7th Heaven

by Kate Calloway

  I waited until I was sure they were both gone, then peeked around the edge of the tree to make sure the dogs were out of sight. Then, not daring to look back, I made a dash for the wall and propelled myself over it, hitting the ground on the other side so hard it knocked the breath out of me. I regained my composure, got my breathing under control, and worked my way around the back side of the cove, through the berry brambles and skunk cabbage. When I saw Lizzie's boat I nearly cried with relief. Erica helped me board, her usually unruffled features drawn with anxiety.

  "What happened?" Lizzie asked, motoring away from shore.

  "I thought you were going to give me some warning," I complained.

  "They came storming inside and pushed right by me," Erica explained. "I couldn't say anything until they were past. We didn't count on that. You okay?"

  "Yeah. Sorry. Didn't mean to jump on you. I just about wet my pants back there, is all. You think Bart's okay?"

  "Last I heard," Lizzie said, "he was leading them on a merry chase toward the county dock. Having the time of his life, from the sound of it. Hopefully he's safe at home by now waiting for us to pick him up. You get the camera in place?"

  I filled them in on the details, explaining what had happened.

  "Look!" Lizzie said. "Newt and Guy must've lost their race with Bart. You better duck down, Erica, unless you want your boyfriend asking you questions about why you're leaving early." The two Jet Skis were headed right toward us, and Erica ducked down before Newt could see her. I ignored them, though I could feel their gaze on us. I wondered how long it would be before they started to put things together. Hopefully not before we did.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Bart helped me carry the TV and VCR from my bedroom and set them next to the ones already in the living room so we could watch the videos while keeping an eye on the Cathwaites' gaming room. The camera was both motion- and voice-activated, but after Cathwaite and Hawk had gone back down to the party, the screen had remained dark.

  We spent two hours watching the videos and it was enough to convince us that the players of Seventh Heaven would stop at nothing. In one game, the ex-football coach, Hawk, had planted a rumor about the pastor of his church, and the club had bet on which of his deacons would be the first to confront the pastor with the rumor. It was a mean-spirited, malicious prank with no purpose other than providing the club with something to bet on. The banker had once left a bag of counterfeit money lying in the employees' lounge at the bank, then made a big show of leaving for the day. The club members had bet on which clerk would find it first and how he or she would react. Ginny Cathwaite had written anonymous notes to every member of the Cedar Hills Elementary School PTA board, telling them that one of their members was a child molester. The club members bet on how each board member would react, who would bring the subject up first and who would be the one most suspected by the others. I knew by the number of tapes I'd found in the professor's game room that these were only the tip of the iceberg.

  "Hey, here they come!" Erica said, pointing to the other TV screen. Sure enough, Cathwaite and his very agitated wife, followed by the rest of the gaming club, filed into the room. I turned off the TV we'd been watching and turned up the volume on the other.

  "I knew they'd have to meet!" I said, feeling triumphant.

  "Shhh!" Lizzie said. "I want to hear this."

  "She is one pissed-off broad," Bart said. "I mean woman."

  We were watching the grainy but perfectly visible scene unfold around the mahogany table. Ginny Cathwaite was on a tirade and the others sitting around the table were looking duly chastised. The party was apparently over but the gaming club members had stayed behind to discuss Bart's party-crashing spectacle. Even the professor's white-haired colleague, Kip Cage, had arrived for the post-party session.

  "Somebody please explain to me why one of those ridiculous twins is suddenly shouting malicious vulgarities about me at my party! How does he even know I exist? Something is wrong here, and the only explanation can be that someone in here has opened his big fat mouth."

  "Calm down, Gin. No one's told anybody anything. Right?" Cathwaite said, looking at each of the men at the table.

  "I'm telling you, I think it's that Trinidad woman," Newt said. "I still think the Green kid may have talked to her before he, um, passed out. And now this Bart is staying out at her place off and on. There's got to be a connection."

  "I thought you said he never saw what hit him."

  "He didn't. But that doesn't mean he didn't guess."

  "Well, the camera you set up at her place hasn't done us much good, Newt. Except for pornographic purposes," the professor said, chuckling.

  "Can't wait to see it," Newt said.

  Erica looked stricken. "They bugged my house?"

  "Oh, God," I said, understanding just who was in the porno video.

  "Shhh!" Bart and Lizzie hissed.

  "Well," Guy Waddell said. "We wouldn't even have to be discussing this if you hadn't overreacted, Newt. I still don't understand what in the hell you were thinking."

  "I told you. The kid came up to me on Saturday night all threatening like and said he knew what I'd been up to and he wasn't going to let me get away with it. He said he had proof. I thought he meant us. The game. I blew him off the best I could and was going to get input from you guys on the best way to handle it, but then I saw him in the restroom on Sunday and took advantage of the opportunity." Newt leaned back in his chair and yawned.

  "Well, at least that's one thing we've learned from taping Trinidad's place. He was talking about having taken a picture of your truck. That's all it was, Newt. He thought you and the brother were ripping him off," Cathwaite said.

  Hawk let out a guffaw. "I'm still kicking your asses on that one! How many days has it been? Ooh doggie, am I rackin' 'em up on old Buckie boy. You folks is gonna be flat broke by the time that ol' boy gives up."

  "I think it's time to wrap that game up," Ginny said. "It's getting too complicated."

  "We should've called it quits on that one the second Newt whacked the Green kid," Stickwell, the banker, said. "I said so then and I still say so. Rules or no rules."

  "Yeah, well. That's 'cause you picked the redheaded one to hold out the longest," Hawk said. "Something about redheads being stubborn, tenacious and fighters to the end, if I remember correctly. What you failed to realize, Stick, is that the bald kid's a redhead too."

  "Let's take a vote," Guy said. He looked at the professor, then Ginny. Ginny nodded and the professor spoke up.

  "All those in favor of stopping the Rainbow Ridge Gold Game, say aye."

  Five voices chorused in the affirmative. Only Hawk and Kip Cage voted to keep the game going.

  "So be it," Professor Cathwaite said. "Guy, get the camera off that mountain tomorrow. Make sure you didn't leave any damn red bandanas hanging around either."

  "Aye-aye, Captain," Guy said, offering a mock salute to the professor.

  A little dissention in the ranks? I wondered.

  "So what do we do about this Bart nuisance?" Ginny asked. "Obviously he's figured something out or he wouldn't have come here today."

  "Let's keep an eye on him. We've still got the camera at the Trinidad place, right?" Stickwell asked.

  Cathwaite grinned. "Oh, yeah, right in the living room. You guys are going to enjoy what we picked up on that one. I'm thinking maybe there's a game here, but you guys will have to decide."

  "The redhead's screwing the Trinidad woman?" Kip Cage asked.

  "Not exactly," Cathwaite said, laughing. "You'll see."

  He got up and came straight toward the television, leaning so close to the camera that we could see the hair follicles on his neck. Suddenly, a soft hissing sound came over the speakers and I realized he'd turned on one of the tapes. There were no voices, but I could make out the unmistakable sounds of love-making in the background.

  "Hey, I know her!" Newt said, his voice slightly muffled beneath the sound coming from the tape. "S
he's friends with Booker. What the hell's going on?"

  Cathwaite was still chuckling. "It seems you've got competition, Newt. Your girlfriend must play it both ways."

  "Turn it off, Cass. I cannot fucking believe this!" Erica was livid. I hit the remote control and the TV screen went blank. My cheeks were burning. Bart and Lizzie were both staring out at the lake, pretending they hadn't heard that last bit of audio. The silence in the room was deafening.

  "Okay," I finally said, getting up to pace the living room. "Let's go outside."

  They followed me onto the deck, Bart bringing up the rear. He had helped himself to the fridge and produced four Coronas, which he passed around. "We deserve this," he said. No one disagreed.

  "I feel safer talking outdoors," I said.

  "Newt Hancock's the one who attacked Tommy," Erica said, "and we can prove it."

  "But would the tape be admissible in court?" Lizzie asked.

  "That's iffy," I said. "Depends on the judge, and these guys are all connected. Damn, there's got to be a way to get him."

  "Not just him," Bart said. "They're all in on it. It's like they didn't even care that Tommy might die."

  "Couldn't even say his name," Erica said, her anger heating up.

  "Did you see Newt yawn when he was talking about it?" I asked. "The guy's a sociopath. No conscience."

  "They're all that way. Like the game is more important than the people's lives they're playing with," Erica said.

  Bart nodded. "And the whole time, they're betting on who will do what and for how long — like we're their fucking pawns!"

  "Too bad we can't turn the tables," Erica said.

  "How?" Bart asked.

  "Maybe we can beat them at their own game," I said. "In the professor's book, he talked about people being predictable, especially in their weaknesses. Once you know their weaknesses, he says, you can exploit them, make them behave in predictable patterns, thereby essentially controlling them."

  "That's sick," Lizzie said.

  "So?" Erica asked, watching me. I was pacing the deck, the idea taking on a life of its own.

  "So. What's their weakness? As a group, I mean?"

  "They're cretins," Lizzie offered.

  "Yeah. What else?"

  "Power. They like playing God, controlling others," Erica said.

  "Greed," Bart said. "You asked one time what they all had in common and we came up with money. But it's more than that. They don't just have money. They like money. They want more."

  "I don't think it's just the money, Bart. I think it's the winning. The game itself is a power trip — it makes fantasy football look like child's play. But playing the game isn't enough. They want to win! You saw the way Hawk's eyes lit up when he was talking about outguessing the others. More than anything else, they each have a compulsion to win."

  "They want it all," Lizzie said. "I've seen gamblers like that. They're up ten thousand and can't quit. By the end of the night they're down to nothing because they wanted more."

  "So we've got to capitalize on their compulsion or greed or whatever it is," Erica said. "How do we do that?"

  "I have an idea," I said. "But it's going to take Buck's help."

  "Buck?" Bart's eyes were wide.

  "Yep. And some good acting over at Erica's. Not to mention luck. Come on. Let's get to Rainbow Ridge before dark."

  Chapter Nineteen

  Buck was in no mood to be placated. He was tired to the point of exhaustion, having not come down from the ridge for several days. His food had run out and we caught him just as he was getting ready to call it quits.

  "Got some stuff to tell you, bro," Bart said. "But there's a camera up here somewhere that might be able to see us. I'll explain later. Follow us."

  Buck was too tired to argue and climbed into his truck, following us back to Lizzie's house, the safest place we could think of. Lizzie let him shower first, then cooked a frozen pizza, which we shared sitting on the floor of her living room.

  "I don't fucking believe this," Buck said over and over as Bart told him the story. "How come you didn't tell me sooner!" He glared at his brother, looking ready to explode. His nose stud gleamed menacingly.

  " 'Cause you were acting like an asshole, that's why." They stared at each other for half an eternity and I was afraid of what Buck might do.

  Finally, Buck nodded and leaned back against Lizzie's sofa. "Okay. I've been an asshole. I apologize, okay? So why are you telling me now?"

  "Because they're bigger assholes," Erica said. Bart laughed and Lizzie choked on her beer. Even Buck smiled. He almost looked like a nice guy for a minute, I thought. I sensed that underneath all that anger still lingered the sweet seven-year-old boy who'd held his little sister in his arms. But that little boy didn't stay out long.

  Buck looked at me and scowled. "And why exactly is it you need me?"

  "Because they're still watching you, for one thing," I said. "And it's kind of poetic justice. They've been using you and now you get to use them."

  "By pretending to find the gold," he said.

  "Right," Bart said, nodding. "You think they're going to let you keep it? No way! They'll come after you."

  "Try to kill me, you mean."

  "We won't let it get that far, Buck," I said.

  "Hey, I ain't worried. I'm just trying to understand the plan." He pushed another piece of pizza into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. He smiled again. "Tommy's got some burlap sacks in the garage that would probably do the job. You sure we have to do this tonight?"

  "Guy's coming for the cameras tomorrow," I said. "If our part works, they'll be checking their monitors sometime tonight or tomorrow morning."

  "What do you want me to do?" Lizzie asked.

  "Stand by," I said. "You're our backup plan."

  "How do you mean? What should I do?"

  "Well, if we screw up and they get to Buck before we get to them, then they'll come after us next. If that happens, someone needs to tell Booker what happened."

  "Oh, great. I get to be the bearer of bad news."

  "Someone has to know what's going on, Lizzie. If you come with us over to Erica's then they'll know you're in on it too. All that does is put you on their list along with us. So far, they don't know you're involved."

  "We think," she said. She looked up at the ceiling and raised her voice. "If you're listening, you sons of bitches, take this!" She raised her middle finger and saluted the overhead lamp. Bart followed suit, and soon all of us except Buck were flipping off the ceiling.

  "This thing has really gotten to you guys, you know that? Jeez. And I thought I was stressed." Buck stood up, stretched, belched and made his way out of the living room, shaking his head.

  "See you later, bro," Bart called.

  "Later, dude."

  Ten minutes later, Erica, Bart and I were skimming across the dark water toward Erica's, ready to act our part in the charade.

  Erica and I had surreptitiously located the camera in her living room, hidden in a hanging basket behind a silk Boston fern. Making sure the camera would pick up the action, we positioned ourselves on the sofa, at a safe distance from each other, and pretended to watch TV There was no way we were going to give a repeat performance of what they'd seen earlier. I knew that the minute we entered the room, the camera had started rolling. I just didn't know how long it would be before Cathwaite would check his monitor.

  Bart knocked on the door and Erica went to let him in. I could tell by his eyes that his excitement wasn't completely feigned. Either that, or he'd missed his true calling.

  "What the hell were you doing out there today, Bart? You practically ruined the whole party!" I said, following our rehearsed script.

  "Oh, that. It was just an act, Cass. Newt Hancock paid me to do that, said it was some kind of joke he was playing on the professor. Something about betting on how he'd react. Paid me five hundred bucks, can you believe it? Easiest money I ever made."

  "You're kidding! Five hundred dollars! I don'
t get it. What kind of joke is that?"

  "I have no idea. Some sort of game. Anyway, that's small change compared to what Buck's got."

  "Oh, come on. I don't want to hear any more about that stupid lost gold. I'm telling you, the old man was pulling your leg."

  "No, Cass! Listen. I went up on the ridge for a while to kind of hide out after my little prank at the professor's and I ran into Buck. He told me the notes were phony after all. He'd been going in circles and finally realized that someone was yanking his chain."

  "So?"

  "So, he's all ready to quit when suddenly he sees this big old elk go by and Buck thinks, hey, I never shot an elk before, so he goes back to the truck, gets his rifle and starts out after the elk. Only the thing takes him way the hell up this hill and down into a little valley where there's all this purple foxglove. And Buck's thinking about the first note where the guy talked about something purple, and so he's got that in the back of his mind while he's stalking this elk and then he sees it!"

  "Another bandana?"

  "No. The wagon! The actual wagon. I mean, he said it's all disintegrated and rotted through, but it's there. And the bags are totally worthless for carrying anything because they're disintegrated, too. But the gold is just fine. He says there's so much of it, it'll take him days to haul it out by himself. He offered to split it with me, if I'd help. Not fifty-fifty. Just ten percent. But shoot, it's better than nothing."

  "You believe him?"

  "He showed me one of the coins. They're Spanish, I think. I bit down on it and everything. I swear to you guys, it was real."

  "So how come you're telling us, Bart? I mean, I doubt Buck would want us to know."

  He grew silent, but his hands and feet continued to fidget. "Just in case," he said finally.

  "In case what?"

  "In case Buck doesn't keep his promise. In case something should happen to me out there."