Safe and Sound

by J. D. Rhoades

  “He’ll be back,” Keller said. “This late in summer, dry weather…” He jerked a thumb back over his shoulder at the house, which was now a smoldering wreck. “That much smoke’s going to bring every firefighter and smoke jumper in three states. That tanker was just the beginning. This place’ll be crawling with them any minute. It’s over.”

  “Not yet,” he heard Marie say.

  Keller turned. Marie stood there, holding a pistol. It was pointed at DeGroot. “Step away, Jack.”

  “What are you doing?” Keller asked.

  She glanced at him, then back at DeGroot. “Do you remember something he said back at the overlook, Jack? He said he wanted the FBI guy to talk to someone. He had this…this smug look on his face when he said it.” She raised the gun a little higher. “This fucker’s got some kind of connection. Some kind of get-out-of-jail-free card. And I’m not going to let that happen.”

  DeGroot wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m not armed,” he said.

  “Bad luck for you,” Marie said.

  “You’re a police officer,” he said. “You won’t shoot a man in cold blood.”

  “You fucking bastard,” she said, her voice rising. “You tried to kill my son.” Keller could see her knuckles whiten around the grip.

  “Mom?” Ben’s voice said. He was standing behind her, his eyes wide with fear.

  “Get back, baby,” she said. Her eyes were hard as flint. “Mommy has some business to take care of.”

  DeGroot’s eyes went to Ben. He smiled nastily. “So you think you can kill a helpless man in cold blood? In front of your son? I don’t think you’ll do it.”

  “No,” Keller said. “But I will.” He held out his hand. “Give me the gun, Marie.”

  She didn’t move. “No way, Jack,” she said. “He doesn’t walk out of here. Not when there’s a chance he’ll ever get free. Not when there’s a chance he’ll ever threaten Ben or my family again.”

  “He won’t walk, Marie,” Keller said. “I promise. He dies today. But he’s right. You can’t kill him. Not in front of Ben.”

  She still didn’t move. She stood there, as pitiless as a Fury. Keller tried one last gambit.

  “You’ve saved me twice,” he said. “Now it’s my turn.”

  She looked at him. She glanced back at Ben, who was still staring at her as if she’d grown horns. Slowly, she walked over to Keller, the gun still held on DeGroot.

  Keller took it from her and took aim. “Go to Ben,” he said. “Don’t let him look.”

  DeGroot looked up at him, a sickly smile on his face. “Bladdie idiot,” he spat. He looked off toward the tree line. “Shoot him,” he called.

  There was no response.

  DeGroot’s face went blank with shock. “Shoot!” he screamed.

  “I don’t think he can hear you,” Keller said. He looked over. Marie had knelt on the ground and was clutching Ben to her. He turned back to DeGroot.

  “A word of advice,” he said. “You tell a man you’re going to put his eye out, you do it. Then you kill him. Because if you leave him alive, this is what could happen.”

  He fired. DeGroot went over backward. Keller stepped over to him and straddled his twitching body. He fired again. And again. The killing rage was on him. He let go of it, gave it free reign. It flared through him like a forest fire. His lips drew back from his teeth in a feral grin. He fired again.

  “That should be sufficient,” a voice said.

  Keller looked up. A man in camouflage uniform was standing a few feet away. He held a long rifle pointed at Keller. His face was obscured by a mask in the same camouflage design as his clothing.

  “Drop the gun, please,” he said in a clipped British accent.

  The rage was still howling through Keller, screaming at him to fire again, to draw blood again, to kill again. But with the rifle pointed at him, it would have been suicide. Keller dropped the pistol by DeGroot’s body. He was shaking like a man in the throes of a fever.

  “Miss,” the man said over his shoulder, “I’ll have to ask you and the boy to come over here. I’ll need you all together.”

  Marie stood up. Ben had his face buried in her hip, as if he couldn’t bear to see any more. It made movement awkward, but they eventually ended up by Keller.

  “Now,” the masked man told Keller. He gestured with the barrel of the rifle. “Search him. Find the computer drive.”

  Keller bent down. He rifled through DeGroot’s pockets. He found the drive in the shirt pocket and held it up.

  “Toss it here,” the man said. Keller did. It landed at the man’s feet. He stooped carefully to pick it up. “Miss,” he said to Marie, “do you still have the other one?”

  She shook her head. “I dropped it when the water hit.”

  The man nodded. “Then the three of you will go over there and look for it, please.”

  It took them fifteen minutes, while the man watched. He had lowered the rifle, but it never left his hands. Finally Marie saw the drive glittering in the wet grass. She held it up silently.

  “Right,” the man said. “Toss it to me.” She tossed it. He bent and retrieved it. The four of them stood watching each other for a long moment.

  Finally Marie spoke. “Are you going to kill us now?”

  “No,” the man said. “You are not my mission. And since you have no idea who I am, nor any real evidence of who employed me, there’s no need.” He gestured at DeGroot’s body lying in the grass. “Unlike our late friend over there,” he said. “I try to maintain a certain professionalism.” He sighed. “Mr. DeGroot had become what I believe one of your detective novelists called ‘blood-simple.’ ”

  “What?” Keller said.

  “It’s a quote from one of your detective writers. Mr. Dashiell Hammett. Something of a passion of mine, really. Detective fiction, I mean. Anyway”—he gestured at DeGroot again—“Mr. DeGroot had gotten to like killing a shade too much. My employers were finding him a bit of an embarrassment.”

  “So if I hadn’t killed him…”

  The man nodded. “I suppose I should thank you. Sorry, but I won’t be sharing the retainer with you. I’m sure you understand.” The rotor blades sounded again in the distance. “Ah,” the man said, “time for me to be leaving. I’ve quite a hike to make.” He raised one hand in an ironic salute. “Cheers.” He backed away slowly, never turning his back on them. Then he was in the trees and gone.

  Marie sank to the grass. She drew Ben to her lap. He threw his arms around her, sobbing. Keller walked over to them. He knelt down on the grass next to them. He put out his hand to touch Ben on the shoulder. Ben turned to look at him.

  And screamed.

  Keller reeled backward. He almost fell, but recovered his balance and stood up quickly. “Ben,” he said in a choked voice.

  “Go away!” Ben cried, his voice muffled by his mother’s shoulder. “Go away! Make him go away, Mommy!”

  “Ben,” Marie soothed, stroking his hair. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.”

  Ben was nearly hysterical. “I don’t want him here! Make him go away!”

  “Did he see?” Keller whispered.

  “No,” Marie said. “But he must have heard. You…you were laughing, Jack. You were laughing when you killed him.”

  Keller didn’t answer. He turned away and walked toward the house. A few hot spots were smoking here and there, but the fire was mostly drowned. He stood there watching for a moment, then walked around to the front.

  The burning car had set the big oak tree on fire. The pillar of smoke reached upward like a dark prayer. He shaded his eyes and looked into the empty sky for a moment. He looked back down. Lisa’s body lay at the edge of the woods. The grass and leaves nearby were beginning to catch. Keller strode rapidly over to where she lay. He knelt down and got his arms under her. Grunting with the effort, he stood up, cradling the girl’s body. He walked back behind the house. The pickup truck was parked there at the edge of the woods, at the entrance to the logg
ing road.

  Keller walked past Marie and Ben. “Jack,” Marie said. Keller didn’t speak as he passed.

  When he got to the truck, he hesitated. It seemed wrong somehow to pile Lisa’s body into the truck bed like a load of firewood, but to put her in the front seat seemed even more grotesque. As Keller stood there, a figure came striding out of the woods. It was Harland. His face was grim and determined. When he saw Keller standing there, however, he stopped. He looked like a man who’d been punched in the stomach. “No,” he said. “No.” He strode rapidly over to where Keller stood. “Put her down,” he said in a tight, furious voice. “Put her down, you bastard.”

  Keller knelt and gently laid Lisa’s body on the ground. Harland knelt on the other side of her. He ran a hand gently over her still face. A single tear ran down his dark, craggy face.

  Marie had come over. “Colonel,” she said quietly. “How did you get here?”

  Harland looked up. “You think I can’t walk through these mountains?” he said.

  Marie looked down at Lisa’s body. “I’m sorry,” she said. “She was very brave.”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” he snarled. He looked at Keller. “You,” he said. “You did this.”

  “No,” Marie said.

  Harland didn’t answer her. He continued looking at Keller. “You may not have pulled the trigger. But you brought this on her. You brought it on us all. You bring the fire with you. You bring death, and hell follows with you.” He got his arms under Lisa and picked her up. As they watched, he loaded her into the truck bed. He started the truck and backed up. He made a quick, savage, three-point turn and rattled off down the logging road.

  Keller was still kneeling. Marie put her hand on his shoulder. “Jack,” she said. He didn’t answer. “Jack?” she said, more alarmed now. She got down on her knees in front of him. His eyes were blank and unseeing. “Jack!” she yelled. No answer. He didn’t even look up as the helicopters began to land.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  “There’s nothing physically wrong with him,” Lucas Berry said. He sat at his desk in the drug rehabilitation center that he directed. Angela and Marie sat across from him.

  “He’s a little banged up, of course,” Berry went on. He rubbed his face with his hands. “But that’s not unusual for Jack Keller.”

  “What about his mental state?” Angela asked. “Aren’t you worried about that?”

  Berry grimaced. “Of course I am. Considering his prior PTSD and everything he’s gone through recently, I suppose it’s a miracle he hasn’t gone either screaming insane or completely catatonic. As it is, he can care for himself. He’s just not speaking.”

  Angela’s voice was calm. “What can you do, Lucas?”

  “Not much at this point,” Berry sighed. “There are a number of medications…”

  “He hates drugs,” Angela said.

  “I know. And he’s still refusing to take them. And we can’t keep him in the hospital if he doesn’t want to stay. Just refusing to speak isn’t reason to involuntarily commit him.”

  Angela stood up and picked up her cane. “Do what ever you can for him, Lucas. And send the bills to me,” she said. She looked at Marie and walked out.

  Berry looked across the table at Marie. Marie sighed. “She blames me. She didn’t even really want me here.”

  “What about you?” Berry asked gently. “Do you blame yourself?”

  Marie shook her head. “I don’t know, Lucas,” she said wearily. “Sometimes I do. I let him take the gun from me. But he did what he did of his own free will.”

  Berry nodded. “True enough,” he said neutrally.

  “But I knew what it would probably do to him,” she went on. “And I put the gun in his hand anyway.”

  “Also true,” Berry said.

  She looked at him. “You’re no help at all.”

  “It’s going to take a while for you to work this out, Marie,” Berry said. “I suggest you find a therapist for yourself as well as for Ben when you get back to Oregon.”

  She stood up. “Yeah,” she said. She extended a hand across the desk. “It’s been nice knowing you, Lucas.”

  He stood up and took the extended hand. “You, too,” he said. His voice softened. “You take care of yourself, girl.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “You, too.”

  She walked out into the parking lot of the restored Victorian home that housed Berry’s drug rehab center. Angela stood between her car and Marie’s. Marie squared her shoulders and walked over.

  “Are you coming to the hospital?” Angela said.

  Marie shook her head. “I went earlier this morning,” she said. “I have to get back and finish packing.”

  “Did you at least tell him good-bye?” Angela asked.

  Marie sighed. “I’m not going to fight about this anymore, Angela,” she said. “Ben’s doctor says he needs to get away from places and things that remind him of what happened.”

  “And people.”

  “And people, yes,” Marie snapped. “You think this is easy for me? He’s my son, Angela. I’ll do what ever it takes to keep him safe and healthy. Even if”—her voice caught in her throat—“even if I have to do something that breaks my own heart.” She began to sob. Angela stood and watched her for a moment. Then her face softened. She took a handkerchief out of her pocket and handed it to Marie. Marie took it and wiped her eyes. “Thanks,” she choked out.

  “It’s okay,” Angela said. Marie started to hand the handkerchief back, but Angela waved it off. “Keep it.” She opened the door of her own car. “Have a good life, Marie,” she said.

  “Thanks,” Marie said. “You, too.”

  Angela drove to the hospital. She walked past the desk and took the elevator to Keller’s room.

  It was empty. The bed was neatly made. It was as if Keller had never been there. Angela turned and walked back to the nurse’s station. The young blond nurse behind the counter looked up as Angela approached. She stood up and picked up a chart that rested on the counter. Angela tried to keep her voice steady. “Where’s…”

  The nurse shook her head. Her lips pursed in a look of disapproval that belonged on a much older face. “Mr. Keller checked himself out.”

  Angela’s mouth snapped shut. After a moment, she said, “Checked…himself out?”

  The girl nodded. “AMA.” She held out the chart. Angela could see the letters at the bottom of the page, scrawled in an angry hand. Apparently, the doctor had been irritated that Keller had left against medical advice.

  She pulled out her cell phone and flipped it open. Keller’s number was first on her speed dial. The phone rang twice, then the recorded message came on telling her that the subscriber was not available.

  “If you’re trying to call him,” the nurse said, “you should know he left this here.” She held out Keller’s cell phone.

  Angela took it from her. She stared at it for a moment. Then she raised her own phone again and hit the number for H & H. Oscar picked up the phone on the first ring.

  “Oscar,” she said, “has Jack called?”

  “No,” Oscar said, surprise evident in his voice. “Is he not at the hospital?”

  “He just walked out,” Angela said. “If he calls or comes in, let me know.”

  “Of course,” Oscar said. Angela looked again at Keller’s phone in her hand. She hit Keller’s home number on her own phone. After fifteen rings, she gently closed the phone.

  ***

  Harland used the shovel to pat the last of the earth onto the grave. He had performed the old Hmong ceremonies as best as he could remember from his time in Vietnam. He had to hope his old friend would understand any of the lapses. He stood looking at the grave for a long time. Finally he turned and walked away. There was one last thing to do.

  He reached the old mine entrance near the trestle. It was sealed up by a heavy wooden wall built across the entranceway. There was a door cut into the wall, with narrow firing ports on either side. Harland to
ok a ring of keys from his belt and opened the padlock on the door. He stepped inside. Just inside the door, a pair of wires stuck up from the earth. A molded plastic detonator box lay next to them. Harland picked up the detonator and connected the wire to it with a practiced hand. When the wires were connected, he didn’t hesitate. He turned the crank on the detonator.

  There was a quick series of bangs from outside that echoed back and forth off the walls of the gorge. Then a deep rumble that gained in volume as the trestle began to collapse. Harland stepped outside and watched the old wooden bridge sag, then topple sideways into the gorge.

  It seemed to take a long time, and when it was done, the echoes resounded for almost a full minute. Harland looked across the chasm that separated him from the world. Then he walked back to camp.

  ***

  Phillips sat in his study, in front of his computer screen. The two flash drives lay on the desk next to the monitor, side by side. He didn’t know which one went first, so he took a guess. He picked up the one on the right and slotted it into the small rectangular port on the front of the machine. There was a brief pause, then the soft chime that signaled a device being plugged in. A small balloon popped up in a corner of the screen to indicate “new hardware found.” A screen popped up asking him what he wanted to do with it. He clicked the icon that opened the flash drive. Another brief pause. Phillips held his breath. Suddenly a Web browser page flashed up on his screen. It was in Arabic. He had expected as much. It was, fortunately, a language which he had learned in the course of his travels. He followed the instructions on the screen. When prompted, he inserted the second flash drive into the slot. There was a pause and a whirr as the program read the encrypted passwords on the second drive. Then another screen popped up. Phillips felt his heart rate accelerating.

  He had been paid well for the job, but his employer was a fool if he thought Phillips was going to simply turn this much money over to some bureaucrat. They’d be angry, of course. They would, most likely, come after him. No matter. This much money could buy a great deal of protection.

  Finally, the screen was done loading. Phillips scanned it for a few moments. His eyes widened. Then he sat back in his chair and started to laugh. It began as a small quiet chuckle, then expanded into a great roaring belly laugh. Every time Phillips looked back at the screen, he began laughing again.