Beneath the Tombstone (The Tombstone Series) (12 page)

“Yes
sir,” Tomas replied then went to stand in line. A short time later, he returned
with two steaming cups of coffee. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said with a
smile, “but I had them make yours decaf. I do believe you’re skittish enough as
it is.”

“That’s
probably for the best,” Jason agreed with a half-hearted chuckle.

Jason’s
earlier actions had drawn too much attention to them, so the topic of Misty’s
kidnapping would have to wait. There was a little spot where those who desired
to do so could go sit outside. Jason eyed the spot longingly, wishing to get
away from the questioning looks that were being cast his way.

“I
tell you what,” Tomas said as he handed Jason a cup, “it is a beautiful day.
Let’s go sit outside.”

Jason
looked out again. The weather sucked. It was overcast and windy. But Tomas was
right. He was ready to leave the scene he had created, so it was a beautiful
day outside. He stood and they went out to a nice quite corner where no
disturbance was likely to occur.

“I’m
really sorry to bother you, Tomas,” Jason apologized after they’d sat down,
“especially after the underhanded method I used to talk you into this, but
you’re the only one who knows the whole truth, so you’re really the only one I
can discuss this with openly.” He paused. “Oh yes… that and no one else wants
anything to do with me.”

The
doctor just sat quietly and listened as Jason continued. “I went to the police
station and gave the description of the kidnappers to the sketch artist.
They’ve identified the kid who attacked me but won’t tell me a thing.” Jason
looked down at his drink, rapped his knuckles on the table and shook his head
in frustration.

Tomas
was silent for a moment before speaking. “I might be able to give some
assistance there.”

Jason’s
head jerked up and a question come into his eyes. “Seriously?” he asked,
leaning forward in anticipation.

“Don’t
get too excited just yet,” the doctor advised, “but I do have a few friends in
high places. I helped get you into this mess, so I’ll do whatever it takes to
get you out. Let me see what I can find out.” With that he stood and walked a
short distance away and placed his phone to his ear, his back turned to Jason.

Jason
didn’t like being excused from the conversation, but if it meant getting
somewhere in his pursuit for information on his wife’s kidnappers, he would
have been willing to stick his fingers in his ears and sing la-la-la-la-la.

After
several minutes, the doctor returned to the table with a satisfied look on his
face. Jason sat there almost shaking from anticipation, like a dog trying to
sit still and wait for his master to throw his ball again. He almost lost it
when Tomas took a sip of his drink. Regardless of how good it was, it could
wait. The doctor set his cup down and gave a sigh of contentment. Jason could
see that he was enjoying his little game. That seemed kind of cruel considering
the circumstances.

Finally,
the doctor spoke with a triumphant smile on his face. “The one who did this to
you,” he said motioning towards Jason’s battered face, “his name is Isaac
Ramirez. We don’t have an address on him, but we do on his father, and Isaac is
young enough that he may still live there.”

“How
young is he?”

“Twenty-three.”

“So
where does his family live?”

“My
contact tells me on the other side of Pikes Peak.”

“What
town?”

“The
Cripple Creek area,” Tomas replied.

“Can
you give me the address?” Jason asked. He was willing to fall down on his hands
and knees and beg or throw a temper tantrum, if that’s what it took to get the
address.

“I
can do you one better,” Tomas replied. “I’ll drive you out there.” Jason began
to protest at the unnecessary offer. It was very nice of the doctor, but he
didn’t want to ask too much at one time. He wanted to save some back for a
rainy day just in case he ever was to need Tomas’s expertise again.

Before
he could object, the doctor raised his hand. “I’m afraid, Jason, that I am as
much a part of this as you are. I was there at the beginning of this mess, and
I’ll be right there beside you when it comes to an end. Let’s go catch a
kidnapper.”

As
they stood, Tomas’s eyes widened as he looked past Jason’s head at something
behind it. Jason turned around quickly to investigate. When he did, to his
surprise a black metallic object was being pointed directly at his mouth. He
instinctively drew his head back, like he’d come face-to-face with a poisonous
snake.

“Mister
Hathaway,” the young lady with the microphone jammed in his face chirped, “care
to comment on your wife’s disappearance for your local news station?”

“Um…
not really,” he replied honestly.

“Well,
Jason – Can I call you Jason?”

“That
is my name.”

“Jason
it is then.” The reporter smiled a little bit, but then continued on her
mission. “There are a lot of stories floating around out there about what
happened last night, and I can’t think of any better way to get to the truth
than to bypass the grapevine and get right to the root of the story. That would
be you, Jason.”

Jason
was chomping at the bit to go chase down their lead and an interview would
profit him nothing. “Maybe some other time. I’m busy right now.”

“Okay,
sounds good,” the lady said with a smile. “Maybe then you can tell us why you
sat silently by, without a word or action of protest, as your wife was being
kidnapped.”

“That’s
not what happened,” Jason said, defending himself.

“Well,
unfortunately, that is the story going around,” the reporter said, sounding
innocent.

Jason
sighed. If nothing else, this interview might give him a chance to clear his
name. The reporter saw her opportunity showing in his eyes, so she dropped her
bait questions and began with what she really wanted to report on.

“Let’s
roll,” she spoke turning to the camera man. He counted down with his fingers
and when he pointed she began by saying, “I’m here with Jason Hathaway, husband
of the woman who was kidnapped last night from a public park in the nearby
area. Tell us Jason,” she said, turning to him, “when did you first learn that
your wife had been kidnapped?”

“When
I was laying there bleeding and barely conscious, listening to them drag her
away – that was my first clue,” he spoke coolly.

The
reporter acted surprised. “So what you are saying, Jason, is that you were
there… not only were you there but you were brutally attacked by these men and
left unable to intervene as they abducted your wife.”

“Yes,
that is correct.”

“Is
that where all of this came from?” she asked, waving her hand around his face
in a circular motion.

“Yes,”
he responded simply.

“Ouch.
That looks painful,” she said, turning to the camera.

“It
was,” he assured her.

Without
missing a beat, she asked, “Has a ransom note or any correspondence of any kind
been received from the kidnapper?”

“Honestly,
I’d rather not comment on that at this time,” Jason spoke bluntly.

“So
it would be safe to assume that some form of correspondence has been received?”
the reporter asked, then, without waiting for an answer, she added, “Was their
demand for money or something else?”

The
last question caught Jason’s attention. Most of the time, from what he
understood, the motive for a kidnapping was to get money – sometimes revenge
but usually money… or both. The fact that she asked if the demand was for
something other than money made him just a bit suspicious. He gave her a
strange look before turning his back on the question. As he walked away, he
could hear her closing out the interview.

“That
was Jason Hathaway, husband of Misty Hathaway – the woman kidnapped from our
local park late last night. And this is Kim
Kaylight
with KRZ News.”

Tomas
caught up with Jason and took a slight lead, guiding them in the direction of
his car. “Let me tell you something, Jason… a reporter is a desperate hunter. I
saw a show on television the other night about a small town reporter who got
tired of reporting on fender-benders and decided she wanted something big to
report on… something like a murder. So you know what she did? She murdered
somebody. That lady you just talked to reminds me a bit of her.” He shook his
head. “They are all the same – reporters – they make their living off of other
people’s misfortunes, and the bigger the misfortune the higher the profit
margin.”

“Forget
her,” Jason said. “Let’s go see what we can find out about this Isaac guy.” He
paused for a moment. “You do realize this could be dangerous, right? I mean,
we’re going to visit the family of one of the kidnapper. It’s a risk I’m
willing to take, but I feel bad involving you.”

“Don’t
worry, Jason,” the doctor smiled, “I won’t let things get out of control.”

A
dark brown horse loped towards the little red car that crept down the narrow
driveway. The vehicle was being inched along in an attempt to keep the pot
holes in the road from doing any damage to its undercarriage. The horse came to
a bouncing stop at the fence that separated him from the car and tossed its
head, nickering a greeting to the visitors. It then pranced and snorted,
tossing its head as it escorted them along.

Jason,
sitting in the passenger seat, was transfixed. It was like they had driven
through some magic portal that either took them back in time or dropped them off
into the middle of a western movie set. There were several old barns and sheds
scattered around, in no certain order, and a small, rustic house sat up on a
hill, a little higher than the rest of the buildings.

Off
to one side, out in the middle of a big pasture, a lone rider, sitting atop a
speckled gray horse, eased his way through a herd of young cattle. Jason
watched, curious as to what the man was doing. He circled the calves several
times, his horse still in a slow, nonchalant walk before passing through them
again. He seemed to be inspecting every single calf in the herd.

Tomas
and Jason’s equine escort let out a loud squeal, causing the rider to look over
in their direction. He acknowledged their presence but made no move to head in
their direction.

“Park
here and we’ll walk up to the house,” Jason instructed in a hushed tone, almost
whispering. His heart was pounding and a thick cloud of tension hung in the
air. He had no idea what they were walking into. It could end with something as
peaceful as a conversation with Isaac’s family or as violent as getting shot by
one of the kidnappers. The possibility that kept flooding Jason’s mind,
drowning out all other thoughts, was the hope he had of finding Misty.

“What
an old, rundown place this is,” Tomas commented as he put the car in park.

Jason
grunted in reply for kindness sake but, in truth, he wasn’t the least bit
concerned about the buildings and their décor. He was there for one purpose –
finding Misty. Taking a deep breath, he got out of the car, walked up to the
old ranch house and knocked on the door. Tomas followed a short distance behind
and stopped, waiting at the edge of the porch. After knocking, Jason walked
slowly over to where Tomas stood and glanced out to the pasture where the
cattle and rider had been. Strange. The rider had disappeared.

They
stood for a moment, giving anyone on the inside plenty of time to come to the
door… if they wanted to do so, that is. Isaac himself could be in there. No one
came to the door, so they headed back towards the bright red cherry car to sit
and wait.

Reaching
the car, Jason opened the passenger-side door. “If my boy owes you money, he
isn’t here,” a man’s voice, heavy with a Spanish accent, spoke from the shed
that was behind Jason.

Jason
turned around. It was the man from the pasture. He still sat on top of the same
speckled grey horse. How he had gotten from the pasture to the shed without
being seen in such a short amount of time was beyond Jason’s understanding, but
there he was – a taller, darker, older and thinner version of the boy whose
fists had brought Jason to the ground the night before.

Jason
figured it would be safe to assume that this was Isaac’s father. He wore an
old, sweat stained felt cowboy hat, a pearl snap shirt, denim blue jeans, chaps,
boots and spurs… then there was the double barrel sawed-off shotgun, which was
pointed in their general direction. From the little bit Jason knew about
shotguns, with a sawed-off, a general direction was all you needed.

“He
doesn’t owe us any money,” Jason said nervously and was thankful when he saw
the armed man relax a bit.

“He
still isn’t here,” the horseman replied calmly.

“When
do you expect him to return?” Jason asked.

“When
he mends his ways and gets his life right with God,” the man said firmly.
“Until then, he’s not welcome here.” With that, the old rancher raised the
shotgun and pointed it at the sky, simultaneously flinging his right leg over
the top of the saddle-horn before sliding to the ground with grace and ease
that would be expected of a man half his age. He then strode towards Jason and
Tomas with the weapon clutched in his right hand, pointed barrel up, with the
break-open part of the gun resting against his shoulder. He was positioned in
such a way that he could lower the shotgun and fire at a moment’s notice, but
he approached without a threat in his eye.

“I’m
Irwin,” the man spoke as he nodded his head to each of them but didn’t offer
his hand. Jason suspected it was because the man was too cautious to drop his
guard, even for a moment. “If you two aren’t looking for my boy to collect
money, then what did he do? Steal something from you?”

“Yes,”
Jason spoke firmly, disregarding the shotgun in the man’s hand, “my wife.”

The
man’s eyes widened in surprise and his gripped tightened down on the shotgun a
bit. “So now he’s got me dealing with jealous husbands?” he exclaimed as he
flung his left hand in the air. “Listen son, I taught that boy better than to
go around messing with married women but…”

“It’s
– it’s not like that,” Jason stammered, cutting the man off short. “He
kidnapped her.”

“Kidnapped?”
the man asked in disbelief, casting his eyes towards the ground. “Why in the
world would my boy go off and kidnap anyone? It’s not his style. He likes to
fight.” His words were spoken more to himself than to his visitors.

“Oh,
don’t worry,” Tomas assured him. “He got in a little of that, too.”

The
man looked at Jason and acknowledged the damage done to his face but didn’t
comment. “There’s only one reason he’d get so far away from his usual stunts,”
the boy’s father said, “that would be money… I’d say quite a bit of it, too.”
He thought for a moment before adding, “Has any ransom note been sent?”

Jason
didn’t want to reveal too much to the wrong source, but he figured if the man
was part of the kidnapping, he would already know about the note’s strange
instructions anyways. He decided to trust the guy with a small portion of the
information. “Yes, but no demands for money were made.”

“It
couldn’t be my son at the wheel of the operation then,” the man huffed. “If
Isaac was behind it, the note would be talking money. Yep, I’d be willing to
bet that somebody paid him good money to do the job.” He stood looking off into
the distance, seeming to contemplate what he was about to say. Finally, it
seemed a decision had been made in his mind. He lowered his gaze to Jason. “Why
don’t
y’all
come on in the shed here,” he said,
nodding his head towards the open door. “When my boy, Isaac, was still living
here, he had him a little room fixed up in there. Still makes for a pretty good
resting spot.”

“Sounds
good to me,” Jason said, accepting the invite.

“Either
of you want a bottle of water?” Irwin asked as they walked in.

“Sounds
good. Thanks,” Jason replied and watched as Irwin grabbed three bottles of
water in one hand out of an old rust stained refrigerator without putting the
shotgun down or turning his back on them.

There
were only a few pieces of furniture in the shed; an old recliner and a loveseat
faced each another across an old coffee table. This could get a little awkward.
Irwin took the recliner and laid the shotgun across his lap. Tomas went and sat
on one end of the love seat and looked up at Jason. Jason sighed within and sat
down beside the doctor on the love seat.

Irwin
took a deep drink from his bottle of water, sighed with contentment and began
talking once more. “Isaac got himself into a bunch of gambling debt. The boy
knows how to fight. Taught him that when he was young. Now I regret it. He
started fighting underground and anywhere else he could make money doing it.
This is the only address that is connected to him so, every once in a while,
some fool in a suit will show up, trying to collect money on my boy’s debt. One
of them started to get hostile with me at one point, but we talked him out of
it,” he said with a smile that indicated the persuasion had come from looking
down each barrel of that shotgun.

“For
a while there the boy was raking in money hand over fist,” Irwin sighed.
“Nobody would bet on him at first and the odds were sometimes ten to one. He
would put every bit of his money on himself, go in, clean house and walk away
with ten times the amount of money he’d walked in with… plus the winnings. The
reason no one would bet on him at first is because he looks to young, happy and
innocent to be a good fighter.”

Jason
involuntarily reached up and felt of his face. He knew exactly how those who
wouldn’t bet on Isaac felt. Before being turned inside out by him, Jason
wouldn’t have bet on him either.

“My boy
isn’t necessarily evil,” the old rancher said, a bit of sadness in his voice,
“not in his own mind anyways. Some people fight to satisfy the demons within.
Isaac fights because he loves to fight and loves money.”

Jason
remained quit and listened. Insignificant though these little details may have
seemed, he figured the more of them he could learn the better he would
understand the lead kidnapper.

Irwin
got quite for a moment as he gazed blankly at the wall above Jason’s head. He
seemed to be pondering something over. “You said they are not wanting money in
exchange for your wife’s release?”

“No
sir. Not money,” Jason replied.

“Would
I be meddling too much if I were to ask what it is they want, if not money?”
Irwin asked.

Jason
sat silent and thought for a moment. There was just something about the rancher
that urged Jason to trust him, so he reached into his pocket and pulled out his
cellphone and, as he lit it up, he turned to Tomas. “I haven’t showed this to
you either, have I?” The doctor shook his head, seeming to be unsure of what
Jason was talking about.

Jason
pulled up the photo that he’d taken of the note then handed the phone to Tomas.
The doctor studied the picture for a moment, and Jason saw his eyes get big as
his head bobbed back slightly. Shortly thereafter, he handed the phone back to
Jason who, in turn, handed it to Irwin.

Irwin’s
face revealed nothing as he studied the note. After a short time, he handed the
phone back to Jason. “So they want you to climb the Tombstone,” he spoke dryly.
“That’s a fitting name for that piece of rock… Tombstone.” He paused for a
moment, thinking. “Do you know of anyone who wants you dead? Maybe someone who
would profit from you getting killed?”

“Not
that I know of… Why?” Jason asked, wary of the direction the conversation was
going.

“Because
getting you to climb the Tombstone without ropes, in the shape you’re in, would
be like getting you to agree to commit suicide.”

“What
do you mean by ‘the shape I’m in’?” Jason asked defensively.

“He
means you need training, Jason,” Tomas injected.

Irwin
looked at Jason like that wasn’t exactly what he’d meant but let it be.

“How
do you know about the Tombstone?” Jason asked.

“My
boy climbed it on several occasions,” the horseman replied.

That
bit of information made Jason sit up a little straighter as he asked, “Isaac
not only knows how to climb, but he has climbed the very rock that whoever
wrote the note wants me to climb?” Irwin nodded his head, not only
acknowledging the truth of the statement but seeming to know where Jason was
heading with it. “So there’s the possibility that even if he didn’t come up
with the scheme himself, he may have had something to do with the demands that
were made?”

Irwin
nodded his head. “I would say it is more than possible. I would call it likely.”

Yes!
Now they were getting somewhere. Irwin was really warming up to them, so Jason
popped a question that had been in the back of his mind all day. “Do you think
there’s a possibility that this could somehow be linked to the Mexican Drug
Cartel?”

Irwin
and Tomas both frowned at him. “What makes you ask that?” Irwin asked,
bewildered.

Well,
Jason didn’t want to be the one to point out the obvious, especially when it
sounded a bit racist, but he needed to cover all of his bases. “I don’t want to
be rude or anything, but he’s a Mexican, so I just put two and two together. I
thought it might be worth considering anyways.”

Both
Tomas and Irwin stared at him for a moment, like neither of them could believe
he’d just said that.

Irwin
shook his head and spoke. “I would take offence if not for what you have been
through. First of all, I am Spanish, not Mexican, so my ancestors were here
when yours were considered immigrants. And second, Isaac’s mother died when he
was young, but she was as white as freshly fallen snow.” He paused for a moment
and thought before adding, “Basing your suspicions off of the color of
someone’s skin is not the most intelligent thing to do.”

Jason
was embarrassed to say the least. He could feel the red rushing to his face as
he mentally kicked himself for being so stupid and inconsiderate. “Look man,
I’m – I’m really sorry. I don’t know what, um, why I said that. I guess I just
want to find my wife.” He grew silent and looked away from the man.