Origins (Remote) (12 page)

Woods sighed and put his cigarette out, smashing it into the street. He knew there was no sense putting off talking to Breed. The reporter would get the story anyway.

“I don’t know what I’ve got, Justin,” Woods said, shaking his head. “Seriously. I’ve got one dead guy in a hallway. The people who live here say they’ve never seen him before. I’ve got another guy with his head bashed in and they say they don’t know him either. I’ve got a missing 13-year old kid. It looks like he may have crushed the guy’s skull with a bat and shot the other one. Or there was another guy and he grabbed the kid and did the others. Or maybe I’m having a bad dream and I’ll wake up and go eat at Waffle House and everything will be fine”

Woods was taking notes. “The kid’s name?

“Gilmore. Ronnie Gilmore.”

“No ID on the dead man or his buddy?” Bree asked.

“Nope, not yet.”

“You thinking burglary turned kidnapping? That would be a pretty strange twist.”

Woods had had enough. He had to get the parents down to the station and do an interview. He had to wait and get the coroner going, and the crime scene people were just arriving. It was the beginning of a long day and from the looks of it, things weren’t going to get any easier anytime soon. He dug his hands into his coat pockets and shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m not thinking at all right now,” he said. “For the time being I’m just an anonymous police source who has no clues. Call me later. Things might change.”

Woods returned to the house, giving the crime scene crew a few instructions and turned his attention to Sara and Richard Gilmore. The mother seemed to have gathered herself some. At least she wasn’t crying hysterically anymore. He began with her.

“Mrs. Gilmore, I need you to give me some information about Ronnie, who his friends are, where he might run, things like that. Have he been in any trouble lately? Been acting differently?”

Sara Gilmore shook her head. “No, no, he’s a good boy. He does well in school. We’ve never had any problems with him. He seemed fine last night. He ate and when I went to bed he was in his room reading. I told him not to stay up late because he had school tomorrow and a scholarship session in the afternoon so he needed his rest.”

“A scholarship session?” Woods said. “What’s that about?”

Richard Woods jumped in. “My son is a very smart boy, Detective. He’s been offered a chance at a scholarship for college and he does extra work at school. I want to know what you’re doing to find him. He wouldn’t just run away. Somebody had to take him. You’ve got to get the area sealed off. It’s been an hour and you’re still sitting here doing nothing. Someone’s taken him.”

“Mr. Gilmore, we’re doing everything we can. I’ve already put out a missing person’s bulletin on him and that goes out to every man in the department.” He turned again to Sara Gilmore.

“Can you give me the names of some of his friends? If he did this then, even in self-defense, it’s possible he got scared and ran away, thinking he might be in trouble. We might find him close by, hiding.”

Sara Gilmore put her hand to her forehead. “Let me see. He usually hangs out with Gill Spann, he lives two blocks over, or Richie Kent. Richie is four or five blocks the other way. I can’t remember now. They’re on his baseball team in the summer. There’s one or two more from his school he sometimes plays with and…Oh, lately he’s been seeing a girl from school. I remember teasing him about it one day. She’s in that scholarship program with him so I see her when I pick him up at school. They wait together. Her name is
Cassie.”

“Do you know her last name?

“Reynolds, I think. He told me her dad owned that body shop on the highway. I think it’s called Reynolds Paint and Body or something like that.”

“Okay,” Woods said. “I’m going to get some cars around to his friend’s houses. He’ll probably turn up soon. In the meantime stay close to a phone. He might try and call or maybe the parents will call if he shows up at a friend’s house. If you need anything here’s my number.” He handed over his business card. “I probably won’t be at my desk but they can get hold of me if you need me.”

Woods got up, putting his notebook back in his coat pocket. On the way out he stopped and had a few words with the crime scene crew, returned to his car and got on the radio. The dispatcher took his requests for a unit to be sent to all the houses on his list of names. The coroner was finishing up his initial inspection. Woods saw him come out the front door and made his way over to talk to him.

“What do you think, Art?” he asked.

“I think he’s dead, Carl.” Art Louqe had been working for the coroner’s office for over 20 years and he’d seen enough dead bodies to fill a stadium. “Of course, that’s just my opinion. You can look at him if you want and let me know if I’m wrong. I’d appreciate your input on the matter.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Art.” Woods knew better than to get Art Louqe rolling. “What else can you tell me?”

“He’s got a bullet wound in his chest. That’s about all I can say and you already know that. I’m not doing any guessing. I’ll get you the report when it’s done. Probably tomorrow I’ll have the preliminary but the rest of it will take time.” A uniform stepped up, waving his hand.

“Detective? You need to speak to the Sergeant. One of those names you called in? The girl? The station has a unit at her house right now. She’s gone.”

“I don’t know why I did it,” Ronnie said. “I just did it.” He and
Cassie were enveloped in complete darkness. Looking up through the trees only a handful of stars could be seen. The glow of a streetlight broke the horizon. He could barely make out her outline as they sat cross legged, facing each other on the platform. Somehow not being able to look into her eyes made it easier. He was afraid of what she would think of him. “I was sleeping and I heard this noise. I didn’t know what it was, except I kind of did. I just knew that I was in danger, real danger. Without even thinking about it I got up and got my bat. He walked through the door, I swung the bat as hard as I could.”

Talking about it brought everything back to Ronnie. The cold feeling in the pit of his stomach, the certainty that he was in mortal danger. He remembered the solid feel of the bat in his hands and the crunch of wood meeting bone. It occurred to him that he was now a murderer. But that wasn’t true was it? It was self-defense. They were in his house.

“Anyway, after I hit him he went down. I saw the gun and picked it up. The guy came down the hall. I didn’t have time to think. I pointed the gun and pulled the trigger.”

“You did the right thing, Ronnie.”
Cassie said. She was trying to keep him calm and at the same time her mind was going over everything the events of the night meant, for right now and for the next few days. If these people would show up in the middle of the night they had to be intent on capturing them. Which meant they might not stop at killing. She wondered what she would have done in Ronnie’s place. In any case he was here and alive and so was she, probably because they hadn’t had time to reach her house. They’d made a mistake, coming at them one at a time, and Ronnie had made them pay for it.

“You did what you had to do,” she told him, making sure he was listening by reaching over and pulling his face closer to hers. She was whispering in his ear, consoling him, bringing him back. “What you did was defend yourself and your family. Who knows what they would have done if you hadn’t been awake? They might have grabbed you and killed your parents.”

“I guess, maybe. What are we going to do?” Ronnie asked. At this point he was trying to find something solid, something to move forward with. Up to this point the whole thing had been unbelievable but now it was as real as the dead man he’d jumped over in his hallway.

“Now we wait for tomorrow,”
Cassie said, “Now we try and get some sleep. We’ll go over it again in the morning.” But it was a long time before sleep came to Ronnie Gilmore and even longer before sleep came to Cassie Reynold.

Thorne attacked the problem of his missing assets. He’d called in a crew of six men. Pictures of Ronnie and Cassie were handed out, as well as pictures of the family. The Gilmore house was going to be a problem unless the kids could be found quickly. He had enough leverage within the police department to obtain information but he didn’t want to push too hard. It was enough that he could be kept informed. There was no way to trace the men back to him, unless the injured man started talking and that didn’t seem likely. His solution was simple. Find the kids and get them under wraps.

“They can’t have gotten far,” he said, addressing the men in the room. “The problem is we can’t flood the neighborhood. They police will be out there combing the place and they’ll be leery of strangers hanging around. I want men at the school in case they run to a teacher. I want somebody watching the Aunt and her house. I want to keep a patrol moving down every major street around the neighborhood but nothing inside. Either they’ll go to someone in the neighborhood or they’ll try to get out. If they try to get out we can pick them up. If they go to someone in the neighborhood we’re still good. We can pick things back up in a week or so.”

Plans made, the men filed out. Thorne was left to himself, debating the next move. It was his experience that these things could be kept under wraps for a certain amount of time before it went to hell. People noticed comings and goings, faces they’d never seen before. Even the most experienced of men talked among themselves as they debated what they were doing. Ronnie and Cassie had eluded him up to this point but he was determined to bring them in as soon as possible. In the event they managed to hide themselves from him for too long, well, other action might need to be taken. He turned to the map of the neighborhood on his desk, then called one of the men back in.

For Cassie and Ronnie the day began with a breakfast of Pop Tarts and water. The night had been one Ronnie would never forget. He had spilled everything to Cassie and her response had been supportive. He knew it was something he’d have to deal with down the line. Cassie had been patient and before long they’d both fallen asleep, sharing the pillow and blanket, positioning themselves in the middle of the platform. A few hours later the growing light woke them up. Cassie had insisted on eating before they talked.

“Everything is better on a full stomach,” she said. “My Grandma always told me that. When I was a little kid if I was upset or hurt she’d make me something to eat and by the time I was done I’d always feel better. Let’s eat and then you can tell me again what happened.”

Ronnie was happy enough to put off talking about the events of the night. Sitting on the platform with Cassie it was easy for him to believe that he had been dreaming. But he knew he was just trying to push things away from himself for the time being. Things were about as bad as they’d thought. He had the feeling that Cassie already knew it. She wanted to give both him and herself some time to digest things, time to think. The sun had been up for an hour by the time they finished eating. Cassie put away the canteen, stashing the trash away in her backpack. Finally, she turned to him and spread her arms out, palms up, as if to say “Get on with it.”

Ronnie told her the whole story again. The men in the house, the bat, what he had done. He began to get shaky again talking about the shot he’d fired into the man coming down the hallway and the frantic run to her house.
Cassie listened without saying anything. When he was finished she took his hand.

“You did right. We can’t let them get us and we can’t let them split us apart,” she said.

“But what about our families?” Ronnie said, “Do you think they’re alright? My mom’s got to be going nuts and yours will too when they find out you’re gone.”

“Probably,”
Cassie said, “but that’s better than us being kidnapped. I’m thinking you put a big kink in their plans. We’ll figure out some way to let our parents know we’re alright. For now, we need to sit tight. I think tonight we’ll try and get to my Aunt’s house and hide out there for a little bit.”

“And then what? We can’t stay there forever. Sooner or later they’ll find us and get us. Maybe we should just go to the police.”

Cassie shook her head. “We can always do that but we might as well just walk into Thorne’s office. How long do you think it would take the CIA to push them around? No. We’ve got to find a way to get rid of these guys or we’ll just disappear. Maybe our families too.” She was watching the woods around them intently. Finally, she turned to Ronnie and said, “Look, I’m scared too. But waiting for a few days isn’t going to change anything. We’ve got to stop them. I think I might know a way to do that.”

Carl Woods, who had been a detective for eight years and in uniform for twelve years before that, had never seen anything like this. Missing kids weren’t unusual. He’d dealt with plenty of that as a patrolman. Kids took off, for whatever reason. Usually they’d turn up a day or two later, having hidden out at a friend’s house or sometimes even in their own houses. He’d once dealt with a runaway who’d hidden in his own attic for a day and a half, trying to teach his parents a lesson. He’d come down during the day to use the bathroom. A neighbor had heard the toilet flush when he was outside putting away his garbage and called the mother. If it was just a pair of runaways he’d have handed it over to the district and moved on. But with one dead man and another in the hospital he couldn’t do that. Something else was going on here. He couldn’t see the connection or imagine what it was but it had to be there. There were too many question, the biggest one being why there were two men in this kid’s house to begin with.

He was looking into the relationship between
Cassie and Ronnie but nothing seemed unusual about it. They both attended the same school. Their friendship was fairly recent, only getting started in the last few months when they’d both become involved in the scholarship program. Prior to that there was no history other than being at the same school. They weren’t even in all the same classes. Woods had interviewed both Gill Spann and Rick Trent, Ronnie’s friends, and neither could offer anything. They hadn’t seen him much lately.

Finally, in desperation he called the school and got the principal, a Mrs. Keating. Yes, she’d said, both Ronnie and
Cassie were exceptional students. She’d been thrilled to have them picked out as potential scholarship prospects. That kind of thing reflected well on a school. Woods held the phone away from his ear as she rattled on. Finally, he’d gotten her to find the names and phone numbers of the scholarship program. Maybe the instructors there had heard something or had talked with Ronnie or Cassie in more depth. It was a long shot but it was worth taking.

For Ronnie and Cassie a day that begun so badly turned into something special. Their first real full day alone together with nobody else around. There was nowhere for them to go so they spent the day talking and napping on the platform. Cassie was hard to stop once she got going, Ronnie realized. She talked about her friends, her family, school, the news, and anything else that happened to come to mind. Ronnie was especially interested in her Aunt Julie. In the time he had spent with her it was obvious she and her niece were close. Julie, Cassie assured him, was quirky but super smart. Nothing escaped her eye it seemed. Then it was on to another subject. Natalie, who sat next to her in Civics, had a huge crush on Joey Portman. She knew because she saw them passing notes once. School was good but really too easy. She didn’t like Brussels sprouts either, a revelation that made Ronnie laugh out loud. She had clapped her hand over his mouth.

“Shh. What wrong with you? Don’t be so loud,” she said.

“I can’t believe we’re talking about Brussels sprouts. Are you nuts? You’re the craziest girl I’ve ever met.” Ronnie told her and he meant it.

“I must be crazy to be hanging around with you, Ronnie Gilmore. Look at all the trouble I’m in because of you. If you weren’t so cute I’d throw you off of here. But, you’re the first boy I’ve ever kissed so I guess I’ll let you hang around me for a while.”

Ronnie was stunned. “Am I really the first guy you ever kissed? Come on.”

“Yes, but don’t be getting any big ideas. And it wasn’t really a kiss because you’re too big a dope to kiss me back.”

“Oh, well…..”Ronnie said.

“Yes, Oh well,”
Cassie said and leaned over and kissed him full on the lips. It was long and lingering and held his attention. He hoped it was the first of many. On the day after the worst night he’d ever experienced, Ronnie Gilmore had one of the best days of his young life.

Three hours before deadline and Justin Breed still didn’t have anything he thought he could piece together into any kind of coherent story. He’s gotten the brushoff from the coroner’s office and called in some favors to get the details. But there was no way to tie it all together. There were too many questions to just leave it out there. He called Woods.

“You’ve got to give me something here, Carl,” Breed said when he finally got a connection. “I’ve got to run this story but I don’t know what to say.”

“Speculate all you want, Breed,” Woods replied, “because that’s all I’m doing. I don’t have a clue what’s going on.”

“Do I call it a kidnapping? Is that what this is?” Breed knew he was thinking out loud but had to ask the obvious questions. “Why would someone kidnap this kid? What were these guys after?”

“I don’t have the foggiest idea why they would want this boy,” Woods said, “and I don’t know how the girl ties in either, except they were friends.”

“What? What girl?” Breed asked. “You never said anything about a girl this morning.”

“You mean you don’t know? What happened to your sources, Breed? You don’t know about the girl?” Wood said, laughing. “You call yourself a reporter?”

“Shut up and tell me now,” Breed said. An hour later he had his story.

Night finally arrived.
Cassie and Ronnie were ready to move, making their way out of the woods to the back of the library. Ronnie was carrying the knapsack. Cassie had the bat bag over her shoulder. She’d also bundled up her hair and donned a ball cap. From any distance the pair looked like a couple of kids coming from or headed for baseball practice. Two boys would be best, Cassie had said, since the police and everyone else would be looking for a boy and a girl together. From behind the library they simply walked down the street, headed for the bus stop on Chef Highway.

There were few people out and none of them paid attention to the kids as they made their way down the block and reached the bus stop. Ronnie leaned against the pole.
Cassie stood next to him. His body blocked anyone from seeing her in the oncoming traffic. The ten minute wait for the bus seemed to last forever. When it arrived they got on, taking their seats in the rear. Nobody gave them a second look. Traffic was heavy, the evening rush hour slowing things down to a crawl. The bus made its way down the road stop by stop at a crawling pace. Cassie slumped down in the seat with her hat pulled low while Ronnie kept a watchful eye through the window. They exited at Elysian Fields forty five minutes later and began the walk to Julie Hoffman’s.

“Do you think she’s home?” Ronnie said. As much as he trusted
Cassie he was beginning to grow more and more nervous. Being out on the street was nerve wracking. Every car was a watcher, every casual glance their way suspicious. Ronnie kept waiting for the inner alarm bells to go off in a jangling shock of nerves. What he felt was a mild discomfort, a buzz behind his eyes that made him watchful, but it seemed as if things were safe enough at the moment.

“She should be. If not, there’s a key hidden by the back door.”
Cassie said. “We’ll just go in and wait.”

“How about calling our parents?” Ronnie said. The more he thought about it the more worried he became about what his family was going through. Even as he said it he knew it wasn’t going to happen. The odds were good that his parents were being watched. Heck, the phones were probably tapped too. The people looking for them could do almost anything they wanted. What Ronnie didn’t know was how they’d get out of this mess.
Cassie had said she had a plan but she hadn’t bothered to fill him in yet.

“I don’t think calling home is a good idea yet.”
Cassie said, “Not from here anyway. Tomorrow we can try and find a pay phone or something. But we’ll have to be someplace else where we can get away quick. Hiding’s the big part right now.”

Three blocks down the street from Julie Hoffman’s, Thorne’s man sat in a telephone repair truck parked at the curb. He’d been there for an hour. His partner had gone off to find them something to eat. Neither had expected the kids to come strolling down the street. They’d been told to watch out for a boy and a girl. Right now he could see a couple of kids heading towards the Aunt’s house. He waited to see if they would turn in or keep going. Thorne’s orders had been explicit. They were to be picked up immediately when they were found. Anyone that got in the way would be dealt with by any means necessary.

He watched as the pair made their way down the street. The taller one was carrying a knapsack. They reached the driveway of the house and made the turn. The house was dark and the pair made no attempt to go to the front door. They turned up the driveway, disappearing into the back. The yard had been scouted and he knew that there was an unlocked gate and a small concrete walkway that led to the back door, which opened into the kitchen. This had to be them. He lit a cigarette and waited for his partner.

Cassie
tipped back a flower pot, pulling a key out from underneath. She unlocked the back door and stepped in. The kitchen was dark and she found the light switch. The house itself was an old New Orleans style setup, called a “shotgun” by the locals. A long hall ran down the length of the entire structure. Moving from the rear to the front took you past every room, starting with the kitchen, then the bathroom, a small bedroom, and finally the front room where Cassie and Ronnie had spent the afternoon with Julie Hoffman.

The light in the kitchen came from two tall lamps, one set in each corner.
Cassie moved to the other side of the kitchen, turning on the second lamp with a separate wall switch before making her way into the front living room and turning on the lights there also. Back in the kitchen she dropped the bat bag on the table. Ronnie was already sitting down, the knapsack on the floor next to him. Just sitting there made him feel better. The room had a spicy smell to it and reminded him of dinners at home. It was neat and clean and orderly. It felt secure.

“I guess she’s working late.”
Cassie said, opening the refrigerator. “Might as well see what she’s got to eat.” She poked around for a few seconds and came out with a package of ham and some mayonnaise and mustard. “You want a ham sandwich?”

“Sure,” Ronnie said. The Pop Tarts had been the only thing they’d had all day. The thought of a sandwich had his stomach growling. He’d been too stressed out to think about eating anything earlier but he was hungry now. He got the bread out of a wooden box on the counter and watched as
Cassie laid everything out, making two fat sandwiches. She went back to the refrigerator and came back with a gallon of milk, poured two glasses, and put everything on the table.

Ronnie sat down and took a huge bite, put his sandwich down on a paper towel. “So what are we going to do?” he asked.

Cassie was working on her own sandwich. She finished chewing before picking up her glass of milk. “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she said. After a moment’s thought she said “We’ve got to protect ourselves first and our families too. The one thing these guys can’t let happen is for this whole thing to get out in the open. I’m thinking we need someone from the news, TV, Radio, something like that. It’s got to be someone we can use to threaten them with making a big story out of it. If we can do that they might leave us alone.”

“How do we do that?” Ronnie said, “And why would they believe us?”

“We prove it.” Cassie said, “We give them names, point out their offices, where they live. Maybe even take it all the way up to their bosses if we can.”

“What about last night? If the police are already on it maybe they’ll back off. After all, they don’t know we know anything about them yet. As far as they know I shot that guy and ran off because I was scared. We could go to the police and tell them we ran away because we thought I’d be arrested or something. That might make them back off.”

Cassie shook her head. “Nope. That would get you out of trouble with the police probably. But why would they back off? And what would you say if they asked you why those guys were in your house?” She shook her head. She’d finished her sandwich and stood, picking up both plates and glasses. She put them in the sink and turned around, folded her arms across her chest, and leaned back against the sink.

“No.” she said, “We need something to hold over their heads. Tomorrow we’ll take the bus up to the newspaper building. Maybe we can find someone there who’ll listen to us.” She opened the door underneath the sink and pulled the garbage can out, tossing in their napkins. “I’m going to try and call my Aunt at work and let her know we’re here. Can you take this out? There’s a garbage can right under the carport.”

Cassie went into the living room, and sat on the couch, picked up the phone and dialed her Aunt’s work number. Ronnie carried the garbage can out the back door. The carport was attached to the side of the house at the roofline, extending all the way to the rear of the backyard, a simple tin roof with support poles on the corner. He could see the garbage can at the rear and headed for it, into the shadows. He reached the edge and looked out toward the street. Two men were walking past. They were moving slowly, one of them smoking a cigarette. One of the men was looking down the driveway directly at him. Ronnie ducked back into the shadow and stopped. He couldn’t tell if they’d seen him.

A crawling sensation went up his back. He remained still and the feeling grew as the men continued past the driveway and down the sidewalk. He put the pail down and moved to the other side of the house. There was a narrow gap between the house and the fence on that side and he crept up the side toward the front, keeping in the shadows. A minute later the men came back, still walking slowly. He could her them talking but couldn’t make out the words. The feeling of danger was working its way around inside him. The men were wearing suits. People didn’t go out for a walk in suits. They’d been found.