by Paul Snyder
“Not with that gangster grip.” He grinned at her and walked closer. “If you want to destroy me, you’ll need a proper grip first,” Rick spoke in a gentle voice. “And look at your wrist, your elbow.” Rick didn’t sound harsh. “Your stance is all wrong.”
“Don’t be stubborn.” She gripped the pistol tighter, prepared to fire into his body. “I’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”
“All you have is dummy rounds.” He looked at her approvingly and nodded. “Those aren’t even real bullets. You have a wonderful sense of humor. Do you always party like this?”
She stared at him, tongue-tied into silence. No… I don’t party like this. “I left the blanks with the bear spray.”
“You’ve never even fired a gun.”
“I watched a YouTube video.”
“I’ve seen the .40 caliber video. You have a 9-millimeter.” He walked up closer and smiled at her and then looked her in the eyes. “They’re two different guns.”
She moved to him with the muzzle of the gun pointed at his chest. “You stop right there.” Before she had a chance to react, he hit her wrist and stepped to the side and out of sight of the barrel. With his other hand, he clutched the barrel hard and twisted her hand until the barrel of the gun went up at the ceiling. Now, he controls the gun. With his left hand, he clutched the barrel hard.
“Let go of the trigger, or I’ll pull your trigger finger off when I take the weapon from you. I don’t want to hurt your hand.” The pain was intense as she held the pistol. Gasping, she stood there, very shaken as she pulled her finger off the trigger. With his right hand, he dislodged the gun from her grip. Then he shuffled back with the gun pointed at her face. “Now, all you can do is shoot your mouth off at me.”
She rubbed at her hand to take the sting from her fingers. Glaring at him, she straightened her shoulders. “That’s a foul.” She cleared her throat. “You committed a foul against me.”
“A foul?”
“It’s unfair.” She was brokenhearted. A gun’s pointed at my face? Her life had changed for the worse. The abuse, the horror from the police, it couldn’t go on. And now this? It shouldn’t have happened at all. She was in a horrible, deep, dark place. She knew it, and she was facing it alone now. “It’s against all the rules for you to take my gun from me like that. You fouled me.”
“There are no rules in self-defense,” Rick gave the gun back to her. She took the weapon. His hand was rough like Andrew’s hands and gave her a sense of protection. Still, she eyed him uneasily, watching him closely as she returned the pistol to her strap. “That’s why you have a gun, right? To defend yourself?” Rick raised his chin with a relaxed look from beneath his perfectly combed hair. “Or do you want to destroy someone?”
“Will you teach me?” She asked out of a genuine fascination, “to take a gun from someone.”
“You can’t take a gun from someone trained in deadly force. They’ll kill you. I took your gun because I knew you wouldn’t pull the trigger. Anyone else, like the officer who wants you dead, would have killed me. You must be hungry. Let’s eat.”
She followed him into the kitchen, where he handed her a soda from the refrigerator and started to make sandwiches. She hopped up on a stool by the counter and breathed in the scent of ham and cheese. He could see her hunger, and she wanted to move closer to help him with the food, but remembered her manners and waited for him to finish. He liked making food for her. “So, you can take a gun from someone who doesn’t want to pull the trigger?”
“Yes. Most people love humans and have no desire to destroy what they love.” His eyes mellowed subtly. “Who did this to you?”
“Did what?”
“Who made you behave this way?”
“You did.”
“I just met you. All week, I’ve been watching the FBI watch the police watch you break sliding glass doors and carry a pistol with a gangster grip.” Rick seemed to know that the FBI and police had been investigating her. “Last week, public servants painted you into a corner with what they refer to as police misconduct. Police misconduct is a euphemism for pushing the legal envelope on the destruction of life and property.” He spoke with a ring of finality. “I’m sorry for what has happened to your life and property. Davis has been destroying them. Temple is ignoring her. The police department asked a judge to place a media gag to cover it up from the public.” Rick knew how vulnerable she was, though she denied it. “I know this is true. But what I don’t know is why you’re even reacting to them at all.” He spoke with love and respect. “You’re above this. You’ve spent a lifetime working in sustainable land management. You have a very public image. You have to be honest with yourself.” She saw something beautiful about him. “What happened to your better angels?”
“I spent some money that wasn’t mine.”
“Money comes and goes. Family lasts forever.”
“I got confused.”
“Oh, you did.” Rick pretended surprise while placing a ham and cheese sandwich on a fine china plate embellished with twenty-four carat gold. “Is that the way my son’s wife should behave?”
She shook her head, keeping it to herself. Maybe it isn’t so bad that I’m here. I’m safe in Forest Falls. Rick’s charismatic, charming, wealthy, and super aggressive. He’s interesting company to have while I eat my sandwich. “I was told by police to stay quiet about the money or go to prison for grand larceny.”
“That figures.” He spoke with quiet emphasis. “All police departments have a blue wall of silence, so their lawyers can push the legal envelope on their misconducts without fear of inquiry. Recordings of police killings on social media are the tip of the iceberg. The bulk of their crimes against humanity are with so-called non-lethal or weapons of mass destruction. After I googled law enforcement burning human beings like hamburger meat with microwave weapons, I knew they couldn’t see the forest for the trees. They deny serious crimes by Detective Davis, Tammany Hall style, with corrupt cops and judges. It’s morally obscene how the police department turns a blind eye to Davis, believing no one outside their blue wall of silence will find out.”
“She hates me.” She spoke eagerly, and Rick smiled.
“She doesn’t hate you. She disapproves of you. She doesn’t know you well enough to hate you.” Rick seemed to trust in her opinions, and it pleased her. “Detective Davis was dropped on her head when she was a baby, and it made her a psychotic murderer. That’s it.”
She looked at him and sighed. “You can say that again.” Rick slid a plate filled with yellow carrots, red tomatoes, cheddar cheese, ranch dressing on the side, across the counter, and in front of them. Rick dipped a cherry tomato into the ranch dressing and popped it into his mouth. “They’ve destroyed my Bugatti, and Dan’s Lamborghini. They’ve threatened to kill Andrew and me. That’s why I looked for you. So you would get the money out of my walk-in closet.” Her voice felt hoarse while she fiddled with a carrot in the ranch dressing. “How should I behave?”
“Like the wife, my son has always wanted.” She was silent, and he added, “isn’t that who you are?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’ll never happen now.”
“Why?”
He was silent.
“It’s what I want.”
He shook his head. “You need to want something else first.”
“What?”
“To learn how to take a hit for the team, as an extreme fighter, if you do this, you’ll be in with a chance.”
“An extreme fighter?”
“We’ll learn to protect our family first.”
28
Later in the evening, they went for a hike in the San Gabriel National Forest, and by the time they climbed a vertical trail cutting through the steepest part of a rock wall, Rick felt as though they might have a fighting chance. Now he had a better idea of how he should train Meghan to direct her full attention to their future family.
All Rick could think of was Meghan. He thought about h
er nonstop during their hike in the high canyon walls. There was snow on the trail, and it was going to be a long exhausting night, but he didn’t mind it. He just wanted to help.
Meghan Green, Andrew’s favorite girl, was a harder, more athletic version of Julie Thomas. Meghan had been riding a surfboard for ten years. When Rick first saw her surfing at San Gabriel River jetties, there was an Olympic level of assurance about her paddling. During her bottom turns, Meghan’s stance was the stance of a world-class surfer, secure in her knowledge of the sport. When the waves were big, she was an incredible sight to see.
As they approached a campground along the creek bed, Rick understood why Meghan was Andrew’s favorite girl and how she will be an asset. She will be an imminent threat. She will be the weapon, not a gun. Her training will be brief, the message startling. Her tenacity will make her unstoppable. She’ll plan, predict. She’ll focus on finishing. Determination, not bullets, will confuse her enemies. Persistence would be her force multiplier. Screwdrivers, hatchets, razors, machetes, even guns will be useless tools without her hardcore resolve. I will show her how to use her guts and an annoying amount of energy and all those tools and more, but it will be her foresight and her combat mindset that will defend Andrew and our family’s future.
Rick remained motionless while Meghan moved gingerly by a shallow pool where tiny waterfalls gurgled over small black stones with icicles. A five-day weather forecast on cable news provided a clear picture of freezing rain and snow.
“I’d like to rest here. Do you have granola bars?” Meghan’s voice was calm but held a note of challenge. “I have questions.”
“They’re in my backpack. Let’s rest.” A smell of barbeques came from a campground with blue and orange tents pitched under pine trees. Rick opened his backpack while dozens of bluebirds gathered in the park like happy campers, chirping loudly, fighting over breadcrumbs buried in the brown leaves. “We have to hike another hour to the training area. We don’t want to bother these campers with gunfire.”
“I’d like to talk with you first.” She looked calm, tranquil, sitting on a smooth brown log stripped of bark. Rick searched for granola bars. “What happened to Andrew’s family?” She was looking straight at Rick.
“You mean, what gives me the right to say Andrew is my son.”
“You did kill his family.”
Unnerved, Rick answered her. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“It wasn’t planned. It just happened.”
“Tell me the truth, Rick.”
Rick found a bag of snacks next to the paintball guns and body armor. Rick gave her a granola bar. She cupped her hands, reached down into the creek for a drink, and then returned to her seat on the log while chewing on the granola bar. “Andrew’s father broke into the construction site at night to kill Philip in his sleep. My dogs woke me up, and my security cameras recorded Andrew’s father shooting a shotgun into Philip’s bedroom window while Philip slept.” Rick returned the bag of food to his backpack. “Philip gave a copy of the video to the police department.”
“What happened.”
“It was one crisis after another. Andrew’s father was off-duty. Then on duty, and in pursuit of a suspect. When we thought it was over, Andrew’s father came onto my property again. This time we were ready. I watched Philip escape, and then I followed Andrew’s father home. Andrew slept while his family died. How’d they die? Andrew’s father was a paid assassin who used his position with a police department to push the killing's legal envelope. They thought they had deep pockets. It’s how police have been taking advantage of working-class families in America for hundreds of years. Only with me, I was Fortune 500 and traded on the New York Stock Exchange, and it all backfired on them.”
“A court judge placed a media gag order, preventing newspapers and television stations from telling the public the truth about the crimes the police department has committed against me in Seal Beach.”
“Unbalanced scales are an abomination to God.”
“Andrew moved to Florida with Philip.” She asked.
“I relied on Philip to build Andrew’s future in Florida.” Rick gave a folder from his backpack to Meghan. “I’m insisting on the strictest confidence. Your loyalty.” Rick grabbed the diamond pendant around his neck and kissed the cross. “I have signed over the title to the white car, the Lamborghini, to you. And I’m transferring the deeds to my home here in Forest Falls and my home on Naples Island to you.”
She looked at his signature on the title to the Lamborghini. “Why?”
“Helping Philip and Andrew in Oregon was bad business. What was bad back in Oregon will be bad here in California. After I help you, I will die.”
“Giving me your property is your backup plan?”
“I don’t have a will or testament. You and Andrew and Philip are my only family. I haven’t had time to think of anything else.” After a long pause, Rick demanded. “You must also take over the guardianship of Andrew.”
“Andrew cares for himself, just fine.”
“You may gamble with your own life.” It was evident Meghan lacked confidence. “But to gamble with the life of another is beyond selfish. It’s wrong. Andrew needs both a conservator and a guardian.” When she remained silent, he asked. “You don’t know, do you?”
“What?” Meghan’s curiosity compounded with questions.
“Let’s walk. We can talk more later.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I want to know more right now.”
“Releasing Andrew’s medical history isn’t ethical.”
“Medical?” She asked, but he stayed silent for a long time. “Please tell me.”
Rick didn’t know how much he could trust her, but he needed her. “You don’t say anything to anyone, even Andrew, until I say it’s okay.”
“I won’t.”
“Three years ago, Andrew tested positive for the HD gene. The gene’s not active. Still, it took everything I had to help Andrew go on with his life. Andrew just gave up on life. Eventually, I helped Andrew learn how to live each day like his last day and devote his life to public services like mentoring you and Dan Reynolds and Julie Thomas and building the children's park. Andrew’s bravely spending the last days of his life in devotion to all of you and the community of Seal Beach.”
“HD gene?”
“Huntington’s disease.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“When the HD gene is dormant. It does nothing. But if the HD gene activates, Andrew will die fast. It won’t be pleasant. He will suffer greatly, and he knows it.”
Her eyes widened in understanding. “Andrew broke up with Julie after testing positive for the HD gene. But he didn’t tell her about the HD gene?”
“There are privacy laws.” Rick had no right to do this. He was getting sloppy. He frowned at the darkening sky. The campground had once been bright. Now there was just the screeching of fighting blue jays. “Andrew broke up with Julie because he knew she wanted children.” Rick reluctantly explained. “If you have the HD gene and you have children, there is a fifty percent chance of passing Huntington’s disease to your children. If you don’t have children, there’s a zero percent chance of passing the disease.”
“One night recently, Andrew signed to me when we were talking about birth control. Andrew signed you want children, not me.”
“You’re to tell Andrew that you wish to adopt,” Rick’s voice felt harsh, raw. “At any moment, it may be today, the HD gene will activate in Andrew, and Andrew will die fast.” Rick’s voice faded, losing its steely edge. “As of right now, you’re the conservator of the money behind your walk-in closet. And Andrew’s guardian.”
“The money in the small, white plastic bag was the bank robbery money?”
“It was a trail back to the truth. The rest of the money wrapped in thick plastic is clean. It’s good for when Andrew gets sick, for doctors and research.” Rick picked up his backpack while stepping forward. A sense of urgency dr
ove her to follow him. “Let’s go. We have a long hike ahead of us.”
29
Within hours of seeing Meghan’s Lamborghini in the driveway, everyone knew Rick Weber and Meghan were friends, and only Philip dared to say a word. “For years, we’ve been driving your white Lamborghini in Los Angeles. Andrew drives it all the time. He calls it the white car,” Philip fell into a chair, and she indicated by a motion of her head that she would listen. “Rick’s spoiled you with the white car and the Naples Island home and the Forest Falls home, and Andrew will be jealous.”
Meghan spent the next few hours doing the kind of things real estate people do after windfall profits. When Andrew learned Rick had given her the Lamborghini and the home on Naples Island, facing the Pacific Ocean, with a fifty-foot boat dock, Andrew promised to buy Dan any car better than that old white car of Meghan’s. Andrew and Dan drove off fast in the white car to an exotic dealership in Newport Beach to buy Dan an Aston Martin for a new company vehicle as Meghan began converting her garage into a safe room.
She installed a new landline to call 911 from the garage. Philip gave Meghan the password to his Wi-Fi broadcast, next door, to use as an emergency back-up. They set up and fully charged cell phones, laptops, and walkie talkies. Yesterday, at the remote campsite in Forest Falls, Meghan practiced mixed martial arts with Rick, and they chopped wood with hatchets and machetes and screwdrivers until her hands blistered and burned, her back ached between her shoulder blades so bad she cried.
She learned to be sympathetic in negotiating during a home invasion but never let the situation go mobile from the safe room. She’d installed battery powered, hard wired buzzers as distraction devices to pull people into the garage, where she’d confiscate their weapons and then restrain them with zip ties. There were lockboxes to impound their guns. Meghan prepared first aid kits and printed routes to the hospital. She purchased industrial-grade chemicals and protective gear to clean the blood of those who became homicidal or suicidal in the face of her hardcore operations.