Kill Tide

by Timothy Fagan

  What? This was totally bizarre, even though it was obviously not relevant to the Snatcher case. Another swing and a miss, but he’d have to thank Zula for her efforts when he saw her. She was a good kid… He added his printouts to the folder and took it all with him as he quietly and nervously exited the police station.

  Angel was waiting in El Diablo. He was bummed to learn Pepper hadn’t been able to access his dad’s file. “Now we’ll never see the Flammia info,” he complained. “All this for nothing.”

  Pepper clicked on the overhead light and started reading through the printout of his own case file. The words were blurring together. Info about suspects who had turned out to be innocent. Info from Emma Bailey’s family and Emma Addison’s family…

  “Am I wrong that Flammia wasn’t too bright?” asked Angel. “It surprises me he didn’t get caught quicker.”

  “He disappeared quickly after both kidnappings. Like he’d planned where to grab the girls and how to avoid the main roads, the roadblocks. Everything.”

  Angel frowned. “Well, I guess it helps he knew his way around the Lower Cape. He’d cut lawns all around the area for years—it said so in the newspapers.”

  “I guess it doesn’t take a lot of smarts to be a predator,” said Pepper.

  “No, it just takes hard work to get away clean. But I guess on the bright side, a ton of law enforcement are working the case. They’ll tear Flammia’s world apart. Home, work, credit card, friends, the whole nine yards.”

  Something Angel said tickled Pepper’s mind.

  But Angel continued. “Don’t worry, mano, the pros’ll find those girls. Damn, I could have used the reward too. Count the cash, parlay it into—”

  “Angel, what did you say?”

  “Parlay the cash, buddy. Put it to work. I was saying I’d—”

  “No, before that. About Flammia.”

  “Just that it’s hard work to get away clean. But—”

  Get away clean…

  “Angel, you’re a beautiful genius!” said Pepper.

  “That’s what I’ve been saying for years. Hey, what’d I say?”

  Pepper was lost in thought. The only connection he had seen between the two Emmas was both of their mothers attended New Albion High School many years ago. Around the same time, but not classmates. Not friends.

  And Emma Addison was currently a student at New Albion High School, although Emma Bailey wasn’t.

  That was a lot of New Albion High School connections, with one big kicker—Leo Flammia had worked for a year as a janitor at New Albion High School until three years ago when his criminal record was discovered and they fired him.

  Pepper explained his idea to Angel.

  “The school?” asked Angel. “That’s a long shot. I bet someone would have noticed the guy coming and going from there… What’re you thinking, the Cut Room?”

  That’s exactly what Pepper had been thinking. He and Angel had spent plenty of time cutting classes in their rebellious years, hiding out, screwing around. They were familiar with some parts of the high school most students didn’t know existed. But a janitor probably would…

  It was a long shot. But if they gave up, they’d already lost. Why not take the chance?

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Pepper directed Angel to pull around to the side of New Albion High School. He hadn’t been back to the school since the day he’d graduated two years ago.

  It looked like nothing had changed at the school. In fact, Pepper was counting on it.

  “You have a flashlight?” he asked.

  Angel shook his head. “Just my phone.”

  A door on the back side led into the science wing. Pepper felt along the top of its doorframe and found it: a long metal shim. Exactly where it had always been during his high school years. It was their unofficial access to the gym to shoot hoops at night or generally screw around.

  Angel shone his phone light on the door.

  The shim worked as perfectly as ever, and Pepper had the door open in ten seconds. It reminded him of their principal’s speech at graduation, how things they’d learned during their time at dear old New Albion High would pay off in surprising ways over their lives.

  Touché, Principal Matusicky.

  Pepper and Angel headed into the main part of the school, both holding up their phones for light.

  Pepper imagined what would happen if someone discovered them. A whole new level of deep shit. But he was in a bit of an emotional groove at the moment, even if he was digging a worse hole for himself. Whatever crap that followed was on his head. Fair enough. The thought was freeing.

  It was dark in the school’s long hallways outside the circles of their phone lights. Dark and creepy, like all the movies where the people stupidly walking through the dark halls ended up dead.

  “Fingers crossed, mano. We chop any reward fifty-fifty, right?” asked Angel.

  “You bet, pal.”

  They passed the teachers lounge, where Pepper had experienced his first kiss in ninth grade. The girl was Maddie Smith, his high school sweetheart. In general, those days seemed like a million years ago. But his first kiss in that forbidden room was as fresh in his mind as if it’d happened yesterday. He checked the doorknob; it was locked.

  They passed long rows of dusty trophy cases. In the hockey section, Pepper saw the old picture of Coach Gus Bullard as a skinny teenager in a pile with his state championship teammates. Bullard was holding up one finger and looked exhilarated, just a normal kid. Pepper saw a similar picture from Jake’s freshman year—more orderly, but just as proud of their state championship, with big grins. There wasn’t a similar picture from Pepper’s years, unfortunately.

  In his four years of high school hockey, Pepper’s team only came close to one state championship, making the semifinal round. Late in the third period of that game, Pepper had found himself in a bad situation—the only New Albion player back when two opponents broke in on him. He did what Bullard had always coached him to do when defending a two-on-one. He took responsibility for the player without the puck while trying to push the puck handler as wide as he could. Hoping to cause a panicky pass that he could pick off, or else force the puck handler to take an outside shot.

  Unfortunately, the puck handler shot’s from a bad angle in the high slot picked the top corner, scoring the game-winning goal. In the locker room afterward, Coach had roasted Pepper in front of all his teammates for New Albion’s loss. He wouldn’t even listen when Pepper tried to defend himself.

  He could almost hear Coach Bullard’s response echoing in his ears:

  Pylon, for a kid who can’t move his feet, you’re damn quick to blame everyone else…

  What an asshole. Pepper’s cheeks burned at the memory as they went down a side staircase to the basement beneath the gymnasium. He was glad Angel didn’t notice.

  They finally reached a door in the back corner of the basement. The boiler room. They entered and found it unchanged, except the enormous cast iron coal furnace was cold and silent for the summer.

  They walked to the far corner and moved a cart of paint cans away from the front of a door which looked like it might lead to a closet. It didn’t.

  It was the door to the Cut Room—a large, forgotten storage room which Pepper, Angel and their buddies had remade into an unofficial hangout when they cut class. They drank warm beer, ate crappy snacks and talked about girls. All that teenage stuff. Only the worst-behaved students knew about it…and maybe the worst janitors?

  Leo Flammia had been a janitor at the high school six years ago. He’d only worked there for less than a year. But when they fired him, he could have kept copies of the building keys. Possibly with an idea to come back and get some revenge at some later date. Do some vandalism or steal things.

  Flammia might have brought the girls here and locked them away in this hidden storage room.

  Pepper heard a slamming noise somewhere in the building above them. A door?

  “Is someone there?”
asked Angel nervously.

  They stood silently, listening. Who else would be in the school at that time of the night? And why?

  But after waiting for a long minute, they heard no more sounds.

  “Let’s do this,” said Pepper.

  Next to the doorway to the Cut Room was an industrial rack of odds and ends. Old equipment which was outdated, dusty, forgotten.

  A dented old coffee can sat on the top shelf.

  Pepper pulled it down and shook it. The old key rattled inside, still in the same place it had always been.

  He slipped it in the doorknob and it turned easily. Pepper flicked on the light.

  They found their old room was completely different. The broken sofa was gone, as was the rickety foosball table. It was now a storage room. Full of extra sports equipment. All the indoor track gear, volleyball equipment and other out-of-use sports gear.

  And they didn’t see the Emmas. Pepper and Angel thoroughly searched the room. They looked behind and under everything in the room. They found no sign of the girls. Fail!

  As they closed the Cut Room door, Pepper saw the giant coal furnace and his heart almost stopped. He had remembered something from Emma Bailey’s note to her parents which arrived before the ransom drop. Something like: she missed Sunshine and if she could climb down in her arms, she would wrap Sunshine in such an iron hug.

  There was no dog or stuffed animal named Sunshine, according to Emma’s parents. But the “no sunshine” and the “iron hug” remarks, if those were clues from the girl…

  No way. Could that psycho have locked the Emmas in this giant cast iron coal furnace?

  Pepper walked over to it, suddenly feeling light-headed. He started sweating.

  He held his fingers near the big door to confirm it was cold for the summer break. It was.

  Pepper swung open the door and shone in his cell phone light. The interior was black and dirty. Impossibly dirty. Coal dust and grime coated all surfaces.

  No girls were inside. Two people could have fit in there, but no one could have survived for more than a few minutes, not with all those fumes and coal dust…

  Another dumb idea which turned out to be a complete bust.

  “Game over,” said Angel.

  As they walked back to the exit, Pepper was as depressed as he could ever remember being. This search had been a waste of time. And it increased the chance he’d catch hell back at the hospital.

  Worst of all, he was completely out of ideas.

  Pepper’s cell phone rang and he realized that actually he could feel worse. It was his dad’s number flashing on the screen.

  Could he let it go to message? He decided he didn’t have any choice; he couldn’t answer the call. He was supposed to be in his hospital bed, not trying to find the two Emmas.

  Maybe his dad would think he was asleep?

  Half a minute later, his phone buzzed again—his dad had left a message.

  Pepper listened to it, sure he would hear the worst-case scenario—his dad upset, saying he was in Pepper’s empty hospital room, wondering where he disappeared to this time.

  But no. In the message his dad sounded okay…just tired and concerned. Not angry at all. He said he hoped Pepper was getting some rest and that he would stop by during the night, when he could, to check on him.

  Shit. Time to give up? Get back to the hospital and hope they hadn’t missed him?

  Pepper couldn’t think of anywhere else to look. He had to admit when he was beaten.

  They climbed in El Diablo and headed out.

  “Stop,” said Pepper. “You see that minivan? Was it parked there when we arrived?” The old gray minivan sat in the shadows next to the gymnasium.

  “Not that I noticed. You think we set off an alarm?”

  Pepper thought the minivan looked a lot like the one Fester Timmins drove, although there were a million minivans around the Cape.

  “Whatever,” Pepper said. “Let’s get back to the hospital.”

  Two minutes later, his phone buzzed again. It was a text from Delaney, finally!

  It said: The girls! Meet me @ big red yard. Now plz!!! only us

  Her text ended with an emoji heart.

  What the hell? Pepper was totally confused. He texted back with just a question mark.

  “You will not believe this,” he said to Angel, showing him.

  “That’s wack,” said Angel.

  Pepper phoned her number, but it rang and rang and she didn’t answer. He left her a worried message.

  Was she messing with him? Or testing him?

  Had Detective Miller lied about Delaney leaving for Nashville? Why? If the detective had been telling the truth, Delaney should be hundreds of miles from Cape Cod by now. What the hell was she doing at the Big Red Yard contractor park? And what did she mean by “the girls”? It couldn’t be about Emma Bailey and Emma Addison…she couldn’t have located them herself, right?

  So he sent her a second text: What’s going on u ok?

  No reply.

  So, after a long couple of minutes, Pepper sent her a third and final text:

  On my way.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Pepper directed Angel into the parking lot of Johnston Precision Machining, next door to the Big Red Yard, just before midnight.

  “Pull all the way to the back corner,” instructed Pepper. He remembered from his visit to Johnston Precision Machining that the far corner of the parking lot was a blind spot on the machine shop’s surveillance cameras. He didn’t think anyone would notice an old Camry pulling into the lot during the night, but they might notice a guy standing on the Camry’s hood pulling himself over the wall into the Big Red Yard.

  “I’m worried that Delaney came here,” said Pepper. “This is where the police found Dennis Cole’s body. Maybe he was Flammia’s partner, but I doubt it. I think he just saw something important enough for Flammia to kill him.”

  “And what—Delaney heard about Cole’s body turning up here? She decided to take a look herself? Yeah, maybe… What’s our plan?”

  “The plan is, I climb over that thing,” Pepper said, pointing to the high brick wall topped with barbed wire. “I find Delaney and get her the heck out of there. Then she tells us what’s the deal with Nashville and why the heck she’s inside the contractor park at midnight.”

  Angel nodded. “If she has some info about the two Emmas, we call your dad.”

  Pepper said nothing.

  “And I should be the one who goes over the fence,” continued Angel. “I’m not full of stitches and I have all ten fingers.” He wiggled them at Pepper.

  But Pepper wasn’t budging. “No way, I have to go.”

  “At least let me go with you.”

  “Sorry, buddy. I need you out here on lookout. Any police or other trouble, call me.”

  Pepper didn’t say out loud his real reason for going in alone: if the situation went sideways and he got caught, he didn’t want to ruin Angel's life too. Detective Miller would do what he’d promised to do—have Pepper prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. He couldn’t let his buddy become collateral damage.

  “If the shit hits the fan while I’m inside, you can’t call 911 on your cell phone,” Pepper warned Angel. “Do it from a pay phone. It has to be anonymous.”

  Angel snorted. “Mano, a pay phone? Where should I go, the 1980s?”

  “Back on Central Street. The gas station next to the Liquor Barn has a payphone on its side wall.”

  So it was time.

  “You still got that old blanket in your trunk?” Pepper asked.

  Angel did.

  “Sorry, buddy, it might get a few rips.”

  “Better the blanket than you,” laughed Angel.

  Pepper retrieved the blanket from the trunk and then climbed on the hood of El Diablo, which gave him enough height to get his hands to the top of the brick wall.

  He doubled up the blanket and laid it over the barbed wire. It would hopefully provide a little protection
.

  “This is going to hurt,” Pepper muttered to himself, flexing his injured hand.

  Then with a heave, he gingerly climbed over the brick wall. The barbed wire poked through the blanket and scratched him as he gingerly swung over the top, swaying back and forth.

  He hung from the top of the wall and dropped to the ground inside, tweaking an ankle. As he stood and shook off the pain, he remembered one of his grandfather Papa Ryan’s favorite old sayings from his days as a patrol officer in Boston: nothing good happens late on a hot summer night.

  Pepper limped quietly through the row of contractor vehicles and shipping containers. The Big Red Yard was even more of an enormous maze at night.

  No lights were on in the contractor park, and it was the darkest night of the summer so far. Heavy clouds blocked the moon and stars, only occasionally letting a little moonlight peek through. Pepper pulled out his cell phone’s light and set it to low. He didn’t want to bump into something every few steps, but he also didn’t want to announce his presence to anyone else except Delaney. And definitely not draw the attention of Stinky, the enormous guard dog he’d seen on his last time here.

  Pepper assumed Stinky might roam the contractor park at night. And if he thought he already had problems, getting his nuts bitten off by that big monster would quickly go to the top of the list. If it sprang on Pepper in the dark, he’d probably die of a heart attack before Stinky’s teeth sank in. Hopefully.

  Pepper texted Delaney again: Where r u?

  No reply.

  “Delaney!” he hissed, breaking the silence as loudly as he dared.

  So he would have to do this the hard way. Pepper meandered through the maze of shipping containers, pickup trucks, trailers and loose ends of equipment, occasionally calling Delaney’s name.

  He checked his phone; she hadn’t responded. He texted her again: U still at BRY?

  No answer. Maybe her battery had died? Or she didn’t have good cell coverage here?

  Pepper heard barking on the far side of the container park—Stinky the monster dog, agitated by something. Perfect. He dug around in the back of a nearby pickup truck and found a crowbar. It was heavy and cold in his hands.