Up in Smoke (13 page)

The kid laughed as he began leading me down the sidewalk, away from the lights and out into the parking lot. My heart began pounding in my chest as we went deeper into the darkness.

“He was trying to keep this simple,” the kid said.

“What? This was a con?” Thinking back to the run-in with the kid at the diner, it was rather soon after the casino trip. Then the whole buy-in fiasco flashed through my mind. It all started to click. They set me up, and for what? I was a good guy, an average Joe just trying to make a living and raise a family. I didn’t have anything.

“Man, you are slow, old man,” the kid replied, laughing as we came to an RV. He pulled the gun from my back and used the butt of it to knock on the door. “Don’t try nothing in here. If you want to see Susan again—alive.”

My jaw clenched at his threat. I’d never contemplated murdering somebody for real before, but if I got close, it was right then in that moment.

The door opened. It was Bear, the guy from the poker night in the Valley. He looked like his usual unfriendly self.

We stepped up into the RV. The screen door was broken and it hung crooked on the frame. We went inside and past Bear on the way to a room in the back. Entering the room, the kid shut the door behind me and locked it. My heart continued to beat so hard that I could feel it thumping in my ears. The room was large and cozy for being in an RV, but it didn’t do anything for my nerves. I looked over toward a chair in the back corner, and there sat Lincoln.

Standing up, he shook his head. “You know, Rick,” he said as he stepped toward us and lowered an eyebrow as he glared. “I thought you were smart.” He raised a hand out to his side and let the palm rest upwards as he continued to talk. “You know, a man of honor, being a firefighter and all.”

“Don’t disrespect me! You’re not one to talk about honor! ” I lashed out at him.

He came closer and turned away from me, only to return with the back of his hand across my face.

“You fool!” he shouted, taking a step back. “Don’t you understand yet? Or maybe we need to go for your daughter . . . Bethany, is it? Maybe you haven’t quite grasped how serious I am.”

I lunged toward Lincoln as I let out a deep yell. “I’ll kill you!” I shouted as the kid grabbed onto my shoulder and pulled me back.

Lincoln laughed. “I’d kill you right now if I could, you stupid, old man . . . but I’d rather watch you suffer.” He pointed over to the wall and said, “Watch.”

A video came up of a restaurant. Beth was sitting alone eating a meal, and my heart started pounding. Then, the kid came up to the table and sat down. They were conversing like they knew each other.

“What is this? You have been videotaping my daughter? Who are you, the mob?” I asked, watching the screen.

Lincoln looked over at me. “Robby here likes your daughter.”

“Well, she’s happily married,” I retorted.

“Yeah. But Robby is helping her with tutoring for . . . what’s your granddaughter’s name?”

I didn’t respond.

Robert said, “Natalie.”

I jerked again, but the kid dug his fingers deeper into my shoulder. It hurt. Oh man, did it hurt. His boney little fingers were like daggers in my skin. I wondered why he didn’t just shoot me. I would have almost preferred it by the kind of day I was having.

“What do you want from me?” I demanded.

“Just what you agreed to pay.”

“I gave you the two grand already!” I shouted back at him.

“You sure are stupid, aren’t you?” Lincoln asked. “Look. We know you have eighty grand in the bank. We just want a very small portion of that.”

I laughed.

Lincoln asked, “What’s so funny?”

I shook my head and replied, “Your facts are
old
. I don’t have that kind of money anymore.”

Lincoln stepped up to me. “You’re lying.”

“I’ll show you my bank account.”

He looked over at the kid. The kid shrugged and said, “The information
was
from four years ago.”

“Shut up,” Lincoln said as he turned and went around the chair. He leaned on the back and looked intensely at me. “You’ve been coming to the tables a long time, always playing and spending.”

“Yeah, I was draining the account.”

“I hope you’re wrong,” Lincoln said softly.

“Why?” I asked.

He came back over to the wall and said, “If you’re telling the truth, I will kill your daughter.”

“Wait!” I shouted.

“What?” he turned to me.

“I have about fourteen thousand dollars. You add that to the two thousand, and that’s sixteen thousand.”

“That a boy,” Lincoln said, grinning as he walked over to me. He grabbed onto my face with a hand and squeezed my cheeks between his fingers. “That wasn’t so difficult to find money, Mr. Fireman, now was it? Unfortunately, the price just went up. It’s thirty thousand now for making me mad.”

“Okay. I’ll find the money. I’m going to need to go get it, though.” I looked over at the video on the wall that was the recording of my daughter, Beth. I shook my head. Getting out of the RV alive and keeping my family alive was all that mattered in that moment. I would sell everything if I had to, even the clothes on my back, to get these guys away from us.

Lincoln looked over at the kid.

“I think he’s well motivated.” The kid laughed.

“Good.” Lincoln looked at me. “That address that Robby gave you—drop it off there. Nine o’clock tonight. Don’t make the same mistake twice, or it will be more than a couple of snipped brake lines for precious Bethany.” Lincoln walked back to his chair, sat down, and waved his hand, signaling for us to leave.

The kid grabbed me and led me out of the room, a gun still firmly pressed into my back. On the way out of the RV, the kid said, “Don’t try anything with the cops. I’ve seen Lincoln kill.”

When we reached the exit where Bear was standing, he grabbed me and tossed me out the door. I landed hard onto the pavement. Before I had time to even look back, the door slammed shut.

M
y trembling hands gripped the steering wheel when I got back into my car. Disturbed didn’t begin to describe how I felt inside. I was freaking out. I hurried down the freeway back toward Spokane. My pulse was racing and my heart was pounding. In all my years on this earth, I had never been in a worse situation. Not even the worst fires shook me up like this. No, this was my family, my life. I was almost back to Spokane, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled along the side of the highway.

My wheels rode along the sleeper until I pulled entirely off the road and parked. Bowing my head, I prayed.

“Dear God,” I said, looking up at the ceiling of my car. I dropped my head against the steering wheel and a few tears came rolling down my cheeks. “I can’t do this. I don’t know what to do anymore. And I know . . .” The tears came on more as I lifted my eyes. My hands and heart trembled in fear as flashes of my wife’s scrapes and bruises pressed against my mind. “I know I haven’t been to church in a while and I’m sorry.” I looked out the window. A semi-truck zoomed by, shaking the car. I thought of my daughter, Beth, and the grandkids. “Please protect my family. It is only you that knows how this will end. Please, Lord. Amen.”

I put the car into drive and checked my side mirror before pulling back out onto the freeway. I wiped the tears from my eyes. I was unable to stop checking the rearview mirror. I was paranoid. I sped all the way down the interstate back to Spokane. The fear that was crippling me before I prayed began to fade, and a peace washed over me. I was still worried, but I felt that God was with me.

Seeing my turn off up ahead, I debated on going home to my wife.
She’ll want answers
, I thought to myself. I wasn’t ready to give her any, not yet. She’d go straight to the police.

Passing the exit home, I continued onward.

Ron. I’ll see go see Ron.

Taking the next exit, I drove through town to Heidi’s diner. It was around eight o’clock. Closing time soon. With only moments to spare, I pulled into the parking lot.

Ron was sitting outside in the back. His hands were folded together, and he was seated on an upside-down milk crate. Pulling right up in front of him, I parked and got out. His head lifted and our eyes met.

“I suspect you didn’t come for a bite to eat?” he asked, standing up as I approached.

“This whole problem is a lot worse than I thought. They know everything, man. Robert –that punk kid, has been hanging out with Beth! Tutoring Natalie!” I ran my fingers through my hair and shook my head. More tears fell.

“Calm down, Rick,” Ron said. “Tell me what happened.”

“I met with the kid at the casino. He put a gun in my back and led me to Lincoln, the head honcho, in some RV that was out in the parking lot of the casino.” Thinking about the video of Beth, I lost it and kicked a nearby garbage can as hard as I could.

Ron put a hand on my shoulder and said, “It’s okay. It’s okay, man.”

Shaking my head, I said, “It’s not okay! They think I have all this money that I don’t have anymore. I spent it all, man.” Tears fell again. “I don’t know what to do!”

“What do they want?”

“They want what I owe them, plus more because I’ve made them mad! They’re conning me. I’m freaking out, man. They hurt Susan!” My lips pursed. “And they’re going after Beth next if I don’t pay! I don’t even have half of what they want.”

Ron remained calm, which helped my nerves. In a smooth and controlled voice, asked, “How much?”

“Thirty thousand,” I said.

He squinted as he pondered something, and then he reached into his pocket. Fishing out the keys to his GTO, he handed them to me and said, “That car is worth more than that.”

“I can’t take that,” I said, pushing the keys back to him.

“Rick,” he said. He pushed the keys back to me. “Take the car.”

“Why would you do that for me?” I asked, shaking my head.

“Rick, you have been like a son to me. I’m nearing the end of my life, and every day I wake up is a blessing. I’m always on the lookout for how I can help. You know that. Let me do this for you. It’s the only way this is going to stop.”

Looking at the keys in my hand, I shook my head again. “I don’t deserve this.”

“It’s a gift, Rick,” he said. “Don’t you get that? It’s not about earning it.” He covered his mouth and coughed. “Take it!”

Thinking about my baby girl being in danger and thinking of my wife getting hurt earlier that day all came to a point. My only chance of freedom from this disaster was Ron’s car.

“Okay.” Looking at him, I said, “Thank you. You think this will work?”

“If they know anything at all about cars, it will.”

“How do I drop a car off? By myself?” I asked. “And what will you do without a car?”

“I have other cars. And just take a taxi back here to pick up your car.” Ron put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Remember . . .” He pointed to his head. “You gotta be calm to think clearly. And by the way, before you ask, the title is in the glove box. I’ll walk with you and sign the title before you leave.” He smiled at me. “Stay calm.”

“I don’t know how to ever thank you, Ron.”

“Stop this madness, and fix your relationship with God and your wife.” Ron turned and looked up at the big sign over the diner that said his wife’s name—Heidi. “I miss her every day, and if I could go back, I’d do many things differently. The thing about
time
is that once it’s gone, it’s gone forever, and we never know how much we have left. Oftentimes, it’s less than we think.”

“I promise I’ll make it all right.” Looking at my watch, I said, “I’m going home to see Susan and then to go finish this.”

I drove home using city streets instead of the freeway. It gave me a little more time to take it slow and start thinking clearly. My wife was going to be home and fuming.

I’m going to tell her the whole truth
.

No matter how badly it hurt, I was going to tell her.

Pulling up to the house, I saw an unknown maroon sedan sitting in the driveway. My heart started pounding as I feared the worst.
It’s not nine, yet. Did they decide not to wait? Please let her be okay!

Bolting inside, I came into the living room. To my relief, my pastor and one of the deacons were sitting on the couch. Susan was in the recliner, folded over into her hands with tears running down her face.

All eyes shifted over to me.

“Rick,” pastor Conner said as I tried to turn and leave.

I turned back around to find him already off the couch and approaching me with a distorted and concerned look on his face. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“That’s a long story,” I said, looking past him at Susan as she wiped her face with a tissue that she’d fetched from a box on the coffee table. My heart ached to see her pain drawn out across her face in the form of red, swollen eyes and tears. “Glad to see you made it out of the hospital,” I added, hoping to shift the direction.

“Thanks. But we aren’t here to talk about me. We’re here for you,” the pastor said.

“You don’t understand,” I replied, trying to maintain my composure.

“Help me understand.” The pastor turned to face Susan on the recliner. “Help your wife understand what is going on.”

“With all due respect, I don’t feel like
right now
is a good time for this,” I replied.

“That’s not fair to Susan,” Pastor Conner said softly, dipping his chin.

“You have no right!” I snapped at him.

“You’re a Biblical Christian, Rick. Don’t forget that. You know I have every right to shepherd the flock. It’s my duty as the pastor of our congregation. I’m here at your house because your wife called me here. I’m here to help.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath in and let it out. Glancing at my watch, I saw that it was twenty minutes until nine. “But right now, I have to go.”

Pastor Conner put his hand on my shoulder. “Rick. Please come sit down with us and talk.”

My jaw clenched and I said through my teeth, “I can’t.”

“Why?” Susan asked, standing up from the recliner. She came across the floor and up to me. “Tell me why, Rick.” Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pleaded for an explanation.

“Come with me, and I’ll explain on the way,” I offered, trying to fix this. I reached for her hand, but she pulled it away.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she replied. “Are you in some sort of trouble? Let’s call the police. They’ll help you.”

Turning, I went for the door. I couldn’t tell her. The police would ruin everything. As I grabbed the doorknob, Susan grabbed my arm. I stopped and looked at her for a moment. “Susan . . .” I said, my voice breaking. In all our years, I swore I would never hurt her.
Lord, please let her forgive me.

“Let him go do what it is that he thinks he needs to do,” the pastor said. Susan let go of my arm.

Opening the door, I gently pulled my arm from her and ran out to the GTO.

Arriving to the address, I was surprised to see it was a house. It looked vacant. A board was missing from one of the windows in the front and the lights were all off, except the front porch light. That was illuminated and lit up the top step of the cement stairs.

I got out of the GTO and walked up the empty driveway as I phoned for a cab to head in my direction. Turning off the driveway and down the path, I walked up to the front door. It was pitch dark inside the house, but I gave it a few good knocks to see if anyone was around and then took a step back.

No surprise, nobody answered.

Reaching into the mailbox that hung next to the door, I brought the mail into the light. It was post marked for over two years ago. I sighed and replaced the mail back in the box. Walking back down the steps, I looked down the street both ways on my way back to the car.

Then a black car rounded the corner just up the block. It pulled up and stopped in the middle of the street, right outside the house. The window rolled down back and the kid stuck his head out. “Bring the money?” he asked.

“I have something better,” I said, pointing to the GTO.

“That’s a mistake,” the kid said, rolling up the window.

I sprinted up to the car and knocked on the window, shouting, “Wait!”

The window went back down.

“Listen,” I said. I pointed over to Ron’s car that I’d driven to the house. “That’s a 1964 Pontiac GTO—”

“That doesn’t mean anything to me,” the kid retorted.

“It’s worth well over the $30,000 you want from me.”

He looked over at the car for a moment, and then said, “Hold on.” The window went back up. My heart pounded for what felt like hours as I waited. I could see him faintly through the tinted window as he talked on the phone.

The window didn’t come back down. Instead, the kid opened the door and said, “You got lucky.” He began walking over to the car and ran a finger along the side of it as he inspected the car.

“We even now?” I asked.

The kid stopped near the front of the car and paused. He turned around to me and said, “Keys? Clean title?”

I lobbed the keys up in the air toward him and he caught them. “Title is in the glove box.”

He nodded. “As long as the car is fine, we’re good.”

Relief came over me as I thought of my wife and daughter. They were finally safe.

Cops suddenly came flying around the corner, and as they did, the sirens and lights came on. The kid glared over at me. “You called the cops! You idiot! Your family is as good as dead now!” he shouted, sprinting back to the car he had come in.

The black car took off down the street and whipped around the corner, the cops chasing after it. One of the patrol cars stopped along the curb just outside the house and got out.

“No! Wait! I didn’t call them!” I yelled frantically, watching as the car vanished out of sight. “Who called the cops?” I asked as the cop got out and walked up to me.

“Can I get your name, Sir?” he asked, clicking the pen in his hand to start writing.

“Rick Alderman. Who called you?” I asked, seeing the cab pull up to the curb.