Code of Silence: Living a Lie Comes With a Price (3 page)

Hiro pulled out her phone and stabbed at the power button. She shook her head at Cooper. Dead. Like they all were going to be if they didn’t do something. Cooper could kick himself for leaving his cell at home. He would never,
ever
go anywhere without it again.

“C’mon,” Gordy whispered. His color looked better, and he’d shaken off the temporary paralysis. He motioned for Cooper to hurry. “Now’s our chance.”

Cooper shook his head. “The bathroom is no good.” He pointed at the camera. “They’ll see us in the monitors.”

“We can’t stay here.” Gordy’s words spilled out fast. “We’ll end up like Frank.”

Cooper looked over his shoulder toward the front door. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

Gordy crawled closer. “How? The door is locked.”

Cooper looked over the still form of Frank and through the kitchen. “Back door.”

“Impossible.” Gordy pressed in close. “The stairway to the office is right there. They’ll hear the door opening and see one of us for sure.”

Cooper knew it was way beyond risky. But to do nothing? Suicide.

“What about the front door keys?” Gordy whispered. “Check Frank’s pockets.”

The thought made Cooper’s stomach crawl up his throat. Hiro stiffened beside him.

“One of us has to try,” Gordy whispered. “And fast.”

Cooper knew he had to do it. He crawled behind the counter, into the kitchen’s entrance, and he reached for the closest pocket. Trembling, he slid his fingers inside. Part of him expected Frank to grab his hand and demand an explanation. He touched Frank’s leg and recoiled slightly, but he pressed on until he reached the bottom
of the pocket. Nothing—except the 4” x 6” photo. Pulling his hand out quickly, he looked at Gordy and shook his head.

“The other side!” Gordy hissed. Hurry!”

Cooper reached over Frank’s belly and stretched for the pocket. Too far. Taking a deep breath and clenching his teeth, he climbed over, trying not to put weight on the man—as if it would matter. He buried his hand in Frank’s pocket. Coins. Papers.
No keys.

Hiro and Gordy watched. Cooper saw their anxious faces, softly lit by the neon light.

“No choice,” Cooper shook his head. “The back door. All of us.”

“I don’t think I can do it.” Hiro hugged herself and rocked. Tears flowed down her cheeks and clung to her chin. “They’ll catch us.”

It was a long shot at best. Even if they could sneak through the kitchen without a sound, the back door would definitely make enough noise for the men to hear upstairs. What if he made it out alive, but Gordy or Hiro got caught? Cooper couldn’t live with that. He glanced at the back door—then stared. The keys hung from the lock.

Cooper whirled around to face his friends. “The keys are in the door.” He motioned frantically. “I’ll—I’ll grab them and we’ll all go out the front, OK?”

Both nodded, but their faces mirrored the doom Cooper felt.

“Wait for me at the front door.” Cooper stood on rubbery legs. “And pray.” He was an easy target out in the open. He wanted to run. Hide. But he had to do this. God, help him, he had to get those keys. “Grab the stool from the video game. If I get caught, bust your way out and get help.”

Fighting his survival instincts, he took a step. Then another. Past the steel tables. He could smell the Italian beef even through the closed bins. The scent of onion rings hung in the air.

The flat-topped grill still radiated a last bit of warmth as he passed. Pausing at the fryer, he glanced at the dual vats of oil and listened. The voices overhead sounded confident, celebrating. Cooper wanted to scream or cry. Frank lay dead in his own
diner, and the robbers were upstairs pawing through everything he’d worked for and saved.

Footsteps pounded down the stairs. Cooper grabbed a knife from the counter and dropped out of sight behind a walk-in freezer. He pressed himself against the wall and firmly gripped the wooden handle. His hands were slick, and his arms felt like cement had replaced the blood in his veins.

The footsteps raced back up the stairs again, two at a time.

Over halfway there.
Faster, Cooper.
Half crouching, he moved past boxes of napkins, straws, and cups.

The stairway leading up to the office lurked to his right. The keys … dead ahead. One key was fully inserted in the lock, four similar keys dangled from a plain silver ring below it.

“All right, pack it up.” Clearly Elvis. “You got the security camera stuff?”

“It’s all on an external hard drive,” a muffled voice said. “Already down by the door.”

Switching the knife to his left hand, Cooper gently pulled the key out of the lock. The quartet of keys below jangled a bit. For an instant, he froze. His pulse pounded high alert warnings in his ears. The keys settled, and he tucked them in his hand. A small auxiliary hard drive not much bigger than a cell phone sat on the floor just inside the door, wires poking out the backend. Something inside him told him to take it.

“All right, boys. Let’s grab it and we’re outta here.”

Fueled by high octane fear, Cooper scooped up the hard drive and ran on tip-toe for the front door. Gordy and Hiro stood beside it, frantically motioning him to hurry.

Crawling over Frank again wasn’t an option. Instead, Cooper vaulted over the counter. He caught a glimpse of something on the floor, but couldn’t avoid it now. His right foot landed on the edge of the change tray, shooting it across the coin-littered floor like a loose skateboard. It ricocheted off the metal stool and clattered against the front wall.

Scrambling to his feet, Cooper dropped the knife and tightened his grip on the hard drive.

“The keys!” Gordy hissed.

Cooper stormed the door and stabbed at the lock with the key. It wouldn’t go in.

Hand shaking, Cooper tried another key. Wrong again.

Footsteps thundered down the stairs.

“Please, God,
please!
” Hiro’s prayer rose from just behind him.

The third key slid home. Gordy threw his body against the glass, pushing even while Cooper twisted the key in the lock.

The door burst open and the three tumbled out. Gordy and Hiro scrambled for their bikes. Cooper spun around, reached inside, and pulled the key from the lock. He needed to buy them more time.

“Stop that kid!” A voice roared from the kitchen.

Shouldering the door closed, he jammed the key in the outside lock and barely managed a full turn before the man on the other side slammed into the door.

“You’re dead!” The clown growled, his mask pressed against the glass. “I promise we’ll find you!”

Too stunned to move, Cooper caught a glimpse of the crook’s eyes through the openings in the mask. Dark, bottomless, and cold. Like twin cigarette burns in a faded blanket. Shaking, Cooper jammed Frank’s keys in his pocket and stepped back, stumbling over the curb and tumbling to the pavement.

The man tapped on the glass with the muzzle of the gun. “Drop the hard drive!”

Cooper was going to heave. Still clutching the hard drive, Cooper rose on unsteady legs and looked toward the street.

Hiro flew across Kirchoff Road on her bike, pedaling like mad. Gordy rode right behind her—gaining.

The window crashed behind him. Shards of glass strafed Cooper’s back. Another crash. Sprinting for his bike, he jammed the hard drive into the pocket of his cargo shorts. He yanked his
mountain bike off the ground and mounted it on the run. A third crash. Cooper glanced back to see the metal stool tumble into the parking lot and the man barrel toward him—ripping off his clown mask as he ran. He stood on the pedals, straining to build speed—fearing at any second he’d feel a hand pulling him off the bike or a bullet ripping through his back. Not slowing to check traffic, Cooper bolted out of Frank ‘n Stein’s lot.

His friends had a huge lead on him. Slicing through the Dunkin’ Donuts entrance on the other side of Kirchoff, Gordy sped the wrong way through the drive-thru lane with Hiro only a half-length behind.

Cooper figured Gordy would stay on the pavement past the post office before ducking into the park. He pumped hard to catch up. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a startled face at the pick-up window as he passed. A car wheeled around the rear corner of the donut shop, headlights boring right into Cooper’s eyes. Swerving, he slammed into the curb—and vaulted over the handlebars.

D
ark blurs and flashes of lights raced past his eyes as his feet swung over his head. Cooper slapped to the ground directly on his back and skidded to a skin-burning stop. The sky continued moving. He couldn’t breathe. Rocking side to side, Cooper gasped for air.

The driver jumped from the car and ran toward him, his face twisted in concern. “Are you all right?”

Rolling onto his stomach, Cooper propped himself up on his hands and knees. With a gasp, he sucked in fresh air. His stomach lurched and a light-headedness swept over him. Cooper gagged once—and his stomach squeezed out his monster shake.

“Are you hurt bad?” The driver’s voice again.

The fog in Cooper’s head started to clear. He raised his head and looked across the street. A shadowed SUV with one headlight out rounded the back corner of Frank ‘n Stein’s. The high beams blinked on, pinpointing his escape like a pair of prison tower searchlights. A silhouetted form appeared from the same direction—running directly towards him. The clown just wouldn’t quit. Cooper struggled to get up.

The driver stepped up and held him in place. “Hold on there, son. I don’t think you should be moving.”

Cooper had to get out of there. Now. “Let me go—I’m okay.”

The driver looked worried, but backed off.

Too late.

“Police,” the runner said, pushing past the driver. The Clown. His mask was gone, but his hoarse voice was unmistakable.

“Give me some room.” Pressing one hand on Cooper’s neck, the man kept Cooper sprawled on the ground and from getting any kind of look at his face. He felt the man’s hand dart into the back pocket of his cargo shorts.

“What, no ID? Where do you live, kid?”

Cooper tried to stand, but the man leaned into him, keeping him in place.

Several people hurried out of the donut shop and formed a half-circle around him.

The man patted Cooper’s front pockets, then drove his hand deep in one of them. “I want that hard drive.”

Partially laying on his right side, the hard drive pressed into his leg just above the knee.

The man pulled out Cooper’s house key. “Jackpot.”

Cooper grabbed for it, but the man pulled back.

“I called 9–1–1!” a voice shouted from the pick-up window. “The police and ambulance are on the way.”

For an instant Cooper felt hope.

The robber leaned in close. “I’ll let you go—for now,” he whispered. “You get me that hard drive. The bell tower. Sunday night. No cops. Got it?”

Cooper nodded.

“Say it.” The man’s lips brushed against Cooper’s ear with every whisper.

“Bell tower. Sunday.” Cooper tried to get on his feet.

“Good boy,” the clown cop said. He patted Cooper’s back gently, putting on a show for the bystanders. “And not a word to anyone,” he hissed. The man squeezed Cooper’s neck with an iron hand. “Or I’ll find you if I have to try this key in every house in town. But you rode your bike, so I bet you don’t live far.”

The man leaned in close and snickered. “I gotcha, boy.”

Cooper tried to pull free, but the man gripped Cooper’s neck even harder. “And I’ll kill everyone in the house. Your Mom. Your Dad. Brothers. Sisters.” The man thrust his fist in front of Cooper’s eyes and opened it for an instant—just quick enough for him to glimpse his house key. “I’ll kill them all—and I’ll save you for last. Understand?”

Cooper nodded.

“Now get outta here before the circus starts.” The man released his grip and stood.

“He’s alright,” the man announced. “Just shaken up a bit.”

Cooper turned to look down the road—half expecting to see flashing lights. He struggled to his feet.

Head down, the man backed through the crowd and disappeared.

Cooper staggered toward his bike, feeling a measure of strength pulsing through him again.

“Really,” the driver put one hand on Cooper’s shoulder, “wait for the paramedics to check you out.”

“Send them across the street,” Cooper said, picking up his bike and swinging a leg over the seat. “The owner of Frank ‘n Stein’s … there was a fight … I think he’s dead.” Pushing off, he leaned into the pedals like his life depended on it. As far as he was concerned it did.

Cooper didn’t look back. Didn’t dare. The wind shrieked in his ears, an unearthly voice that said he was doomed. The robber got a good look at his face—and had his house key.

He spotted Hiro and Gordy waiting in the shadows between a couple of parked mail trucks. They took flight again as soon as Cooper got close. Together they raced down the bike trail along the creek through Kimball Park.

Minutes later they ditched their bikes behind the shed in Cooper’s backyard. With a six-foot cedar fence securing the backyard like a stockade, they were safe from detection. Still, Cooper stood at the corner of the shed and listened. Sirens wailed in the
distance, but other than that, quiet. No rumble of a car passing slowly. Not even a dog barking. If the men had tried to tail them, they weren’t following anymore.

“What happened back there?” Tears streaked Hiro’s face.

“He took my key. Says he’ll find me.”

Hiro sucked in her breath.

“He wants the hard drive. Sunday night.”

“Three days from now.” Gordy plowed both hands through his hair and held his head. “Why didn’t you just give it to him?”

“Then he’d have all of us. Right now I don’t think he knows you two exist. By the time he got to the door, you were gone.”

“And it was dark.” Gordy said it like he desperately wanted to believe it.

Hiro swiped at her tears. “I had that
feeling.
Like I got the day my dad …” She shook her head. “But that car—it looked like it hit you. Are you okay?”

He rolled his shoulders. “Yeah,” the palms of his hands still stung, but the fall hadn’t broken the skin. “I think so.” He looked down at his cargo shorts. No tears or rips. In fact, nobody would even notice he’d taken a dive—from the front, anyway. His back burned but his t-shirt wasn’t sticking. Hopefully that meant he wasn’t bleeding.