by A. O. Peart
“Is Ed here with you?”
“Yes. And Max is too.”
And five other criminals. That means four for each of us, Jack and myself. That was nothing, unless the other members of the club, as Vince cutely called it, were much better trained than he was. “Where are the others?”
“Back by the trucks, waiting for me.”
“Did they send you here for reconnaissance?”
“Yes.”
So if he wouldn’t come back soon, the hell would break lose faster. Or maybe it wouldn’t. I had a plan, but first there was something else I needed to ask Vince. “Who killed Helen?”
His eyes went huge, and his mouth opened in a silent “a”. I was done with playing nice. I stuffed the barrel of my pistol in his mouth, although I kept my finger off the trigger. He couldn’t see that though; it was too dark in the woods. “I’m gonna count to three and then I’ll remove the gun for exactly three seconds. If you don’t tell me the truth, I will kill you.”
He shook so badly that his teeth clattered on the metal of my M9. I pulled the pistol out. “One. Two…Thr—”
“Wait! Wait, wait, wait.” Vince’s hands went up in a mollifying motion. “I wasn’t there. I swear to God. I wasn’t. But the guys talked… most of them are college kids, very rich, spoiled, dumb assholes. There was a party in some dormitory. They got totally messed up on booze and drugs. Some girls were there too, but they disappeared on them. So the guys went to look for more fun right outside the campus. It was all over the news. Max didn’t go with them, but Ed did. Max got really pissed. He punched Ed in the face, broke his nose. They fought until we separated them. Ed yelled for everyone to fuck off. He said that his father will take care of everything.”
“Was it Ed who killed Helen?”
Vince shriveled and started to tremble again. “Yes,” he whispered. “He cut her throat after they raped her.”
I wanted to hit him so badly. I was very angry and repulsed. If I’ve ever had any faith in the goodness of human race, this wasn’t the time. I needed more information though. The crucial information. Besides, Vince wasn’t really involved in that nasty business with poor Helen. Unless the little fucker was lying.
“Who’s Ed’s father?”
“I… I can’t—”
“Who is he?” I roared, shoving my gun back in his mouth. “Should I say three? I’m about to, and then your pea-sized brain will get fucking blasted through the back of your scull, you worthless shit.”
Tears ran down his cheeks. He nodded, and I withdrew the gun, but I kept it trained on his face.
“Speak!”
“Senator Kiersch.”
Great. Fucking just great. A politician… a Senator for fuck sake, involved in covering a murder, a gang rape, and the multiple attempts of another murder, plus destruction of the federal property. Nice.
“How did Ed and Max get the location info? Who gave it to them?” I asked.
“The FBI. Senator Kiersch has someone in there… a snitch. That’s how we knew about the safe house in Portland, and about here.”
Exactly the way Lisbeth suspected. One thought about Lisbeth alone in the house set my nerves back on fire. Jack was close by, but I didn’t know what exactly was happening around there. I had to get to her fast. I couldn’t let them beat me to it. Lisbeth needed me. And I needed her to stay alive. To stay…
“Turn onto your stomach,” I commended.
“Why? What are you doing?”
“Saving your life.”
Vince lay down and obediently rolled over onto his stomach. I pulled the handcuffs from my pocket and yanked his arms back. When he protested, I told him to shut up. I secured his wrists with the handcuffs to the trunk of a nearby bush.
Next, I ripped a piece of his t-shirt, grasped his hair, and pulled his head back to gag him. He was squealing in a high-pitched voice, shaking his head.
“Stop that. It’s for your own protection. If your buddies find you, they won’t hesitate to end your pitiful existence. So shut up and lay still.”
That did him in. His eyes were huge. He was breathing shallow and fast through his nose.
I took off toward the cabin. About thirty yards away, I radioed Jack in. “Jack.”
“Yeah. Nothing new.”
“One secured.”
We didn’t elaborate, in case someone was using the same radio frequency as we were.
“Good. I feel sorry for the subject already.”
Jack’s sense of humor was ever-existing, even in times of high alert or otherwise fucked up situations. I grinned to myself.
“I’m heading your way.”
“Okay. Over.”
I put the radio back in my pocket and secured the flap. I walked toward the cabin, my ears and the night-vision-amplified eyes focused on the surroundings. At the edge of the woods, I paused, waiting and observing. Walking slowly out into the open didn’t appeal to me, in case Vince’s buddies were here and not waiting by the truck, as he said they were. Running full-speed toward Jack wasn’t ideal either. I couldn’t be sure where he was exactly, and he didn’t know what direction I was coming from.
I whistled quietly—a long, single note. Jack whistled right back from the bushes somewhere by the water. I repeated the whistle, but this time twice. This was our code back from when we both served at the Marine Corps. It meant don’t fucking shoot me. I’m moving toward you.
He answered with a single note. That meant he acknowledged. I slid my night goggles off, scanned the perimeter in front of me once again, and then, half-crouching, ran toward the spot where Jack was hidden. I found him behind some thick, flowering pink bush, squatting amidst the blossoms.
“Looking pretty in pink.” I grinned. There were little petals stuck to his short, spiky hair.
“Jealous?” He grinned back.
“How is she?” I nodded in the direction of the cabin.
“Quiet and still. Haven’t heard a thing. No movement either.”
I told Jack about Vince and what I learned from him. I watched my best friend’s face changing into that of loathing and anger. Our reactions were so similar.
“So there are seven of them left. We could use the element of surprise and quickly take care of them,” Jack deducted.
“Agreed. Let’s check on Vince on the way there. I want him alive for the investigation.”
Chapter Twenty Seven
LISBETH
Sitting hidden in the cabin was unnerving. I had the gun, but I didn’t have the confidence to use it. There were too many bad experiences in my childhood; too many mistakes; too many horrors. I missed Jan and his gentle, sweet ways. He got me out of the shitty hole the life dropped me in. He was my God-sent savior. After Jan died, I suppressed most of the memories about him though. They were too painful to relive. But I remembered one thing—the promise I made to him to never go back to my past and to make something of myself.
And now I held a gun in my hand, just the way I have so many times years ago. Back then, it seemed like a different life; like someone else’s life. Spending so much time around crime then desensitized me to it. I came to accept it as the most necessary part of my life, because that’s where my friends were, and that’s where the food money was coming from.
This time around though, the big difference was that I wasn’t breaking the law; I wasn’t dealing drugs or hanging out on the streets with my teenage criminals friends. Now, I was just trying to stay alive. And my hands were much larger than before.
Ethan told me not to get close to the windows. But I had to see what was going on. I went to the second floor and locked myself inside one of the lush bedrooms. From there, I had a clear view at the backyard and the waterfront. Even though it was already dark outside, the lights around the cabin made it easy to see everything.
Every time the party boats shot a new firework, my eyes would follow it, captivated, and for a moment I would forget the horrors of the present. The people on these boats couldn’t have the slightest idea
what was going on here. How strange was for these two worlds to run parallel to one another—us, hunted and hunting, and them—enjoying simple pleasures, completely oblivious to our life-and-death struggle.
I saw Jack running in the backyard and then squatting behind a short ornamental tree. Where was Ethan? Thinking of Ethan made my heart squeeze in pain. What if something happens to him? The emotion I felt at that thought was so strong, it scared and confused me. I cared for him! I truly did, and not in a “regular” way I would for another human being. It was much more. But before I could even try to understand it, Jack sprinted to the left and hid behind a large bush covered in pink blossoms. There was a gun in his hand. A sheathed knife hung from his belt, additionally strapped around his thigh. Ethan had a similar knife when he left the cabin.
No sign of Ethan. Where was he? Was he okay? I wanted at least to know he was okay. I needed to somehow dull my emotions or I was running into the danger of another panic attack. Taking a few long, cleansing breaths, I thought about Jan and his wise, gentle way of living. He thought me to be a better person; he installed the completely different values in me. I had to carry on his legacy. I had to stay focused, calm, and never let the evil back into my life. Would Jan approve of this gun in my hands now? Yes, but only because I would use it in self-defense.
I imagined Jan’s spirit close by, watching over me, calming me. Maybe he was. What would he want me to do now? Suddenly, a thought came to mind—the FBI cards! I had to call Special Agent Drasco or Special Agent Cornell! Ethan said the FBI already knew about us staying here, because of my cell phone. But maybe they thought we were still at Ethan’s and not at Ryley’s cabin? I had to let them know, but then again—who was the snitch? One of them?
What should I do? I had to do something to bring some help in. Maybe I should call the police? What would I tell them? Would they believe me? Or would they dismiss this as a prank call? No, they wouldn’t dismiss it. I didn’t think so. But they probably didn’t know about my case. It was classified by the FBI.
I paced around the room, the gun in my hand. This was probably the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make, because so many lives depended on it. Special Agent Drasco’s words reverberated in my mind to call him or Cornell at any time of a day or night. I ran downstairs to get the card out of my backpack. There it was, safely tucked in one of the smaller front pockets.
I looked around, trying to locate a landline phone. Ethan didn’t have one in his cabin. I guessed, a cell phone was always enough for him. And his handheld two-way radio. But this luxurious place wouldn’t be complete without such a basic staple as a stationary phone. I could’ve used my cell phone, but with the FBI and who-knew-who-else tracing the calls, I felt safer using the landline. Although, did it really matter? Maybe they had this cabin tapped already too.
I finally spotted a phone on a small side table by the row of back windows. I squeezed myself in the corner, sat on the floor, and picked up the receiver. The dial tone hastened me to action. My hand shook when I pressed the phone numbers on the keypad.
After two rings, a male voice said on the other side, “Special Agent Drasco.”
“It’s me, Gloria Glasson,” I rushed breathlessly. My heart was hammering in my chest, my teeth chattering. Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic!
“Gloria? Are you okay? Where exactly are you?” his tone changed from the professional, held-back one to anxious.
“What? You don’t know where I am?”
There was a brief silence on the line, as if he hesitated. Finally he asked again, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, but I need help. You know that, right?” I was trying to get him to confess the FBI spy tactics.
He sighed. “What do you want me to say, Gloria? We only have your best interest in mind.”
“But you know I’m in danger again! They are coming. Actually, they are already here!” I shouted, unable to remain calm anymore. “And you’re pretending you don’t know shit. Quit your fucking games. Are we on the same page, or are you against me?”
“Wow, wow. Wait a minute. What are you talking about? What’s going on? Who’s there?”
I was stunned. Either he was a good actor, or he really didn’t know. But he was on my case, right? So what did he know? “I’m aware of the FBI vehicle with stingray,” I chanced. I was grasping at the straws, making stuff up, hoping I was right. The stingray was Ethan’s assumption. We didn’t have a proof.
But that was the right move, because Drasco hesitated for even longer than before. When he spoke again, his voice was measured, “Did you actually see the van?”
Why did he even ask that? What did that matter if I saw it or not? I didn’t have time for such crap. “What the hell does that matter? You guys know exactly where I am, so stop pretending and get your ass over here.”
“I’m on my way.” His voice was controlled. I didn’t expect that answer.
“You are?” But who was the informer? What if it was Drasco? “Is Special Agent Cornell with you?”
“Yes, he is.”
“I want to talk with him,” I demanded.
Cornell came on the line. “Gloria. We’ll be there soon. Will you reconsider the Bureau’s protection once again?”
“Is that why you’re coming here? To chat with me about returning into the witness protection program?” What game did they both play? Were they on it together—two moles instead of one?
“No, not only. I can’t discuss anything else on the phone, Gloria. But we are coming to help. Stay put, please.”
This was puzzling, and I still didn’t learn much. I was getting really angry. Maybe that was better than scared out of my mind. “Okay. Hurry.” I hung up, releasing a long string of profanities.
And then, with the corner of my eye I saw a flash of movement outside. Ethan! Good God, Ethan! He was running toward Jack’s hiding spot. He was okay. I wanted to pound on the window and scream in happiness. I didn’t of course. But I immediately felt lighter and upbeat. It was as if a ray of light cut through some damn darkness. A moment later both Ethan and Jack crept out from behind the bush. They stayed low to the ground, focused, muscles tensed. I watched them anxiously from the window in the corner of the cabin.
When they disappeared from my vision, my heart sank, and I rushed to the front of the house. There were two windows close to the front door. I peeked out and spotted them after a moment hidden behind a tree. “Where are they going?” I whispered to myself, my eyes huge. They ran to the next tree and then to another bush. Clearly, their destination laid somewhere past the driveway.
I stayed mostly hidden, carefully peeking through the window. Ethan and Jack cut through the driveway and disappeared in the woods to the left. Another firework whistled and exploded in the night sky. And then I got an idea. I rushed back to the phone and dialed 411, the directory assistance. When a bored-sounding female voice answered, I asked for the local police station direct number. A moment later, I was punching it on the keypad.
“Hello, my name is Gloria Glass. I’m staying at one of the cabins by the Devil’s Lake. I’m calling to report a disturbance. There is a lot of loud noise coming from some boats in the middle of the Lake. They are shooting big fireworks too.”
“Yes, Ma’am. We just received two other phone calls about this issue. The patrol car is on its way.”
One patrol car? That means what, one, maybe two cops at the most? But there was no point in demanding them to send more officers. That request would be denied, so I just said, “Thank you,” and hung up.
I pulled my hoodie from my backpack, put it on, and stuffed the gun in my pocket. I scribbled on a napkin I found on the table: COPS ARE ON THE WAY. I’M HEADING OUT TO THE BOATS. GLORIA. He will be furious with me for taking such a risky step. I was supposed to stay inside and hide. But what if the gang blew this cabin up just like they did with the warehouse? I had a valid reason to leave the cabin.
Taking the same exit route as Ethan did earlier, was the option t
hat appealed to me the most. I didn’t want to go through the front door. Thinking about Ethan calmed down my nerves. He had that effect on me, no matter how much he infuriated me at the same time. Was that called a soft spot? No, I was afraid it was more. Much more.
I rushed to the garage, opened the side door, and peeked outside. The lights made it easy to see but only to the edge of the woods. I was scared, but I wouldn’t let myself even think of that. The plan was to run toward the shore, close to the boats. This wasn’t a big town, so the police station couldn’t be far. They would be here soon, right? I banked on that thought. Quietly, I closed the door behind me, checking if it locked. It did. Good. I hoped Ethan had the key on him in case he needed to get back inside. Well, Jack had one for sure. I pushed all the thoughts about Ethan out of my mind. Remembering his touch, his dark, serious eyes, his amazing, knees-weakening kiss made my focus fuzzy.
Now my best bet was to dig up the mind of the sixteen-year-old Lisbeth from the darkest corners of my memory; Lisbeth who delivered drugs to earn living, carried a gun, knew how to fool the other street smarts and the cops; Lisbeth who was deceitful and determined; Lisbeth whose only goal was to survive one day at the time.
I felt strangely calm, all traces of my anxiety gone. I became focused and watchful. The pistol in my hand was on safety, but it would just take a flick of my thumb to fix that. I didn’t like running with the ready-to-fire weapon. I’ve seen too many friends back in time who shot themselves by accident. But I cocked it, so that step was out of the way in the event I had to defend myself quickly.
The trees rushed at me. I ran, weaving between them, to the shore, to the boats. The cops haven’t arrived just yet, because the party was still loud, and the fireworks kept bursting in colors in the sky above. They lightened my path in the prolonged flicker of light. I was getting closer. A little more and I would stand on the shore directly in front of the boats. There must have been people there, watching the fireworks either in awe or in annoyance—the neighbors and the tourists. Soon the cops would show up. Very soon. The lights from the nearby cabins filtered through the trees, so even between the fireworks I could still see where I was going.