by Ben Rehder
“Roy Ballard,” I said.
I felt an arm brush my leg as he leaned toward the glove compartment and popped it open. He was checking my name against various documents. He found what he was looking for and closed the glove compartment.
“What were you doing on the side of the road tonight?”
“Looking for a place to take a leak. I’ve been drinking these new diet shakes and my bladder is the size of a—”
Bam!
He zapped me again, this time on the left biceps. God damn, did it hurt. Must have been a handheld stun gun this time, rather than a Taser. Either way, it lit me up like a squirrel on a transformer. Fortunately, it lasted no more than a few seconds.
He gave me a moment to recover, then said, “I told you there would be no more warnings. What were you doing on the side of the road tonight?”
I was beginning to have revenge fantasies. The things I would do to this asshole if I got the chance. But, for now, I had to just get through this. I figured I should tell the truth. Hard to make up good lies on the fly.
“I was wrapping up surveillance on a man named Brian Pierce. He lives right there on Thomas Springs Road, but I guess you already know that.”
“Why were you watching him?” The guy didn’t sound like a local. More of a northeastern accent, but softened by being in the South for at least a little while. My guess, anyway.
“He filed a workers’ comp claim for a job-related injury. I get hired by insurance companies to make sure guys like Pierce aren’t committing fraud. That’s why I have all this equipment in here.”
Now he got up and went into the rear of the van. I could hear him looking into various zippered bags and plastic bins, going through all my stuff. Double-checking my story. Or maybe looking for stuff to steal.
I said, “Do I get my camera back at some point?”
“Shut up.”
He rustled around back there for another minute or so, then returned to the driver’s seat. “You put the dryer in his driveway?”
“I did. Hoping he’d move it with his injured hand and I’d catch it on video.”
I noticed that he didn’t stumble or hesitate when he said “his driveway,” as opposed to “my driveway.”
“How long have you been watching him?”
“Couple of days.”
“Be specific.”
I definitely did not want to get blasted a third time, but something told me to lie. Gut instinct. I went with it. “Since Thursday afternoon.” The truth was, it had been Wednesday, the day I thought I had seen a little girl at Pierce’s place.
“You sure?”
“Yes. Thursday afternoon.”
“Learn anything?”
“Nothing. Hard to see his house past all those trees. And if I were to trespass, any evidence I got would be worthless. He never went anywhere, so I couldn’t trail him.”
“Did he have any visitors?”
I’m betting he already knew the answer to this question and was testing to see if I would answer it honestly.
I said, “Only one that I saw. A woman in a Jetta. I never got the plate number so I have no idea who she was.”
“So now you’re giving up?”
“I have other reasons to believe he isn’t committing fraud.”
“What reasons?”
I didn’t want to answer. If I did, I’d be revealing that someone from the restaurant had spoken to me. Again, my gut was telling me to keep that to myself. If there was any chance at all that I might be putting Jessica in danger, I was going to keep her name to myself.
I still hadn’t answered when I sensed movement near my left ear. I flinched. Couldn’t help myself. Then I heard the crackle of the stun gun just inches from my head. I flinched even bigger this time. I was making a vow to myself at that moment. I was going to put this son of a bitch through the same damn torment. Nothing greater, nothing less, just the same.
I said, “I was going through the paperwork last night and I saw something that my client had overlooked, which was that the manager of the restaurant said that Pierce had originally declined to file a claim. He didn’t want the benefits, but the manager encouraged him to take them. That means there is basically zero chance that he is committing fraud, hence no need to investigate him.”
A long silence followed. The man was weighing my answer. Either believing it, and contemplating it for reasons I didn’t understand, or trying to decide whether I was lying or not. No way to know.
I realized then how quiet it was. Wherever we were parked, there was no traffic noise at all. No other suburban sounds, either, such as a dog barking or the hum of a streetlight. Nothing but the buzz of crickets.
“Here’s the situation,” the man said. “I don’t give a flying fuck about Pierce. Don’t know him and don’t care whether he’s committing fraud or not. That’s none of my business. But I work security for someone else in that area and I needed to know why you were hanging around. Now that your work is done, it would be best if you stayed the hell away from Thomas Springs Road. You understand me? Don’t go anywhere near there.”
This was good news. Not the bullshit about him not knowing Pierce, but the fact that he wasn’t going to shoot me. All I had to do was be cool.
“I hadn’t been on that stretch of road for years,” I said. “And I sure don’t have any reason to go back. My client has already closed the case.”
“If you go back there, I can promise that you will regret it. Immediately.”
“I won’t be going back.”
Long pause. He was trying to think of any other questions he should ask or threats he should make. Evidently he decided that he wasn’t quite done.
“You report this and you’re gonna wish you hadn’t. Got me? But if you let it go—look at it as a learning experience—then you and I won’t have any further problems. Sound reasonable?”
“Hey, that’s fine by me. You’re just doing your job.”
“Okay, in the back, on the floor.”
I didn’t have much choice. Again, he steered me with a rough hand on my arm. I went to my knees in the rear of the van, behind the bench seat.
“All the way down.”
He laid me flat, my arms still cuffed behind me.
“I’m going to remove the mask. If you want to make the biggest mistake of your life, try to get a look at me. You understand what I’m saying?”
“I do.”
He pulled the mask off my head and it felt good. I hadn’t realized how sweaty my head had gotten. It was dark enough in the van that I couldn’t have gotten a good look at the guy even if I’d tried. But I didn’t try. I kept my nose to the carpet. Why blow it now?
“Now I’m gonna take the cuffs off. Do not move. Do not get off the floor. I want you to stay right where you are for ten minutes. If you move before that, there’s a real good chance I’ll be standing right outside watching you. Then again I might be gone. Much better for you if you wait the ten minutes. Comprende?”
“Yep.”
He popped the cuffs off and that felt even better than having the hood removed. By then, my arms and shoulders were throbbing.
“Ten minutes,” he repeated. “Your keys will be a hundred yards down the road.”
I felt the van shifting as he made his way to the open door and exited. Then it was still again. I’m not positive, but now I thought I could hear an engine idling somewhere not too far away. His ride, waiting for him. Somebody had followed us out here. Which meant there was at least one other person working with him. Assuming I really was hearing an engine, and now I wasn’t so sure.
I waited one minute, then pushed myself off the floor of the van. I didn’t get shot, Tasered, clubbed, smacked, or otherwise assaulted.
Looking out the rear window, I got my bearings quickly. There was just enough fading light to see that the van was parked in a cul-de-sac. No houses to be seen anywhere. Just oak and cedar trees, and faraway hills turning gray in the twilight. Ten feet from the van, a wooden st
ake with bright-orange surveyor’s tape tied around the top was driven into the dirt. Smart. He had driven us down into an empty neighborhood. The roads had been put in, but nothing had been built yet. Nobody would be poking around here after dark.
I quickly checked all my gear, and it appeared that nothing was missing. My Glock was still in the hidden compartment. I exited the van and started walking, using a flashlight as I went. The keys were right in the middle of the road, about one hundred yards away. The man was a damn humanitarian.
23
First thing the next morning, Mia called to say she’d put a great deal of thought into it, and she had decided that she’d like to be my partner. I literally had to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Well, you might change your mind in a minute.”
“Why?”
I gave her a quick summary of what had happened to me last night.
Just the highlights.
“Jesus, Roy, that’s nuts. Did you report him?”
“Nope.”
“Why the hell not?”
I could tell she was angry that someone had treated me that way, which made me feel sort of good.
“Think about it. First I reported that I saw Tracy Turner, or some other little girl, at Pierce’s place. The cops plainly didn’t believe me, and given my history, I’m not sure I would’ve believed me either, and, in fact, I’m not sure I did see anything. Okay, so now I’m going to report that an unknown assailant blasted me with a Taser, threatened to shoot me, then hauled me off to the boondocks for questioning? But I have no evidence? And I can’t describe the guy? Man, they would think I’ve totally lost it, or that I’m still trying to make them believe my first report. No way I’m putting myself through that. Waste of time.”
She said nothing for a few seconds. Then: “You know what?”
“What?”
“I’m coming over. We need to talk about this.”
She arrived thirty minutes later with hot coffee and a fresh bag of glazed donuts, which reaffirmed her potential as an excellent partner.
She set them on the coffee table and gave me a concerned stare. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. It wasn’t like he beat me with a rubber hose.”
“Yeah, but a Taser…”
“Thanks, really, but I’m fine.”
“Let me see where he got you.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“Stand up, Roy. Let me see.”
I stood, as I was told, and rolled up my left sleeve to show her my biceps. “I’m sure you’ll notice that I’ve been working out.” She studied my upper arm.
I said, “If you can find a mark, I’ll give you a hundred bucks.”
“You’re right. I don’t see anything. You said he zapped you twice.”
I turned my back and pulled my t-shirt up and over my head. “Control yourself,” I said.
She placed one hand against my lower back—sort of a “stay right there” gesture. Truth is, it felt nice. Really nice. Was that because it was Mia? Or would I have liked the touch of any beautiful woman’s hand at that moment?
“Yeah, okay,” she said. “Nothing back here either. I figured it would leave a burn mark or a pair of red welts or something.”
I realized that I wasn’t making a move to pull my shirt back on. And Mia’s hand was still on my back. She slid it around on my skin for a bit, as if feeling for a lump or a bump. It felt warm and smooth and believe me when I say I could imagine it running over other parts of my anatomy.
“You have goose bumps,” she said, almost in a whisper.
I still didn’t move. Her hand didn’t either.
“What man wouldn’t?” I said.
Something was happening. I wondered if we were about to cross a self-imposed boundary I’m pretty sure we both have considered crossing at some point. Or was I imagining it? Mia was the type to express concern by touching you.
Regardless, she pulled her hand away, and the moment—if there was one—was broken.
“I need a donut,” she said.
“So where had he taken you?”
I was on one end of the couch now. Mia was on the other end, sitting cross-legged, facing me. She was eating a donut, as promised, which included occasionally licking her fingers. I could charge admission for that show.
“Out 290, past Nutty Brown Road. A new neighborhood off to the left. No homes yet.”
“Why there?”
“Good a place as any.”
“You think he knows the area?” She finished her donut and wiped her hands with a paper napkin.
“More likely he scouted for a spot in advance, just for that purpose. Him or the person working with him. I’m almost positive I heard an engine idling somewhere nearby.”
“Yeah, I can’t imagine he’d drive you all the way out there and then walk back.”
“I didn’t see anybody on my way out, but it would’ve been easy enough for him to duck into the woods.”
I sipped some coffee, then gave in and grabbed a donut for myself. Mia said, “Think it was Pierce?”
“I guess it’s possible, but I really don’t think it was. This guy sounded older—maybe forties—and not from around here. He had a Boston accent like Matt Damon did in that movie about the math genius. Not quite that harsh, but similar.”
“Think he knows Pierce?”
“He claimed he didn’t, and that he was working security for someone who lived around there. But that was a weak cover. If he was under the impression that I thought he knew Pierce, but he really didn’t, wouldn’t he want to leave me with my mistaken impression? Why would he offer up any information at all? It seemed obvious that he was trying to steer me away from the truth. So, yeah, I’d say he’s connected to Pierce.”
“Let’s assume so. Then the question is: Why would he be working security for a 26-year-old dishwasher?”
“Man, I have no idea.”
“Something weird there.”
“Oh, I agree totally. We’re missing a big piece of the puzzle. At least one piece.”
Mia seemed to be enjoying our conversation—the speculation, the mystery, the unanswered questions—quite a bit.
So I said, “You realize that this sort of thing is completely out of the norm. Most of what I do, and what you would be doing, is pretty damn boring. You know that already.”
“Yes, I do know that, and I notice that you said ‘would.’”
“Yeah?”
“You should be saying ‘will.’”
“You still want to do it, huh? Be my partner?”
“Can’t be any more dangerous than working at the bar. You know how often I have to fend off creeps in the parking lot?”
“Where else am I supposed to wait for you?” She smiled for a second.
I said, “Here’s the other problem. This thing with Brian Pierce—whatever it is—it isn’t actually a case now. Heidi pulled the plug. What that means is, ain’t no money coming our way for it.”
“So?”
“So if you really want to be my partner—and I’m glad you do—why not wait until the next case comes in? Then we’ll jump right in.”
“Nope.”
“Nope?”
“Somebody mistreated my friend Roy, and they aren’t getting away with it.”
Frankly, I was touched. “That’s, uh—”
“Sweet?”
“Really dumb. Working for nothing?”
“You’re an ass. Let’s go over it again. Repeat the entire conversation. Word for word, if you can remember.”
So I did, as best as I could recall. Mia listened quietly until I got to the part where the guy asked about the dryer in the driveway. I was starting to think of him as “The Guy.”
“Wait a sec,” she said. “What about the camera?”
“What about it?”
“Why would he mention the dryer rather than the camera?”
“I’m not following you.”
“If you admit
ted to me that you’d been watching Pierce, I’d say, ‘Oh, so you’re the one who hid the super-secret spy camera beside his driveway.’ But, instead, he asked about the dryer.”
I thought about it. “Well, since I’d admitted that I was watching Pierce, it was obvious the camera was mine, whereas the dryer could’ve been dumped by anybody. He was probably just curious. Tying up loose ends.”
“Maybe, or maybe he never found the camera.”
“But I asked him about it. I asked if I was gonna get my camera back.”
“Wasn’t that when he was in the back of your van, pawing through all your equipment? He might’ve thought you were talking about one of the cameras you keep in the van.”
That stopped me for a second.
She continued. “Did you say ‘camera’ or ‘rock camera’?”
“I don’t remember.”
“How did he respond when you asked about getting it back?”
“He told me to shut up.”
“So you’ve just been assuming he found the rock camera, but maybe he didn’t. Maybe it was the dryer that made him suspicious. Did you reach the cedar tree before he zapped you? Did you get a chance to see if the camera was there?”
I had to think about it. “It’s hard to remember. But now I’m starting to think I didn’t.”
“So the camera could still be sitting there, and if we’re lucky, maybe it’ll tell us a little more about this guy. Or about Pierce. Or the woman in the Jetta. Or all three.”
“Damn, you’re good.”
“Thanks. We should go check it out.”
“Absolutely.”
“When?”
“Right now.”
We took the van. We could’ve taken her car, but I’ll admit it was a matter of pride. I guess I wanted to prove to myself—or maybe to Mia, or even to The Guy—that I wasn’t afraid to show myself again, as plain as day. Also, on the more practical side, it made sense to keep Mia’s car in our hip pocket, never seen before, in case we needed it later.
I didn’t bother driving past Pierce’s place and turning around. I simply pulled to the shoulder and stopped not far from the cedar tree.
