by Paul Snyder
Philip helped her install barricade bars at all entry points into the garage if the power and phone lines were cut, and signal jammers were used to block her electronic devices. She stored enough food and water and batteries for any type of siege.
Everything was going beautifully, way ahead of schedule, and much to Philip’s approval, there were few problems with the battery-powered warning and distraction buzzers. She vowed to protect Andrew and the future of their family. I’ll do it with or without the law. All who are foolish enough to come onto my property will run like dogs with their tails between their legs or be carried out in body bags.
The only trouble was she knew Detective Davis and Jim Temple wanted to arrest Rick Weber for murder and bank robbery, causing tension between her and Philip. Law enforcement had used their deep pockets to push the legal envelope on killing and their blue wall of silence. Rick Weber had deeper pockets and pushed back harder, then changed his identity. Rick Weber could have several aliases by now. But changing his name hadn’t changed what he had done. Rick Weber was still a wanted man, escaping justice. But that was just a minor detail.
The result matters, and she knew law enforcement had no constitutional duty to protect Philip in Oregon a decade ago or her in Seal Beach today. Philip’s alive today because of what Rick Weber did yesterday. And I will live tomorrow because of what Rick Weber’s doing for me now, no matter how many police officers surround us, or how high their blue wall of silence stands. Detective Davis and Jim Temple can’t be trusted. After I learned the facts about their blue wall of silence, I be a fool to trust anyone sworn to uphold the law.
She focused on the clear-cut cold hard facts. I am Andrew’s conservator and guardian. His property and life are in my hands. I and I alone will protect them, and if Rick Weber helps, fine, so be it, make it so. And later that night, at Philip’s house, he tried to ease her cynicism, but it was useless. Her mind was churning, chugging away, non-stop, cycling through ideas.
“No one can hurt Rick.” Philip promised, but his eyes were reddened with a lack of sleep. And he was losing weight. “You can’t hurt ghosts. And Rick’s a ghost.”
“Rick thinks he’ll die soon.”
“The crimson poppies from your mom will resurrect him.” Philip was suddenly mentally clear, hyper-focused. “Rick has more lives than a cat,” and she returned home worried about Tom Clayton. Tom has all but moved in with Julie. Tom is always with her, sleeping in Julie’s bedroom, chasing seagulls on the beach with Snickers, and going out to dinner at the best restaurants in the white car and the Aston Martin.
Tom apologized for filing the false police reports for Detective Davis. Tom had also given her insights into the motivations for Temple’s disregard for her life, property, and Jennifer’s homicidal hatred of her. She didn’t care about their amoral lack of humanity. Knowing politicians were defunding the police and actively making laws against them, putting them in prison, and that they were criminals hiding behind their badges and from public scrutiny was enough for her.
Meghan had forgiven Tom. Julie had never been happier. Tom had given new life to Julie. And, after days of constant time together, Julie was laughing, and her eyes were alive again. Tom Clayton had Jim Temple’s physical beauty and Andrew’s quietness and concern. Tom and Julie were relaxed together and in love. But Tom was stealing so much of Meghan’s time with Julie.
Julie never had a moment for Meghan. They used to spend time together, like best friends. But now, it seemed as though whenever Meghan would sit next to Julie, Tom would distract Julie with a kiss or a hug, which gave Meghan more time to worry about her mom.
Whenever Denise called, Meghan was busy building the park for Wendy or practicing martial arts with Rick Weber in Forest Falls. Meghan was beginning to feel lonelier when her mom called one night. “We found a buyer to take over your purchasing position in Oak Glen. We gave her your car, the white Honda Civic. She’s a good buyer for the restaurant and the flower shops. She knows all our vendors and works well with our open accounts. She’s terrific at online research. She has already saved us fifteen thousand dollars by finding things for a lower price than what you were spending. She answers her phone when I call. Do you remember how you always used to lose your gasoline receipts for your car, Meghan?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“She scotch tapes all her gas receipts in a little spiral-bound notebook. She’s meticulous and pays attention to detail. And she’s so generous with her time.”
“Thanks, mom.” Andrew and Dan drove to San Clemente. They’re surfing at Trestles. They didn’t want me tagging along.
“Your uncle is designing a home for you at our ranch in Big Bear,” Denise spoke with calmness.
“I have a home.”
“We’re expecting you to come home to Big Bear soon. Your father says you’re spending money like drunken sailors. And you’ll be bankrupt.”
“We’re fine.”
“Uncle Wayne wants to know how many children you and Andrew plan to have for the architectural designs.”
“We’re adopting because Andrew has the HD gene.” The secret slipped out because she was depressed and lonely. She caught her mistake, but it was too late. She already said it, so she continued. “We have to adopt because there’s a fifty percent chance of passing Huntington’s disease to our children.”
“That’s nice.”
Denise sounded pleasant, but she heard something new in her mom’s voice, a sudden distance. It was odd, like a quiet flash of light from the corner of her eye, and she wasn’t quite sure what it was. It was like a detached but humble feel that wasn’t there earlier.
She found herself feeling fidgety about what it was. It could have been her father’s concern with the finances, but she didn’t think so. Everyone knew Andrew was good with his money. And then Meghan knew why when she came downstairs the next morning.
She was dressed in a white cotton shirt with grey sweatpants. She put on white socks and then went downstairs, blissfully happy to find her mom with Simon and Andrew in the front room. Denise and Andrew were talking on the white couch.
“How could you?” Andrew signed with tears in his eyes when Meghan sat down. “Who else have you told about my HD?”
She reached out to touch him but pulled back, and all the joy left her. “I’m sorry, no one. I haven’t told anyone but my mom.” So this was the reason for her mom’s sudden silence. Denise wanted to know more about Huntington’s disease and would only hear about it from Andrew. Simon went for a walk at the Seal Beach Pier. She hoped Andrew would forgive her for the breach in his medical records. There were laws because of this, and she had broken those laws. “Please forgive me, Andrew.”
“This is all my fault.” Denise probed gracelessly, but they already knew so much about each other. “I miss my daughter immensely, and I want both of you to live with us in Big Bear. Wayne’s building a house for you guys on a backlot of our ranch in Big Bear with a recording studio for you and your family and Simon, and there’s snowboarding. I want to help with Huntington’s disease and the adoption of your children. Please, would you think about moving up into the mountains to live with us.”
Andrew hugged Denise and looked at his watch. It was eight o’clock in the morning, a strange time to be home. Usually, they’d be surfing. But with sustained winds at fifty and gusts up to sixty miles per hour from Hurricane Yolanda, the waves were blown out.
Andrew jumped up and signed to Meghan that he wanted to adopt children from a baby’s age to high school and visit their ranch in Big Bear to help Wayne with the architecture. “Mom.” Meghan chuckled hard. “We’re adopting children from baby to high school age.”
Denise looked suddenly worried. “I’ll be a grandmother soon.”
Meghan was on pins and needles. “My oldest child will be about the same age as me.”
“You’re marrying an older man,” Denise nodded. “We need your help in Big Bear and Oak Glen. Your father says that you should teardown this home in
Seal Beach and move back to Big Bear.”
“What about Simon?” Meghan was curious now. He’s always prying. Why can’t he toe the line? “Simon can do anything I can do.”
“Simon is a great salesman. He could tell a customer that an apple is an ear of corn and make them want to buy more, but that’s no way to run our franchises.” She looked at her mom as though her words were dredged from a place beyond logic and reason. “Your father doesn’t trust Simon any further than he could throw a mountain. I want you to research sending mail-order flowers, bulbs, seed packets, tools, and fertilizers to Canada and Europe. You were raised to do this from childhood.”
“That’s not what we agreed.”
“In the wintertime when nothing is growing,” Denise offered an exchange. “You’ll stay down here in Seal Beach.” Denise furrowed a brow long and hard. “And in the spring, when everything is starting to grow again, you’ll come up to Big Bear and work in Oak Glen. And, since it’s not healthy for my grandchildren to be moving all the time, the kids will go to school and stay with us in Big Bear all year round.” Denise’s eyes were soft with an inner glow. “I’ll teach them how to ride the ski lift when there’s fresh powder.”
Meghan was stunned, looking at her. “Babies don’t snowboard.”
“That’s nice.”
Denise didn’t want to know more about it. After lunch, Simon asked Meghan how things had been going, but there was a distance between them, and their bond was nothing like what it had been before he ratted her out on Thanksgiving. Last month, Detective Davis questioned Simon about her lifestyle. Simon told Meghan he was honest with Jennifer. Simon told Jennifer all the most private parts of my sex life!
Meghan resented how her family and the police made her feel. But she needed to move on with her life. She refused to be the one unable to let it go. They watched shadows on the shoreline, and she forgave everyone after the sun dipped behind a cloud during a long walk on the beach. The distress was gone after a pleasant dinner, and by nine o’clock, everyone went home to the mountains.
Meghan trotted upstairs, and Andrew signed to her. “I’m glad to have met your family again.” Meghan’s eyes told him to change the subject, and he was happy to discuss something different as they took off their clothes and kissed. Later, closer to midnight, she sat up in bed and looked down at Andrew. By her side, he lay there sound asleep, and then suddenly, her heart filled with alarm. She couldn’t sit still, and then got up out of bed and went to her balcony. Torn between the isolation of her safe room and the fury of the hurricane, she was lost in thought, looking a million miles away out to sea.
30
Meghan left Andrew and Dan near the fire pit in her backyard at four in the afternoon. They were bundled up against the raw wind sweeping in from the Pacific Ocean, watching waves nearing twenty feet in height. With sustained winds at fifty miles per hour, gusts near seventy, she pulled the white hoodie even tighter against her face and went right into the house.
When she reached the foyer, she glanced into the front room. Tom and Julie were in front of the television. Meghan didn’t want to be around them either. Within a week of returning from Forest Falls, she had grown used to the solitude of her safe room. It was peaceful and quiet. She went to the garage door, opened it, and gave the barricade bars a familiar look on the exterior door.
She owed Philip a significant debt in helping her feel safe, even if the extravagance was irrational or unnecessary. I’m always sitting in here, in isolation from my friends. Our lives are in danger, but not in danger. I’m lonely, but not lonely. I believe in what’s not real. I’m losing it. She considered seeing a doctor. People visit doctors when they don’t feel good but acting like nothing will happen is dangerous. Evil erases good. They are old and wise killers. I will not put my own feelings above the safety of my family. I can come in here whenever I want. The door is always open.
An electric heater kept her feet warm as she looked at study guides from Julie on prepping for the real estate exams. The books would keep her mind off why she was really here, and Andrew had been kind while helping her follow Julie’s career path in residential sales.
Meghan went through the manuals, and the question came to her of how many square feet were in an acre? She had no idea, but after some on-line research, she found forty-three thousand five hundred and sixty. The next question asked her if she sold a house for three hundred and six thousand dollars with an eight percent commission, how much did the house sell for? And as she was doing the math, she gasped when two short blasts of a buzzer ripped through the garage, followed by four long bursts of the buzzer hardwired to Philip's house.
Meghan dropped the manual. Philip signaled there are four armed persons. She reached for a button and returned a buzz to Philip as the lights in her safe room flickered and went out, leaving her in darkness.
Filtered light from the foyer was the only source of illumination. Only minutes ago, I thought I needed mental help. Now the power’s out. And I’m crazy? Crazy like a fox… Set the barricade bars fast. Her only hope was to block the interior door before the intruders could hold her against her will.
She assessed Rick Weber’s warnings on homicidal intruders and how they behave when under pressure. She fumbled in the dark for the two-foot battery-powered LED light bar. After flipping the power switch, her eyes adjusted to the light, and she put the barricade bars on the door to the foyer.
Next, she found signal jamming devices had blocked her walkie talkies and cell phones and computers. My landline is dead too. I have no way to call 911, and, for the first time, my backup Wi-Fi from Philip’s house isn’t visible on any of my battery-powered devices. They may have cut power to both our homes, but they’ve jammed all our devices.
When power and phone lines were cut, and jammers were used, Philip was to walk for forty yards, out of range of the radio frequency jammers, and call 911 from his cell phone. She couldn’t do anything but wait for the police to arrive.
Initially, the two short blasts identified Philip as the sender of the signal. The following four more long shots from Philip on the buzzer meant four people with guns. By now, Andrew, Dan, Tom, and Julie are hostages, with no real value to the captors, except as tools to get something from me or the police.
After counting over ten full minutes on a digital alarm clock, she heard muffled footsteps, distinct, purposeful, from several sets of shoes in the foyer. Seconds later, someone pounded on the barricaded interior door. “We captured Philip before he called 911.” The voice was courteous but patronizing. “Forget about the police helping you. We know you’re alone, by yourself. Come out of the garage now. We don’t want to hurt you. Or your friends.”
She paused, remained silent, weighing her options. They want me to break Rick’s rule about not letting negotiations go mobile. Do not let the situation go mobile from the safe room was Rick Weber’s number one lesson. Well… I have a little surprise for you. “I would like to talk with you right now. But I’m kind of busy. I’ve got a lot on my plate today.” She answered in a calm voice. “Unless you’re planning on surrendering to me.”
“You want us to surrender to you right now?” He sounded confused.
“Deadlines give me dandruff.” She repeated in the same peaceful tone. “You can surrender to me now or later. I’m in no big hurry to go anywhere or do anything right now. I have lots of time today. It’s only four in the afternoon. Surrender to me now, or at your convenience, whenever you feel comfortable.”
“We have five hostages, including Andrew. All we want is the money in the closet.” His voice hardened ruthlessly. “Come out of the garage now, and no one will get hurt.”
The harder she tried to ignore the truth, the more it persisted. If all they really wanted was the money, why didn’t they just take the money? It’s sitting right there behind my closet. You know where it is, or you wouldn’t be here. Just take the money and go. Unless… we’re expendable civilian targets. The thought barely crossed her mind befor
e another followed. That’s it! They’d be fools to let us live. “I’m in no rush, so take your hostages and go make some sandwiches. There’s some crushed pineapple, cottage cheese, and Greek yogurt in the kitchen, and relax. I will talk with you in thirty minutes when I’m finished with my workout. But if you want to surrender to me now, I’ll let you go home without calling the police or the FBI. You won't’ have to go to prison for twenty years.”
“Sure.” He sounded engulfed in panic.
When she was sure he had nothing more to say, she spoke through the barricaded door, “relax.” Her coolly impersonal tone broke the stillness. “You’re not a psycho. You’re not suicidal. I have your best interests at heart when I say I know that you’d be a lot more comfortable just sitting at home and relaxing. Here at my house, you’re way underpaid and super overworked. If I were you, I’d just go home.”
She couldn’t deny it any longer. The frequency jammers blocking her devices were illegal for civilians but used by police who purchased them with their police department badge numbers. If these people were civilians, they were supported, directly or indirectly, by those who were sworn to uphold the law. Police officers forced into corruption by their department’s chain of command and under the influence of the blue wall of silence have suffered from post-traumatic stress syndrome and suicidal tendencies. Those who are suicidal are not likely to kill others. Those who are homicidal are not expected to be suicidal and want to die in a gunfight. Ultimately, they were unlikely to hurt anyone, especially themselves, as more time passes. I’ll let them talk with me later, but only after they’ve realized, I’m their lifeline to a safe exit from my property.
She sat in silence for another ten minutes, knowing something unpleasant could happen soon. She was outnumbered, four to one. If they capture me, real fast, I’ll be six feet under, pushing up daisies in a graveyard. She’d begin negotiations, not on their timeline, but when she was ready and on her terms. But they would never give up something for nothing. I need a bargaining chip.