in New York. Her exact words: ‘I’ll teach Rick the Swain family business like his father never had the balls to do.’ I didn’t realize until after she left that she’d stolen two hundred thousand dollars that my dad had hidden to take care of my mom.”
He turned his head, hating the tears of rage that ate him up inside. Against his father for sheltering him so much that he didn’t know what to do when threatened.
“How old were you?”
“Eleven. Mom died nearly a year later. We couldn’t afford anything. Even my mom’s inheritance from her parents-it wasn’t big, but it would have paid for another round of chemo-the fucking FBI took it. After my mom … died … and my uncle Jimmy was my guardian. And for a while, it was okay.
“But after Joe died,” he glanced at Adam, “Reverend Browne said I could hang out with him. I didn’t know what he had planned. He’s the one who wanted me to sabotage your place.”
“Why did you run from Sean yesterday?”
“I didn’t know why he would help me. Usually when someone offers to help you, they want to use you. But after I saw the reverend with Bobbie at the church, I was scared.”
“So you went into hiding.”
“I went to see Jon Callahan. My mom told me in an emergency I could go to Jon and he would help. But even Jon has changed.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me to hide out at the Fosters’ place and not leave until he came for me on Sunday. But I had to get out for a while.”
“That’s a good place to hide out. I’m going to let Sean and Tim know that I found you and we’ll hang together until all this shit goes down. I don’t want to be in the middle of it.”
Neither did Ricky.
The Kelley Mine’s field office was built up against the hillside, and though boarded up and abandoned for decades, it had been shielded from the worst of the weather and remained standing. It would be a good place to hide out-in fact, it looked like a good place for teenagers to party. Tim noted that some of the boards had been replaced within the last year or two, being far less weathered than others. But he didn’t find any sign of Ricky here.
He approached the building cautiously, though he heard nothing except bird calls and the scurrying of rodents. He tried the boards. Most were firmly in place, but a few were loose, and he noticed one that appeared nailed in was actually on a hook.
His phone vibrated. He glanced down, and read a message sent simultaneously to him and Sean from Adam that he’d found Ricky and they were going to lay low at the Fosters’.
Tim responded that he’d meet them there, then pocketed the phone and assessed the building.
He carefully removed the large board, revealing a brand-new door with a padlock. Who would go to this trouble? There were plenty of abandoned buildings and houses in Spruce Lake. Why use this relatively insecure location?
He couldn’t break the lock, so he tried the other boards. The plywood blocking the windows of the locked room had been nailed from the inside, so he couldn’t get to those.
On the far side, where the building abutted the hillside, a two-by-four over one of the windows looked different than the others. Tim got out his Swiss Army knife and pried out the nails. He wouldn’t be able to fit in through the opening, but he could see what was inside.
Tim shined his flashlight inside and his stomach turned sour.
An open box of C-4 explosives sat on the floor in front of him. It looked as though four bricks were missing. Enough to take out a building or three.
He surveyed the small room. There was a recent calendar on the far wall, a small metal desk and chair, and some boxes of wires and other electrical supplies.
The sound of a vehicle on the gravel road startled Tim. He propped the wood back up and skirted around the edge of the building to see who was coming. He heard but didn’t see the car. He glanced at his truck, visible from the long drive. No sense in hiding. He bolted to his truck and reached the driver’s side just as a big black F-350 came into view.
Two men with guns aimed at Tim jumped out of the slowing truck. He recognized them but didn’t remember their names. The driver stopped and opened his door. Tim knew Gary Clarke from the Lock amp; Barrel.
“Tim Hendrickson, right?” Gary said.
“Hello, Gary.”
“Funny thing is, we were looking for you.”
“Funny thing that you found me here.”
“Not really. We followed you from your place. I need Sean Rogan, but he wasn’t there.”
“I’ll give you his number.”
“Naw, you’re going to tell him to meet you at your house. He’s stirred up a bunch of shit, and I need to sit on him for a while, make sure he doesn’t get himself hurt.”
Gary motioned to one of the guys to grab Tim. Tim bolted, but hadn’t gotten far when Gary shot him in the leg. He went down fast, vision blurred, hot bolts of pain shooting up his left leg. He grabbed his thigh. The bullet had gone in right above his knee.
One of the guys searched him, taking his knife, flashlight, and cell phone. He tossed the phone to Gary. “I’ll just send Mr. Sean Rogan a little message that you’ll meet him at the house in an hour.” He looked at the phone, then started to laugh. “Shit, this is even better! I’m going to get a fucking gold star. We’ve been looking for that brat everywhere.”
He grinned and said as he typed, “What time should we meet?” A minute later he hollered and jumped in the air. “We’ve just redeemed ourselves, boys. I know where Rogan will be in an hour. We’re going to get there first.”
He pocketed Tim’s phone and took his car keys. He tossed the keys to one of his partners. “Follow me.” Gary glanced at Tim. Tim flipped him off.
“With that bum leg, I figure it’ll take you a day or two to get back to your place, if you survive the night. Good luck.”
They left.
The sun was nearly gone and the temperature would plummet. He glanced at the mine entrance, then at the outbuilding. The latter was closer, so he dragged himself over there.
He’d have to pry off another board or two to get inside, but he liked his chances of survival better in the building full of explosives than in the cold, deadly mine.
THIRTY-THREE
The sun was a thin line on the horizon by the time Noah flew Sean’s Cessna over the greater Spruce Lake area.
Lucy had the Argus thermal imaging camera in her hands. “Is this going to work?” she asked. She was familiar with the imaging technology, but didn’t think a handheld device had the range that surveillance aircraft did.
“It’s top of the line,” Noah said.
Lucy smiled. “Sean likes his toys.”
“The weather is perfect and the plane is in good shape,” Noah said, “but this is still a risky maneuver.”
“I don’t understand. Because of the trees? Or that it’s getting dark? Do we have to fly too low?”
Noah glanced at her. “You didn’t seem like a nervous flyer this morning.”
“I’m not, usually.” She wouldn’t admit to it, at any rate. She didn’t consider herself phobic about flying. She was just having a touch of nerves when they flew low over rolling mountains with trees suddenly popping up here and there while she looked for a barn full of cannabis through a thermal imaging camera.
