The Iron Ring

by Matty Dalrymple

  Rey. Philip could barely hear Hanrick for the blood pounding in his ears.

  “They all made a happy convoy to Sedona—Lizzy and then the blonde and then Clem—and Lizzy holes up in a casita guarded by the world’s nosiest landlord. The blonde makes like she’s going to stake out the casita, but I told Clem I wanted to find out why she was interested in my visitor. I was feeling pretty protective of my girl, I don’t mind telling you.” There was a pause, and a sucking sound. Philip hoped it was a draw on a cigarette. Hanrick coughed, then continued. “The pretty blonde—Clem sent me a picture, said she must have been from Sweden or Norway judging by her accent—told him pretty quick that she worked for someone back east and had come out here with Philip Castillo looking for someone named Elizabeth Ballard. He tried to find out more about this Philip Castillo from the blonde, but he was a little too … overenthusiastic. I’m going to have to give that boy some coaching on questioning techniques.”

  “Let me talk with Lizzy.”

  “So, with the blonde dead,” Hanrick continued, “and that scum in Kingman taken care of, I decided I needed to see my pretty visitor again without a big slab of Plexiglas in between us. And pretty soon, she ventured out of the casita. You’ll never guess why.”

  Hanrick paused, waiting for a response.

  “Why?”

  “My guess is her phone was dead and she’d lost her power cord, and what teenage girl can stand having a dead phone? So she ventures out to get a power cord, and we met up with her in a hotel parking lot in Sedona.”

  “Let me talk with her.”

  “Once we got the phone plugged in, it was chock full of interesting information,” continued Hanrick. “Actually, I was surprised that she only had six entries in her Contacts list. Andy. Daisy. Philip. Philip Work. Ruby. Uncle Owen. I don’t know much about teenage girls—at least not about what contacts they store in their phones,” he said with a leer in his voice, “but six entries was a lot less than I had expected. But fewer contacts was better—easier to find the one I might want to contact myself. Get a little cash to start my new life in exchange for the girl.”

  “How do I know you have her unless I talk to her?”

  “Uncle Owen seemed promising. Ruby and Andy might be friends, although Ruby seemed like an unusual name for a girl her age. But Philip was interesting because there were two entries—and Philip Work at least suggested an adult. I thought I’d give Philip Work a call, see if I could find out a little more about him. And you know what I heard?”

  Hanrick paused again.

  “What?”

  “Philip Castillo, psychic counselor, inviting me to leave a message. You can just imagine how tickled I was. Philip Castillo. Philip Casal. I’d recognize the voice of Oscar Riva’s Indian sidekick anywhere. I thought to myself, Tobe, old boy, your re-entry into civilian life is going to be even more fun than you had anticipated. What do you think about that, Casal?”

  “I think you better give me a reason to think you actually have her.”

  “Oh, I have her, but she’s not in a talking state at the moment. Clothesline around the neck, courtesy of Clemson—although unlike with the Swede, I made sure he stopped in time with Lizzy.”

  “You better be sure no harm comes to her.”

  Hanrick gave a rough laugh. “You’re talking a big game considering you have zero leverage in this situation. Although,” he continued, “I might be willing to consider a swap. Miss Lizzy for Philip Casal. You and I could chat about our mutual friend Oscar Riva.”

  “Where are you?” Philip asked.

  “I’m surprised you need me to tell you, if you’re so psychic.”

  “I’m not that kind of psychic.”

  Hanrick snorted. “Too bad for you. You know the abandoned trailer park up 89A from Sedona?”

  “Yeah, I know it.”

  “Go there.”

  “I’m an hour away.”

  “What are you doing so far away on a school night? Lizzy might have needed help with her homework.”

  Philip bit back a retort. “I had business to take care of.”

  “Philip Castillo, psychic counselor, does house calls? That’s perfect. I think I need some psychic counseling, and I need it quick. You better start driving now. If I’m here with Miss Lizzy for too long, I might rethink the swap.” said Hanrick. “And you better be alone.”

  The call disconnected.

  56

  Lizzy woke to a grating pain in her throat. Her head was tilted at an awkward angle, and when she tried to raise it, a hot bolt of pain shot from her neck down her arm. She groaned, and heard a soft sound that she realized was a chuckle.

  “Crick in your neck, sweetheart?”

  She jerked at the voice. She tried to raise her hands to block the presence she could sense but not see, but they were immobilized—tied or taped to the arms of the chair in which she sat. Her ankles were bound, too—one to each chair leg. Something was tied over her eyes, and a wad of cloth was stuffed in her mouth.

  And she was so cold. She could tell from the echo of Tobe Hanrick’s words that they were inside, but there must have been a door or window open because she could feel the icy fingers of a breeze across her raw neck. She was still wearing her coat, but her body was seizing with shivers.

  She jumped again when she heard Hanrick’s voice just a couple of feet away from her.

  “Guess you won’t need this way down here in the canyon.”

  She gasped and tears sprang to her eyes as the tape that had been holding the gag in place was ripped from her cheeks.

  “Can’t wait until Casal gets here.”

  “Philip’s coming?” she said, trying to sort through the confusion of thoughts in her head.

  “What makes you think that?” he asked, and she realized he hadn’t spoken the comment about Philip out loud—she had heard it in his thoughts. She clamped her lips together. In the parking lot behind the hotel, she had perceived his thoughts as spoken words—that had been her downfall. Now she had fallen into the same trap again, and that could be Philip’s downfall. If she couldn’t tell the difference between what Tobe said out loud and what he said only in his mind, she would stay silent. What danger had she put Philip in by mentioning his name?

  “What’s the matter, sweetheart? You were so chatty when you visited me at Williams. Gotten shy all of a sudden? That would be quite a disappointment.”

  He continued to talk, his tone more than his words filling her with dread, but it was his thoughts that made her stomach churn. She tried to turn her attention away from them, as she might turn away from the sight of a twisted deer carcass by the side of the road. But she couldn’t block the poisonous monologue that filtered from his brain to hers.

  Eventually, she thought she could distinguish his thoughts from his speech by a slight fuzziness attached to the unspoken words.

  As he talked, she tried to piece together what had happened. He and the person who had choked her must have followed her from the casita to the hotel. She remembered Tobe trying to get the van door open, then making a reference to using a car for their getaway instead. Was the van still sitting behind the hotel on Sedona’s main drag? Once Andy got to the casita and realized she was gone, he would go looking for her, and there was a tiny possibility he would find it, although she couldn’t imagine what good that would do her.

  “What did you do with my van?” she asked.

  “Don’t you worry about your wheels, my man Clemson’s taking care of it,” he said, and then she heard, and then he’s going to come back here and make sure no one bothers us.

  Clemson must have been the person whose thoughts she had heard as the muttering sound right before the noose slipped around her neck.

  She had to keep Tobe talking. Not only was there a chance she’d hear something that would help her or Philip, but talking with him—odious as it was—was preferable to the other activities she could see passing through his thoughts.

  “Do you know Clemson from prison?”
she asked.

  “Yeah. He’s dumb as a concrete block, but faithful as a beaten dog.”

  “Do you know Philip Casal from prison?” She had already given away that she knew Philip, she figured that asking about him couldn’t make things worse.

  “Indeed I do,” he replied, “Phil and I were like brothers.” He gave a nasty laugh. “Cain and Abel.”

  “I can’t remember which was which,” she said.

  “Oh, I’d say I’m Cain and he’s Abel,” he said. “And I don’t much mind a life of wandering.”

  “Wandering?”

  “Not much of a Bible scholar, are you, Lizzy.”

  Somehow the fact that he knew her real name broke her resolve, and she gulped back a sob.

  “Poor little Lizzy,” murmured Hanrick. “You and Phil must be pretty … tight. You asked before if he was coming.” She flinched at the sound of the click of a lighter, then smelled the tang of cigarette smoke. She heard a long exhale. “Oh, yeah. He’s coming. And it’ll be just like the old days when he arrives.” He gave a rough cough. “Except for you, of course. We didn’t have pretty girls like you at Williams.” He laughed again. “It will make a nice change of pace.”

  57

  The speedometer of Wayne’s battered Sunbird hovered near ninety, and Philip prayed there weren’t troopers patrolling tonight—or that the car didn’t spontaneously disintegrate, as a chorus of rattles and squeaks suggested it might.

  “I don’t know why you’re doing the driving,” said Wayne, bent over his work.

  “I’ll get us there faster.”

  “I’ll say.” Wayne glanced up at the road. “I hope some cow doesn’t pick now to cross the road—we’d be cooked if we hit one at this speed.”

  “You’re going to be cooked if you don’t shut up and let me concentrate,” growled Philip.

  Wayne was holding Philip’s left boot and picking a seam out of the top with a small pocket knife. After a few minutes, he retrieved a much larger knife from the glove compartment and slipped the blade into the opening at the top of the boot. He held it up for Philip’s inspection.

  “How’s that?”

  Philip glanced over. “Looks good.”

  Wayne pulled the knife in and out of the boot a few times. “You don’t think he’ll find it?”

  “I’ll have the gun in the shoulder holster—I’ll throw that one away when he tells me to disarm. If someone pats me down, they’ll find the one in the ankle holster, and I’m hoping they’ll think that’s it and won’t look further.”

  “If they pat you down, they’ll find the knife, too.”

  “If they see I’m right-handed, they’ll likely pat down my right leg first, and if someone is close enough to pat me down, they’ll be close enough to get a knife into.”

  “You won’t be able to get to the knife fast if you have your pant leg pulled over it.”

  “Thanks, Wayne,” said Philip tightly. “You let me know when you have a better idea.”

  They were silent for a few minutes, Wayne fussing with the knife and boot. Then Philip asked, “How well do you know Sedona?”

  Wayne put the boot on the floor and pulled his gun out of its holster. “Not really my neck of the woods.”

  “The trailer park where he says he has her has been abandoned for years.”

  “I’m surprised anywhere around Sedona would be abandoned with all those tourists.”

  “It’s about a mile north of town, and it’s pretty deep in the canyon. It’s shaded for most of the day, and tourists come for the sun.”

  “Anything nearby?”

  “No.” Philip’s first thought had been that the trailer park would provide the privacy Hanrick no doubt wanted for the evening’s events. His stomach rolled and he took a deep breath. “The only flat piece of ground in that section is the highway. Cliffs straight up on one side, and then just a little strip of land between the highway and the creek that the trailer park sits on.”

  “Might not have needed my silencer,” said Wayne, fiddling with the mechanism attached to his gun.

  “Better safe than sorry.” After a moment, Philip added, “It won’t be quiet in the canyon—the water’s running high in the creek, and that makes a lot of noise. That will be in our favor. Easier for you to sneak up on him. I’ll let you out near my office in Sedona, then you hustle up there.”

  “You want me to walk along a road that’s cliffs on one side and a river on the other in the dark?”

  “You’re willing to help me kill Tobe Hanrick, but you’re not willing to walk along a country road at night?”

  Wayne sighed. “Okay. Fine.”

  “In any case, you should stay in the woods, or along the creek.” Philip pulled into the left lane to pass a car doing seventy. “You might get to take out Hanrick all by yourself.”

  “What about Clemson?”

  “Take them all out.”

  “Do we need to call in reinforcements?”

  “There’s no time.”

  They drove in silence for several minutes, then Philip said, “If Hanrick says he’ll let the girl go in exchange for me, do you think he’ll do it?”

  Wayne snorted. “Hanrick? That bastard?”

  “He’s a bastard, but think about it—have you ever heard of him going back on something he said he’d do?”

  Wayne thought for a few moments, then said, almost reluctantly, “No, can’t say I’ve ever heard that.”

  “It’s like that story about Manny Ortega and his wife. Hanrick promised Ortega he’d leave his wife alone, and he did.”

  “Yeah, but look what he did to Manny.”

  “Yeah. I remember.”

  They were silent again, then Wayne said, “So, what, you’re just going to walk into his hideout, watch the girl walk away, then let Hanrick do whatever he wants to you?”

  “That’s not how I’m hoping it goes down.”

  “But if it comes down to that?”

  Philip blazed past another car. He felt his stomach roll again and hoped he wouldn’t have to pull over to be sick.

  “Yeah, if it comes down to that, that’s what I’ll do.”

  58

  The Uptown Sedona streets were largely deserted, so the man jogging painfully toward the center of the tourist strip stood out. He was tall and thin, and as he drew nearer to the car in which Owen and Andy sat, he passed under a streetlight and they could see the sores spotted across his face and the rotting teeth in a mouth gasping for air.

  “Methhead marathon?” said Andy.

  Owen shook his head. “Who knows.”

  Ten minutes later, Andy, who had been watching the oncoming traffic in the driver’s side mirror, sat forward. “Here comes a white van.”

  The van passed them, a silver scrape clearly visible on the passenger side.

  “That’s her!” exclaimed Owen.

  Andy turned the key in the ignition.

  “She’s not stopping at Philip’s office,” said Owen.

  “Maybe it’s not her driving,” said Andy.

  Owen fidgeted with the fringe on a maroon scarf draped around his neck. “Let it get a little bit up the road before you follow it. We won’t lose it—once it’s out of town, there aren’t any turns you can make off the highway.”

  They waited about thirty seconds, then Andy pulled out.

  They could see the van ahead of them, its taillights appearing and disappearing as the road wound along the edge of Oak Creek canyon. After about a mile, the van slowed and pulled off the road.

  “Keep going,” said Owen.

  As they passed, a man got out of the vehicle.

  “Shit,” said Andy. “That’s marathon man.”

  Owen watched in the passenger side mirror as the man unhooked the chain that crossed the rough gravel drive. “What in the world is going on?” he said, his voice thready with panic.

  About a hundred yards further on they came to a turnout which, in the daylight, was no doubt a scenic overlook.

  “Turn
the lights off so they don’t see us pulling over,” whispered Owen.

  Andy turned off the headlights and pulled into the turnout. “You don’t have to whisper,” he said.

  They climbed out of the car. Through the trees that lined the banks of the canyon, they could see the car lights below them, flickering as the intervening branches moved in the slight breeze. A moment later, the lights went off.

  “What’s down there?” asked Andy.

  “An abandoned trailer park, if I remember correctly.”

  “I’m going to sneak down there and see what’s going on,” said Andy.

  “No, it’s too dangerous,” said Owen.

  “Do you remember if Lizzy has her phone set to ring or just to vibrate?”

  “She usually has it set to ring. Why?”

  “Wait a few minutes and try calling her number again. If I’m close enough, maybe I’ll hear if it’s ringing in the van. That would suggest that she might be in there, too.”

  “But you and I should stay on the line so I can hear if you need help.”

  “That would be great if we had multiple phones.”

  “I should come with you,” said Owen.

  “You shouldn’t even be out here, let alone slogging through the woods. Plus, who’s going to call in the cavalry if things go tits up? I’ll open a call if there’s trouble, and even if I can’t talk, you can hear what’s going on.”

  “Maybe we should call the cavalry now.”

  “Let’s play the scenario out,” said Andy. “Let’s just say Lizzy’s down there. We call the cops and tell them that we think your goddaughter is being held against her will in some abandoned trailer park. In the worst case scenario, they dick around until it’s too late anyway. In the best case scenario—a heavily caveated ‘best’—they come roaring in in force with guns drawn, and there’s Lizzy, the Queen of Squeeze, right in the middle of the most stressful situation you could imagine. Seems like we’re setting up a scenario that could result in a whole lot of cranial carnage.”