by Sean Black
“The worst stuff being?” Lock prompted.
“You’d think it would be physical violence. Like once I saw Gretchen totally lose it and drag a girl away from a fire pit session by her hair. But as bad as that sounds, it wasn’t the worst thing she did. Not by a long way. The psychological stuff, the bullying, setting the others on one kid like a pack of wolves, that was what really did the damage. And Gretchen was good at that. She could manipulate people better than any politician, and what made it worse was that she seemed to get a kick out of it.”
“She’s a sadist?”
“I’m not even sure that’s an adequate word for what she is. But, yes, she gets a lot of pleasure from seeing other people in pain.”
‘Was Jennifer Oates one of those people?” Lock asked.
Miriam’s expression darkened. “One of them, yes.”
52
Ty watched as the flames from the fires danced in Gretchen’s eyes as she marched back and forth between the groups of students huddled around the pits
“If the person who stole from Mr. Cross does not come forward, every single one of you will be punished.”
By Ty’s estimate, her rant had been going on for a full ten minutes. If nothing else, he had to admire her lung capacity. She had barely stopped to draw breath.
Part of him regretted informing her of the theft. But he hadn’t had much choice in the matter. Even though his sidearm was in a very secure carry-case – one that would likely take a locksmith to break into – it was still a gun that was in the possession of someone here. Likely a minor. Likely a minor whose behavior was unpredictable. And there was a good chance that it was a minor who wasn’t used to handling a gun in a safe manner.
Gretchen stopped next to a group of girls. She tapped them on the shoulder one by one. That was their signal to stand up. She asked them all whether they had taken, or had knowledge of who had taken, Ty’s property. One by one, they denied any involvement or knowledge. They sat back down. Even staff members weren’t exempt. They, too, had to stand and deny knowledge.
As every person spoke, Gretchen stood in front of them, and stared into their eyes. Because she was shorter than most of the staff, and many of the students, especially the boys, it came off as comical and threatening in equal measure.
When she had asked everyone present, Gretchen walked back across to Ty. She stood behind him. It gave him the creeps. “This man came here to help us, to help each and every one of you, and this is how we have chosen to repay him. Shame on you. Shame on all of you.”
Her voice was cracking with emotion. But it seemed forced. Put on. Like a performance by a bad actor.
“Not only do we have a thief among us. We have a liar,” she continued. “And a coward. Whoever did this has until tomorrow morning to come forward. If no one comes forward, you will all be punished.”
None of the kids said anything. Ty noticed that a couple of the boys in his group were shaking. He guessed that whatever the planned punishment was it wouldn’t be fun.
The problem was that none of this actually solved the problem. Ty’s gun was still out there somewhere. They couldn’t assume that one of the kids wouldn’t be able to get it out of the case.
Gretchen had started to walk away from the fire-pit area. Ty got up, and ran to catch her up. “Ms Applewhite?”
She turned. “Yes?”
“Listen, I know that how you deal with this is your call, but would you mind if I made a suggestion?”
Her expression told him that she wasn’t looking for any suggestions, but she nodded. “Go on.”
“Well, if one of the kids did take it, it has to be here somewhere. If we find it in one of the dorms, that at least narrows down who our thief might be.”
It was so obvious that he felt kind of stupid suggesting it. But then again, no one else had. Gretchen seemed more fixated on the punishment she could mete out than in solving the problem.
She folded her arms. Not a good sign. She didn’t like her authority being challenged. Not by anyone. She seemed to take it personally. Again, not a good personality trait for someone in her position. The great leaders Ty had worked with over the years had the ability to remove their ego from decisions, or at least keep it in check.
“Very well, then. Have the dorms searched. But they’re all going to be punished tomorrow. Whether it’s found now or not.”
Ty didn’t follow that logic, but he wasn’t going to argue. All that mattered to him was finding his gun before something really bad happened.
He walked back to the fire pit, and gathered up Chris and the other staff members. The students stayed where they were.
Ty laid out his plan. Each dorm would search their neighboring dorm. That would mean there was less chance of someone deliberately overlooking the gun case if they had taken it, or knew who had.
Chris seemed pretty excited. “That’s some Marine-grade thinking right there.”
Ty did his best not to roll his eyes. It was the basic application of common sense.
“We could also offer them a little incentive,” one of the younger female staff members suggested. “Tell them that whoever finds it will be spared being punished.”
A similar thought had already crossed Ty’s mind when Gretchen was speaking. If she’d said that whoever ’fessed up would be expelled there would probably have been a line all the way down to the main road.
“Gretchen will never go for that,” said Chris.
“Okay, let’s stick with the plan we have,” said Ty.
The staff members broke off to gather the kids from their dorm and begin the search. Ty walked back to his group of boys.
* * *
An hour later, Ty led his group back out to the fire pits. They hadn’t found the gun case. Neither had anyone else. Its location was still a mystery.
The search had turned up a bunch of contraband items, everything from a couple of girlie magazines in one of the boys’ dorms to candy. As illicit items went, it struck Ty as a fairly pitiful collection, but Chris appeared pretty stoked.
“Y’see?” he said to Ty. “You can’t trust these kids.”
Ty was more concerned that the gun case hadn’t turned up. It meant that whoever had taken it had gone to considerable lengths to hide it. As far as what they had found went, Ty doubted that some Snickers bars posed much of a threat. The girlie magazines that Chris was tossing onto one of the fires almost made Ty nostalgic for the days before the internet, when the merest peek at a naked woman had been a thrill.
“What about the other buildings?” Ty asked Chris.
“What about them?”
“Well, maybe we should take a look.”
“But the students don’t have access.”
“They could have snuck in.”
Chris grimaced. “I don’t know. Gretchen really doesn’t like anyone going near the ranch house. Not even staff.”
“Can’t hurt to ask her,” said Ty.
53
Gretchen’s hand closed around the SIG Sauer. It was a nice weapon. Well maintained. Not cheap. Neither was the carry-case. It had taken her longer than she’d thought to get it open. In the end she’d had to use a drill with a diamond-tipped bit.
The phone on her desk rang. She put the gun back into its case and shoved it under her desk. She glanced at the phone’s display. It was a Washington D.C. number. No doubt some neurotic parent wanted an update on how the kid they had messed up was doing.
Gretchen lifted the phone. “Broken Ridge Academy. Gretchen Applewhite speaking.”
“Hi, my name is Susan Kranston. I’m calling from the Washington Post,” said the woman at the other end of the line.
Gretchen held the phone away from her ear and stared at it.
“Hello? . . . Hello? . . . Are you there?”
54
Ty knocked at the ranch-house door. When no one came, he turned the handle and pushed the door open. “Ms Applewhite?”
No one answered. Off in the distance, he could hea
r someone talking. It sounded like Gretchen, but he couldn’t be certain.
He walked down the corridor, checking rooms as he went. The place was dark and musty. The furniture was old. Ty guessed it was probably the stuff Gretchen’s parents had had when they’d first bought the place. He stepped into a living room. There were two couches and a piano. The piano was covered with framed pictures of Gretchen’s father. There were several of Gretchen and her sister with him, and one of a woman Ty guessed was her mother.
Something else stood out about the photographs. No one was smiling.
Ty walked back out, and continued on down the corridor. Near the back of the house, he reached a closed door. He could hear Gretchen behind it. Her voice was high-pitched and agitated. She was practically screaming: “I’m warning you, missy. I have lawyers!”
Ty hesitated. This didn’t seem like a good time, especially as he had just walked in. Then again, what the hell was he scared of? What was she going to do? Give him detention?
He knocked at the door.
On the other side, Gretchen fell silent for a moment.
“I have to go,” he heard her say. “I suggest that in future you talk to our attorney.”
The door opened. Gretchen stood there. She looked beyond angry, lips thinned, nostrils flared. Her hands were at her sides, bunched into fists.
“Sorry for intruding like this, but I didn’t think you could hear me.”
“What do you want?” she spat.
“I thought you should know that we’ve finished searching all the dorms, but we didn’t find it.”
“I’m not surprised,” said Gretchen.
“And why is that?” Ty asked her.
“You’re new here. You don’t know what these young people are capable of. The deceit. The lies. The manipulation.”
Gretchen was correct. He didn’t think they were that bad. Not from what he’d seen. They seemed like a fairly regular group of kids, with all the good and bad that entailed.
“Anyway, I thought maybe we could search the other buildings.”
A fresh tic of irritation flitted across Gretchen’s face. “That’s what you thought, is it?”
What was this woman’s problem? Ty took a breath. “Yes, ma'am. If whoever took my gun case is as cunning as you say, they could have snuck off to hide it. Don’t you think?”
“You know, if you’d just told me you had a firearm, I could have stored it for you. I have a gun safe. It’s very secure, and hidden from prying eyes.”
Ty made a mental note. Not that having a gun safe was anything out of the ordinary. In isolated parts of the country like this, gun ownership was common, often for good reason.
Gretchen bit down on her lower lip. “Anyway, why don’t you go check the outbuildings first? The barn. I’ll check here.”
“If you want to get some sleep, I can check this place for you.”
“This is my home, Mr. Cross. I don’t want a stranger going through all my things.”
Ty guessed that was fair. “I’ll go look outside.”
“You do that.”
Ty walked back down the corridor. Man, the sooner he could finish up and get out of this place the better.
55
Lock’s hand fell to his gun as he parked the Ford Explorer in back of the motel. About twenty feet away, a figure was crouched behind a dumpster. He had spotted them as he was backing into the space. Parking with the front of the vehicle pointing out was just one of many habits that had become engrained from years of working in close-protection security. Situational awareness was another.
Lock got out of the vehicle, making sure to leave the headlights on. He did his best to appear casual. If the person behind the dumpster intended to cause him harm, it was better they believed they had the element of surprise. For now, at least.
He slammed the door, and let out a loud sigh. Just a guy returning to his motel room after a long, frustrating day.
The dumpster was behind him, tucked into a corner of the parking lot. Unless the person was peeking round the side they’d be relying on what they heard to establish Lock’s position.
Rather than walking away, in the opposite direction from the dumpster and toward his room, Lock lowered himself as quietly as he could to the ground, and crawled under the Explorer. He scooted round so that he was partially on his side, and facing the dumpster. Now all he had to do was wait.
He drew his SIG from its holster, and punched it out in front of him with his right hand, ready to pick off anyone who showed hostile intent. He had seen one person behind the dumpster. That didn’t mean there weren’t others.
With his left hand he pressed the button on the key fob that locked his vehicle’s doors and activated the alarm and immobilizer. The car chirped. Lock counted slowly down from ten.
At eight, someone peeked quickly around the side of the dumpster. Lock watched as they peeked out again, taking longer this time.
They were looking for him. But not seeing him.
The Explorer’s interior lights dimmed. The headlights stayed on.
The person, a man, walked out from behind the dumpster. He was, by Lock’s estimate, white, a little over six feet, and in his mid to late forties.
He started toward Lock’s vehicle. Lock noticed that he was carrying. As he walked his jacket slid back to reveal a holster.
The man moved another few feet and Lock lost sight of all but his legs. He kept coming toward the vehicle. Lock stilled his breathing, and waited.
Ten feet from the vehicle, just when Lock figured he’d be able to reach out, grab the guy’s ankle and take him to the ground that way, the man changed direction. He turned at a forty-five-degree angle, headed for the side of the motel building, and the route Lock would likely have taken to get to his room.
Now he really had to hope that this was a lone operator. If he broke cover with someone else in the parking lot, it wouldn’t be good.
He could wait. See if the guy returned after realizing Lock wasn’t in his room. Take him out then. But there was no guarantee he would circle back this way.
Lock listened for any other movement. Met by silence, he belly-crawled out on the other side of the vehicle. He got to his feet and, crouching, jogged toward the rear wall. Hugging it, weapon still drawn, he made it to the corner. He listened. Again, nothing save the distant rumble of traffic along the road that ran along the front of the motel.
Punching the SIG out in front of him, he spun out from the corner, and came face to face with the barrel of a gun pointed straight at him. Lock had already begun to squeeze the trigger when he realized whom he was facing.
Lock eased up on the trigger, and lowered his SIG. The man facing him did the same. Both simultaneously exhaled.
“You never heard of calling someone first?” Lock asked Donald Price.
Don looked sheepish. “Sorry. I didn’t want anyone to see me waiting for you. Then you’d disappeared and I thought someone might have gotten to you.”
Lock didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Things were bad enough without being taken out in a motel parking lot by his own client. “Who? I think you’re the only person here apart from me.”
Don shook his head. “There was someone else when I arrived. Big guy with a beard. He had a gun too.”
56
Ty was two hundred yards from the barn when he heard the first screams coming from inside. High-pitched. Hysterical.
He sprinted for the barn, covering the ground with long strides. The screaming kept up. Louder. Shriller. Screams that spoke of fear and a rising panic.
It took his mind a moment to process what he was hearing. It wasn’t one person screaming but two. Ruth and Mary.
Strangely, the realization sparked a sense of relief. In order to scream, you had to be able to breathe. That meant, whatever was going on inside the barn, both girls were still alive.
Ty kept up his sprint. Arms and legs pistoning, he stumbled only once, reminded, for a second, of just how treacherous the ground
beneath his feet could be.
A second later, his heart sank as he remembered that he hadn’t picked up a key before he’d come down here. He cursed his own stupidity, but kept running. Before he turned back, if he did, he wanted to figure out what was going on in the barn.
Maybe it was something trivial. A rat. A big one. That could easily send two teenage girls who weren’t in the best mental shape into a fit of hysterics.
But something about the sounds they were making told him it wasn’t that. It was something altogether more serious.
He made it to the barn and called out to the two girls inside, “Ruth? Mary? You okay in there?”
The screaming fell away. Good news.
“Who’s that?”
It sounded like Ruth, but he couldn’t be sure.
“It’s Mr. Cross. Listen, I don’t have a key, but I’m going to get in anyway,” he said, jogging to the front of the barn and looking for something he could use to pry open the door.
He wouldn’t be able to break the lock, but the barn was old, the wood weather-beaten and worn. It wouldn’t take all that much for a man with his strength to splinter it.
A full moon hanging high overhead made the search a little easier. But he couldn’t find anything. No spades, or strips of metal. Nothing he could use. He would have to rely on brute strength.
“Step back from the door, okay?”
“Okay. But hurry,” Ruth called out.
“Why? What’s the problem?”
“It’s Mary. She cut herself. It’s bad, and I can’t get it to stop bleeding.”
Ty picked his spot and kicked out hard at the door. There was the satisfying sound of wood splintering as he made contact, but the door held. He took a couple of breaths and went again. Then a third time, a fourth and a fifth.
The sixth kick was the charm. The wood began to crack. A gap opened up that he could get his fingers inside. He wrenched at the door, levering it open even wider.
