Drift

by L T Ryan

  Cramer sighed. “It’s nothing new. Big company comes into a small town and before you know it, the whole economy is dependent. You dig too deep on this investigation and you’re going to bury this entire town.”

  “Maybe that’s exactly what this town needs.” Savage’s face hardened. “I’ve got a dead mother of two who’d probably agree with me.”

  “I had nothing to do with that. You’re wasting your time on me because I don’t know anything about what happened to her.”

  “I’d guess you know more than you realize.”

  Hatch sat quietly listening to the back and forth. The give and take moments in an interview were tedious things. Normally, she’d give hours or even days in some cases to this phase, but the events of the last few hours had exhausted her reserve of patience. She’d evaded a deadly encounter on two separate occasions tonight and the only person capable of providing some much-needed answers feared reprisal more than any protection the sheriff could provide.

  Hatch interrupted. “Mind if Don and I have a private conversation?”

  Savage seemed to understand the true meaning of the request. He stood without saying a word. Having almost been shot and killed by Cramer seemed to loosen his need for procedural protocol.

  At the door, Savage turned. “I offer this advice. Think of Bill Chisolm’s broken face and hand before you think of playing coy with her.” He paused and looked up at the camera in the corner of the room. “And it’s a shame how these cameras have been really glitchy tonight.”

  Savage left, shutting the door. Hatch waited for the sound of the lock to punctuate the awkward silence. She could almost taste Cramer’s fear.

  Hatch looked down at the man’s hands. They were shackled to a steel hook bolted to the center of the table. The chain links gave Cramer just enough slack to bring his palms to the edge, but not beyond. She leaned in. “No more games. No more protecting the people you work for. And for every wrong answer you give. I’ll break a finger.”

  “What? You can’t—”

  Without warning Hatch snatched the man’s left hand. Finding purchase on the pinky, she locked her index finger to the outside and, using her thumb as a fulcrum, snapped the joint outward. The crack was loud, but Cramer’s scream quickly drowned it out.

  “I just did. Now you have nine more chances to get this right.”

  Tears filled his eyes. He cradled the damaged hand, looking at the deformed finger.

  Hatch had already formed an assessment of Cramer during her limited interactions with him since becoming a member of the sheriff’s office. He was weak and she’d selected this interrogation technique for its effectiveness. She had other measures at her disposal but wasn’t sure Savage would approve. Hatch elected this minimally invasive technique.

  “What’s wrong with you?” He was still fixed on his broken pinky. “Who breaks somebody’s hand?”

  “I didn’t get to your hand—yet. And by the way you reacted to that little bit, I sure hope we don’t have to.”

  Cramer wiped his tears. The door to the interrogation room remained locked. And Savage, most likely listening in, wasn’t intervening.

  “Now that you understand my level of commitment to the truth, I hope you’ll decide to cooperate.”

  His face was blotched with redness. The look of it reminded her of a child who’d skinned a knee and was trying not to cry. The grown man’s chin quivered as he fought back tears. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.”

  Hatch exited the interview room an hour later. Savage was in his office and stepped into the doorway. His eyes asked the question.

  “He gave it up. Connected the dots. It appears Nighthawk Engineering isn’t so green after all. In fact, they’re the polar opposite. Not only were they forcing people out of their family homes, the mining has been tainting groundwater around the lake. The effect seems to be more pronounced in the young, like the boy from the hospital, or in the elderly.”

  “Doesn’t shock me that the company is dirty. They’ve got mercenaries running their security team. Well, they did until you killed them.”

  Hatch furrowed her brow. “Fabio?”

  “While you were having a conversation with recently fired Deputy Cramer, I ran the prints you took. Fabio is wanted by Interpol for a bombing in Uzbekistan. I did a little research and it seems Danzig Holdings was operating in that area at the time of the blast. The same name at the bottom of the buyouts is apparently the overarching company bankrolling Nighthawk Engineering’s operation.”

  “Hawk’s Landing might be a little understaffed to handle the implications in all of this.”

  “Couldn’t agree more. That’s why I put a call in to one of my contacts at the FBI. They’re sending in support from the Denver office. Guys I personally trust. The EPA will be sending in a team as well to evaluate the extent of the contamination and assist in the cleanup.”

  “When will your bureau buddies arrive?”

  “In the morning. I’ve talked to the Lieutenant from the state police who’s overseeing the scene at Russell’s place. I gave him the skinny on what went down and briefed him on what he’s going to find when he runs the prints on the bodies. He’s said if everything checks out, you should have no problem getting cleared.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “He did say they’re going to need a statement from you. I told them you’d provide it in the morning. I let him know we had a little hiccup here at the station tonight. Let’s stuff Cramer back in a cell until morning. You can head home and get some well-deserved rest.”

  “I don’t mind sticking around to help out.”

  Savage shook his head. “I think it’s best if I can play keep away with you from the state police until we can get a handle on things. I don’t want them paying a surprise visit and you getting forced into giving a formal statement until you’ve had a chance to put a couple hours of sleep between now and then.”

  Hatch understood. It was always good to give the mind time to recover from the trauma of a critical incident. She recovered quicker than most but figured a little sleep couldn’t hurt. An involuntary yawn escaped her as if punctuating her thoughts on the matter.

  “Plus, don’t worry about me. I’ve got Barbara here to watch my back for a while. She’s a dead eye with that hole punch.”

  “Don’t you forget it,” Barbara called out.

  Hatch chuckled.

  Savage tossed her a set of keys. She caught them in mid-air. “It’s to Cramer’s cruiser. He’s not going to need it anymore.”

  “The last loner you gave me is shredded on Jed’s lawn.”

  “Let’s hope this one lasts you a bit longer. At least until morning.” He smiled as he fished out his bag of licorice. “I think I’ve tripled my intake since you came to town.” He tossed a handful in his mouth.

  She patted his stomach. “Don’t worry, looks like I’ll be clearing out soon enough.”

  He stopped chewing and swallowed hard. “I hope not. I was just getting used to having you around.”

  Hatch attempted a smile as she pocketed the keys and put on her coat. She looked at the time. It was almost midnight.

  The engine started and heat soon poured out from the vents, battling the icy air of the vehicle’s interior. She sat in the quiet for a moment, pausing to recalibrate her mind after the events of the evening.

  Four hours ago, she’d turned down Daphne’s offer of a bedtime snuggle to meet Cole for dinner. The rest of the evening had spiraled drastically out of control. Now Hatch wanted nothing more than to get home and sneak into Daphne’s bed, hoping whatever magic spell the child had would gift her another night of deep, uninterrupted sleep.

  Dropping the car into drive, Hatch sped away into the darkness toward home.

  As she drove, her mind replayed the conversation with Cramer. He spilled his guts on the inner workings of Nighthawk Engineering and why they were intimidating and buying out the citizens of Hawk’s Landing. But Cramer didn�
�t know who had actually killed her sister. And the fact she wasn’t any closer to the answer bothered her.

  All Cramer knew was she’d threatened to expose the company’s illegal practices. But vehemently denied having any direct involvement in her death, nor did he know who carried it out. Hatch confirmed his honesty when she’d gone for another of the man’s fingers. Cramer was resolute.

  The FBI would be taking over the case in the morning, and the state police would be conducting the investigation into the shooting at Jed’s place. Neither would give her the closure she sought.

  She drove along the dark road, the headlights cutting a path through the night ahead. Hatch racked her mind for the answer. And was disappointed when nothing came.

  Morning would come in a few hours and with it any chance of personally and properly avenging her sister’s death would be lost to the bureaucracy of an official investigation.

  It wasn’t long before she began making her way up the windy red dirt driveway of her childhood home, bringing to close the madness of the night’s events. Hatch saw the lights in the kitchen were on and thought it strange. Stranger still was the car parked at the top of the driveway. Cole Jensen’s Jeep Wrangler Rubicon.

  Hatch let out a grunt of annoyance. What in the world was he doing here? And why would her mother be entertaining him so late at night?

  His persistence was bordering on stalker’ish behavior. But Hatch knew her mother had always thought the world of Cole. Even after devastating Hatch by cheating on her with her twin, her mother still tried to persuade Hatch to give him a second chance. Tonight would not be the night.

  She wanted nothing more than to run a hot shower and then steal some sleep with her niece. Now she had to contend with Cole’s relentless attempts at courtship. She planned to quickly dash any notion and then get some rest.

  Hatch exited the car and walked by Cole’s Jeep. She touched his hood out of an old habit she developed during her patrol days. It was still warm. She surmised he couldn’t have been here long, less than twenty minutes, thirty at most. The cold air would’ve cooled the hood in that time. Hatch looked back toward the house. Why would Cole show up at this hour of the night?

  She took her hand off the hood and started to head for the door when something caught her eye. She never really took a close look at Cole’s Jeep before, aside from noticing the newness of it. But the oddity of seeing it here now caused her to give it further inspection. And what caught her eye made her blood boil and a chill streak down her spine.

  The tires.

  In particular—the treads.

  Hatch bent down and ran her fingers over the ridges. Feeling the hard rubber, she recognized the pattern, an intricate network of grooves resembling a series of puzzle pieces.

  Without looking at the photo she’d taken while at the location near where her sister’s body was dumped, Hatch knew without a doubt it was a match.

  She stood, looking at the house with a renewed sense of purpose. The man responsible for dumping her sister’s body and most likely killing her was somewhere inside.

  Hatch pulled the small revolver and made a crouched approach toward the front, hoping to get a read on the situation before coming up with an appropriate plan of action. What she saw inside unnerved her. Not an easy thing to accomplish.

  Cole Jensen was standing with his back pressed against the wall. His left arm was wrapped tightly around both children. Jake’s neck was in the crux of Cole’s arm, nearest the elbow. Daphne was pulled toward his center and was being held in place by a tight grip on her shoulder. A handgun was pressed firmly against the soft skin of her temple. Hatch’s mother sat frozen in a chair at the table. Her back was to Hatch, but she could see her mother’s shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

  Hatch hoped for a better alternative than going through the front door. But looking at the situation, any surprise could likely result in Cole shooting the children.

  She took a minute to assess the situation and take in as much as she could before entering. Cole looked deranged. He resembled that famous image of Jack Nicholson in The Shining more than the handsome grown-up version of her high school love. His normally kempt hair was a mess. His face was slick with sweat and his chest heaved. Desperation permeated every fiber of his being.

  Hatch had survived two standoffs tonight. Going for the hat trick, she stepped up onto the porch. The only difference was that, this time, she’d be facing it alone.

  Cole must’ve heard her footsteps because he shifted, jerking the children tighter. Tears streamed down their delicate cheeks. Hatch fought to control the anger rising up inside her. She wanted nothing more than to walk through the door and empty all six chambers of the revolver into his head. That was a solution filled with dire consequences and was cast from her mind as soon as it entered.

  She opened the door but did not enter. Instead, she remained outside, waiting and listening. All she heard was the rhythmic sobbing of her niece and nephew. She knew that once she crossed the threshold, nothing would ever be the same.

  “Cole, I’m here now. You can let them go and deal with me.”

  “The hell I can! I know what you did to those other guys. No way I’m facing you one on one.”

  “Then what is it you want from me?”

  “I want you to come in here and have a seat with your mother. There’s lots to talk about.”

  Hatch could hear it in his voice. Cole was terrified. But on top of that he was slurring, which meant he had most likely used a little liquid courage to get him to this point. Or he was already drunk when he received the call to action. Either way, it was a disadvantage she hoped to exploit should the opportunity arise.

  “Did you hear me? I said get your ass in here and have a seat!”

  Hatch took two quick breaths, letting the oxygen clear her thoughts and bringing forth a controlled focus. She brought the gun up, entering the main hallway with the front sight post leading the way. She had a short wall, four feet long, before it opened up into the kitchen area and she’d be exposed to him.

  She crossed the distance, keeping her elbows tight to her sides, providing a stable shoot and move platform. Hatch pivoted into the room and stopped. The front sight dancing along the forehead of her former high school sweetheart, turned cheater, turned murderer.

  “Drop the gun, you crazy bitch!”

  “No chance. And watch the language around the children.”

  Cole looked baffled at the comment.

  “Rachel, please put the gun down. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” Hatch’s mother sniffled and choked on her words.

  Hatch addressed her mother without taking her eyes off the man in front of her. “I put this gun down and we’re all dead. Isn’t that right, Cole?”

  He didn’t answer. He squeezed the children tighter, tucking himself lower. Daphne’s head now reduced her ability to safely take a shot.

  If Hatch could place a round in Cole’s forehead, above the bridge of his nose and between the eyebrows, it would disable his ability to pull the trigger. There were a couple problems with her plan. She’d be firing at the target with two hostages and using a short-barreled weapon she’d never fired before. It was risky at best under the most optimal of scenarios. Her mind rapidly played out alternatives, running the numbers to achieve maximum survivability. The odds were not good.

  “I never thought you for a killer. A cheater, yes. But a killer?” Hatch decided maybe she could buy a little time.

  “Shut your mouth! You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Nice Jeep. I never noticed the tires before.”

  Hatch watched as Cole tried to piece together her riddle. She noticed the grip on Daphne’s shoulder lessen slightly and the white in his knuckles dissipated as he tried to understand her comment. “What—”

  “The deputies made a critical mistake when they took for granted the location where Olivia was found. It’s understandable. Most of them have never worked a real crime scene before. But I have.
And I don’t make mistakes. My sister drifted there. She was dumped elsewhere.”

  “Sit down.” Cole spoke through his teeth. A tremor rippled along his body. He was becoming more unhinged.

  “Maybe you’re the one who should take a seat and listen.”

  Cole’s eyes moved nervously around the room as if he half expected to see Hatch’s reinforcements lurking in a dark corner.

  “Your fancy new Jeep has some pretty unique tire treads. And the old boat launch you used to dump my sister’s body left as good an impression as I’ve ever seen.” She watched him. His breathing became more erratic with each passing second. “The sheriff knows. He’s working up the arrest warrant as we speak. The feds and state police are also involved now thanks to the goons you sent to kill me. By the end of all this, you’ll have lots of company in prison.”

  “I’m not going to prison. Do you hear me?”

  “What’s your plan? Kill me? Then what? Kill my family? Have you seriously gone mad?” Hatch regretted the last comment. No need to push the man beyond the point of reason.

  “She was going to ruin everything. She was going to shut us down. Call in the EPA. People were going to lose their jobs. It would’ve crippled the town.”

  “So, you killed my sister to save the town? How noble of you.”

  “I didn’t mean that—it wasn’t supposed to go that way. I was just trying to scare some sense into her. Make her see how stupid she was. That these are people you don’t mess around with. She wouldn’t listen.” Cole’s fingers were now barely holding a piece of Daphne’s nightgown. The grip loosening, Jake was now able to swivel his head and lock eyes with Hatch. She saw a strange determination replace his despondency. And in it, Hatch saw her opportunity.

  Hatch was aware the decisions made over the next few minutes would decide the fate of everybody in the room.

  “How much did my sister’s life get you in return?”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Explain.”

  “They told me to shake her up a bit. Scare the crap out of her. The needle was supposed to contain a sleeping aid. They told me it was benign.”