As they stepped through the door, the girl began to struggle with renewed vigor. She managed to turn her head and get her mouth out from under Benny’s gloved hand.
“My dad is going to kill you,” she shrieked. “He’s going to kill all of you!”
This only made Eustace laugh harder. Benny clamped both of his hands over the girl’s mouth, but this also put him right up against James. The guy had a serious case of halitosis. James gagged and pressed his nose against his own sleeve. Beyond the back door, a short hallway led to the office, which was little more than a closet with a desk and chair.
“We’ll put her in here,” Eustace said, waving them toward the office door. “It’s fairly secure. We can lock the inner and outer door.”
They hauled the girl into the office. A narrow window on the door allowed a bit of light to filter in from the warehouse floor, but otherwise, it was dim and cold. They set the girl on the chair. As soon as James let go of her, she began fighting them again.
“You’re only hurting yourself,” he said, grabbing her arms and pulling them behind the chair. Indeed, she’d developed a rather ugly bruise beneath her right eye at some point. “Calm down. You don’t have the strength to break free, and I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Well, I hurt you,” she replied. “I hurt you, and I’m glad.”
It took four people to hold her in the chair as Eustace produced zip ties. Using the zip ties, he fastened her hands to the support posts of the chair and fastened the chair to the legs of the desk. Only then, out of breath and crying, did the girl finally seem to give up. She slumped back in the chair and shut her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Just stay here and be good,” James said. “Don’t make things worse for yourself or your family.”
And with that, he retreated from the office, beckoning the other goons to follow him. Eustace came last, pausing a few seconds to gloat over his captive. Finally, he left the office, pulling the door shut behind him and locking it. James could see the girl through the narrow window, a gray shape in the darkness seated behind the desk like an office drone who had fallen asleep at work.
As soon as Eustace turned back around and pocketed the key, James stepped in front of him.
“Hey, boss, can I talk to you privately?” he asked. He was impressed with his own ability to moderate the tone of voice. Despite the fact that he was a seething cauldron of contempt, he managed to sound calm and collected. “Not in front of these other guys.” He gestured at the other guards who were lingering outside the office.
“What about?” Eustace said, his eyes narrowing.
“For your ears only,” James replied, and he even managed something that was almost a smile.
Eustace nodded, though his lips were pursed. “Okay,” he said, making a small signal to Pam Grasier. “Go keep an eye on the front of the building. Donald, Benny, the rest of you, do whatever she says. Go on.”
“Fine with me,” Pam replied, in a voice that suggested otherwise.
She turned, beckoned the other guards, and walked deeper into the warehouse. A wall with a heavy fire door cut down the middle of the warehouse. James waited until they passed through the door before he turned back to Eustace.
“Let’s talk over here, boss,” James said, moving toward the back door of the warehouse. “Don’t want the kid to overhear what I have to say.”
Eustace followed him, a weird little look on his face—half curious and half annoyed. One red eyebrow was climbing his mottled forehead, and James was sorely tempted to smack it back down into place.
“Are you going to scold me now?” Eustace said.
“Let’s call it constructive criticism,” James replied, still maintaining his even tone and restrained demeanor. “You can handle that, can’t you? You’re not just paying me to be muscle. You’re also paying for my expertise. At least, I hope so.”
Eustace glanced over his shoulder, as if to make sure no one was within hearing, but his other little cronies had already disappeared into the front half of the warehouse.
“I didn’t want to share this in front of the others,” James said. “I’m trying to protect your authority. Keep that in mind. The others don’t need to know how frustrated I am with you.”
“Oh, so it is a scolding,” Eustace replied, with a sour expression.
“I’ve done a lot of work for you over the years,” James said. To ensure he had the man’s undivided attention, he stood directly facing him, staring into his eyes, his back straight and shoulders squared off. “All of the past jobs were pretty straightforward. Bribing officials, threatening environmental activists, a bit of property damage here and there, even some wet work. You’ve always paid well, half upfront, made your intentions clear, provided whatever tools I needed, and you never got in my way. That’s the only reason I was willing to work for you again. I didn’t come to Glenvell to babysit Eustace Simpson. Remember, I first came here looking for my sister. When you offered me a job, I agreed based on my past experience with you.”
“Nothing’s changed,” Eustace said. He wouldn’t maintain eye contact with James, and he kept idly scratching his beard, as if it were infested with lice. But he was mostly just infested with stupidity, and that could never be scratched out. “You’re here to do a job, and you’re still doing it. Don’t get impatient, James. It’s all going to be worth your time. I’ve never let you down.”
“It would have been better if you’d left town and come back when I was done,” James said. “All you’ve done is complicate everything. You wanted control of the whole community, and I’ve given you that. We’ve bribed some, bartered with some, threatened the rest. I even made one or two disappear. All that remains is the Healy ranch out there on the other side of town, and I would have them under my thumb by now if you hadn’t been so stupid.”
“What did I do?” Eustace said.
“Picked a fight,” James said. “Stealing a cow was a dumb idea, and I should’ve stopped you. It was stupid chest-thumping macho nonsense. And now you’ve kidnapped a kid. What the hell were you thinking? She’s thirteen, fourteen, and you’ve got her tied up in the office. What’s wrong with you? I could have swayed the Healys, just like I did all the other families in town, but you had to go blundering about like the big half-wit you are!” He finally allowed a little heat to enter his voice, and it had the desired effect. Eustace took an anxious step backward holding up his hands as if he thought he were about to be punched.
“You need to calm down, James,” he said. “You’re overreacting. Kidnapping the kid will force Greg’s hand. There’s no way he’s going to choose his ranch over Emma, and when he comes to get her…” He mimed a gun with his thumb and forefinger, like a kid pretending to be a cowboy, and fired at the invisible Greg.
“Forcing his hand isn’t to our benefit,” James said, and again he allowed some heat to enter his voice. “I gave him a choice. If we’d left it at that, the family might have made a more rational decision. They might have packed up and left the ranch in the middle of the night, and then the problem would be solved. Now, Greg Healy is going to be a man on edge. We’ve taken his daughter, and he’s liable to do crazy things to get her back. Before, we could have cut a deal with him. Now, that option is off the table.”
“He was already a man on edge long before you showed up.” Eustace said. “You had no chance to reason with him, okay?”
“And why is that, Eustace? Why is that? Did you do something to him before I took this job?”
A slow smile crept over Eustace’s face. “Let’s just say, I got in a little showdown with his papa once upon a time, and I won.”
For a moment, James felt his control on his emotions slipping, and he had to turn away to ensure he maintained his composure. “That’s a detail you might have shared with me before. So he’s been out for blood from the beginning.”
“Yes,” Eustace said, “And that’s exactly what I want. If he’s irrational, he’ll be reckless. Don’t forget who’s p
aying you, James. I’ll take a little constructive criticism, but I expect you to do a good job. Let Greg Healy come. Let him be half out of his mind. We’ll be ready for him. We’ll be ready for his whole family. You can handle it, eh?”
James groaned and turned away, crossing his arms over his chest. He’d said his piece. What was done was done. Now, he just had to deal with the cards that had been dealt. “Of course, I can handle it. You know what I’m capable of.”
25
Darryl hated the thought of turning back, but once it was clear that Emma had been taken all the way to the warehouse, they knew they had no choice. They would never get inside the building if they just tried to storm in blindly. It was a big, sturdy structure, filled with Eustace’s armed guards, and they had no idea where Emma was being held. Still, they spent a few excruciating minutes trying to accept that they would have to go back home and formulate a better plan to rescue her. Darryl felt about as low as he’d ever felt. He stood there listening to both of his parents cry and argue, and all he could do was stuff his hands in his pockets and stare at the ground.
“We’ll get her,” Greg said. “We’ll do it the right way. If we rush in, one of us is liable to get hurt. Emma is liable to get hurt. We can’t let that happen.” It was a remarkably rational decision from a guy who’d been acting quite irrationally and emotionally in recent days. Darryl could see the terror on his face. Perhaps it wasn’t a rational decision after all, but a decision made out of fear.
“James gave us until tomorrow,” Marion replied, furiously swiping the tears from her eyes, as if they angered her. “We have to make our move before then. Otherwise, they’ll show up with Emma, a gun pressed to her head, and we’ll be forced to surrender.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Greg said. “We’ll make our move, but we’ll do it the right way—planning and working together.”
“I should be glad to hear you say that now,” Marion said. “If only you’d been thinking that way before.”
The three had trudged back to the ranch in misery and silence. Rarely had Darryl felt so scared or so defeated. When they passed through the gate, Tabitha rose to greet them on the porch, but she must have read their expressions. She slumped back down onto her rocking chair, pressing her hands to her cheeks.
“They got her,” she said. Not a question. “Those awful men captured our baby girl.”
But Greg and Marion marched back into the house without a word. Darryl lingered a moment at the steps, waiting until Tabitha followed them. He wanted to collect himself before he went to see Justine. He could feel something awful welling up inside him, a potent mix of terrible feelings that threatened to spill over. And what would happen then? He didn’t know, but he didn’t want to dump all of this on poor Justine.
Standing there on the porch steps didn’t help, however. If anything, he felt himself spiraling downward fast, so finally he grabbed the snowy railing and dragged himself up to the porch and through the front door. As he stepped into the living room, moving in a dark fog, he sensed people at the dining room table. Father, mother, grandmother, Horace, all bent over and speaking in hushed tones. Darryl pulled his boots off and set them beside the coatrack.
As the others continued to talk, he turned the other way and went up the stairs, setting the Remington rifle on its shelf in passing. He found Justine in her room. She was sitting in her chair beside the bed, staring out the bedroom window. It looked like she’d wiped the frost off the glass. Darryl shut the bedroom door behind him, crossed the room, shedding his coat in passing. Then he turned and collapsed onto her bed.
“What happened to her?” Justine asked.
“Captured,” he replied, and that single word almost made him burst into tears. He fought it mightily, rolling away from Justine just in case he failed. “Eustace and his men ran into her when she was coming back from the stream, and they dragged her away. Mom and Dad think they’re holding her hostage so they can use her against us, force us to give up the ranch.”
He felt Justine’s hand on his side, patting him gently. That small gesture of tenderness brought out the first tears, but he quickly blinked and let them fall onto the quilt.
“That means they won’t hurt her,” Justine said. “Probably. They can’t use her as a bargaining chip if they’ve already hurt her, right?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “The only thing I know for sure is that it’s my fault.”
“Don’t say that,” Justine replied. “It’s nobody’s fault except the people who did it. If you’re going to be mad at anyone, be mad at Eustace and his gang. They’re the ones who caused all of this trouble in the first place. Eustace is the one who started it up there in the mountains, and he’s the one who brought it down into Glenvell.”
He wanted her words to take root, but they just wouldn’t. “You know, I always saw my dad as a heroic person. I aspired to be liked him. He was someone who always did the right thing, never made mistakes—or, if he did, he apologized right away and tried to fix it—but it turns out, he’s not like that at all.”
“What do you mean?” Justine asked. She had shifted to the edge of her chair so she could lean against him. Despite his frustration, Darryl felt comforted by her presence.
“He always complained about Grandpa being aloof and distant,” Darryl said, “but here he is running around in secret, spying on people and planning assassinations without telling anyone, stirring up big trouble. By the time I forced him to admit it to everyone, he’d made things so much worse, and now look what’s happened? He screwed up.”
“So you think it’s your father’s fault, then?” Emma asked.
Darryl wanted to say yes, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He shifted slightly so he could see the bedroom window. Justine’s clear spot was slowly frosting over again.
“No, like I said, I blame myself,” he said. “I should have seen what was going on with Dad a lot sooner. I knew he was acting weird, but I was too caught up in my own little world to do anything about it. I just assumed the best for a while because he’s Dad, you know? That’s on me. If I’d confronted him right away, as soon as I realized he was in a strange mood, we could have avoided all of this. We would have known about Eustace, and we could have all made a plan together. Maybe some of us could have relocated to Grandma’s hunting cabin a lot sooner, and Emma would be okay.”
He felt tears burning in his eyes again. He turned his face so Justine wouldn’t see. She finally got out of her chair and lay down on the bed beside him. It was a twin bed, so it was tight fit. Darryl shuffled closer to the wall to make room for her as she put her arm around him. For a while, they just lay there together. He reached up and grabbed her hand, holding it tightly, though the angle was awkward.
“In a way, I guess it’s just part of growing up,” she said, after a few minutes had passed. “Somewhere along the way, you realize your parents are just people, mostly doing the best they can but sometimes making big mistakes. At least your dad still has the opportunity to make it right. Look at what happened to my parents. Their mistake cost me my whole family. So it could be a lot worse.”
“I know. I know,” he said, softly. Yes, of course, she’d been through much worse, and it made him feel guilty for complaining. Justine had lost her parents and her little sister. What if the same thing happens to me? He didn’t want to say it out loud. “I just don’t know what to do. If anything happens to Emma, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“Your grandma is a tough lady,” Justine said. “She’ll think of a way to rescue Emma. I just know she will.”
Darryl heard the jostling of the doorknob then. Startled, he sat up, and in the process, Justine was almost pushed off the bed. He reached down and grabbed her arm, pulling her up with him. It took a few seconds of fumbling around before they both managed to position themselves on the edge of the bed. By the time they got there and Darryl looked up, he saw his father standing in the open doorway.
He’d taken off his coat, and the long
-sleeved t-shirt underneath was soaked with sweat. He’d also removed his toque, and his hair was all in wild disarray. Darryl almost apologized, giving him the usual excuse: Justine and I weren’t doing anything, just sitting here. But he was irritated enough with his father that he decided not to. Let him think what he wanted.
“Darryl, can I talk to you privately?” Greg said, leaning against the doorframe. “Sorry, Justine, it won’t take more than a few minutes.”
“That’s fine with me,” Justine said, shifting back over to the chair. “You guys need to talk anyway. Don’t rush it.” She grabbed a book off the small table beside her chair and set it in her lap.
With a sigh, Darryl rose from the bed. Was this a conversation he wanted to have? Maybe not. He didn’t think he could say to his father everything he’d just said to Justine. It was too cruel. Still, how was anything ever going to get resolved if they didn’t start being more open with each other?
Maybe he just wants to plan the rescue mission, Darryl thought, as he headed for the door. That’s more important than resolving our differences.
His father backed up and led him down the hall. They went into the hobby room, which was otherwise unoccupied at the moment. A large blue couch sat beneath the window against the far wall, a recliner in one corner, and a bean bag in the other. A massive dresser with a bunch of shelves on top dominated the room. It was positively overflowing with sewing and knitting supplies, pattern books, knickknacks, little kitsch objects, and small boxes.
Greg shut the door as soon as Darryl entered. Then he headed to the couch. It seemed like he was going to sit down, but he remained standing. The room was dimly lit. None of the many candles on the dresser were lit, and a thin curtain covered the window. After a moment, Greg turned to face Darryl, who had lingered by the door.
EMP: Return of the Wild West | Book 2 | Survive The Attack Page 19
