by Ben Follows
Jason was waiting for a few feet outside the door. He threw the keys to Curtis and told him to lock the door. Curtis did so then threw the keys back to Jason, who grabbed them out of the air with his left hand. In his other hand, he held a gun. He gestured for Curtis to walk in front of him.
Curtis walked where he was directed. They stayed behind the counters of the restaurants in the rest stop and walked to the manager's office of the Starbucks. The sirens were flashing outside, but it didn't seem like anything had changed.
The office was nondescript and looked like it had been furnished with the intention of spending as little money as possible. Curtis pulled out a blue plastic chair and sat down. Jason sat across from him in an identical chair.
Jason sat back and put one leg over the other. He looked very casual for someone in his situation.
He took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and offered it to Curtis, who declined. He tapped out a cigarette into his hand and lit it, inhaling and filling the office with the smell of tobacco.
"What are you doing?" said Curtis. "What is your plan?"
"What do you think?" said Jason, taking a drag on his cigarette. Every few seconds, his eyes twitched to the clock on the wall. "I'm sure you know about my predicament."
Curtis nodded. "Coleman told us. Someone wants their money back. But that leaves another big question. You could have given the money back at any time over the last decade if you felt guilty about it. Why now?"
Jason let out a deep sigh and tapped the gun on his knee.
"I need your help," said Jason.
"I can't promise that," said Curtis.
Jason nodded. "You're a good man. I looked you up when I heard you were assigned to this case. The only article was about some place called Blind River. The article seemed pretty sensationalized if you ask me."
Curtis nodded. He knew the exact article. It was written by Natasha in the Washington Post, to promote her book, which she promised would contain even more shocking revelations about the mishandling of the case in Blind River. In reality, Curtis assumed, the book would be 300 pages of filler to reach a page count, and most of it would be nonsense.
"Thanks," said Curtis. "It's almost completely wrong."
"I figured," said Jason with a laugh. He tapped his cigarette into an ashtray on the desk. "I've had a few articles written about me over the years. The truth is always a little too dull for the reporters if you know what I mean. I know how to read between the lines." He paused. "Do you have any children?"
"I have a daughter. Six months old."
"Then you'll understand," said Jason. He placed the gun on the desk and put his elbows on his knees, leaning toward Curtis. "I have a problem."
"I can see that," said Curtis.
"It's not that," said Jason. "I mean, this is a problem. But it isn't the problem."
"What is the problem?" said Curtis.
"They have my daughter," said Jason. He held out his hands. "That's what's happening. I was going to ramp up to it more, but that's the gist. The people we stole money from have my daughter, and Lauren is the only one who knows how to get it back."
Curtis leaned back in his chair.
"Why not go after Lauren first?" said Curtis.
Jason took a deep breath. "I didn't know she was involved. I was never told about her involvement. Only Ralph and Henry knew about her involvement. They didn't want Debra or me to suspect that anything out of the ordinary was going on. It didn't matter that she's Henry's sister. She was an outsider getting involved in the military and, furthermore, robbing the military of money. I wouldn't have been happy if I had known about her involvement. I guess Debra figured out she was involved, but I didn't. "
"Henry didn't tell you?"
"No," said Jason. "No matter how hard I tried, while he was trying to drink himself to death, he didn't give her up. I had to go to Ralph to get that information."
"That's why you went to him," said Curtis. "Why kill him?"
"I was hoping I would be able to get out of this without anyone knowing," said Jason. "I was hoping I would be able to return the money and then I would be able to return home, without anyone being the wiser. I know how to manage crime scenes; I know how to not leave evidence. The people who have my daughter want them all dead."
Curtis thought of Emily, sitting in the room less than fifty feet away, who believed that she would be able to pull off a crime like that.
Curtis leaned forward. "Jason," he said, "tell me everything you know, and I will do everything I can to help you."
Jason took a deep breath. "Alright," he said. "Promise me you'll do everything you can to save my daughter. That's all I care about."
"I promise."
"Okay," said Jason. "Let me tell you about the money we stole from the biggest mercenary group on earth."
Chapter 33
Raymond Eaton walked across the grounds of the Eaton Estate. There were a few hunting dogs alongside him, ever vigilant and looking for anything that might indicate there was prey somewhere.
Raymond wasn't hunting, although he had enjoyed hunting the few times his father had taken him. For him, the dogs were for companionship. The grounds of the estate were too immense and empty to spend your time alone on them. The sheer quantity of empty rooms and empty space on the estate was impossible to fathom.
He kept finding new corners and new rooms he had never seen before. He was sure that he must have seen these rooms on a blueprint or walked by them before, but he didn't know what they were for. Each of those rooms was furnished and cleaned whenever he walked past them. The cleaning staff was good at staying out of his way for the most part. He assumed that they had learned that skill when dealing with his father, who had been known to have a temper and had beaten Raymond to the point of hospitalization more than a few times throughout his childhood.
One of the dogs sniffed something and went running off.
The sun was setting over the cliff the estate was built on, and Raymond walked to the bench that sat a dozen feet back from the cliff's edge. He looked out over the escarpment below him. It was filled with farm fields and houses interspersed between them. In the far distance was the faint outline of the Manhattan skyline.
Raymond took a deep breath, feeling his breathing slow and his heart rate slowing down. Whenever he was feeling stressed, he came out here and looked out at the tiny people below him. He imagined stomping on them. The thought relaxed him.
Two of the dogs came and laid down at his feet. He looked down at them and smiled. He scratched one of their heads, and the dogs tail wagged.
He looked to his left. Just beyond the walls of the mansion, there was a small cottage at the cliffside. Although it was on the other side of the wall that allegedly marked the edge of the property, that cottage was owned by Eaton Enterprises. Raymond's father had used that cottage as a place for his many affairs. Now, it was a prison for a small girl whose father was going to fail to save her.
If he failed, Raymond had to go through on his threat. The deadline was midnight of the next day. The moment midnight passed, he would be expected to kill a small girl. It would prove to the generals he was the right person to take over for his father, and they would respect him. For the first time, they would believe that he was as good as his father, maybe even better.
It was what he needed to do. It was his only choice.
He took a deep breath and looked out over the escarpment. "Come on, Jason," he said softly. "Why are you making me kill your daughter? This is your fault."
One of the dogs looked up at him and wagged his tail. Raymond scratched at his ears.
Chapter 34
Lauren Mavis looked up at the other hostages. She hadn't spoken to the FBI agent, and had no intention of doing so. She had a better plan.
She was pushed back against the wall. That irritating woman, Emily, hadn't shut up since the FBI agent had left. She was talking about some TV show where something similar had happened, even though no one was paying atte
ntion to her.
She could feel the gun digging into her back where her body held it against the wall.
She refocused on the room. That girl was still talking.
The elderly woman, the one with the holocaust tattoo, slowly stood to her foot, shockingly sturdy for someone who looked over eighty.
She walked over to Emily, who was yammering on about some episode of Criminal Minds. Emily looked up at the last second, just as the old woman, rings adorning her fingers, pulled back her arm and slapped her across the face.
The slap echoed through the room.
Emily stopped mid-sentence. The old woman turned and walked back to her spot on the wall and sat back down.
Emily looked around the room, looking shocked. No one stood up for her. In fact, as Lauren looked around the room, it seemed like everyone was thankful that someone had shut Emily up.
Lauren smiled as silence took over the room. Slowly, she reached behind her and pulled the gun between her legs.
She looked around the room, making sure no one had seen anything.
She met eyes with the old woman. The old woman smiled at her and put a finger to her lips.
Lauren swallowed and nodded.
Maybe they would get out of there after all.
They heard two sets of footsteps walking up to the door.
Lauren put one hand on the gun. The moment she got a chance, she was going to put a bullet in the head of the man who had killed her brother.
She just needed the chance.
Chapter 35
Frankie looked into the dark building. The SWAT teams had arrived and were being brought up to speed.
She held her phone in her hand, thinking about what Melanie had told her. She was feeling a foreboding feeling coming over her, just like she had as the Blind river case had dragged on.
"Okay," the leader of the SWAT team shouted. "Tell Jason Wilson he's got five minutes. Then we go in."
As the cops relayed the message via the megaphone, Frankie looked back at the road. Police tape surrounded the scene, and some onlookers were trying to get a good look at what was happening. A few reporters were there, but most of the major papers hadn't managed to get anyone there yet.
She took a few deep breaths and looked back at the rest stop. She was worried about Curtis, even though she knew this was just part of the job.
She wondered what was going on inside.
Then she saw something move inside.
"Wait!" she shouted out.
The SWAT team members looked over at her. They had been preparing to start moving toward the rest stop. She turned and pointed.
They all followed where she was looking. Inside the rest stop, there was movement in the shadows.
Then, all at once the lights came on. The light from the rest stop was an assault on Frankie's eyes. She raised her arm and blinked to adjust her eyes.
Inside the rest stop, two lines of people walked toward them.
The doors opened, and the hostages walked out, their expressions displaying complete confusion. Five hostages walked out. The moment they got outside, they started running, except for the old woman, who looked weary and exhausted.
A woman at the front of the crowd jumped into the arms of the cops who ran to greet them. She had a red imprint of a hand on her face, as though she had been slapped. She started talking about how crazy it was that the FBI agent had managed to talk the madman into submission, just like some character from a TV show Frankie had never heard of.
The doors to the rest stop opened, and two male figures emerged, side by side.
It took Frankie a few moments to realize one of the figures was Curtis.
Curtis walked just behind Jason Wilson, as though making sure he wouldn't try anything.
The SWAT team leveled their weapons at them. Curtis and Jason walked toward them.
Jason raised his hands in the air, while Curtis raised a hand in salutation to the law enforcement gathered there. He was smiling, and Frankie breathed a sigh of relief. Curtis had managed to pull it off. All her worries had been unfounded.
The hostages were ushered by police to waiting ambulances.
Curtis and Jason continued walking across the parking lot, slower than the others.
Suddenly, Frankie felt like something was wrong. She thought through the case, turning in a circle, looking at the entire parking, trying to process what was bothering her subconscious.
She looked at the ambulances, where paramedics were helping with the hostages.
The cops and SWAT team were keeping vigilant, but it was easy to see they had let their guard down. They were waiting for Curtis and Jason to make their way to the edge of the police cars, where Jason would be taken in for questioning and Curtis would be debriefed.
They had solved the case.
So why did she feel so worried?
Then it dawned on her.
"Curtis!" she screamed out. Her voice was drowned out by the sirens and the other conversations happening around them, but Curtis seemed to hear her and met her eyes.
He looked confused, apparently seeing the panic and fear she was trying to convey.
Just past Curtis, Frankie saw what she had feared.
Frankie gestured for him to turn around.
Curtis turned.
Lauren Mavis, the sixth hostage, emerged from the rest stop, behind Curtis and Jason. There was a gun in her hands, and she was pumping her arms like an Olympic athlete. She ran across the parking lot faster than Frankie would have imagined possible.
She ran toward Jason and Curtis with a determination in her eyes Frankie had only seen a few times before.
"Stop!" Frankie screamed out, reaching forward.
The cops and SWAT team looked back at her, not having noticed Lauren Mavis.
Lauren stopped a dozen feet behind the two men. She knelt down on one knee, leveling the gun and closing one eye to aim.
The cops shouted, and Curtis reached out to grab Jason, his instincts taking over.
But it was too late.
Chapter 36
Lauren pulled the trigger.
The bullet hit Jason in the side of the head just as he was turning to see what everyone was looking at. The bullet went through one ear and came out the other. Blood sprayed from his head.
Jason's feet slipped from underneath him. His entire body seemed to swing like a pendulum. Curtis was hit with the blood from his spinning body as he tried desperately to stop a bullet that had already done its job.
For Frankie, the world seemed to move in slow motion.
The SWAT teams, who had been cavalier and relaxed as Curtis walked out of the rest stop with the situation resolved, became completely focused and leveled their guns.
"No!" screamed Frankie, running toward the perimeter formed by the police.
They aimed their assault rifles, and, as though they had been trained too well to do anything else, they fired their guns at Lauren.
Lauren took the first shot in the arm, and it was impossible to tell which SWAT team member had fired the shot. She spun backward as another shot hit her in the chest, then one in the thigh.
A dozen more hit her in the next moment. She flew backward, as though she had been punched.
As Lauren fell, Curtis managed to tell his body to run and abandon his efforts to defend Jason.
He turned and let Jason fall through the air as Lauren was hit with a few more bullets. She was lying on her back. She raised her knee for just a moment, as though she was trying to stand up, then all her muscles went slack, and she fell onto the ground.
"Stop!" shouted Frankie, finally getting to the front line of the shooters.
They all looked at the FBI agent standing in the middle of them.
But the damage had been done.
Frankie looked up.
Curtis was running toward her, his eyes wide.
Just as Curtis finally reached the line of SWAT agents, Jason's dead body hit the ground.
Untitled
> Chapter 37 (Here)
Curtis ran without seeing who was in front of him. Some part of his brain saw the cops and the SWAT team members clearing out of the way, but he didn't process it.
He was covered in blood.
Jason Wilson's blood. And not just a little blood. It felt like almost his entire vision was filled with blood from someone he had been so close to saving.
He didn't want to look back. He felt like he was on the verge of having a panic attack. He was so close to being overwhelmed by everything going on around him.
He felt hands grab his shoulders and went to fight back.
"Curtis! Calm down! It's me!"
Curtis looked up at Frankie, meeting her eyes. He took a deep breath.
There was something about his relationship with Frankie he had never really been able to articulate. He considered her something like a sister, except he was closer to her than he was to his actual sister, Monica.
He had never really been able to articulate how much his friendship and partnership with Frankie met to him. He owed her more than he would ever be able to repay. So much of his success could be traced back to her, and he had no idea how to even express that to her.
The first time that Melanie had met Frankie, Melanie had been suspicious about his having a female partner, but she had quickly realized it was nothing to be worried about.
He looked into her eyes and saw a stern look begging him to focus.
He took a deep breath and calmed down. The blood on his face was still warm, but seeing Frankie staring into his eyes, silently begging him to calm down, allowed him to feel a bit better.
"Come on, Curtis," she said, "focus on my voice. Remember what I taught you. Breathe."
Curtis closed his eyes and started breathing. He counted his breath.
