Hard Trauma

by Franklin Horton

  He should probably have been afraid. He could well be on the way to his death. In fact, that was the likely outcome. Where else would they be taking him? A woman with Tia’s history was not going to have a beer with him, tell him to pack his shit, and get out of town. There was only one reason these men would be here for him. That was to make him disappear.

  Ty forced himself to relax. To some extent, this was what he’d been hoping for. The only way he was going to find Gretchen without law enforcement was if Tia found him. Apparently the bait he’d thrown out at the corner store had worked. The boy had told someone Ty was headed for the botanica and, rather than call him, they came for him. He appreciated that kind of efficiency and decisiveness. It was the way things got done.

  “Where are we headed?” he asked, his voice casual, conversational.

  The temples of his sunglasses partially obscured his peripheral vision. That may be why he didn’t see the gun butt coming at him from the side. It collided with his forehead, a solid blow that left him dazed. He felt blood running down his forehead and along his cheek.

  Was it his delivery? Had he sounded sarcastic?

  Once that gate was opened, the blows kept coming. A second caught Ty above the ear and he slumped into the seat. Everything faded to black.

  39

  A bucket of fetid water dumped over his head brought Ty back to the world of the living. He lay on a concrete floor, his hands cuffed in front of him. He tried to sit up but his head protested, sending him reeling. Forget a concussion, he’d be lucky if there weren’t shards of skull driven into his brain like chips into dip. He wondered if he could shake his head and hear it rattle like a maraca. His scalp burned from scabbed wounds that tugged and tore as he moved his head.

  He found a well-dressed man who looked like a rancher in front of him. He was Hispanic but no one Ty had seen before. He held a cattle prod in his hand, tapping it into his palm like a guard eager to wield his truncheon. A line of men stood behind him and Ty recognized a couple of them from the ride in. One grinning face belonged to the man who had so viciously pistol-whipped him.

  “I hear you’ve been asking after my mother?” the rancher asked.

  Ty squinted. This must be Luis. The stinking blood-tinged water ran down Ty’s face, into his eyes and open mouth. He tried to shake his head but the gesture caused a wave of blinding pain. “Is your mother Tia?”

  “First things first, I am the one asking the questions here.” To emphasize his point, Luis jabbed Ty with the sparking cattle prod.

  Ty screamed as his body went painfully rigid, jerking uncontrollably. The motion exacerbated the stabbing pain in his skull. The line of men laughed and taunted him as he attempted to regain control of his body.

  When Ty made eye contact with him, Luis was satisfied that he could continue. “I’m going to be asking you some questions. I suggest you answer truthfully. We have done horrible shit in this building, amigo. Your screams would not be the first to echo off these walls.”

  That image penetrated the fog of Ty’s brain. These men would kill him. That was not the optimal outcome. “I have no reason to lie.”

  “Who are you?” Luis asked.

  “My name is Ty. I was a security guard at the truck stop in Virginia where a child was abducted. I have reason to believe your mother was involved. I followed the trail here.”

  “I don’t keep up with my mother’s affairs but she’s a retired old lady. She spends her days knitting shit and going to church.”

  “I doubt your mother goes to church. She prays to the Santa Muerte.”

  The cattle prod crackled as it hit Ty in the ribs.

  “NO!” Ty screamed. Then he was paralyzed again, unable to control his body as millions of nerve endings registered the pain.

  When he recovered, Luis was shaking a finger in his face. “You only answer questions, Ty. That was unwelcome commentary. Now, let’s try again. Why would my mother go all the way to Virginia to steal a child when, if she wanted one, there’s plenty of children in Arizona?”

  Ty was getting tired of explaining this. “I don’t know, but I have evidence.”

  “What kind of evidence?”

  “Evidence she was in Virginia.” Ty struggled to make his muscles work, his neurons scrambled by the high voltage. He moved his cuffed hands to his shirt pocket, pulling out the folded picture from the Petro Panda. He held it out toward Luis.

  Luis came forward and snatched the damp picture from Ty, unfolding it. He stared at it for a moment before smacking his fingers into the image dismissively. “All I see is an old lady with a dog. What does this prove? Where did you even get this picture?”

  “The Virginia State Police,” Ty lied. “The FBI has it too. They have reason to believe this lady used the puppy to lure the child into her RV.”

  Luis shrugged dramatically. “If that’s the case, my friend, then why are you here and not the FBI? Are you such a big deal that they send you to do the government’s work for them? Are you some kind of super-agent or something? Super security guard?”

  Some of the men laughed appreciatively as Luis played to his audience.

  “I’m not alone,” Ty said. “You already know men raided your mother’s house this morning. If you are as plugged into that neighborhood as it appears, then I’m sure you know they’re combing through the house right now. In fact, I was at the FBI field office for a meeting this morning. They were trying to determine the identity of the dead baby found on your mother’s altar. You think they’re going to let that go? You think they’re going to forget a dead baby on an altar?”

  That information took Luis by surprise. He approached Ty and knelt down, glaring at him. “What dead baby?”

  “They said it was old and dried out. Possibly a newborn.”

  “If you’re lying to me, you’ll die screaming,” Luis promised. “I’ll peel you alive.”

  “I’m not lying. Ask Tia who the baby was. Was it one she stole? Was it one of her own? Could be it’s your own brother that she killed and offered to Santa Muerte.”

  Luis stood up and whipped the cattle prod back, ready to strike Ty with it. His eyes burned into Ty’s, his mouth taut. Ty didn’t flinch. He was enjoying the disturbed look on Luis’s face. Was it the idea that his own mother kept a dead baby on the shrine in her bedroom that so disturbed him or was it the idea that it may have been a brother to him?

  “This still doesn’t explain why you’re the one going around and asking questions, gringo. You’re not a cop. You’re not FBI.”

  “I’m asking questions because you know the feds have their heads up their asses. They can’t do anything without meeting about it. By the time they’re done meeting about this, Gretchen Wells will be dead.” Ty intentionally used her name, hoping he could make them see the victim as a person.

  Luis hesitated, scratching his chin as he thought. He seemed unsure of what to do next.

  “That’s her name,” Ty repeated, latching onto the opportunity. “Gretchen Wells. She’s ten years old and likes puppies. You have any children, Luis? You have any little girls? How would you feel if your daughter was stolen like that? What would you tell your wife? Would you shrug it off because that’s the business you’re in?”

  Luis launched himself across the room and grabbed Ty by the bloody stubble of his hair. He drew the cattle prod back, ready to pound Ty in the face with it. Ty didn’t try to turn away.

  “That is not the business I’m in, my friend.”

  “Then convince your mother of that. Tell her to let Gretchen go. Return the child to her mother.”

  Luis released Ty and backed away, pointing a blood-stained finger at him. “You’re never leaving here alive. I’ve heard enough of your lies. Enough of your bullshit.”

  “I don’t care if I leave here or not,” Ty said, his jaw set. “With the shit I go through every day, I welcome death.”

  Luis nodded his head in Ty’s direction, as if granting him a favor. “Then you shall have it, my friend. Don�
�t let it be said we’re not gracious.” He turned away from Ty and headed from the building.

  As he passed his men, he said, “Cuff him to a post. Put a man on this building. The rest of you get back to work. You all have jobs to do. The cops could show up at any time.”

  40

  Cliff Mathis had just gotten off a conference call with his attorney when his secretary buzzed him.

  “Mr. Mathis, I have a lady on the phone who says her name is Jessica from the Wasteland. She wants to speak to you.”

  “I’ll take the call.”

  He figured his receptionist had to be wondering what this “wasteland” business was about but she knew better than to ask. He dealt with a lot of people who didn’t use real names because of the nature of their work. She probably assumed it was code for something.

  He picked up the call. “Cliff Mathis.”

  “Hey, Cliff, I know you’re busy and I apologize for bothering you, but I’m worried about Ty. I know this isn’t your problem but he hasn’t been active on social media for an unusually long time. I tried calling his phone but he didn’t answer.”

  Cliff sighed. “It’s a messed up situation, Jessica. The guy’s heart is in the right place. It was a ballsy move, chasing these people across the country when no one believed him, but there’s been a hitch.”

  “What kind of hitch?”

  “The case broke open last night. I can’t say a lot about that part of it, but basically Ty stuck his nose where it didn’t belong. Now there’s no doubt that he was right. He found the proof he was looking for.”

  “Thank God.”

  “There’s a problem, though. They had a task force meeting about the case this morning. I was invited in as a consultant since Ty reached out to me. Ty was there too. There was the FBI and some local PD. Turns out Ty has some legal issue hanging over him in Virginia. He has an assault charge pending against him.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “I wish I was. The investigator who flew in from Virginia to consult on the case insisted on pursuing it. She had papers to extradite Ty back to Virginia.”

  “That’s messed up. He was just trying to help. Doesn’t that matter?”

  “I don’t know the story,” Cliff said. “All I know is they were going to ambush him in the meeting with an arrest. Everyone there thought it was bullshit. They assume the real reason behind it was that Ty must have embarrassed the cops. They were pissed at him for being right and making them look bad.”

  “So did they arrest him? Is that why I can’t reach him?”

  “He’s not in jail. I don’t know if he overheard something or his spidey-senses went off, but he excused himself to go to the restroom and never came back. They couldn’t find him. The investigator from Virginia was pissed. She wanted to track him down but no one was willing to devote resources to it when a little girl is missing.”

  “I’m concerned about the girl but I’m concerned about Ty too,” Jessica admitted. “He seems like he’s together, but he suffers from the same problems a lot of us do. That’s a pretty raw deal to spend your own time chasing down a lead and then get arrested. He deserves better than that.”

  “I know the FBI agent running the case,” Cliff said. “I’ll give him a call and follow up. I walked out of the meeting today after they mentioned extraditing Ty. I don’t know how things ended. They might know something more.”

  “Can you let me know if you hear anything?” Jessica asked. “I know you’re busy, but I’d like to know he’s safe.”

  “I’d be glad to. I’ll call him as soon as I get off the phone.”

  After he hung up, he found Agent Esposito’s number and shot him a text:

  Hey, this is Cliff Mathis. Don’t want to bother you but did Ty Stone ever turn up?

  His phone rang about fifteen seconds later. It was Agent Esposito.

  “Hey, Cliff,” Esposito said when he answered, “my mouth works faster than my fingers. Just wanted to let you know that Stone hasn’t turned up but we’re not really looking very hard. That investigator from Virginia is an asshole and no one wants to cooperate with her.”

  “Any progress on the girl?”

  “We’re trying to locate a piece of property supposedly owned by her son but we can’t get a handle on it. He doesn’t have the same last name as her and it’s probably buried under layers of corporate entities. We can’t get a warrant if we can’t find the damn place.”

  “Well, I know you’re busy but do you mind to let me know if Stone turns up? He’s got people worried about him. I guess I’m one of them. Kind of a raw deal to get this far and end up in jail.”

  “Roger that, Cliff. I’ll keep you in the loop.”

  Cliff placed his phone on the desk and settled back into his chair. He laced his fingers together and stared at the wall, deep in thought. Reaching some conclusion, he stood and placed his palm on a biometric scanner, unlocking his wall safe. He pulled out several phones, checking adhesive labels on the back until he found the one he was looking for. He closed the safe and returned to his desk, powering up the phone.

  One of the things about a company like Door Kickers International was that they weren’t limited by some of the same constraints that law enforcement was. There were certain things DKI couldn’t easily do, like get court-ordered access into someone’s financials or phone records. However, there were other things they could do more easily than law enforcement, such as maintain stables of paid confidential informants. That got too sticky in law enforcement. There were too many strings attached to money when it flowed from the government to criminals. Cliff wasn’t encumbered by those same issues. He dialed a number.

  “Hello?” answered a cautious voice.

  “This is Cliff Mathis. Can you talk?”

  “Give me a second.” Cliff heard the guy mumbling as he made some excuses and moved to some place he could talk freely. “Go ahead.”

  “There was an old woman gangster in Barrio Libre that went by the name Tia. She has a son who lives in the area. I think his name is Luis but I don’t have a last name. I’ve got 5Gs for you if you can get me his address in one hour.”

  The man on the other end hesitated, thinking it over, probably trying to decide whether pursuing this information might expose him to any life-threatening scrutiny. “Okay, I’m on it. Call you back at this number?”

  “Affirmative.”

  They ended the call. Cliff picked up his other cellphone and called one of his contractors. “John, this is Cliff. Can you get us three more local guys who can work in one hour? The job is unconfirmed but it’s local. They’ll only need their personal gear. We’ll be using the chopper so have it ready.”

  “Roger that, Cliff. See you in an hour.”

  41

  “Did it ever fucking occur to you that kidnapping a child from a crowded truck stop might not be the best idea?” Luis asked. “Since when is this the way you do business?”

  Tia sat in a lounge chair in the shade of Luis’s back porch. She was sipping agua fresca with a splash of tequila and smoking a cigarette. She wore a blue sweat suit, a handful of rings, and a chunky beaded necklace. Her wraparound sunglasses hid her eyes. “I don’t tell you how to run your business.”

  Luis was ready to pull his hair out. His mother had never liked anyone telling her what to do. Surrendering her neighborhood to the cartels had been a bitter pill to swallow, and she hadn’t been the same since. Now he had to wonder if she was losing her mind, going soft in her head. To make matters worse, she was intentionally obtuse with him. There were never any simple, straight answers. Every response was sarcastic, accusing, or derogatory. He honestly didn’t know why he bothered with her. It wasn’t like she’d ever made an effort to be a mother to him.

  Luis stood up and lit a cigarette. He paced the wide patio. “I’ve never known you to snatch a girl off the street, Mother. You always find girls who want to come with you. Correct?”

  “That’s true,” Tia replied. “It didn’t work out this
time. The girl I was supposed to pick up didn’t show up. We drove all that way, all the way to Virginia, and she quit answering her messages. I’d promised El Clavo a girl and to come home empty-handed would make me look bad. I’m done with looking bad.”

  “Look bad to whom?” Luis asked, waving his arm with a flourish. “There will always be other girls. They’re born every day. Why take this kind of risk?”

  “I prayed to the saint. I asked for a girl and she gave me one. When I saw the child, there was no doubt. She was put there for me.”

  Luis took a drag off his cigarette. “Santa Muerte?”

  Tia sipped her drink. “Don’t act like you don’t know which saint I’m talking about. Don’t act like you’ve never asked her for anything. You know how she works. You know she answers prayers.”

  Luis brushed it off with a wave of his arm.

  “Don’t insult Holy Death,” Tia whispered. “You know better.”

  “It’s a superstition of old ladies and the ignorant!”

  “So that’s what you think of your mother? An ignorant old lady?” She flipped her cigarette butt into the yard, something she knew irritated Luis. Especially when there was an ashtray beside her.

  Luis frowned at the smoldering butt. “Don’t get all sentimental on me now, Tia. You were never a mother to any of us.”

  “I raised you to be what you are now.”

  Luis laughed. “You did no such thing. I did this! I earned this!” He indicated his estate with a sweep of his hand. “With my own two hands, I earned this. If I learned anything from you, it was from the bad examples you set. I learned how not to do things.”

  Fidelia stuck out her chin and turned away from her son. “You are ungrateful to your mother and disrespectful of Santa Muerte.”

  “I call bullshit where I see it, Mother. Now I have to fix this problem you’ve created. I will not have your sloppiness put me at risk any more than it already has. I’m going to deal with this once and for all.”