I couldn’t stop myself from mumbling, “I know you.”
His smirk turned into a smile. “Somehow that’s gratifying. Considering the last time you saw me, you had stuffed me in a cell in a freezing mine shaft.”
“You mean after I released the dozen men you had already stuffed in that cell in the mine shaft?” I paused for a minute, starting to feel anger replace my fear. “And a teenage girl. No one ever told me what you guys planned to do with her. I can only imagine.”
That seemed to hit a nerve. The man said, “We didn’t want her there any more than she wanted to be there. We were trying to figure out how to keep the national-security aspect of the detention center intact. No one was looking to do anything weird with your cousin.”
“You mean weird like locking her up in a mine shaft?”
Now he stepped forward. It felt like the conversation was over. I had to wonder what else was over. The muscular man held the gun with confidence, even if my arrival surprised him. He showed no nerves. His voice was calm and even.
Dammit, I hated professionals.
I took another step away from my brother. Now my mind was starting to work clearly. I needed the man to focus on my brother for just a moment. I just needed a momentary distraction. Anything to occupy the man’s attention.
CHAPTER 14
NOW THE MAN was completely in the living room with my brother to his right as he focused on me to his left.
Like anyone familiar with weapons, the gun moved wherever his eyes did. I didn’t like that. He wouldn’t be tricked easily.
I engaged him. I wanted a conversation. The longer something like this went, the less vigilant the gunman usually is. It was human nature. I had nothing to make small talk with. Finally, I said, “What was your name again?”
He let out a laugh. “Jackson, Rick Jackson. I don’t think you’ll forget it again.”
“How’d you get out of jail?”
“What jail?”
“You were arrested for the shit you’ve pulled at the mine shaft. I mean, you kidnapped my teenage cousin. That’s a crime by itself.”
“I didn’t kidnap anyone. I was just doing my job. I was hired by the government. The US government. My job was to maintain a detention facility. I didn’t question who came into it. Your cousin wasn’t harmed. She had food and water. I didn’t even throw her in a cell with anyone else. I was never arrested. I just got a ride from the feds.”
That pissed me off. I felt myself make the full shift from being scared to being angry. I said, “You never spent a day in jail.”
He smiled. “Not in my entire life.”
“So nothing happened to you guys at all?”
“We lost a huge contract. We lost one of our most valuable employees. Our computer guy is in custody because of the old couple he shot. You have any idea how hard it is to find a decent IT guy? You ruined a sweet gig our little company had. And worst of all, you pissed me off. I’ve stewed about you and your stupid meddling for months. And now I’m here for a little payback. Sort of my own little therapy, only a lot more fun.”
“So your plan has been to shoot me. Why bother my mother or blow up my girlfriend’s apartment?”
He stepped closer into the room. I was clear of the card table my brother used as a dining table. I calculated the distance between Jackson and me.
Jackson said, “The plan wasn’t to just shoot you. It was to screw up your life. And it’s gonna get worse. And there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.” He laughed.
This crazy son of a bitch enjoyed this. He didn’t want it to end anytime soon.
Now he was stuck between Natty and me. It had been a long, calculated shift. I don’t think this guy was used to facing multiple threats. Most people would take one look at him and decide to do what he said.
Jackson said, “I saw you poking around the girl’s apartment. I purposely taped the old match to the door so the cops would figure out it wasn’t just an accident. I was going to watch you squirm as you tried to figure out who would do this to you. What I didn’t expect was for the local cops to not investigate at all. I could’ve just used a military device, maybe some kind of electronically detonated IED. But I wanted someone to realize I put some effort into it.”
“All that effort because I cost you a little money?”
“My partner, Dave Allmand, told you to just walk away. He said he was doing you a favor. He wasn’t kidding. Aside from the money, you let a lot of potential terrorists return to society. I think that deserved some kind of answer. Maybe teach you to mind your own business.”
I snorted. “People have been trying to teach me that for years. What makes you think you could succeed?”
He smiled. “Because I’ve got a plan.”
CHAPTER 15
I HAD NO real plan. This asshole was holding a gun on my brother and me. If I didn’t do something, one or both of us was going to be dead. And I was hoping my brother would pick up on the fact that I was maneuvering. But he didn’t. And I couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t like he’d ever had training in anything like this.
So I did the next best thing. I turned to Natty and said, “You remember this jerk who looks like a giant penis? He was one of the guys that kidnapped Bailey Mae.”
Natty had no idea why I was antagonizing a man with a gun. He tried to participate. He nodded his head slowly. He said, “I remember.” It wasn’t genius, but he was giving the effort. I had to cut him some slack. Then he added, “Those men looked like something from a concentration camp.”
That made Jackson more angry than any insult I had hurled at him. He glared at my brother. “Those weren’t men. They were terrorists. Maybe not directly, but they were funding terrorists. So don’t give me any of that …”
He stopped short when my full 230 pounds slammed into him. He felt like one of the tackling dummies from high school. Except he was harder. His abs hurt my shoulder. Now we were a little more equal.
He slammed against the breakfast bar. The cheap bar rattled and creaked. A two-liter bottle of Mountain Dew fell to the floor and exploded. Sticky clear soda sprayed the small kitchen.
Somehow, Jackson managed to hold on to the pistol. All I could do now was grab his right wrist and make sure the pistol didn’t point at me. I felt like I had a giant snake by the neck. I couldn’t let go and couldn’t move fast enough to get away.
Jackson was strong. That was an understatement. He somehow managed to make it back to his feet even with me hanging all over him. I used my left elbow to slam him in the head a couple of times. It had no effect.
Then I got lucky. I slammed his arm against the corner of the refrigerator and the gun flew out of his hand. It bounced off the stove, then slid across the floor under some cabinets in the kitchen.
Natty came across the room to help. As soon as he entered the kitchen, Jackson kicked him in the side of the leg so hard it knocked him into the flimsy wall and he tumbled onto the hardwood floor.
Now Jackson and I faced off against each other in the kitchen. I couldn’t spare the concentration to wonder what sort of injuries my brother had suffered. If I didn’t win this fight, it wouldn’t matter.
The problem with knocking the gun out of Jackson’s hand meant that he had two hands to fight with. He swung at me hard. The first punch glanced across my chin. It was mainly luck that I was moving and it didn’t catch the full force. Then he gripped both of my wrists. I felt like a child in his grasp. My hands almost immediately turned purple.
Then he head-butted me. Hard. I’d seen this in training a dozen times. I lowered my head so that I took most of the blow on my forehead instead of my nose where he was aiming. It still dazed me.
I lifted my right leg, hoping to throw my knee into his groin. He twisted and blocked the kick, but that made him release my wrists. I stumbled back to the counter next to the refrigerator. I reached out blindly and found a jar of peanut butter on the counter. As Jackson charged me, I swung the jar wildly and caught him on the side of t
he head. Too bad modern peanut butter jars are plastic.
The blow still slowed him down, but not by much. The lid blew off and the jar cracked down the side, covering Jackson’s face and neck with peanut butter. He looked like a radiation victim whose face was melting. I swung hard with my left hand, hoping the peanut butter was blocking his vision. It wasn’t.
He blocked the punch and hit me with a counterpunch that sent me onto the cheap floor. I slid across it and slammed into the cabinets.
Now Natty was up, catching his breath. He threw himself at Jackson before Jackson could stomp on me. His body looked spindly next to the older, muscular man.
Jackson threw him like a rag doll against the wall, then dove onto the ground, aiming for his pistol.
I rolled over to stop him. We both reached for the pistol at the same time. All of my strength seemed to go into my hands as we fought for the gun.
It went off three times. Bang. Bang. Bang. Like a metronome keeping time for a deadly waltz. It was deafening. But I hoped it might bring some help. One of the neighbors had to have called the cops.
Somehow, I managed to wrestle the pistol away from him. I couldn’t believe it came free. He scooted away from me and sprang to his feet. He was the fastest big man I’d ever met. He turned and sprinted out the door before I could even aim the gun.
I rushed to the door to give chase. I froze when I heard my brother moan in the kitchen. I turned and saw the spreading stain on his shirt.
One of the bullets had struck him.
CHAPTER 16
IT FELT LIKE an eternity between when I called 911 and the paramedics arrived at Natty’s apartment. At least they let me ride in the back of the ambulance as I held Natty’s hand and talked to him.
I said, “You’re going to be okay, Natty.” I didn’t know what else to say. Who does?
He looked at me, but didn’t answer. He’d been panting, trying to keep the panic at bay. I answered the questions the paramedic asked me on the way. How old was he? Any allergies? I didn’t know much about emergency medicine, but I knew my brother’s blood pressure was low and dropping.
At the apartment, waiting for help, I’d done my best to hold direct pressure on the wound that was on his upper chest, almost to his shoulder. Just like I’d been taught in the Navy. I didn’t think the bullet had caught a lung. That didn’t mean my brother’s color or respiration looked good.
I’d been in the waiting area outside the emergency room at the hospital in Newburgh for about two hours when my mom hobbled in on crutches with Alicia trailing behind her.
She continued on her crutches, unchallenged into the emergency room. Alicia didn’t know what to do, so I followed her. My mom stopped short of surgery.
My mom said in a loud voice, “Someone tell me what’s going on. I’m still a customer. That means I’m going to be very demanding.”
I heard one of the orderlies behind me mumble, “What else is new?”
A nurse, about my mom’s age, stepped over and put a gentle hand on her back. She said, “Elaine, if you’re a customer, you can’t be back here. Your son’s in surgery and they’re doing everything they can.”
What happened next was a real shock to me. My mom started to cry. Not just a sniffle or a tear, but a sob. Followed by more. The nurse wrapped her in a loving hug and patted her back.
After a few seconds, the nurse steered her toward me. I held her and let her cry on my shoulder. I could count the number of times I’d heard my mother cry during my entire life. And never like this.
Once we sat down, Alicia sat next to me and took hold of my hand. Then she let her head drop onto my shoulder. It was a quick slice of heaven. Then she said, “I have to clean up. My shift will start soon. I’ll come by to visit as soon as I can.” She kissed me on the lips. I tried to calculate the kiss. It was more than a peck and not a full-on girlfriend kiss. It was enough for now. She managed to energize me when I thought I might not make it through the night.
Almost an hour later, in the waiting room, Bill and a couple of Newburgh detectives came to talk to me. Bill was good about getting me away from my mother. Very patient and calm.
My mom said, “Can’t you talk to him here? I don’t want to be alone.”
Before he could answer, Alicia popped into the waiting room in her uniform. A tiny badge on the pocket said STUDENT. She said, “I can stay with you for the next hour.”
That made me sad I’d miss time with her. I knew now that I needed to show Alicia how much I cared about her.
I talked to the cops in an empty office a few corridors away. Bill sat in the back and let the detectives do the talking. The Newburgh Police Department and I had a little history. One of their detectives had gone bad and murdered a local drug dealer. I set the trap that caught him. The cops may not like crooked cops, but they don’t like people doing their job, either.
A detective, who had identified herself as Sue Koteen, said, “I read the statement you made. It just sounds a little far-fetched. We think whoever did this was a drug-dealing rival to your brother.”
“My brother is in paramedic school. He doesn’t deal drugs anymore.”
The detective laughed. “I’ve never heard that one before.”
“Have you heard the one where the cops find the man who shot someone in their own apartment?”
The detective wasn’t flustered. “I’ve read your entire statement and I find the whole private-prison revenge theory ridiculous. I’m not sure what you expect the Newburgh police to do about it.”
“My experience with the Newburgh police tells me not to expect you to do anything at all.”
Bill realized it was getting a little heated. He stepped forward quietly and placed a hand on Detective Koteen’s shoulder. He said softly, “Susie, can you give us a couple of minutes?”
The detective gave me one more glare, just to make sure I understood I was pissing her off.
I gave her a goofy grin. Just to make sure she understood I was trying to piss her off.
As soon as we were alone, I turned to Bill and said, “She thinks I’m some kind of conspiracy nut.”
“She’s not alone.” He waited until he had my full attention. “I’ve heard the story about the private prison from you, your brother, and your mom. I believe you. But think about it from a regular person’s perspective. There was no news coverage, no public outrage, nothing that most people could relate to. If this is the reason your brother got shot or your mom was hit by the car or your girlfriend’s apartment blew up, you might have to deal with it outside the police. But don’t ridicule a dedicated detective like Susie Koteen.”
I nodded. He made sense. I wanted to get back to my mother in case there was any word about Natty.
CHAPTER 17
IT WAS ALMOST the next morning before we had our first positive update on Natty. They had removed a 9mm bullet and he had lost a lot of blood. But he would recover fairly quickly. Most people didn’t realize that if a bullet didn’t strike an organ or tear up veins or arteries, the victim could deal with daily life in a matter of days. They couldn’t climb Mount Everest, but they could function. The doctor estimated that Natty could return to class in a couple of weeks if he didn’t participate in anything too strenuous.
Alicia popped into Natty’s room just as we heard the good news. I held her as I looked into her eyes. I didn’t say anything. I just kissed her. And she kissed me.
She leaned in and said, “Where has this guy been?”
Before I could come up with a witty reply she said, “I hope you have this kind of energy and interest when I get off work.”
I just smiled. I kept smiling until she went back to her rounds.
Now that I had a pretty good idea of who was trying to screw up my life, I had to make a stop here in Newburgh. My mom refused to leave the hospital until she could talk to a conscious Natty. I borrowed her car and found a convenience store a few miles from the hospital.
There was nothing unusual about the store. It had a cou
ple of gas pumps and a brightly lit interior, filled with the essentials marked up a mere 300 percent. As I pushed through the glass door, a chime announced someone had entered the store.
The clerk turned from whatever he was doing behind the counter and started to greet me. When he looked at my face and recognized me, he froze. I just stared at him.
Then a huge smile spread across his wide, friendly face. He didn’t say a word as he rushed from behind the counter to embrace me.
Finally, he said, “Mitchum, my friend, how are you?”
“I am well, Hassan. And you?”
“My brothers and I are all fine. Thanks to you.”
“Did you or any of the other men from the hidden prison ever testify against the men who held you?”
Hassan shook his head. “Aside from an interview with people from the government the next day, I have heard nothing. No one who was with us has heard anything. And we all stay in touch with each other. My brothers and I were in that hellhole for almost seven months. No one has told us anything other than the money we were sending home went to fund terrorists.”
I wasn’t sure how to phrase this. I thought about it for a moment then just blurted out, “The bald man who ran the prison was not arrested.”
Hassan was floored. All he could manage to say was, “No.”
“He’s here in Newburgh somewhere. He’s trying to ruin my life.”
“Like he tried to ruin our lives?”
“Not quite. He ran down my mother with a car. He tried to kill my … friend. Last night he shot my brother. I have no idea what he’s up to, but I knew I had to warn you.”
“How is your brother?”
“He’ll survive.”
“Everyone from the prison lives between here and Boston. I will get word to each of them today.” Hassan was about to say something else, then he stopped short.
I put my hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eye. There was no one else in the tiny store with us. “What is it? You can tell me.”
The River Murders Page 18
