Red Ochre Falls (24 page)

Zorro ran to the
van, which was sitting at idle. The driver must have missed the show. The now
unmasked bad guy yelled at the driver in a foreign language then they sped
away.

“I can’t believe
Ruggiano sent his goons again.”

“No,” Garrett told
me. “That guy wasn’t part of his gang.”

It bothered me
Garrett had worked for Ruggiano. Even worse, he’d done something that required
him to know members of Ruggiano’s gang.

“Who do you think
we’re dealing with now?”

“I’m not sure, but
I have a hunch it’s someone worse.”

“There’s someone
worse than him?” I started to shake. Garrett noticed.

“Are you hurt?”

“Not really, just
wet.”

“We’ve got to get
you somewhere safe, and dry.”

“I’m fine. Glad you
were here. Where’s your car?”

“Detail shop.
They’ll deliver it when the rain stops.”

“We need to get
into Chloe’s. Tom said the answers could be there.”

“It’s too risky
now. They may be watching it.”

“But Garrett, there
might be proof she didn’t kill herself.” He knew how much it meant for me to
prove this for her parent’s sake as much as my own—I wanted to make up
for times Chloe was there for me, and relieve myself of the guilt I carried
around for not helping her sooner.

“Mattie, there is
no way to take away their pain. You can only help ease it. The best way to do
that isn’t by getting yourself hurt, but by staying safe.”

I wouldn’t budge.

When he shook his
wet hair, droplets showered the floor. His blue eyes focused on me. I was just
about to agree with him.

“Fine,” he said.
“The least you can do is try and be safe.”

I shrugged. “I’ll
think about it. After we search Chloe’s”

“Here’s the deal.
If you’re that determined, you’ve got energy for a lesson. Dry off and change
into your gear. We’ll run to the gym, then go to Chloe’s.”

I didn’t feel like
defense maneuvers, but he’d offered to check out a lead. I wasn’t going to
argue.

I dried off
quickly, changed, and made it back downstairs in record time for me. He was
already waiting. Was he Superman, or maybe, he wore workout gear under his
regular clothes? Although, his bulging biceps made me want to believe the
Superman theory.

“Looks like it’s
the Hellcat or the hearse. Mind if I drive?”

“Go ahead.” It
wasn’t my car, but since it was a loaner from his mechanic, at his request, and
my car repairs were being paid on his dime (currently), he deserved a chance to
drive such an awesome machine.

“We’ll figure this
out,” he reassured me as we zoomed through the streets.

“I know.” But these
answers didn’t come easy.

He slowed the car
near construction. I reached up to grab something for support, but missed and
cracked my knuckles on the glass. He gave me a sideways look.

I shook out my
hand. As if it might make the sting or the embarrassment go away. No such luck.
I looked back at him. “What? I never pretended to be coordinated. Besides, it
hurt me not you.”

“It never ceases to
amaze me, the number of things you run into and yet you’re still here.”

“Stubbornness pays
off.” I rubbed my hand.

“I guess so. Maybe
if we practice some usable skills, you’ll outlast the bad guys.”

“You think I’ll
have to outlast a lot of them?”

“From what I’ve
seen, you attract trouble. So, yes.”

“But, people like
me…most of the time.”

“Bad guys don’t
care if you’re likeable. If you get in their way, they’ll come at you until you
get out of their way…or stop breathing.”

“Sheesh,” I
grumbled as we pulled into a parking lot in an area of town I’d normally avoid.

It really was time
to focus. This was a gym unlike any I’d ever seen. It was a hole compared to
the last place we’d gone. No fancy reception area, no neon snake, and no scary guys
with semi-automatics. All fine by me. I felt more at ease here despite the fact
it was crumbling around us.

We entered a big
room with an old boxing ring near the center. A series of training stations
surrounded the ring. The place was drafty and smelled like old shoes, probably
from years of intense, sweaty use, and old shoes.

We walked around
the outside of the room past a big guy punching a heavy bag, and a woman
working with a special bag that kept springing back at her. Garrett called it a
reflex bag. He told me it was even harder than it looked.

We turned toward a
partially mirrored wall—I guess boxers, like dancers, benefitted from
watching their moves. We walked a few more feet and saw a speed bag hanging
from a splintered wood disc. It was barely attached to the wall by a black
bracket secured with only one bolt, where I think there used to be two, or even
three. I saw another guy taping his hands. We set our gear down near the mat
we’d be using. There were a few others working around us.

What really
startled me was the kid across the room—his baby face looked about ten,
but his emergent muscles put him somewhere around puberty. He morphed into and
out of adulthood as he practiced.

The boy was
scrapping with a guy in his late thirties, but the kid held his own. Garrett
must have noticed my staring.

“They’ve been here
a few times.” Garrett noted an even younger boy standing along the wall near
them.

I watched and
wondered. “They look so young. Why are they doing this? Shouldn’t they be playing
soccer or something?”

“The first time I
saw them here, the kid working out was beat up pretty bad. Someone had done a
number on him. His friend’s uncle brings them in a couple times a week.”

My eyes focused on
the older guy. Built like a tank wearing lots of black and a crew cut, probably
military.

“They practice
here. Sometimes they film the sessions then post the videos online.” Garrett
was beside me now. “They want to help other people deal with the bullies in
their lives.”

“Those kids are
amazing and brave.” I admired the kid as he broke free from a chokehold.
“Bullies suck.”

Garrett’s eyes were
on me now.

“Bullies do suck.
But, killers are worse. It’s time to get serious. Before the next guy comes
after you.”

We were all
desperate fighters in this dark place—men, women, and children. We came
here to learn how to protect ourselves from something, or someone bad.

I was in way over
my head and had absolutely no idea what I would do if someone attacked me.
Other than scream loudly, if I could even do that. A chill raced up my spine. I
felt the urge to run away, but ignored it. I took a breath, clenched my fists
and found my resolve. “Where do we start?”

“Remember your
fighting stance,” Garrett said. “Left leg out front. Right heel up, so you’re
ready to pounce, defend, whatever.”

“Got it.” My hands
went up, my chin went down, and my feet bounced around to let him know I was
ready.
 

“All right,” he
sounded impressed. “Let’s see what you’ve got. We’ll go over the stuff I showed
you last time. Then we’ll work on things, like choke holds and gun threats, if
there’s time.”

That sounded
intimidating, but I steeled my nerves and waved him on.

“Mattie, I don’t
want to hurt you, but I’m going to come at you harder than last time. You need
to do your best to keep me away. Just yell ‘Time’ if you need a break.”

We stood there. I
looked at him and blew out a big breath to calm myself. “I’m ready,” I told
him, but didn’t say anything about being worried one of us might get hurt.

Garrett came at me
from the front, and reached me before I could think of what to do. He stopped
when he realized I wasn’t ready. He stepped back and awaited my signal.

My brain processed
the exercise. This was ‘hand meets face’. I couldn’t remember the technical
term, so I shortened it to something memorable. Keep it simple. It’s what this
type of training was all about.

We nodded at each
other and started up again. He moved toward me, I closed the distance and put
the heel of my hand up to his face. Only his chin took the impact, which was to
say my effort did nothing to stop him. He grabbed me and put me on the mat
before anyone could blink. I was flat on the floor, but at least I was trying.

Garrett helped pull
me up. I shook it off.

“Okay, let’s try
again. Remember, close the distance. Thrust upward.”

When he came at me,
I bent my arm and thrust the palm of my hand upward. He managed to pull his
head back just before the contact.

“Nice job. If I
hadn’t moved out of the way, you’d have busted my schnoz. One more time.”

The same thing
happened. I struck and he moved his face to avoid collision.

“That’s it! Injure
the nose. Distract the attacker. Get away.” He sounded giddy about me almost
giving him a broken nose. Strange, but I was excited too.

“Now, we’ll see if
you can break my hold. I’ll grab you. Bring your arms up the middle then back
down over mine.”

I remembered this
one. Garrett stepped forward and grabbed my shoulders. I pushed my arms up and
over. My arms came down on his and broke his hold on me.
Yes!

“Nice.”

“Thanks.”
 

“This time, come
back with the thrust move after you break my hold.”

We tried a couple
times, but it didn’t quite work. He stopped to show me in slow motion, and I
did better the next couple times.

Garrett spent an
hour teaching me ways to break free from an attacker. With each attempt, we
moved faster, and breathed harder. Distractions fell away, instinct kicked
in—and something sparked.

I tried to break
free from his come from behind attack, but couldn’t. Pinned in his arms, my
adrenaline surged. So, I improvised. My body weight shifted, enough to get him
off balance. Then I grabbed his thumb and bent it back to force him to let go,
which gave me space to move. It was enough for me to grab his arm and twist it
backward until he was on the ground.

“Okay, you got me!”

I let go and helped
him up.

“Nice improv. You
may need it when the time comes.”

To hear him say
‘when the time comes’ like that shook me up. It would take a lot more practice
for me to get comfortable with all this. A lot. I just hoped my mind wouldn’t
blank out if my life depended on it. Bad things happened to more people than
me. How did they handle this fear? He must have sensed my apprehension, because
his serious face faded.
 

“I think we’ve had
enough sparring for one night. Let’s get out of here.”

“Agreed.” The
workout made me warm, but everything got hotter when he grabbed me, and pulled
me closer. I was ready for something other than fear of death; whatever he had
in mind. My finger caught the edge of his t-shirt and played with it.

“You look hot,” he
grinned, picking up on my signals. “Maybe you need a cold shower.”

“Not exactly what I
was thinking, but I’m willing to listen.”

“If you towel off,
we can do some investigating before dinner.”

Investigating.
Right. I was definitely distracted. Did I mention it was hot? “All right, but I
get to drive.”

CHAPTER 20

Garrett and I went to Chloe’s apartment. A place called The Reserve
near Fourth and Race Streets. I’d heard about it. The 15-story tower was
originally built in 1927 in Cincinnati’s Fourth Street Historic District. A
commercial builder converted the Federal Reserve Bank offices into high-end
urban dwellings. The kind of place Chloe, or her parents, could afford.
 

I punched in the
code Tom gave me to get inside. Polished accents lined the way to a sitting
area decorated with luxurious chairs. There were fresh flower arrangements on
several tables around the room. The place glowed and smelled slightly of wood
polish.

We bypassed the
elevators and took the stairs—Garrett said it would be good exercise.
Sure, walking up fourteen flights of stairs was good exercise, but it meant I’d
be starving soon. Having already burned a ton of calories, I intended to savor
dinner after this.

We searched her
floor until we found the apartment. I pulled out the LEGO keychain when we got
to her doorstep. A decorative wreath, the fresh kind you can order from Maine,
or Vermont hung on her door. I looked over the balsam green wreath dotted with
brown and ivory accents, and scented with cinnamon sticks. This felt like an
invasion of privacy. Something on the other side of this door could provide us
the break we need. I stuck the key in, and turned it to open the lock.

Garrett suggested
he go inside first, in case there was a problem. I thought it might be a good
idea too, even though we were opening a locked door—a good sign in my
book. I watched him walk inside.
 
He
took one step and stopped. I nearly rear-ended him it happened so fast.

“What’s wrong?”

He immediately put
a hand up, and nodded a quick ‘no’ to me. I got super quiet then glanced over
his shoulder and knew immediately why he stopped. The place was trashed. No
indication from the outside, but inside it was clear someone had been looking
for something they really wanted to find.

There were some
intense moments of not knowing what, or who, might still be there. But seeming
satisfied with his scan of the room, Garrett entered and pulled me closely
behind him.

“My God, Chloe.
What were you into?” I murmured as we entered.

The apartment was
beautiful, except for the mess of files, papers, and couch cushions spread all
over. I wondered if the local police knew about this. Why would a woman who
allegedly committed suicide have this happen? Something much bigger was going
on and we’d just stepped into the middle of it.

“Look at this
place. There is no way she left it like this. Chloe loved order. This would
have given her a heart attack.” It wasn’t a joke. She wouldn’t have left it
like this. There was never a hair out of place on the girl. She even organized
her socks, so this could not have happened before she died.

“Looks like it, but
we’ve got our work cut out for us. The police can’t dig into a closed case
unless they have something concrete. And this,” he looked at the mess. “This
could just be a case of a poorly timed break-in.”

“Really?” I stood
defensively. “How would they explain the television and artwork are untouched?”

“Hey, I’m not saying
it isn’t something more. I’m just telling you we’re going to need real evidence
before we ask the police to go looking for a killer. We need to be cautious. We
don’t want to accuse anyone, cop or coroner, of making a mistake just yet.”

“Even if that’s
what happened?”

“Yes, even then.
It’d be difficult for Cal to help if we had the cops on our bad side. Plus, it
puts the bad guys on high alert.”

“But they already
know we’re after something. I haven’t exactly been quiet about investigating
Chloe’s death.”

“Yes, and it’s why
you’ve got bad guys after you.” Intensity flashed in his eyes. “But from what
I’ve seen, they’re only trying to figure out what you know, or scare you off.
The longer we keep quiet, and build the case, the better.”

“Stay low.”

“Right. And figure
out what Chloe is trying to tell you.”

“Tell me?”

“You said it
yourself. She called you about the case. Sent Tom Clark to give you the key.
There’s something you can do more than anyone else.”

“Run into bad guys
and brick walls?”

“Besides that,” he
chuckled. “Mattie, you have a lot to offer. Don’t let your situation determine
your value.”

“Thank you.” I
softened, and took a deep breath. “I guess we’d better be thorough.” I knew it
was a long shot, especially, if public or elected officials were involved.
Still, questions remained, like why someone powerful, and probably loaded with
cash, was trying to cover up my friend’s death?

“You take this part
of the room.” He headed to the other side of the room. “Look for anything out
of place.”

“You mean besides
the tossed papers, and shredded couch?” I had to find something sarcastic to
say to take the edge off. Danger hovered over this ‘investigation’ of ours. The
fact that someone I knew was murdered scared me.

“Yeah, try to
overlook those. You knew her. Look for anything out of the ordinary, and
anything too ordinary. Something she may have tried to hide in plain sight.”

“Great, so we’ll be
here a while.”

“Plan on it.” He
picked up a lamp and put it on an end table.

My stomach
grumbled. I snarled just a little, but shook it off, and dug into a pile of
papers around her desk.

It looked like a
tornado hit here. There was not a good starting place, so I decided to work my
way from left to right.

The papers on the
floor to the left of her desk looked mostly like household stuff. Appliance
manuals, credit card statements, and electric bills.
 

The mess under her
desk looked even less interesting. Rental policies and meeting notices.

On the right of her
desk were some notes, but there wasn’t much there either.

“Can I at least
clean this up?” I asked Garrett who was checking out the living room.

“No, we need to
leave it for the police.”

“Okay,” I huffed,
frustrated. I decided to see if there was anything on her desk.

Most of the papers
looked like more of what I’d found on the floor. Very few work files. Strange
considering she lived and breathed work. Plus, the dock for her laptop was
empty. Perhaps, whoever broke in took her other work files and computer. The
bad guys could already have the information they wanted. How would we be able
to do anything if it was lost?

While shuffling
through the papers, I started to doubt our chances of finding anything in this
mess, and sank into Chloe’s desk chair.

I swiveled back and
forth in a daze. Then I noticed a photo of us at the lake. You could tell we’d
been on the lake all day—sun burnt smiles and oily ponytails. We looked
happy, but it was slightly out of focus, and it later turned out to be a bad
night for us all. I was surprised to see it taking up valuable real estate on
her desk. It was the night Tab jumped me. Even though Chloe and Tab had a
complicated relationship, I couldn’t believe she would like the constant
reminder of his cruel behavior. Maybe seeing him at his worst helped her stay away
from him. Still, it seemed unusual.

I picked up the
frame and looked it over. Six of us—Chloe, Tab, Patrick, Jos, Nina and
me—posed with the lake house in the background. Other than Tab, I didn’t
know of anyone who might have been relevant to what’s going on, so I flipped
the picture around to examine the silver frame. That’s when I noticed something
on the back near the stand.

Three numbers,
which looked like a date, but it wasn’t the date the photo was taken. I
remembered that one well. This date was off by a few months, although, it
seemed vaguely familiar. I took a sheet off her flowery pink note stack, wrote
the numbers exactly as she had, then stuffed it in my pocket.

When the frame was
back in place, we continued to search the place for clues. If she’d left me a
message on the photo, maybe she’d left others. I took another pass at her
personal files. She kept a large monthly bills file with a logbook. There were
a lot of bills: phone, gas, electric. We didn’t have time to read everything,
so I snagged that file and a couple others to review later.

Garrett and I
worked our way through the Living Room and Kitchen, where the previous
intruders had searched. There were some open drawers and cabinets in the
bedroom and bath, but nothing stood out. Even the laundry room was a bust, so
we locked up and headed back to the parlor.

Rain pelted the car
as we drove. My feet hurt and my stomach was angry for not feeding it sooner. I
needed to eat, change, and get warm.

The original plan
had been to get home. I’d grab a hot shower while Garrett picked up dinner. He
ended up on a call to Cal. That didn’t bother me. What got under my skin was
the text Tess sent. Whatever she wrote made him drop everything and run, which
made me livid. We argued. Garrett told me what Tess said was important, and he
had to meet her. What I heard was ‘she’s more important than you’.

He left. I sat
there fuming for ten or fifteen minutes before the cold got to me. I was damp
down to my bones and started to shiver. Garrett wasn’t there to help warm me
up. But I didn’t need his help. A hot shower and whatever was stashed in my
fridge would suffice.

I stormed off into
the hallway and a noise stopped me in my tracks. It didn’t sound like a
normal-house-settling kind of noise. I took a second and considered my options.
Head for the apartment, and I’m locked in, but possibly trapped. Head out of
the house, and I have a shot at screaming loud enough to get someone’s
attention, if anyone was out in this weather. Either way, running felt like the
smart move.

Everything remained
still, except the thudding in my chest. I took a deep breath then ran for the
door.

Just as I hit full
stride, a Marvel Comic bad guy on steroids stepped in my way and I slammed into
him.

The impact didn’t appear
to move him an inch, but it sent me flying. I landed on my ass. Hard. He
reached out to pick me up with his meat hooks, but I scrambled through the
viewing room door before he could get to me.

Once on my feet, I
fled toward the front of the house. I didn’t look back, but I could hear him
slam open the door and bound after me. All the flowers and chairs from Chloe’s
service were gone, only the antique furniture and drapes that belonged to the
room remained.
 

I pushed my way
through the door to the front hall and bounced off an exact duplicate of the
human cyborg chasing me. I fell to the floor, again. Then turned to get up and
run, only I was too slow. Before I could get anywhere the first mammoth came up
from behind and hoisted me in the air.

I struggled,
yelled, and kicked air. It felt like the same beast that’d threatened me at the
brick wall. He had me wrapped up tight all over again. I saw his arms and knew
it was the same guy.

When I wouldn’t
stop wriggling, he asked his partner for an assist. Actually, it sounded more
like a grunt. Just as the guy got close enough to reach for my legs, I nailed
him in the groin. He flinched, turned purple, and fell to the ground.

The clone, or
whatever you want to call him, dropped me to shield his family jewels, and I
started to run. Before I could reach the front door, the first guy stuck his
hand out and tripped me. I went head first into the carpet, and nearly sprained
my wrist bracing for the fall. As I lay crumpled, I wondered if there was any
way out of this. There was a sitting room to my right, a formal office to my
left, and a giant door to freedom a couple feet in front of me. Great, if only
the bad guys didn’t have me pinned down.

“Ha-ha-ha! Very
entertaining.” The voice startled me. One of the goons must have received a
signal, because he nodded at the figure. The big guy yanked me up by the hair,
and restrained my arms, as Ruggiano emerged. “You like these guys? I call them
Thor’s Twins. It’s catchy. Don’t you think?”

Making up nicknames
for the battering ram twins? This guy was seriously unstable. “What are you
doing here?”

“You ask too many
questions.” Ruggiano nodded to one of the men and glared at me. “Take this nosy
bitch downstairs. It’s more private there.”

Thor’s Twins pulled
out zip-ties, and went to work on my hands and feet. They shoved a white cloth
laced with night-night juice over my face. I struggled and tried to jerk myself
loose. About a second later, I passed out.