by L T Ryan
“It’s a temporary thing. Just until I figure out what happened to my sister.”
“That’s good. Hopefully, you’ll be able to figure this out. It was a tragedy. And you think her drowning had something to do with her working here?”
“I’m not sure about anything. Just covering all the bases.”
“One of the deputies already stopped by a few days ago. A nice kid, a bit young, but he seemed well-intentioned.”
“I know. But I like to double check things.”
“As a businessman, I can appreciate your thoroughness.”
“Speaking of which—what is it your company does?”
“We mine uranium.”
“Isn’t that dangerous for the environment? I remember reading that most of the mining operations were closed down because of contamination issues.”
“That was the case in years past, but at Nighthawk, we’ve refined the process. Zero contamination. I’m proud to say we’re an environmentally-conscious company.”
“Do you think I could have a look at your records?”
Simon Chisolm blinked twice in rapid succession. A minor facial tic, but Hatch had learned not to dismiss such observations. “I don’t think that would be a problem. I would, however, need to see a warrant. I wouldn’t want my shareholders thinking I disseminated company information without going through the proper channels. I’m sure you understand?”
Hatch felt he was stalling, but also knew without his consent she’d have no legal access until a search warrant was in hand. She’d played her hand and was angry at herself for even asking. By the time a judge granted a warrant, anything of value would be destroyed or electronically buried. “I do. I wouldn’t want them to think you were violating their trust.”
“Thank you for understanding. Without trust, what do we have?”
Hatch turned to leave. “I’ll be in touch.”
“And good luck in your investigation. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“Me too.”
Hatch left the trailer. She looked out on the site and saw Bill Chisolm standing with a group of men in hard hats. They were smaller than him, but not by much. One looked like a Fabio stunt double with his long, light brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She wondered if he was gathering reinforcements to take on the girl who kicked his ass.
She stepped down to the dirt lot. None from the group approached. They never broke eye contact as she entered her pickup, staring at her until she drove away.
Hatch’s phone vibrated and she flipped it open, answering her mother’s call.
“What’s up?”
“I thought you would’ve been home by now.”
“I’m working on something.”
“I need you to pick up Jake. I dropped him at karate, but Daphne’s not feeling well, and I’ve got her soaking in an Epsom bath. Could you get him?”
“Where’s the karate school?”
“It’s at the old gymnastics studio where you went as a kid.”
“I thought it would’ve been torn down after it went out of business.”
“Guess not. Anyway, he finishes up in about half an hour. If you could make it before he’s done, I know he’d love it if you were able to watch him. He’s quite good.”
“Okay. I’m on my way.”
15
It was strange seeing the sign for Flying Dragons where Sally’s Gymnastics used to be. She’d only attended until the beginning of middle school, but standing in front of the glass panes brought back a memory of her father. He would wait for her to finish the class, watching through the glass.
Hatch watched, just as her father had done with her, while Jake moved around the mat. He wore bright red sparring gear as he bounced lightly on his feet. His opponent was a heavier boy. Jake threw a jab-cross combination followed by a roundhouse kick. Her mother was right, he was good. He delivered the trio of blows quickly. The bigger boy parried the punches, but the kick found its mark, striking him in the side of the head with enough force to spin the boy’s headgear.
The instructor separated the two and brought them back to a neutral ready position. They faced each other and bowed. With the match over, all of the students formed a line facing the instructor and gave a synchronized bow.
Jake turned as Hatch entered. She watched his face shift from elation to disappointment in the blink of an eye. Seeing her had to be a painful reminder of his mother and a twisted play on his fragile mind.
He stepped off the mat and sat on a bench to begin loading his duffle with his training gear. Jake slid on his shoes and put on his jacket.
“I didn’t know you were into martial arts.”
Jake had a vacantness to his eyes. “Yeah. Been doing it for a little over a year.”
“I would’ve guessed you’ve been training for a lot longer.”
Jake smiled. It was the first time she’d seen him do this since arriving home. And with it, his protective shell seemed to melt away.
“If you want, I’d be happy to teach you a couple moves.”
“You know karate?”
“I do.”
The two walked out as the sun was beginning its descent. The air had chilled ten degrees in the time she had been inside. She took Jake’s bag as he climbed into the truck and put it in the storage space behind her seat. As she was closing the outer cabin door to the cab’s stow area, Hatch felt as though somebody was watching her. She looked up to see Fabio, the ponytailed construction worker who’d been standing with Bill Chisolm when she’d left. The man was across the street, near Gabe’s Hardware. He wasn’t wearing the hard hat anymore. He’d exchanged it for a ball cap and his hair was no longer tied back, now hanging loose. But Hatch never forgot a face, and she was certain it was him.
The two made eye contact. Fabio immediately broke away. Odd seeing him here. Odder still was his reaction to her seeing him.
The man got into a newer model red Dodge Ram and drove off. She made a mental note to take a look into him. Something was definitely off. In her world, coincidence didn’t exist. Had she not been with her nephew, Hatch would have followed to see what he was up to and where he was headed. She looked over at Jake as she entered the truck.
“Everything okay, Auntie Rachel?”
“Yeah, I just thought I saw somebody I knew.”
She popped the emergency brake and shifted the truck into gear, pulling out from her parking space and heading out in the opposite direction of the man she wanted to follow.
“What moves are you going to teach me?”
There was an eagerness to the boy’s voice. She was glad to hear it. The sound gave her confidence he’d find the strength to get through the loss of not one but both parents. “It’s called a feign. And it works great against bigger opponents.”
“A feign?”
Hatch was happy for the distraction. After seeing the place where her sister had been killed, she welcomed the conversation. “It’s like a fake punch or kick.”
“Oh, okay. Feign means fake. How does that help with the big fighters?”
“You don’t want to try to stand toe to toe with them and bang it out. They can usually absorb more punishment, and you’ll just tire yourself out.” She looked over at the boy. His eyes were ablaze, soaking up the information like a dry sponge. “You’re quick enough to use this effectively. I watched you with the boy you were sparring.”
“That was Derek Milton. He’s a jerk. Bullies a lot of kids around school.”
“Well, you did a nice job smacking him in the face with your right foot.”
Jake’s grin widened into a full smile. “Yeah, I sure did.”
“Next time, instead of wasting time trying to land those initial punches, throw a low kick but don’t connect.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Shoot your knee out like you’re going to throw a front kick. When he lowers his guard to block, shoot that jab cross combo and double tap his face.”
“I can’t wait to try
it.”
Hatch gave him a wink as she approached a yellow traffic light on the downhill side of Main Street. “After dinner, maybe you and I can give it a try?”
“Sounds good to me.”
Hatch applied the brakes. The pedal sunk to the floorboard. The truck continued to roll full speed toward the intersection. The light changed from yellow to red. She pumped hard on the pedal. Nothing. She pressed down on the e-brake. The cable locked and the worn tires screeched as the truck slid into the intersection.
The pickup jerked to a full stop. Hatch turned to Jake, whose face was white with fear. She spun just in time to see a Suburban closing the distance, the driver’s eyes wide.
Time seemed to slow in those final seconds before impact. Hatch threw herself over to Jake’s side in an effort to shield him from the impending collision.
The back-left quarter panel took the brunt of the impact and sent the truck into a wicked spin. Metal on metal boomed as glass shattered, sending bits and pieces throughout the interior like mini spears hurled by angry Lilliputians.
Hatch did her best to shelter Jake, but with the truck’s emergency brake locked in place and the torque from the impact, the old Ford rolled hard onto the passenger side. The momentum slammed Hatch into something hard, either the window or dash. Her mind immediately became hazy.
Jake? Hatch searched for him as she fought against the closing blackness. Regardless of her will, she was swallowed into nothingness.
16
The darkness gave way to light in the way morning fog lifts from the foothills. A pulsing throb spread from the back of Hatch’s head, across her forehead and nose. With every heartbeat the pain intensified. Even in her haze, the softness of the bed coupled with the steady beep and whir of a nearby machine clued Hatch to her whereabouts. The former Army investigator had spent numerous days and weeks in one. She was in a hospital.
Her mind couldn’t sort how or why. Details of events leading up swirled in disjointed fashion. One by one they began to find order, an assembly line of images being fastened together until clarity was reached.
Jake! She thought of her nephew and the terrified look on his face. The last image of the boy’s horror was etched in her mind.
Hatch jolted upright. The room spun and a searing pain resonated from her right arm. She looked down at the bandage. It was neatly dressed, and the sterile cotton wrap covered the majority of her forearm, masking the old scar tissue. She labored to pull air into her lungs. The beeping in the background sped up as her heart pounded in her chest.
She was in the emergency care section of a hospital. Only a wrap-around curtain separated her from other patients. Hatch saw no sign of Jake and worried. She didn’t let her mind dwell on the worst of possibilities but prepared herself for it regardless. Prepare for the worst and hope for the best. Dad’s mantra offered little comfort to her fear.
Hatch swung her feet off the edge of the bed. Prepared to move, she heard the voice of a woman beyond the partition on the left.
“Is he going to be okay?”
Hatch listened. The voice was soft, almost delicate. But it wasn’t her mother.
“We’ve run him on an IV. The increase in fluid should flush out his kidneys. The pain should subside in a day or so. I want you to pick up a couple bottles of Pedialyte and continue the hydration process. Give him six ounces every hour he’s awake.”
“Doctor, do you know what caused this?”
“I’m not quite sure yet. His blood work is showing elevated levels of Alkaline Phosphatase. You mentioned your family drinks from well water?”
“Yes. Do you think there is a problem with the water?”
The doctor tapped his pen against his clipboard. “I don’t know. To be on the safe side, use bottled water until I know more.”
“Okay.” Her voice quivered. “Should everyone in my family get tested?”
“Let’s focus on your son first. There are a lot of possibilities to consider, and as of right now, he’s the only one showing any symptoms.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’d like you to bring your son back in a couple of days so I can further evaluate him. In the meantime, please ensure he’s hydrating.”
Hatch slid off the bed, the cold of the floor on her bare feet sent a chill up her spine. She took the IV stand in hand and dragged it with her as she shuffled over to the curtain.
“Knock, knock.” The doctor pulled back the curtain and almost dropped his clipboard as he came face to face with Hatch.
She staggered back a step. “Sorry to startle you. I was looking for my nephew.”
“You shouldn’t be out of bed yet.” He aimed a finger at the cot.
“Well, I am. And I need to see my nephew.”
“He’s okay. He’s with your mother in the waiting room.”
Relief washed over Hatch like cool rain. “Oh, thank God. He wasn’t hurt then?”
“Broken arm. But it was a clean break. It’s been set and cast.” His face drew tight. “My concern is for you. Head trauma is nothing to take lightly. And you’ve been out for a little over three hours.”
“I’m up now and feeling fine.”
“You’ve got a concussion and two lacerations. Seven stitches above your left eyebrow and nineteen to the arm.”
“Then it sounds like I’m all patched up.”
“I really would like you to stick around for another couple hours—maybe even stay overnight.”
“Out of the question. I’ll sign the release.”
The doctor threw his hands up in defeat. “Have it your way. I’ll send the nurse in with the paperwork. Your clothes are over there on the chair.”
“My gun and badge?”
“It’s in the bag underneath.” He parted the curtain and then looked back at her. “I didn’t know we had a new deputy in Hawk’s Landing.”
“It’s just temporary.” Realizing she’d come off a little strong, Hatch added, “Thanks for patching me up, Doc.”
“I can see you’ve been through some rough stuff before. Fire?”
“War.”
“Oh.” The doctor was at a loss for words and used the moment to break away. He retreated from the room, closing the curtain behind him.
Hatch, alone again, removed the tape securing the IV and pulled out the needle. She taped the bit of gauze back over the small hole to sop up the blood. Walking over to the chair containing her folded clothes, Hatch disrobed. She pulled up her jeans and threw on her shirt. As she buttoned the last button, the curtain opened again. Expecting to see the nurse, Hatch turned and instead found herself staring at Dalton Savage.
“Nothing like knocking first, huh?”
“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. The doctor said you were alert and I just—”
“Worried about me?”
“Well, you are my newest deputy. It’d look pretty bad on me if you died on the first day.”
Hatch’s grin shifted to a grimace as she adjusted the sleeve of her damaged arm, rolling it up to the elbow.
Savage looked at the scar damage covered by the pristine white of the bandage. “Must hurt.”
“Everything is relative. A splinter doesn’t hurt somebody who’s pulled shrapnel out of their body.”
“Guess so. What’s that tattoo say?”
Hatch held up her bandaged arm. “What tattoo?”
“I saw it before, but didn’t want to pry.”
“And now you do?”
“I think we’re close enough now.” He smiled.
“Just a quote from Alice in Wonderland.”
He nodded, withholding comment.
“Surprised?” she asked.
Savage shrugged. His face turned serious. “What were you doing at Nighthawk Engineering questioning Simon Chisolm?”
“I was checking a lead.”
“You were supposed to be assisting Sinclair with the interview of Jed Russell. Instead, you disappeared to go off and run your own investigation. And then you wind
up in a car accident.”
“It was no accident.”
“What do you mean, no accident?”
“Just that. My brake lines had to have been cut. They were working fine before I spoke with Chisolm. And then presto—they’re not.”
“Your truck is about as old as Jed and you’re starting to sound about as crazy as him, too.”
“So, you don’t believe me?”
“I don’t know what to believe. But if we’re going to go after the wealthiest and most influential individual in town, then we’d better have some hard evidence.”
“I saw a guy from Nighthawk just before the accident.”
“Most of this town works for that company.”
“I mean he was at the construction site with Chisolm Junior, and then he was across the street from me when I went to pick up my nephew from karate.”
“There aren’t a lot of places in town. Isn’t that karate school on Main Street?”
Hatch saw his logic, and Savage’s play at devil’s advocate was starting to rub her the wrong way. The pain in her head was also intensifying. She decided to drop it until she had something more concrete than intuition and hunches. Her answer came in the form of a shrug.
“Your truck is at Bo’s Automotive. Total loss, by the way. I’ll call over and have them check out your brakes. In the meantime, you can ride with me.”
Hatch pulled the gun and badge from the bag. She looked at Savage before donning the items. “You still want me to have these?”
“As long as you still want them.”
Hatch answered by clipping them onto her belt.
She walked out into the main hall of the small ER. A nurse flagged her down and hustled over. Winded from the short burst of energy, she held out a clipboard with the release attached. Hatch signed it and walked out to the lobby.
Jake was sitting in the chair tucked under Hatch’s mother’s arm as she gently stroked the top of his head. The two looked up as Hatch entered the waiting area.
“You doing okay?” Hatch squatted down in front of the boy.
He nodded, holding up his cast. “Are you?”
“Just a couple of scratches. Nothing to worry about.”
