“I’m not—”
“Denise,” I said, giving her the eye, “please let the officer do his job. And then we can move on.” I wasn’t trying to be an ass to Denise, but I’d been around a few hick cops in my life. If you fell into the trap of verbally sparring with the officer, it almost always ended up poorly. I once saw two buddies handcuffed and taken to jail for just a couple of comebacks when the cop asked them to stand in a field while it was raining.
Denise clenched her jaw.
“I’m the sheriff of Elkins. Sheriff Tom Kupchak,” he said, as his breath pumped white smoke into the air. “We usually have a quiet town, no outsiders. Well, except for the country craft fair. That brings in all the creative hippies. Just walk around the square, and you can smell marijuana.”
Here we go. Telling us his life story. I nodded, kept my mouth shut, and, thankfully, Denise didn’t offer any commentary either.
He asked for my license and proof of insurance. I asked if it was okay if I pulled out my wallet. He agreed, and I handed him the two cards, which he studied for a few seconds.
“We’re using a rental car. Denise can show you the paperwork that’s in the glove compartment.”
“Sure, but be slow and easy about it. I want to make sure you’re not hiding a gun in your car.”
Denise twisted her face into a prune.
“Got a problem with that?” the sheriff barked, sticking his head in my window. His breath smelled of meatloaf and maybe fish. I stopped taking in air.
“No…sir.” She unlatched the glove compartment and handed me the envelope, which I passed on to Sheriff Tom Kupchak.
He didn’t even open it. “I knew you were a rental the first moment I saw you pass Peggy’s Diner just outside of town.”
I wanted to ask why anyone would eat meatloaf and fish in the same meal, but I withheld the urge to say anything.
“So do I need to give you two a breathalyzer?”
This coming from a man who smelled like he had a week-old flounder stuffed in his pocket.
“No sir. We haven’t had a drink all day,” I said, my voice even.
“So what are you doing in Elkins? Passing through, or do you have business here?”
“We want to know how to get to some place called Camp Israel,” Denise blurted out.
I stared at her with eyes as big as plates.
“You want to do what?” Now the sheriff had his hands on his knees as he stared at her. He tipped his hat back, a look of confusion and ridicule washing over his face.
“It’s not anything,” I said with as much nonchalance as I could muster. I’d give him so much information he’d beg me to drive on. “She was just wondering about this camp. We stumbled on this news story when we were driving into town and were just curious.” I paused for a second. He hadn’t interrupted, so I continued with my epic sleep-inducing story. “So, we’re just passing through. We flew into DC; you know Dulles? It’s crowded as hell in DC. Too many people. I wanted to show her where I went to law school.”
“Law school?” His voice jumped an octave. “You’re one of them lawyers?”
Crap. I hit a hot button.
“Well, I used to be. The firm I worked at was shut down. So, I’m taking some time off and traveling across the country. We’re on our way back to Texas. Just love hitting these quaint towns.”
He nodded, chewed on his toothpick like it was cud. In fact, I believed he was part cow, which meant he would have eaten himself for dinner. Disgusting no matter how you wanted to look at it.
“Come to think of it, my sister-in-law sells souvenirs at her shop just around the corner. She even has some leftover shot glasses that have a picture of that Camp Israel compound on it. If you ask me, that’s not very classy, but it makes her a few bucks. They were real popular here a few months ago. Not so much during the winter months.”
“Well,” I said, allowing a warm, nonthreatening smile to come to my lips. “We’ll have to check that out tomorrow morning. Right, Denise?”
“Right, Ozzie.”
“So, if everything is okay, we’ll just go over and check into our—”
“That was a dark time in this community.” The sheriff lifted to a standing position and tugged his sagging pants up higher. His eyes squinted as he stared into the snow-filled sky.
I wanted to grab the legal documents out of his hands and punch the gas, but I knew he’d probably have ten self-deputized peons hunting us down within minutes. So I just had to listen.
“I’m a religious guy, don’t get me wrong,” he said, glancing back in the car as if he were waiting on us to pump our fists.
“Amen.” Man, I sounded cheesy.
“I know a good Christian when I see one,” he said, handing me back the paperwork.
Christian, Jew. Same thing, right? Whatever.
“But some of that shit…uh, forgive me, Lord. Some of that crap they were doing up there in the hills,” he said with a finger pointed north, “that was just sick. Perverted. Twisted. And on top of that, they were a bunch of no-good swindlers, trying to cheat hard-working people out of their money. Just a shame what some people do in the name of religion.”
Finally, something we could agree on.
He cupped his hands, blew warm air into them. He was getting cold. I could taste victory, which was quite a feat, considering the wafts of greasy food in our space.
“Well, you enjoy your stay in Elkins, now.” He tipped his cap. “Just remember that Peggy’s Souvenir Shop opens at eight in the morning. She’s never late.”
“Peggy’s. Right.” I tapped a finger against my temple.
He got in his car and flipped off his flashing lights. I looked at Denise. “Where’s the motel?”
22
The motel manager said all of three words when we checked in. “Need working heat?” He chewed on the end of his pen while I waited for the rest of the joke. It never came.
Denise was over at the window, watching a group of folks get out of a car and climb a flight of outdoor stairs. When I turned back around, the manager appeared to be picking food from his teeth with the pen.
“Yes, heat would be good on a night like tonight,” I said.
He put a clipboard in front of me, pointed to the piece of paper, and then held the pen in front of my face. I looked across the counter that was peeling at the edges. “Do you have another pen?”
He shrugged and dipped his head at the same time. A man of many words. Using just two fingers to hold the pen, I signed my name and then quickly stuck my hand in my jeans pocket. We got a key to room 214, grabbed our bags, and carefully made our way up the slick steps. Once we reached the second floor, I looked to the left and saw the steeple of the church. It appeared to be the tallest building as far as the eye could see, which wasn’t very far, considering it was the middle of the night and snowing.
I flipped around, and a door to another room had just opened. A woman walked out with an empty ice bucket. She had a blank look on her face, catatonic almost. She walked by us. I noticed Denise was staring inside the open room. I took a single step back and looked inside for myself. A guy was sniffing something up his nose off a glass table. It had to be coke. I saw four other people, including one who was wrapping his upper arm with a large rubber band.
“Come on, Denise.” I headed off toward our room. When I didn’t see her pull up next to me, I turned around again. She was still at that doorway. She looked like a dog salivating over a steak. And it made my mouth go dry. I retraced my steps and then nudged her arm. “Something wrong?”
“Oh…” Her eyes darted about. It was as if she’d forgotten where she was, or that we were standing outside in freezing temperatures. “I’m fine.” Her voice sounded hollow.
As we made our way toward room 214, I saw her sneak another glance down the hall. I shut the door, hoping to shut down her demons along with it, and we unpacked our things. Thankfully, the room had two queen beds. We agreed to figure out the exact location of this Camp Isra
el compound in the morning, which was all of four hours away. We traded a little small talk, and then I dozed off.
The moment my eyes opened, I pulled up, looked at the other bed.
No Denise.
Crap.
I threw the covers, walked to the door.
“You looking for me?”
I turned to see Denise sitting on the bathroom counter, smoking a cigarette.
“I didn’t know you smoked.”
“I’m a mysterious girl, what can I say?” Her eyes looked heavy. She leaned against the sink. “I only smoke when I’m stressed.”
“Are you stressed from Mackenzie being kidnapped?” I paused, looking for any acknowledgement. I saw nothing, so I continued my thought. “Or could you be stressed by the lure of what we saw going on in the room down the way?”
“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”
Her leg was kicking like a little kid sitting in a high chair.
“We’ve come this far. I think we need to be honest with each other.”
“Honest. I guess that’s your way of saying you think I’m about to break my sobriety and go off the deep end.”
I took two steps toward her, but, despite the billowing smoke in the room, I could still see her face. She wasn’t in the mood for a hug.
“Look, Denise, I just know you’re under stress that very few people have ever experienced. And you’ve been amazing. Sure, you’ve been emotional, but who wouldn’t be? You’ve picked yourself up and taken action.” I choked out a breath, then waved the smoke away from my face. “You had your life threatened, Mackenzie’s life threatened, we’ve been assaulted, and now we’re chasing down the answer to this riddle, hoping and praying that Mackenzie is at the end of this thing. I mean, few people could even imagine this kind of shit. For you to be able to sit here and be functioning at all is remarkable.”
She took a drag on her cigarette, pushed the smoke out the side of her mouth, and stared at me a few seconds before looking off.
I let a few seconds pass. Her leg kept kicking, but the cigarette remained at her side, her eyes heavy.
“I believe in you, Denise. I know you’ve been through some shit in your life. A lot of shit. It’s part of your past. I just want to help support you to ensure it remains part of your past.”
She dropped the cigarette in the sink, her face still vacant, and walked toward me. I leaned back a bit. Was she about to slap me?
“Dammit, Ozzie,” she said, a couple of feet in front of me. She thumped my chest, then grabbed me by the shoulders and hugged me. It literally took my breath away. I had no idea she had that kind of energy. Although I knew she had that kind of passion, especially for Mackenzie.
I put my hand on the back of her head. “It will be okay, Denise. We’ll get through this together.”
“With Mackenzie.” She didn’t say that as a question, like she might have a couple of days prior. She was telling me. She held me tight and long. We rocked back and forth. I couldn’t hear any sobs. But I could feel her will—to remain resolute in keeping her life together, in finding her child. Our child.
Just then, a piercing sound split the silence. It felt like a high-pitched siren had gone off in my head. I put both hands against my ears, but I couldn’t stop the reverberation. It was dizzying, nauseating even. I squeezed my eyes shut. My ear drums were about to explode. There was movement around me, through the smoke.
“What…?” I started to ask as I opened my eyes to see Denise on top of the bed, a shoe in hand.
My eyes shifted to the fire alarm. It was flashing red.
Of course, it was the alarm, stupid.
She rammed the heel of her shoe into the alarm, sending fragments of plastic flying through the air like mini-shrapnel.
The spring of the mattress made Denise sway up and down, but other than that, she wasn’t moving. Neither was I.
“Quiet,” she whispered.
I still heard a distant ring in my ear, but the feeling of a knife being stabbed into my ear had, thankfully, gone away.
“You’re badass,” I said, trying to give her a morale boost.
“Actually, I’m a dumbass for smoking in this lovely establishment.” She climbed off the bed, tossed her shoe in the corner. “Do you think the manager will kick us out?”
“Who knows if there’s even a manager still at the front desk? I think we’re more likely to see Wonder Woman show up outside our door than the manager.”
She arched her eyebrow. “Sounds like you had some fun dreams.”
“Uh…” I fumbled my words, not sure what to say. I didn’t recall any of my dreams, let alone about Wonder Woman.
“You don’t have to say anything,” she said with a wink.
With the intensity back to a livable level, she washed her face while I changed into my jeans. We pulled out our phones, opened up our map apps, and identified the location of Camp Israel in relation to where we were. The route to get there would take us through a small town called Parsons up in the mountains. From there, the camp appeared to be another twenty minutes or so to the southeast, snaking through some narrow roads that might still be covered in snow. As for the compound itself, unfortunately Google Earth didn’t show much other than the tops of two buildings. It appeared that the pictures had been taken in the spring, when the surrounding foliage was thickest.
“This place is in the middle of the woods,” Denise said.
“Looks that way,” I said, scratching my chin. I hadn’t shaved in days.
I shifted the view to the right and pointed out what looked like a barn and a fence behind the buildings as the elevation increased.
“Rough terrain. Tons of trees, boulders,” Denise said.
Moving to the other side of the building, I spotted what looked like a narrow dirt road. I lost the visual while shifting farther east, but then after about a mile, I saw what I assumed was the same dirt road emptying onto a narrow highway.
“I think there’s some type of fence with a gate near the road,” I said.
We wondered how big the complex was. It was impossible to see through the maps.
“I think I need to ask some folks around town,” I said as I put on my shoes and tied them. I’d brought only running shoes. Hiking boots would have been better, but I’d deal with that while in town.
I noticed it was after eight o’clock. “How about I go get some breakfast, ask a few questions along the way in the most unassuming way possible, and then I’ll come back and we can figure out a plan?”
“I’m not a fan of the cold anyway,” she said, giving me a pat on the arm. “I might even take a shower, just to get some of this grime off me.”
I walked to the door. She ran up, gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you again, Ozzie.”
“Of course. We’re in this together, right?”
“You got it. I was thinking…while you’re out scouting, see if you can find a place that has coats and boots. Might need them for later.”
I gave her a wink and headed off.
23
The snow had stopped, but the skies were gunmetal gray. A few cars were actually on the road, moving at a slow but steady pace. Only a handful of folks walking about town. I wasn’t sure what percentage of the population that represented.
I circled the square, my eyes continuously diverting to the big church. I saw an older woman walk inside. Looking back to the road, a line of folks were huddled together, talking and drinking coffee outside of a place called Fred’s Donuts.
That had to be the morning social-gathering place. I found an empty spot around the town square, then boogied across the snow and up on the sidewalk.
“Out of towner.” A guy with skin that sagged like a mastiff’s shifted his head out from a group of guys.
Rather obvious, Einstein. I was wearing a short-sleeved button-up shirt. I nodded and blew warm air into my hands.
“People just have no sense, you know what I mean, Darryl?” Mastiff Man had said the words under h
is breath, but I could read lips. One of the advantages to not being able to hear worth a lick.
I ignored him and walked inside. It was warmer…maybe a balmy sixty. I waited in line behind two women. Both of them took turns looking at me, rolling their eyes. I was starting to get the impression they all thought I’d escaped the nearest psych ward—which didn’t seem like that much of a stretch—or they were freaked out by my presence just because I wasn’t one of them.
Disarming. That was my go-to strategy.
“How are you ladies doing this chilly morning?”
“Pretty good, pretty good,” a woman with pink cheeks and pinker head scarf nodded. I thought I saw a slight smile.
“Carol, there’s no need…” The other woman, who had on earrings with “WVA” engraved on them, turned away from me, shaking her head.
“I know you must think I’m a little crazy with no coat in this part of the country.”
“Kind of, yes,” Carol said, with only a quick glance my way.
I said, “Me and my girlfriend….uh, I mean, my wife…were just driving across the country, from DC down to Texas. This seemed like a cute town to stop in for the night.”
“Don’t they wear coats up in DC?” The woman with the WVA earrings apparently hadn’t stopped listening. Before I could respond, she continued. “Actually, I’m not sure anyone has the sense in that city to know when to get in from the rain.” She giggled, which sounded like a seal. I laughed and looked at Carol, who also laughed.
“Oh, Betty, you and your laugh,” Carol said. They laughed some more, and so did I.
I think we just had our first bonding moment.
I looked at the menu on the wall above the front counter. It was one of those boards where the red plastic letters were pressed into a white grid to spell out their menu items. About twenty or so types of donuts, although there was at least one letter missing from almost every type of donut. They also had kolaches, although the board was missing the “o.”
“You can see that Fred’s is the most popular place in town,” Carol said, looking over my shoulder. I followed her gaze to see about ten people behind me. She actually stuck out her hand and touched my forearm. She was a toucher.
Game ON (An Ozzie Novak Thriller, Book 2) (Redemption Thriller Series 14) Page 9