by Mark Stone
“I’m registered and this is America,” he said, looking over at me and sticking the gun in the waistband of his jeans. “You can’t stop me.”
Well, he had a point there. Still, I had a responsibility to keep people safe, and I had broken enough rules lately.
“Fair enough,” I conceded. “But I won’t have you shooting at everything that moves. I have a badge and a responsibility to preserve the peace. So, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave that here.” I wanted to keep this situation contained, and fewer armed wildcards in play, the better.
“Fine,” he answered, pulling it from his waistband, placing it back where it we got it from, and walking past me and onto the pier. As he moved by me, he shoved a flashlight into my chest. I grabbed it hard. “It’s going to get dark really quickly out there. There are no lights and, with cloud cover rolling in, we won’t even have the moon.”
“I don’t have service either,” I said, looking down at my phone. I was always surprised at how quickly you lost service off the coast. It was almost instantaneous. “I have a compass in my pocket though.”
“What the hell?” he turned around, sneering at me. “You like a damned Boy Scout or something.”
“I used to be like a damned Boy Scout or something,” I answered, a sense of long cemented pride rising up in me. “And we’re always prepared.”
“Isn’t that special?” Jack chuckled. “You won’t need it. I haven’t been to this house in years, but I’ve got this thing. Once I’ve been to a place, I always remember how to get back to it.”
“That sounds like a dangerous talent,” I answered, bridging the gap between us.
“Thank God I’m on the side of the angels then,” he answered.
“Tell that to the man who never got his two thousand dollars,” I replied.
“I guess sides are subjective,” he said. “Now let’s go. If you’re right, and I have a sneaking suspicion that Boy Scouts like you usually are, then this old lady probably doesn’t have much time.”
I pulled out my gun, holding it at the ready. “Lead the way.”
Chapter 25
We were five minutes down a darkened dirt path when, flashlights in front of us to lead the way, and I was getting impatient.
“How much further?” I asked, looking over at Jack. His eyes were trained ahead, though his features looked a lot more relaxed than mine felt. In the two experiences I’d had with the former Guardsman, he came off as very off the cuff to me, which I found strange. All the people I had ever met in the service, whether it be through my grandfather or by other means, were very regimented. They had gone through training, after all. So, it would only make sense that they’d relish that structure, those rules that immensely upped the chances of a positive outcome in what was the world’s most stressful situations.
Jack didn’t strike me as that kind of person though. To be fair, my grandfather hadn’t either. In truth, my grandfather was a quintessential good old boy who knew the value of a good conversation and a better beer. Still, where I always knew where my grandfather’s heart and mind was, I wasn’t familiar enough with Jack to be able to say the same thing about him.
There was a darkness to the man, probably born and raised out of the loss he’d suffered. I got the sense he ran from that in more ways than one. He ran from the Coast Guard. He ran all the way to a beat up boat on the wrong side of Naples, and who was to say he wouldn’t run from this too?
Sure, he claimed to have a vested interest in this case, and he had brought me out here of his own volition without saying a word to the contrary, but I had met more than a few people like him in my day. I had known people who, whether by tragedy or complacency, were no longer able to face the harder parts of life.
What would happen when this man had to face them tonight? Would he stand tall, letting his former training take over? Or would he falter, and run away?
There was only one way to find out.
“Five minutes,” he answered. “Three if we run, but I don’t suggest it. We’re already making enough ruckus out here tonight. If we go running around these woods, we’re very likely going to set at least a few of these animals off. We make noise, and then they make noise.”
“And then whoever’s on their way to put a bullet in Jonah’s mother knows we’re coming,” I finished.
It was good thinking, thinking I’d have done myself if Jack hadn’t beat me to it.
“Yep,” he answered. “Slow and steady. Assuming she’s still alive.”
Those words stuck into me like a hot poker. There was no way of knowing if the Cashes were holding Jonah’s mother or if they even ever had been. For all I knew, they’d put a bullet in her the second they scooped her up.
I’d looked through Jonah’s phone as I waited for Jack to come pick me up, scouring the messages and deleted photos, and looking for any sign that the woman he’d been blackmailed to keep safe was still alive.
More often than not, kidnappers send some sort of proof of life; either a photograph or a phone call to the family. In the most gruesome cases, they’ve been known to send a piece of the person themselves to prove they have them.
The Cashes hadn't though. Oh, I found more than enough evidence of Jonah asking for it, pleading to speak with his mother and to tell her that everything would be okay. They never complied though and, in none of the messages, did Jonah call the person he was speaking to by Richard Cash’s name; which either meant that Jonah had no idea who was pulling these strings and why, or he was instructed not to ever mention names during correspondence. Either way, it left me with no solid proof that Richard was involved in this.
“I appreciate you leaving the gun,” I said, looking over at the man. “It’s not that I trust you with it. It’s just--”
“I get it,” he answered. “Though this honestly feels like a trap of a conversation to me. If I talk about my expertise with the damned thing, you’re gonna ask me what I’ve been doing with it,” he answered in his decidedly Northern accent.
“Not tonight,” I admitted. “People have told me you’re off your game, that’s all. I’m not sure what we’re going to find in here. I’m wondering whether or not you should stay outside.”
“You think Southern boys are the only people who grew up hunting?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at me. “I went through weapons training, and not just with guns. I know what it’s like to be under pressure, to be in stressful situations. I lived and breathed it for years. That’s not something you forget,” he said, swallowing hard. “Regardless of what happens to you.”
“I’m sure, but--”
“Listen, Detective Storm, I appreciate your concern for me. I really do, but I’m here. I’ve given a lot of my life to figuring out the truth behind what happened to Victoria Sands. To be honest with you, it kind of swallowed me after I lost my boy. I’m not letting that be for nothing, and I sure as hell am not coming all this way and standing so close to the door of it all just to wait outside.” He nodded. “You said this all might be connected, that what happened to your half-brother has something to do with Victoria. I’m not leaving here without answers.”
“I could just order you to stay outside,” I said.
“You could,” he answered, shrugging. “But that’s not to say I’d listen. Besides something tells me that you’re not going to wait around for a warrant to be issued before you go breaking down that door. It’s a big house, Storm, and I know my way around it. You need me in there, even if I’m not wearing one of those shiny detective badges.”
He had a point and, though we’d only really met twice, I already hated it when that happened.
“Fine,” I lamented as Jack motioned for us to cut off through the woods. “There’s no path?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at the man in the dark.
“No,” he answered. “Richard Cash was always a people person but, after his son died, he just wanted his privacy.”
“So he put a house in the middle of the woods on an island wh
ere there aren’t even roads to denote your placement?” I asked. “Isn’t that a little much?”
Jack shrugged. “Eh. Rich people.”
We stepped off into the woods and, under the dense ceiling of intermingled leaves and branches overhead, our path became even darker. Jack had been smart to think of these flashlights. We would have been basically blind without them and, what was more, the sliver of light through the black did much to keep animals away from us. Not that I was afraid of tortoises, loggerhead turtles, or white-tailed deer, but there were also bobcats and wild boar in these parts, and neither of those would hesitate to attack if they felt like we were cornering them, even accidentally.
Leaves crackled underfoot as we made our way through the dark.
“Tell me about the house,” I said, looking over in the general direction of Jack’s flashlight, since it was too dark to really make him out himself. “Give me a rundown.”
“It’s out of place, really,” he answered. “A two-story log cabin type deal with large windows and an unfinished basement. It doesn’t look like any other house around these parts.”
“Sounds pretty Northern,” I agreed. “Like he took a piece of Colorado and plopped in down on the islands.”
“I think that was the point,” Jack answered. “Though that’s not even the most troubling part. I did a little bit of digging around after Victoria vanished. I snuck into this place and looked around. I didn’t find her or any sign of her, but I did find a kid’s room.”
“A kid’s room?” I asked, confusedly.
“Yeah,” he answered. “Full of pictures of their son, the one who died in the accident. I think Richard Cash wanted this place to be a piece of home for him and, in a strange way, I think he wanted his son to be able to live here too. Figuratively, of course.” I heard despair in Jack Lacey’s voice and remembered his own son, his own loss.
“That’s understandable, I guess,” I answered, trying to be as sympathetic as possible. I knew of loss myself. Not the loss of a child, of course. I didn’t have children and, though there were times when I would be around Boomer and his family or when my grandfather would play catch with a neighbor kid that the truth of that would dig into me. It also meant that I had been blessed to never have to bury someone I brought into the world. I couldn’t imagine that hurt, and I didn’t want to. Though, if I was being honest with myself, Isaac was close to mine as anyone could be, and the thought of him leaving this earth before I did threw a dagger into my heart.
“It is,” he answered, his voice steeling up again. “It doesn't absolve him of his actions though.” He cleared his throat. “Just like my loss doesn’t absolve me of mine.”
“You haven’t killed anyone, Jack,” I said. “You just took a new path.”
“A path that I’m sure my son wouldn’t appreciate,” he said lightly. “But I don’t need you to make me feel better, Storm. Right now, I need you to do your job.”
He pointed forward and, off in the distance, I saw the flicker of a light through the window.
“There it is,” he said firmly. “If we’re going to get answers to this, it’s going to be in that house.”
Chapter 26
Jack and I made our way toward the huge log cabin in the woods. The shrubbery and greenery were cut back more so than they were even a hundred yards out. They were still overgrown though, leading me to believe that someone had done their best to keep this place in check, but the drive had fizzled out at some point in the recent past.
We settled off in a section of the woods that was still overgrown, a section we could see the man-made clearing at house from perfectly. At this vicinity, I could see that the light coming from inside of the window was from a lit candle, and that candle was tall and seemingly whole. Whoever lit it had just done so, and that likely meant they just got here. I breathed a preliminary sigh of relief. Maybe there was still time.
“There’s no electricity in the house,” I said, realizing that service probably wouldn’t reach out this far.
“No plumbing either,” Jack confirmed. “Seems like a lot of hassle to go through just to live out in the middle of nowhere, but hey, if you hate your neighbors this much, I guess it’s worth it.”
Was it though? I had met a lot of people during my lifetime of service, and I couldn’t say with a clear conscience that I had met anyone who hated people enough to forego even cable television, let alone the benefits of electricity and an indoor toilet. No. In my experience, if people went to these lengths to get away from the outside world, it was because they were hiding something they didn’t want that world to know about.
“You checked this entire place?” I asked, looking at Jack. “Top to bottom?”
“Roof to basement,” he answered. “There was no sign of Victoria there.”
“Were there signs of anyone?” I asked, keeping an eye on that candle and the wall behind it. Before I busted in, I wanted to try to get a feel of where the person inside might be. A shadow on the wall would answer that question. “Did it look like someone had been living there regularly?”
“Not regularly,” he answered. “But there was trash in the wastepaper basket and fruits and vegetables that looked fresh enough in the basement pantry.”
‘The basement pantry?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. I was about to open my mouth when I saw a shadow move across the wall. From what I could tell, it was a short and slight shadow, and looked to be female in form. Was Jonah’s mother allowed to roam free in there? My body tensed as I stared at the shadow twisting in the candlelight.
I put my hand on Jack, steadying him and stopping him from answering my question. Then, as the shadow grew bigger, I watched a figure move across the window. From this angel, I could tell exactly who the slight shadow belonged to.
Aubrey Cash walked into the candlelight. A sharp intake of breath froze me in place. Richard’s wife was here. She either had or was going to do this herself. Had she assaulted Jonah too?
If so, it made sense. While her husband was busy procuring the company for them, Aubrey was going to tie up the loose ends. She pulled a gun from a dresser drawer and held it up, looking at the thing. It was going to happen now. She was going to go kill Jonah’s mother right now. I needed to move, and I needed to do it quickly and deliberately. I needed a plan but, unfortunately for me, the one that was forming required me to do something I didn’t want to do.
“That talent of yours,” I started, looking over at Jack with obvious immediacy in my voice. “Does that work everywhere?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
“You came to this place one time, years ago. You were able to bring me right to its doorstep,” I started, recapping this part of the night. “You were inside the house too. Does that mean you remember the layout of it well?”
“Every inch,” he confirmed.
“Enough to go through it with your eyes closed?” I asked.
“What are you getting at?” Jack asked, cocking his head to the side curiously.
“I need you to get into the house and take out Victoria. I need you to make a ruckus though. I need you to be as loud as you possibly can and pull her attention away.” I nodded. “And then I want you to put out every damned candle in that place. There’s not a light for half a mile outside of those candles and the flashlights we’ve brought.”
“And I’m guessing you want me to leave those outside,” he replied.
“I want you to leave yours outside, yes,” I said. “Think about it. You’re both in the dark, unable to see your hands in front of you. Which one of you has the advantage; the ex-Guardsman with the strangely accurate photographic memory, or the rich woman walking around a house she hated too much to ever frequent?”
“I’m guessing the one with the gun has the advantage,” he answered flatly, making all the sense in the world.
And here was the part I hated.
I turned my gun over in my hand, reaching the butt to Jack. “Take it,” I said. “You’ll
need it more than me. Take her out if it comes to it, but try not to make it fatal if at all possible.”
“These would be literal shots in the dark you’re talking about,” he answered. “I’m not sure that’s a promise I can keep.”
“That’s why I’m sending you in instead of me,” I said. “With your talent, you can probably get around the house well enough to avoid the confrontation all together. You can sneak up on her, take her out without any undue violence. Besides,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not asking you to promise, just to try,”
“Okay,” he answered, grabbing the gun. “What about you?” he asked, as I began to stand. “Where are you going while I’m doing all this?”
“While you’re diverting Aubrey’s attention to the front part of the house, I’m going to be going to the back, to the basement to be more specific,” I said.
“The basement?” he asked. “Why the--”
“Who keeps fresh fruits and vegetables in an unfinished basement?” I asked. “Even in the best of weather, they’d rot and develop mold much quicker down there. Besides, they’d be way too far from the kitchen to ever be convenient. They’re hiding something down there, and I’d bet they’re using that pantry to do it.”
“The backdoor is almost completely on the other side of south wall. It has a window in it. So, give me thirty seconds. When you hear a banging on the door--”
“I’ll break the window,” I finished, realizing he was going to provide me cover.
“That’ll lead you into the kitchen. Go through there and take the first hallway to the right. There will be a door at the end of that hall. It’ll lead you down to the basement. It might be locked.”
“I’ll break it down,” I said.
“Sounds like a plan,” he said.
“Be careful,” I said, nodding at him.
“You too,” he said.
We darted off in separate directions toward the house. I made my way around the south wall. Flipping my flashlight back on when I made it there, I found the door. Jack was good. It was just as he remembered it; at the far end of the south wall with a window in it for good measure.
