by A P Bateman
The door opened and the Sheriff stepped through. She was in her mid-forties, five-eight, one hundred and twenty pounds. Fit and slim. Her jet black hair was thick and wavy and bunched back in a ponytail. There was an inch-wide strip of grey at the front, but she was attractive and even the slightest crow’s feet at her eyes just made her look lived in. Like she was there, but there was a story to her and one you wanted to hear. A small scar ran at her lip, but to Stone she was beautiful and the scar merely enhanced her beauty.
“Took your time,” she said.
Stone nodded. “Saw you patrolling. I think Abandon has quite a budget for you to take such an interest in one stranger.”
“Well, we don’t want trouble in this town. And I know what you’re like,” she paused, stepping round the desk. “God I’ve missed you!” She stepped into him and threw her arms around him. Stone hugged back, her hard toned stomach pressing against him, he felt her warm breath on his neck. She smelled good. She always had. He pulled away first. Held her at arm’s length and looked at her.
“You haven’t changed Beth,” he smiled. “Except for the Morticia Adams streak. I kind of like it.”
She shrugged. “Oh, I’m a lot older. Sure as hell not much wiser.” She stepped back a pace. “So, Agent Stone. What do you think of my town?” She stroked his bruised and battered face, watched him wince. “Somebody worked you over good.”
“He came off worse,” Stone smirked. “As for your town, well I think you have a problem.”
“And then some.”
“Have you called the FBI?”
“Nope.”
“State police?”
“Not a chance. Claude Conrad knows the police chief. Not saying there’s corruption up there, but I’m sure as hell not rocking that boat.”
“So how long have you been here?” Stone asked, but he already knew the answer.
“Three years.”
“Do the Conrad brothers know you were in the Secret Service?”
“No. I detailed my police career prior to the service and played with some dates for the private security work afterwards. I left out a good chunk but over lapped it here and there. Marriage, pregnancy, career break. The usual woman stuff.”
“Why did you leave it out?”
“Small department, didn’t want to come over as a big shot and scare the people away. The townspeople that is, the committee that decides things, interviews public service people like myself.”
“Why’d you take the job?” Stone paced over and looked at the missing person’s board. Maggie’s husband Peter was slap bang in the centre. Deborah’s son John was a little lower down.
Beth sighed, perched herself on a stool beside the counter. Stone wouldn’t have had it there. It was heavy and strongly constructed. Too good a weapon in the wrong hands. He would have had bench seating against the wall. Fixed and bolted to the floor. He figured Beth Maloney would too, if she had designed the place. “Michael and I got back together again.”
Stone nodded. Their affair had been brief, but intense. He had been a colleague, a comforting shoulder for her one night. It turned to more. When her husband left his younger mistress and wanted another go at the marriage, Stone had stepped aside. He wouldn’t have done so had the couple not had a son of seven. He figured he wouldn’t be the guy who stood in the way of them being a family. It had broken his heart, as it had hers. Beth only made the move for her son, reasoning that her son loved his father and wanted them to be a family more than anything else. Stone and Beth had not made their relationship public, and the boy had never known Stone in any other capacity than as his mother’s friend. Stone took a Secret Service posting away from Washington to work the Treasury Department in Atlanta, Georgia to take him away from her, but he later heard the couple had split up again. He had almost thrown it all in for her, only to hear they were back together and giving it yet another go. Stone resolutely drew a line under it and moved on. He hadn’t heard from Beth for nine years. Not until she had called him last week and asked for his help. She had sounded desperate.
“I’m glad. Josh will be happy,” said Stone.
“No,” Beth said. “It’s over for good. He went back to his ways – I don’t know what he wanted, but it sure as hell wasn’t me. I’m not bad in bed, am I?”
“The best,” Stone said, and meant it. “It took me a long time to get over you. Maybe I never did.”
She smiled. “You never get over true love. It’s there forever. I should have had more courage. Made the move with you. Introduced you to Josh, moved out of the family home. Michael just can’t keep it in his pants. I forgave God only knows how much, but enough was enough. He humiliated me. Royally. I packed our things and moved. I was already out of the Secret Service, not a great job for a mom. I juggled things as much as I could – hell, my career was over. You only pass on so many postings and Michael’s career always took priority. He’s out now though. Private security.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, water cooler gossip. He was… indiscreet. A senator’s wife. You can’t make judgement calls like that on security detail.”
“Wow! He led me to believe he’d been poached for mega-bucks!” She seemed pleased, relishing the downfall of the man she once loved. “Son of a bitch!”
“So how did you get the gig here?” asked Stone.
Beth stepped back, sweeping her hand around the foyer. “This was meant to be a fresh start. A new life for Josh and I. Quiet, the mountains, the forests and lakes. Neighbours baking you an apple pie, doors left open, kids riding their bikes around the neighbourhood – a little piece of the American dream.”
“So when did it go wrong?”
“Week one,” Beth scoffed. “Claude and Big Dave came by to lay down some ground rules. They were the sort of ground rules that made a mockery of even having a law enforcement officer. I told them that it was an elected position and that I answered to the constitution, the laws of the state of Oregon as well as various parish laws for the county. I was not a private police force and nobody would be getting special privileges. Nobody.”
“Like whom?”
“The loggers and workers for Dave Conrad’s company. And employees of the silver mine. They were to be allowed to drink and drive on account of the remote location. Likewise, I was to turn a blind eye to the odd bar brawl.”
“I thought the silver mine was a non-starter?”
“It didn’t go well, but there were miners here for a while. Until it failed. They hit a huge streak of silver early on, but once it was out, they never found another streak.”
“When was that?”
“A couple of years back. Maybe soon after I got here.”
“Deborah at the diner, she told me her son came out this way. You know about that?”
“Of course,” Beth raised her head to the poster on the wall, folded her arms across her chest. “She doesn’t leave here because she’s scared her son won’t know where she is.”
“Or that she has no further leads as to where he went.”
“Well yeah, same thing. Sort of. This was the last place she knew he was heading. She just can’t bring herself to move on.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“You’ll have to ask her.”
“Did you know Big Dave Conrad threatened to rape her?”
“No, I did not.”
“She intimated that he had actually raped her in the past. I confronted him and he gloated sure enough. First he said that he hadn’t and that she liked it rough and liked to beg men to stop. Next he took great pleasure in telling me I’d have to prove it.”
“I’ll check it out.”
“You’re not surprised?”
“Not really. He’s a brute.”
“So what else went wrong?”
“Peter Hayes disappeared during my third week.”
“Maggie’s husband,” Stone said. “Presumed drowned.”
“Not by me.”
&nb
sp; “No?”
“No. The lake is about ten feet deep in the middle. A quarter mile long, two hundred and fifty yards at its widest point.”
“Plenty big enough.”
“Yeah, but I dredged it for days. It’s pretty shallow for the most part. About waist to shoulder depth. It goes low in the summer and fills right up in the fall and then again in the spring when it all thaws on the mountain. I used somebody’s boat to search, thoroughly.”
“Gator McClusky’s?”
“Nope. He did some searching too. Then he just stopped one morning. I had a feeling he was told to stop. No, this was the Tom’s. The guy who owns the hardware store. Twelve-foot aluminium fishing boat, open deck with a ten horsepower outboard. Couple of bench seats. I hooked and dredged for three days. Called in the State Police in the end.”
“And that didn’t go well?”
“Claude Conrad shut it down. He said it was bad for the tourist trade,” she scoffed. “What trade? There’s nobody here and he wants to keep it that way. He knows the police chief up in Portland. I’m not sure it’s corruption, but it sure smelt like a big old favour being pulled in.”
“And it wasn’t a bear or a mountain lion? A wolf, or pack of them even?”
“Not a chance. Got some dogs up there with some local hunters to search out a scent. Nothing.”
Stone was silent for a long while. He looked at the missing persons’ pictures and bios on the wall. “They own the town Beth. You’re the Sheriff and they own the damned place. You stood by the President and kept him from harm. You threw yourself in front of a gunman for a senator. You broke a Russian mafia counterfeit money racket.” He shook his head and turned to look at her. “You were my probation officer, Beth. You taught me. You were one of the best Secret Service agents I ever knew.”
“So?” she looked at him, her emerald eyes blazing.
“So three country hicks with pickup trucks own this place while one of the best Secret Service agents there ever was can’t get things under control?” Stone stepped closer, put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “Tell me, Beth. How bad is it?”
“Bad,” she said. “They have my son.”
17
Beth had cried for some time. Stone comforted her. Her eyes were dry. She was all cried out long ago. They moved to her office. Stone had been right, the other door led to a large communal cell and a toilet and shower block. Beth put on some coffee. He went for cream and sugar. Beth took hers black. She sat back in her seat. Stared at the ceiling. She was tough. Stone knew her to be as physically and mentally strong as it was for any person to be. When others would quit, roll over and beg, Beth Maloney would get up and take more. Her instructors had nicknamed her The Machine. The name had stuck. She still held the personal records for almost everything worth winning at the academy. And when your business is guarding the President of the United States the training is as tough as it gets. Stone had seen ex-Navy SEALS and Delta soldiers swagger in and fail fitness and firearms drills.
Stone remained quiet and drank his coffee, silence was usually enough for someone to start talking again.
“I sweep daily for listening devices, check for cameras,” she said. “We’re clear.”
“Good girl.”
“Idiot! I’m old enough to be your…”
“Lover, eight years my senior,” Stone smiled.
“I hear you’ve got someone.”
“News travels fast.”
“Small town,” Beth smiled. “Deborah got talking. I think she likes you. So your special someone, she’s working away?”
“Complicated. Not many jobs in her line of work. Career opportunities don’t come up much. Not in the right sectors.”
“Which is?”
“Biochemistry, genetics and biophysics,” he said. “She got a senior position with The World Health Organisation in New York.”
“Sounds a blast.”
Stone smiled. “Let’s talk about Abandon.”
“Fine.”
“What’s the Aldridge part?”
“Just the valley. Stretches eighty miles, totals just over three-hundred properties. Mostly farms and cabins, but some holiday residences too. Hunting and fishing lodges mainly.”
“Small remit.”
“Aldridge and Abandon totals one thousand, four hundred and seventy-four registered residents. One thousand, four hundred and seventy-eight registered firearms. More firearms than people. Go figure.”
“So where’s your SWAT team with all these armed civilians?”
Beth laughed. “About two hours away. County Police Department.”
“If people aren’t happy with the Conrad brothers then why doesn’t somebody just take them out? Christ knows they’ve got enough guns…” Stone paused, trailing off.
The guy in the hardware store - Well, sometimes things ain’t what they seem, and sometimes things seem what they ain’t. Just takes a good man to see what’s between…
Deborah at the diner – Conrad doesn’t remember my John, but I know he came here, I just know it…
The guy at the grave, moments before getting shot in the head - You have no idea what’s going on… It’s all fucked up…
Dr Fallon - It’s all about perspective. Look around this place and you will see what I mean. Not everything is what it seems…
Gator McClusky - He didn’t drown. Man swum like a fish. He used to swim the length of it in the summer months. Nothing to crack his head on, no rocks around the shore. Not even head deep in most parts…
Maggie - Go home, Mister Stone. Forget everything you’ve seen or heard here and go live your foolish little life. You will not get another chance. I am sure of as much…
He saw it all clearly now. He’d been blind. No couples, no families, no children. The place was so quiet, houses left empty. He’d underestimated the Conrad brothers. There was more to it all than basic intimidation. Everybody had something, or rather someone to lose.
Stone looked up at Beth, but it was too late. He caught her stare, focused disbelievingly above his left shoulder. He turned his head around slowly and saw the two men standing there with shotguns aimed at his back.
18
These guys didn’t make the same mistake as their dead companions. They got a pair of handcuffs off the table and the muzzle of a .12 gauge Remington pump action was pressed hard into the back of Stone’s neck as the other man applied the handcuffs tightly to his wrists behind his back. Stone went with it. Shotguns at close range did not bear thinking about. The guy holding it was shaking slightly too, so Stone did his best to remain calm and silent not wanting to escalate the chances of the weapon discharging. The man took the Colt .45 out of Stone’s jacket pocket, tucked it in the front of his own pants. Stone looked across at Beth. She couldn’t bring herself to look back at him. A single tear left her right eye and slowly made its way down her cheek, as she stared dejectedly at the floor.
“Don’t mind if we take this fella for a little drive, do you Sheriff?” The guy with the shotgun aimed at Stone’s back said.
The other man was laughing. “Ain’t doin’ shit about it is she?” He walked around in front of Stone, bent down and punched him hard in the face. Stone reeled backwards, but the barrel of the shotgun pushed him forwards. Another punch. Beth moved, but the man looked back at her and she sat still. “Josh says hi, by the way. I’ll give him your regards, ma’am.”
She shook her head slowly at Stone, both eyes full of tears now. Stone looked at her, his eyes glanced down at her belt. No weapon. Cuffs, retractable baton and keys, but no sidearm. He looked at the glass cabinet on the wall beside her. It was made for shotguns and rifles. Apart from the two lengths of high tensile wire which hung loosely to each side, and the open padlock hanging from a metal loop, the cabinet was empty.
The man doing the punching picked up his shotgun, a side by side double barrel. It had big bore barrels, open choke. Masses of spread. It had been cut down a little, the barrel no more than twenty inches long.
The butt had been cut down a little too. It looked like the kind of shotgun a guard would have rode with on a western stagecoach about a hundred and fifty years ago and just up the road. He pointed it at Stone’s face. Stone couldn’t help but flinch. He breathed deeply, remembering his training, remembering the last time he’d stared so closely down the barrel of a gun. It hadn’t worked out too well for that guy. But Stone hadn’t been handcuffed then.
“Get up,” the man with the double barrelled shotgun ordered. “Get up and walk out front.” Stone stood. He looked at Beth and mouthed something, but the man in front of him screamed. “What was that?” He turned to Beth and shouted. “What did he say?”
“Nothing,” she said, her eyes moist with tears. “He said he loved me.”
The man laughed. “Well, ain’t that sweet!” He looked back at Stone and swiped him across the face with the butt of the shotgun. Stone fell to his knees but the desk stopped him from falling forwards. He stayed where he was. It was a rule of capture – if you get knocked down, don’t stand again; they’ll only hit you harder. Stay down and become a deadweight to them. The man made to pull Stone up but struggled with his two hundred pounds. Stone kept his weight in his feet. The man handed his weapon over to his companion, who tucked it under his arm. Stone resisted as the other man pulled him out of the office. He slowed his legs and tensed his shoulders, the man had to really work to move him down the corridor. Beth followed and the man looked back at her. “Stay where you are Sheriff!” then added, “For Josh’s sake.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake! You’re making a meal of it!” She snapped. “Here, let me get the door and check it’s clear outside.” Beth barged past and opened the smoked glass door. She looked across the street to check it was empty, then walked to the Ford that Stone had been using. “Here, one of you will have to take his car, otherwise people will know he was here.” She opened the driver’s door. “I’ll pop the trunk. Put him inside and burn it someplace far away. That way you’ll get rid of any DNA on the body and in the car too.”
