Down the Brink

by Lisa von Biela

  He pulled out his cell and replied to her text. i’m ok. pls, do not try to find me right now. i’ll be in touch when i can. He paused. i miss u. lots.

  Zach read and re-read the text, then finally sighed and sent it off. He hoped it would comfort her, not make things harder for her. If only he hadn’t dug himself into this mess in the first place. They’d be together, happy. Right now, the best he could look forward to was some Chinese takeout and a decent night’s sleep, alone in his crappy motel room.

  Zach pulled into the parking space outside his room as darkness fell. Staying in a small-town motel off the beaten path had its advantages. One of them was privacy. The place got some customers, apparently enough to stay in business, but not enough where it was ever remotely close to being a full house. Nice and quiet.

  He stepped inside and dropped his keys and the bag of take-out onto the table. If he stayed here much longer, might be wise to invest in something more than the pathetic little hot plate that came with the room. Try to cook for himself, at least once in a while. Probably wasn’t all that healthy—or cost conscious—to depend on take-out or hot deli stuff from the little grocery store in town.

  He turned the TV to some mindless reality show, flopped down into his chair, and set his cell on the table in case Sammy texted back. He opened the container of Kung-Pao Chicken, picked up his plastic fork, then stopped as headlights blazed through the cheesy curtains. Monday was usually a pretty slow night. Might be the only fellow customer the place would get. He dug into his food like he hadn’t eaten in a week.

  Someone knocked on his door, hard, startling him so badly he dropped his fork. Some idiot couldn’t find his own room—

  “Open up, police!”

  Zach jumped up, nearly knocking over his chair. Maybe if he pretended he wasn’t there. They could see the overhead light through the cheap curtains, but that didn’t mean anything. Could have left it on to make it look like he was there, so no one would try to break in—

  “Zach Winters, we know you’re in there and we have a warrant for your arrest. You have until the count of ten to come out.”

  Zach glanced around the room, desperate. Nowhere to hide, no other way out. He hopped from foot to foot, undecided. Afraid to open the door, afraid to have them force their way in.

  In one fluid motion, the lock disengaged and the door swung wide open. The barrels of two long guns poked into the room from the edges of the doorway.

  “Come out slowly, hands up!”

  Breathless with terror, Zach raised his hands and took two tremulous steps forward before a burly uniformed cop darted in, twisted both his arms behind his back and slammed him face-down onto his bed. Plastic cuffs slid over his wrists, tightened, then the cop yanked him up and pushed him against the wall.

  “Check his ID.”

  Another cop came in, grabbed his wallet from his pants pocket and nodded. “It’s him.”

  “Zach Winters, you’re under arrest for corporate treason. Charges have been brought against you in Los Lobos, California. You’ll be returning there as soon as we can arrange transportation.”

  Should have sent that tweet when I had the chance.

  Sammy emerged from her shower, the bathroom still cloudy with steam. She’d spent a long, frustrating day in front of her computer and the hot water did wonders to soothe away the tension. She toweled herself off, slipped into her robe and went out to the living room to relax and read a while before bed.

  She nestled into the couch cushions and reached for her tablet, then set it back down. Better check her phone for messages before getting all settled in.

  He finally answered! Sammy quickly read Zach’s text. Dammit, he sent it an hour ago! Her thumbs flew, tapping out her response.

  where are u? don’t leave me hanging anymore, pleez! i miss u so much!

  She sent the text, then stared at her phone, waiting. He was okay! Now she could find out what was going on, why he’d left like that.

  CHAPTER 54

  Second Wednesday in May, 2022

  Seco, Texas

  Gil Balderas shifted in the hard, wooden chair, trying to make himself a little less uncomfortable, as if it would make a damned bit of difference. Up on the bench, the judge peered down at his papers through reading glasses. The corners of his mouth turned down as if he were being forced to put up with a noxious odor. A tense quiet settled over the courtroom, everything at a standstill, all eyes on the judge. As if a surprise might be in store.

  Gil stole a quick look behind him at the courtroom gallery. Loaded with gawkers. Vultures, salivating for the verdict. The kind of people who came to watch other people’s misery, not content to settle for other, less gruesome ways to entertain themselves.

  Aggie slumped in her seat amidst the ghouls. She looked dazed and haggard, like she hadn’t slept in months, though only a few days had passed since his arrest at the volunteer site. She had her glassy eyes locked on the judge so intently she didn’t seem aware of anything else around her. Gil turned back around, stared down at the scarred wooden defendant’s table, where other prisoners had carved angry words while they awaited their fate, nothing left to lose. The silence was stifling.

  Like last time, he’d drawn some exhausted, beaten-down old public defender who barely had the energy to walk into the courtroom—let alone the energy to put up a vigorous, effective defense. And with the court’s rocket docket, even if his PD had the skills and motivation to make a difference, there was simply no time for it. Everything about the system was stacked against him. Even more so this time, now that he had a record.

  “Counsel, do you have anything further?” The judge scowled once more at his papers, then glared toward the defendant’s table as if this case had taken up too much of his precious time already.

  Gil’s PD struggled up from his chair, tottering a little as he surreptitiously steadied himself against the table. He smelled like he might even have had a pre-trial drink or two. After coughing and clearing his throat like he had something crucial to say, he mumbled, “Nothing further, Your Honor. Defense rests.”

  “Very well. Will the defendant please rise?”

  Gil stood on uncertain knees. Something twitched inside his chest, then tunnel vision blocked out everything else around him. For a moment, he thought he might pass out before the judge rendered his verdict.

  “In the matter of State versus Balderas, the Court finds the defendant guilty as charged for volunteerism, and for providing free goods and services, in violation of the President’s recent executive order criminalizing all pacifist acts. Given the defendant’s prior conviction, the Court imposes the maximum sentence: life in prison without possibility of parole.”

  The bang of the gavel closed the case. And his life.

  Gasping, Gil gripped the table for support, then glanced back at Aggie. Even from where he stood, he could see she was already crying, her face red, tears streaming down. She looked like she’d shatter into a million pieces any minute.

  He turned away from her and gazed down at the table. If only he had a few minutes and something sharp to gouge the wood, to carve something—anything—into it. To show he’d been here, that he existed, that he objected to what had been, was being, and would be done to him. Before they locked him up again in that horrible place.

  But he had nothing. Just a pair of cold metal handcuffs digging into his wrists.

  Life. Without parole. Six months in that place had been pure hell in every way possible, though the crappy cell and the inedible food were the least of it. He could numb himself to those things if he put his mind to it. But the rapes. Night after night, the screams, the scuffles in the darkness. Never knowing when it would be his turn. Never knowing how long he’d have to endure the pain, brutality, and humiliation before the guard finished and cast him aside like something less than human.

  Gil glanced up. The bailiff was coming, striding toward him with long, efficient steps. Nothing and no one else in the courtroom existed now, except that bai
liff coming straight at him. Coming to take him to live out the rest of his life in that cramped, chilly concrete cell. To endure everything he had the last time, and probably more.

  Forever. No chance of getting out alive.

  Light glinted off the cold, dark blue metal of the bailiff’s gun. Gil sucked in an enormous breath, clear to the bottom of his lungs, and screamed it back out with all his strength. Raising his cuffed wrists above his head like a weapon, he charged at the bailiff while there was still some distance left between them.

  Something hot and brutal crashed into his chest and knocked him to the floor. Deafened by the roar of the gun, Gil lay for a moment, suspended in a silence that deepened as he lay bleeding, dying.

  Escaping.

  “Ma’am? Ma’am?”

  Aggie opened her eyes and cringed. A white-shirted medic crouched over her, a concerned frown on his face. Where was she? What was all that shouting about?

  “Step back, people. Let her breathe.” The medic waved his arm, parting the sea of people.

  He pressed a finger to her wrist and peered into her eyes. “Ma’am, you passed out. Can I get you anything?”

  Aggie clapped her hand over her mouth and sobbed as she saw it all over again in her mind’s eye. Gil going berserk, the bailiff shooting him down like a rabid animal, right there in front of everyone. She propped herself up on an elbow and twisted toward the sound of commotion. Medics in white and cops in dark blue swarmed in front of the judge’s bench like bees around a hive.

  “Let’s get you out of here.” The medic signaled to another man dressed in white.

  Aggie felt herself being lifted onto something and wheeled out of the courtroom, then everything went dark again.

  Home at last, Aggie pulled into the driveway, switched off the engine, and lingered in the limbo silence of her car. How could she face living in that house all alone again? Gil wouldn’t be coming home this time. Better get used to it. She leaned her forehead against the steering wheel and closed her eyes, unable to summon the strength to even get out of the car. Her mind spun with thoughts and images, overwhelming and paralyzing.

  They’d hauled her off to the hospital for observation after what happened in the courtroom. They drew some blood, then gave her a sedative. Must have been pretty potent. It knocked her out good. She wasn’t sure how long, but it was at least a few hours. Once they decided there was nothing physically wrong with her, they let her get steady enough to drive and sent her home with a prescription for a milder sedative to take for the next few days.

  Just until she got used to the idea of being alone, they told her. Widowed. The word seemed better suited for an elderly person who’d lost her spouse to the ravages of old age. Not for someone who’d witnessed her husband being shot dead in front of a courtroom full of people.

  After getting his life taken away from him.

  Maybe she’d really lost him long before today. In the months since he’d come home from prison, Gil stubbornly avoided talking about his time inside. But the experience changed him profoundly. She could tell, even if he wouldn’t admit it. He wasn’t the same person she’d fallen in love with and married. He was far quieter, almost withdrawn. She’d catch him staring into space, a strange, haunted look in his eyes. So many times, she’d tried to get him to open up, to purge himself and heal. But every time she tried, he got this really dark look on his face and refused, changed the subject.

  But she knew, no matter what he did or didn’t say. Something haunted him from being in there. Something so horrible, he’d rather die than face it again.

  Aggie straightened up in her seat, wiped a tear from her eye, and grabbed her bag. No point sitting in the car and being miserable. Might as well go inside and be miserable. Maybe open a bottle of wine. Maybe even finish it.

  Alone. Get used to it.

  She locked the car, started up the walkway to the front door, then paused, frowning. A piece of paper was taped up there, fluttering in the late afternoon breeze. What the hell could that be? She glanced around, fearing reporters or TV cameras lurking in the bushes. No one there. At least Gil’s death hadn’t attracted the media. Thank God for that much.

  Aggie marched up to the door, snatched the paper off and read it.

  FORECLOSURE NOTICE.

  She knew she’d missed some payments. Apparently, too many now. She crumpled up the notice and flung it to the ground. Not enough to lose Gil. Now she was going to lose the house, too. What the hell was left?

  She pulled out the prescription bottle and read the red warning label. She slipped it back into her bag, her fingers lingering on the plastic vial. It would make an easy exit.

  Gil’s choice made more sense to her now.

  She went inside.

  CHAPTER 55

  Third Monday in May, 2022

  Los Lobos, California

  Sammy closed and locked her office door. Can’t have any interruptions, or risk anyone overhearing what she was about to do. Everyone at MoonPop had written Zach off long ago, which was just as well if he was the one posting those tweets.

  She should have done this months ago, but she held back for what seemed like good reasons at the time. After all, it was entirely possible their relationship had progressed a little too quickly for Zach, and he’d simply run away rather than face making more of a commitment. Wouldn’t be the first time in history something like that happened. If so, the story Russ gave for Zach’s exit could well have been the plausible lie Zach told to cover his real reasons.

  But what happened last week changed everything. Zach finally answered her, hinting he’d be in touch again soon. Whether it was because he at last felt ready to talk or because she’d let him know she thought he was behind those anti-MoonPop tweets, she had no idea. But at least he responded—and claimed to be okay.

  But since that text, nothing. Even the tweets had stopped.

  She texted him back only about an hour later. And…nothing. Now his voicemail was full. Same thing with his email. All she got now was a bounce error: mailbox full. Something had to be wrong. Why would he finally respond to her, then let his email and voicemail fill up? Probably wasn’t seeing her texts, either.

  All her coworkers just shined those anti-MoonPop tweets, figured it was just some random hater. Management hadn’t said a word about them one way or the other. But the more she thought about it, the more she was convinced Zach was behind them. And that he wasn’t joking around.

  She remembered that time he asked her about the Payoff module. He seemed really intrigued by it, frustrated by how locked down it was, and surprised she hadn’t given it any thought. Then he never mentioned it again. Not once. He must have dug into it himself and found something. He wouldn’t tweet the things he had unless he had solid info. That’s just how he was.

  She pulled the scrap of paper from her pocket and set her cell beside it on her desk. She could afford it, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was whether she would find out something she didn’t really want to know. What if…?

  She shook her head. Whatever she might find out couldn’t possibly be worse than what she already imagined. That Zach was dead or incapacitated somehow. The truth couldn’t be nearly so grim as that. She snatched up her cell and dialed the number.

  “Rutherford Investigations, Dan Rutherford speaking.”

  “Hi, I need you to help me find someone. My…coworker, Zach Winters. He’s been missing since November. I’m worried something’s happened to him. Can you help?”

  “I can’t promise anything, never can with these things. Do you have a recent picture of him?”

  “Yes, I do. I can email it to you.”

  “Great. Any ideas where he might go, any favorite places he’s mentioned?”

  “No, not that I can think of.”

  “Okay, tell me what you do know that might have something to do with his disappearance.”

  Sammy filled him in, starting with Zach not showing up at the bar that night last November and including the an
ti-MoonPop tweets. “Since his text last week, nothing. And now his email and voicemail are full. It’s not like him.”

  “All right, I’ll email you my standard questionnaire and fee agreement. The fee agreement’s pretty straightforward. Any questions at all, just let me know. The questionnaire asks for some additional details, like date of birth, height, weight. Previous addresses, that sort of thing. Fill in as much as you can, and send everything back to me—including his picture—and I’ll get right on it.”

  Sammy set her cell down on her desk, her fingers lingering on it like a talisman. She’d heard good things about this Rutherford, that he was a genius at finding people who were missing…or hiding.

  She put her face in her hands and bit her lip, tasting the tears that streamed down. He just had to be okay. There had to be some logical explanation for this. Something far less dire than the possibilities that haunted her day and night.

  CHAPTER 56

  Third Wednesday in May, 2022

  Los Lobos, California

  The courtroom looked nothing like what Zach would have pictured. But he never would have pictured himself sitting front and center at the defendant’s table. He stared down at the handcuffs that bound his wrists, the metal dull and worn from years of heavy use. The system destroyed Raymond and his family. Now it was going to destroy him, too. Despair and doom gripped him as firmly as those handcuffs.

  The courtroom was cavernous, daunting. Obviously built to handle high volumes of defendants and hordes of spectators, like some modern-day Colosseum. Well, not today. He shivered. It was eerie, how voices echoed in the huge chamber when it held so few. Made him feel small, and that much more alone, vulnerable.

  It all happened so fast, just when he least expected it. Only a couple of weeks ago, he was living his exiled existence in Nampa, staying on the down-low and making ends meet. And starting to believe he’d been overly paranoid to run off, that he was safe after all. Then everything changed, just like that, when those gun-toting cops showed up at his door and hauled him away. Like something out of one of those reality shows.