Into This River I Drown (53 page)

Griggs comes back. “Done,” he says. “Called it in. They’ll check it when the storm lets up. According to the weather report, the front slowed and now it’s just sitting over Roseland. They don’t expect it to clear up for hours. We have time before anyone finds the truck.”

Christie looks moderately relieved. “All that remain are a few loose ends,” she says. “This day can’t be over soon enough.”

He shrugs at her, and I see something in his eyes that turns my stomach. It’s almost like adoration. It’s cemented when he leans over and kisses her on the lips. She starts at this, as if it’s unexpected. She pulls away, but not before I see the small smile on her face. She steps away from him and the smile melts away into a sharp look. Griggs doesn’t look contrite in the slightest.

I pull on the blade of the knife, but the handle slips partially from Abe’s grip. I look over at him, and his eyes are drooping, his head bobbing. I elbow him sharply and he snaps his head up, his pallor graying further. I don’t know how much blood he’s lost, or how much pain he’s in, but given the fact that a bone is sticking out of his arm, I’m surprised he’s stayed conscious this long. He turns to me, eyes slightly out of focus, but he nods and I feel him tighten his grip on the knife handle. I start to pull on the blade again, pinching it as tightly as I can, and it starts to open and this will work, this will work and—

Christie turns and walks over to us. We both freeze. She has a determined look on her face, a cold calculation in her eyes that I’ve never seen before. I think she’s seen the knife and she’s going to take it from us, but she reaches down instead and pulls the gag from my mouth, letting it rest around my neck. My jaw aches as I open and close it. I glare up at her as I run my tongue over the back of my teeth, trying to get the taste of dirt out of my mouth. Griggs pulls up a chair from the table and sets it behind her. She sits, crossing her legs, her shins only inches away from my face.

“Now,” she says carefully, “we’re going to have a talk, you and I. I will ask you questions, you will answer the specific questions, and that will be that. Are we clear?”

“Fuck you,” I snarl at her, trying to grab the blade of the knife again.

She sighs as if she’s dealing with a petulant child. “Benji, this can go very easy for the both of you. Or it can be very difficult. The choice is yours.”

“Did you do it? Did you kill him?”

She looks taken aback. “You were there, Benji. Did it look like I had a rifle in my hand?” She frowns. “How hard did you hit your head?”

“My father!” I shout at her. “Did you kill my father!”

Something crosses her face then—a shadow, a stutter. Her eyes go wide and she purses her lips like she’s trying to think up something to say,
anything
to say. Finally, “It was an accident, Benji. You know that. He lost control and went into the river.”

I’m quaking. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. I know you had something to do with it. You knew he was going to meet with Corwin. You knew he’d found you out, or at least about the drugs. You knew he was going to turn you in. Did he know? Did he know about you specifically?” The knife begins to open again.

She suddenly leans forward, grabbing my face in a single hand, squeezing my jaw harshly. She brings her face close to mine. I don’t look away. “This,” she says, a sneer on her lips, “is why you’re here now, Benji. You don’t know when to stop.”

“And I won’t stop. Not now. Not now, you fucking bitch.”

“George,” she snaps, not taking her eyes off of mine.

He steps forward without hesitation, and I have no time to brace myself against the butt of the rifle smashing into my stomach. The world grays around me and all the air is expelled from my body. My throat feels constricted, and I can’t catch my breath. Vaguely, on the outskirts of my consciousness, I hear Abe yelling against his gag, but his protestations seem unimportant. I think I’m about to pass out, but then I’m finally able to suck in a thin breath that burns my lungs. My face is wet with rain water and sweat, and tears threaten to follow, but I won’t allow them. I won’t allow myself to show weakness. Not here. Not in front of them. I take in another breath, gasping in the air.

“This could be quite simple, Benji,” my aunt says again. “I will ask the questions, you answer them. Then we see what happens from there.”

“Fuck you.”

She shakes her head. “So like Big Eddie. Stubborn until the very end. Who besides Special Agent Corwin did you talk to? You’re not wearing a wire, I already checked. But that doesn’t mean you haven’t spoken to anyone else. Who else is there?”

Going from my father to Corwin to wires confuses me. “What?”

She speaks slowly as if I’m dumb. “Who besides Special Agent Corwin did you talk to?”

I think about lying. I think about telling her I spoke with the whole goddamned FBI and that they’re about to bust in this place and take her down, but I don’t want to take the risk. If they’ll hit me, they’ll hit Abe. I can’t see him hurt any more than he already is. So I answer her truthfully. “No one,” I mutter.

She stares at me for a moment. Then, “You’re lying.”

I’m insistent. “No, I’m not!”

“Who else have you told?”

“Nobody. Corwin was the only one I talked to!”

“George,” she says.

The rifle slams into my stomach. I lean over and gag, a thin stream of spit hanging from my mouth. It feels like my eyes are bulging out of my head, and my body feels like a bundle of exposed nerves. I put my forehead against the ground and through the fireworks in my head, I think,
Please.
I pray,
please
.
Please God, Michael, whoever. Please. If not me, then please help Abe get out of here. Just make them stop. Please. Cal. Cal, please don’t be dead, please see my thread. God, please. Dad. Oh, Dad, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but it
hurts
. Oh my God, I
hurt.
Please let it be quick. If not for me, then for Abe. If we go, let it be quick for him.

The fireworks go off in my head again, all exploding in shades of such
blue
I almost cry out. The rain drips through the walls and down from the ceiling onto the burning skin of my neck and it’s one drop, then two, then three, and I count all the way to seven before I stop. There’s no answer. No one hears my prayer. No one is coming. We are alone. We’ve always been alone.

I sit back up with a groan.

“You know,” my aunt says, “I’m rather upset that it’s come to this, Benji.” There is something akin to sadness in her voice, and for an impossible moment, I almost believe it. “When we started this little… endeavor, I never thought it would come to this. But I guess like all things, choices had to be made. To take on something such as this, you have to be prepared to make sacrifices.”

“Why?” I gasp out, trying to buy more time, my aching hands scrabbling against the knife in Abe’s grip.

“Why?” she repeats.

“Why this? Why all of this?”

She laughs. “Benji, this isn’t going to be like some movie, where the villain gives a whole speech at the end about the hows and the whys. There’s no extraordinary meaning behind any of this. It’s simple really; I grew up poor. I didn’t want to be poor anymore. Meth is cheap to manufacture, easy to distribute, easy to collect on.”

I turn my head pointedly to look around the shack. “This? How can you make any money making it in here? It’s not big enough!”

She glances around, almost fondly. “This is where we started,” she says. “When we didn’t know what we were doing. We had some junkie chemist in here who we’d promised all the crystal he could smoke if he showed us how to make it. He was a strange man, but good at what he did. Money was tight at first, but the more we made, the more we sold. We watched his process as closely as we could, figured out we didn’t need the junkie anymore.” She smiled sadly. “He overdosed in a shitty apartment outside of Bandon. All the crystal he could smoke and he smoked it all at once. Such a terrible tragedy.”

The blade catches in my fingers again, but it slips. It isn’t working. My hands are covered in sweat and blood and water. I can’t get a good enough grip on it to pull it out. I don’t think there’s enough strength in my numb fingers to pull it out anyway. The zip ties are cutting into my flesh, cutting off the blood flow. I’m about to give up when I get another idea. Fuck, it’s going to hurt, but it’s the only option left.

“It still doesn’t explain how you could make meth in this little space,” I point out.

“Jesus, boy,” Griggs snaps. “What the fuck is it to you?”

“Curiosity,” I say, pinching the blade once more with two fingers. As soon as I feel it start to pull up, I slide, I curl my hand and fingers up toward my wrist, and slide the tip of the knife down through my knuckles to the webbing between the two fingers. It doesn’t cut, not yet. I grit my teeth, gathering my resolve.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” the sheriff singsongs.

“And satisfaction brought him back,” I growl.

“Caves,” my aunt says.

“What?”

“The cave system is quite extensive,” she says. “Back up in the hills right behind this little shack. It’s almost shocking how far they go into the mountains. How wide they get. How underground they are, perfect for hiding from any normal satellite imaging used by law enforcement. Little shafts that open up from the ground, perfect for ventilation. And since they’re a part of the incorporated township, it means this area is not regulated by the Bureau of Land Management, and the caves have never been recognized as part of a national park. Which means the local government has control of the caves. It also helps when there’s a certain member of the forestry service capable of being bought and told to look the other way. Especially when there are funds to do so, seeing as how a certain mayor likes to skim off the top and got caught by our illustrious sheriff here. Blackmail is a wonderful thing when used correctly, Benji. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

My head is spinning. But still my resolve is growing as the knife begins to cut into my flesh. One quick jerk upward, one solid movement. Yes, it’s going to hurt as it slices into my hand, but it’ll catch on the bone and the knife will snap open. I can do this. I can do this. Pain is nothing in the face of death. Cal felt pain. My father felt pain. I can feel pain. I can do this. It’s not over. It’s not over yet.

“So you blackmailed the mayor to be involved in this?” I say, gritting my teeth against the sting.

Christie rolls her eyes as the sheriff snorts. “He became a willing participant once he saw the financial aspect of it,” she says. “That man has dollar signs for eyes.”

“And you and Griggs? Why did you do this with him? When did you start all of this?”

She looks amused. “Benji, life doesn’t provide all the little answers just because you ask for them. I would have thought you’d have learned that by now.”

“What about—”

“Enough,” she interrupts. “No more wasting time. Who else is there?”

Almost ready. I can do this. I can do this. Have to keep my face schooled. I cannot show anything, not even a grimace. Can’t give myself away. “No one,” I say. “You’ve killed everyone else.”

“What did you tell Corwin?”

I look her in the eye. “That I knew Big Eddie had been murdered. That I knew he wasn’t going to Eugene to meet with friends.”
Do it. Just do it. The pain will only be for a second. It’ll cut deep but you’ll have a chance. Hit the bone and pull up.

I steal a glance at Abe. He must see something in my eyes because he gives me an almost imperceptible nod. He tightens his grip on the knife.

“Who else?” she asks again.

“No one.”

“Benji, I’m getting tired of this. Who else?”

I start to panic. “No one!” I say again. “What’d Corwin tell you?”

She looks at me coldly. “By the end? Everything. Traynor probably went a bit overboard with his fingers.” She grimaces at the memory. “But he was pretty convincing that he hadn’t told his superiors yet.”

“And no one else has come to Roseland asking after him,” I snap at her. “So there is no one else.”

“George?”

“He’s lying,” Griggs snarls. “If he didn’t say anything, that big fucker did.”

Now. Now. Now.
I brace myself for the pain and am about to jerk my arms up to open the knife when Christie says, “Maybe we need to go about this a different way. Get the old man.” She stands and pushes her chair back

Abe starts to tremble. His hand slips and he drops the knife, the blade closing on the soft flesh between my fingers, cutting through and closing. It falls to the floor. I make a grab for it and close my hand around it just as Griggs grabs Abe by the collar and pulls him up. Abe cries out at the movement, the pain in his arm no doubt excruciating.

“You leave him alone,” I cry, my voice cracking. “Don’t you touch him!”

“Then tell us what we want to know.”

“I told you! There’s no one else!”

Griggs rips off Abe’s gag and drops him on the ground on his stomach in front of me, his hands bound behind his back. Abe grunts at the impact and turns his cheek so he’s facing me. There’s a moment, as we watch each other, when a myriad of emotions flicker across his face. There is fear and anger. Pain and trepidation. But then they are all swept away as his eyes harden and his jaw sets. The Abe I see now is the Abe I know. The strong one, the one who has stood by my side and by my father’s before me. He’s….

No.

“Leave him alone!”

Christie hands Griggs my Colt. He sets down his rifle on the chair and pulls out the clip before pushing it back home. He then drops to his knees and presses the barrel against Abe’s left temple.

The knife. I have to open the knife. The back of my hands are pressed together. I grip the knife between two fingers on my left hand and attempt to grab the blade by pinching it with the knuckles on my right hand.

“Who else?” Christie demands.

“No one,” I grind out, the knife slipping again.

Griggs digs the gun into the side of Abe’s head. “Who did you talk to?” he snaps.

“There’s no one else!” I shout, holding the knife steady again.