'Give me your phone, kid,' Souther said. 'What's your mother's number?'
Aaron paused, confused, and almost asked why. But instead he chose not to. It wouldn't help to argue. 'She's in my contacts,' he said. 'Here, let me do it.' He set up the call then reluctantly handed over his phone again.
– Ashley lunged for her phone, catching it after the first ring. 'Hello?' she said.
'Have you ever been to Sally's Diner?' Souther said.
Her heart sank — she had hoped for someone better. 'No,' she replied. 'I don't think so.'
'I want to do an exchange,' Souther said.
Ashley's hand went to her mouth. She knew from Souther's inflection that he wanted more than mere ransom money. 'What kind of exchange?' she asked.
'Aaron's freedom for yours.'
The motel room closed in around her, and she reached for the bed as the floor fell away.
Aaron tried to grab his phone. 'What are you doing? ' he cried.
Souther touched his index finger to his lips and gave Aaron a look that made him sit down. Then he continued with Ashley.
'I believe that to be a fair exchange,' he said. 'Does that sound fair to you, Ashley?'
Ashley dug deep, but found nothing — she was empty. Her knees grew weak and she sat on the edge of the bed.
'Ashley?'
She placed her hand over her heart, summoning all of her will. 'Yes,' she said at last, her voice small and lifeless. 'I think that's fair.'
'Excellent,' Souther said with a smile. He was pleased with how this was going.
Aaron couldn't believe what he was hearing. He reached for his phone again, but Souther turned away from him and continued his conversation.
'I'd like you to meet me at Sally's Diner tomorrow night at 6:30,' he said.
Ashley could no longer contain herself. 'Why meet at Sally's? Why not send one of your goons and just take me? You know where the hell I am.'
Souther became cruelly patronizing. 'You're a grown woman, Ashley. I want this to be your decision.'
Ashley closed her eyes and touched her fingers to the bridge of her nose. You want what to be my decision? Whether or not I kill myself? She was tempted to refuse him, but of course there was no way she could do that. She replied slowly, scarcely breathing.
'Okay,' she said. 'You win. I'll be there.'
Souther was deeply satisfied. He leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the desk, then looked at Aaron while he spoke to her.
'Listen carefully,' he said. 'If you tell anyone about this meeting… your son dies. If you stand me up or show up late… your son dies. If I see anyone with you at the diner… well, I think you get my point.'
Ashley felt as though she might faint at any moment. 'I need to talk to Aaron,' she said.
'Well, aren't you a lucky girl,' Souther said with the sincerity of a veteran game show host. 'He's sitting right here.' He handed the phone to Aaron. 'She wants to talk to you.'
Aaron took the phone. 'Hello?' he said.
Ashley couldn't believe it was actually him. ' Aaron? ' she said. 'It's me. It's Mommy.'
Tears welled in Aaron's eyes. 'Don't worry, okay, Mom? I'm fine. I love you. I'll call y — '
Souther snatched the phone. 'And, Ashley,' he added, 'don't be a fool and try to save the world or something.'
Tears flowed from Ashley's eyes. She was exhausted. 'Mister,' she said softly, 'I don't want to save the damn world… I just want to save my little boy.'
'I'll see you in twenty-four hours,' Souther said coldly. Then he hung up and slid the phone back to Aaron.
– Aaron was incredulous. 'What was that all about?' he cried. 'You said if I helped you my mom would be safe!'
'Oh, I didn't mean any of that,' Souther explained. 'I was just messing with her.' He leaned forward and rested a patronizing hand on Aaron's knee. 'You trust me, don't you, kid? I'd never want to hurt you… or your mother.'
Aaron pulled away, sickened by the evil that was Johnny Souther. 'You're a liar!' he said. 'I hate you! ' He buried his face in his hands.
Souther casually wadded up the trash and chucked it out his office window. 'If I were you, kid,' he said darkly, 'I'd choose my words a bit more carefully in the future.
Chapter 30
Needles and Beeks took Aaron out of Souther's office and headed down the walkway toward the stairs. Aaron felt like he'd been hit by a truck.
Needles wanted to tell him not to worry about what Souther had said back there, but he knew Aaron wouldn't want to hear it.
Instead he turned to him and said, 'Would you be interested in taking a tour of the practice range?'
Aaron looked up. 'The what?'
'You know — the shooting range. Target practice. I thought maybe you could use a distraction about now.'
Aaron had encountered many different shooting ranges in his video games, but he had never seen a real one. 'Uh… sure.' he said. 'Where is it?'
'I'll show you,' Needles said. He looked at Beeks. 'Are you coming with us?'
Beeks wasn't interested; he preferred to use the range alone. Besides, he had other plans. 'No,' he replied. 'I got things I gotta do. Y'all go on without me.'
Aaron had hoped he'd join them. 'See ya, Beeks,' he said with a little disappointed wave.
Beeks nodded and headed off to the kitchen to make a sandwich.
– Needles lit a lantern, and Aaron followed him to the far west-end of the cannery. Cut into the wood floor in an out-of the-way first-floor corridor was a trap door held in place by two heavy iron hinges. Needles set the lantern on the floor, flipped up the large recessed pull-ring, turned it a half a turn, and yanked open the hatch.
'Ready?' he asked.
Aaron nodded.
Needles swung the heavy door over and lowered it to the floor, and then, using the lantern to light the way, he led Aaron down the steep wooden steps into a dark basement.
– It's like an old ship's ladder, Aaron thought as he descended. He could only imagine what kind of crappy firing range the thugs had cobbled together in such a dark, out-of-the-way space.
'What do you use for targets?' he asked, doubtfully.
Needles was proud of the range he and Beeks had built, and he knew Aaron was in for a nice surprise. 'You'll see,' he replied.
Aaron stepped off the ladder onto a dirt floor and for a brief moment he thought he was back in his cell. But then Needles held the lantern high and the practice range loomed into view.
– At first glance Aaron was disappointed. He naturally compared the space to the high-tech, brightly lit ranges he knew from video games. This range was tiny and as dark as a cave. The ceiling was very low; the 2 x 12 floor joists that supported the floor above ran the length of the space and they barely cleared Needles's head. Exposed electrical wiring wound between rusting cast-iron water and sewer pipes that ran in every direction.
The range had just one shooting booth and one firing lane, and the bullet trap — a wall of earth created when the cannery's foundations were dug — was a mere fifty feet away.
