable.”
“Mr Lock, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
On the other end of the line, Sandra paused. “How much is my husband paying you to try to undermine me like this?”
The question took Lock aback. She hadn’t given a hint that she knew he was working for her husband through their entire conversation. He wasn’t about to deny it./ It would get him nowhere. It would only antagonize him further. But it did make him wonder how she knew. But that could be a question for another day.
“It doesn’t matter what I’m being paid, Mrs Price.”
“It’s Ms Andrews these days,” she corrected him.
“I was skeptical too. But what I told you about Jennifer, and the other concerns I have. Those are all genuine. I give you my word. I don’t think it’s a safe place for your daughter.”
“Good night, Mr Lock,” she said. “And please don’t contact me again. Oh, and you can tell Don that Ruth’s not going anywhere. And that tomorrow morning I’ll be contacting his boss at the State Department and filing a complaint.”
Lock stared at the call ended screen for a moment. He started to speak. Don cut him off.
“I heard her,” he said.
“How’d she know I was working for you?” Lock asked him.
“The hell if I know.”
62
Gretchen sat at her desk, her head in her hands. She was coming apart. She was on the very edge of the precipice. So was Broken Ridge. Everything her father had worked so hard for was at risk. And it was all her fault for allowing things to spin out of control like she had.
The phone next to her rang. She started at the sound.
She stared at it. Scared to pick it up. Fearful of who it was on the other end of the line.
This was ridiculous, she told herself. She had to gather herself. To get a grip.
She snatched it up. She cleared her throat. She tried to find her sing-song telephone voice. The one that told the world everything was fine.
“Good evening, you’ve reached Broken Ridge, Gretchen Applewhite speaking.”
“I’m sorry to call you this late, Ms Applewhite. This is Sandra Andrews, Ruth Price’s mother.”
Gretchen didn’t say anything.
“Hello? Are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here. How may I help you?”
“You’re probably going to think I’m being silly. I just got a call from my ex-husband. He works at the State Department, and anyway, he’s worried about our daughter.”
Somewhere in the back of Gretchen’s mind a loud siren began to blare. The State Department?
“I feel ridiculous even calling you, but I wonder if perhaps I could speak to Ruth.”
Gretchen tried to think of something. Usually she dealt with situations like this with ease. She would patiently explain to a parent that calls had to pre-arranged. That unscheduled calls disrupted the routine and upset the student. There were a hundred and one ways to deal with a call like this. Especially one like this that was made so late.
All Gretchen needed to do was to explain that all the students were in bed. Asleep.
This time though, she couldn’t find the words. She couldn’t find any words.
She put the phone down on her desk and stared at it. She could hear Ruth’s mother ask if she was there.
The State Department. That meant the Federal government. Suddenly the new staff member and the man in town who’d been asking questions took on an even more sinister resonance. The forces conspiring against them were darker, stronger, more malevolent than even she could have imagined.
Hurriedly, she snatched up the phone, and cut off the call. There was on
ly one thing she could do now. Only one way of saving Broken Ridge. Or at least buying some time.
She would have to move fast.
63
His head bowed, the muzzle of his own gun pressing painfully into the top of his skull, Ty kept his eyes closed and chose what might just be his final words with extreme care. If Chris did pull the trigger, at least it would be a bodyguard’s end.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ty had already watched, Ruth Price, and her friend, Mary, slip out of the barn and into the desert night. The longer he talked, the more distance they’d have from Broken Ridge. And, as a not inconsiderable bonus, the longer he talked, the longer he lived.
There was one other factor at play. Perhaps the most crucial one of all. The longer Chris Fontaine delayed pulling the trigger, the less chance there was that he actually would.
“Can I ask you something, Chris?”
“Go ahead.”
“How’d you figure out I was undercover?”
“I didn’t. Gretchen did.”
Ty took the risk of moving his head so that he was looking up at Chris. It was a strange feeling to be staring down the barrel of your own gun.
“And how did she find out?”
Chris smirked. “You must have thought I was a real hick. Getting taken in by all your Marine Corps bull crap.”
Now Ty had an insight into why Chris was so upset. He felt like Ty had made him look stupid. He’d humiliated him. At least that was how he saw it. It didn’t strike Ty as a good enough reason to murder someone. But then again Ty’s ego wasn’t so fragile that he had to get his rocks off sleeping with underage girls and bossing around a group of spotty teenagers.
“That part wasn’t a lie, Chris. I was in the Marines. Served the tours I told you about. The only thing I lied about was my real name and why I was here. And I couldn’t have exactly told Gretchen the truth about either of those things.”