After suffering the consequences of a physical beating from her father, with a belt, Beth Culbertson decides she will not take any more abuse and runs away, but the father has a different story to tell.


 

“Nate, there’s a Detective Santiago here to see you.”

Nate attempted to straighten his desk before the detective arrived. The bags beneath his eyes from lack of sleep last night said it all. The people who worked for him were family; last night, he’d lost one of them. And there’d been another hijacking.

Ric rapped his knuckles against the open door. “Good morning, Nate.”

“Good morning, Ric. Come in. Have a seat.”  A tray with a carafe of coffee and cups sat on the credenza behind him. “I don’t know about you, but I’m too old for all-nighters. Would you like some coffee? It’s strong but a good blend.”

“Sure, thanks.” 

Nate poured two cups and set one in front of Ric. “Need cream or sugar?”

“No, black's fine.” Ric took a swallow and made a slight grimace. “Yup, I think a spoon would stand straight up in the cup.”

Nate chuckled. “Would you prefer something else? I’m sure I can rustle up a bottle of water or soda.”

“Thanks, but as my dad would say, it’s good for what ails you.” Ric smiled, “Gets you going.”

“Heard anything more on the case?” Nate sighed, “Went over to the Halsted home this morning. Her mom and sister are helping with the family, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I told her not to worry about the funeral expenses. I’ll pick up all the cost.” 

Nate pushed his chair back and walked over to the window, staring across the parking lot. “That makes three hijackings in six months. Our routes and times are confidential. I don’t understand how this is happening.”  He returned to his chair and folded his hands on top of the desk, “We’ve got to get answers, Ric. I can’t tell another wife or mother something's happened. I can’t!”

“I know you’ve done your best to keep everyone safe, Nate, but in my opinion, there’s a leak somewhere.”

“A leak? You think one of my people is behind this?” Nate’s fist hit the desk. “You’re wrong.”

Peter Rotello, Nate’s son, tapped on the door and entered, “Behind what, Dad? You’re about to pop a cork.”

“Peter, this is Detective Ric Santiago. Ric, this is my son, Peter.” The two men shook hands; one firmly, the other seemed less interested.

“Dad, what’s wrong? Why is Detective Santiago here?” Peter looked from one man to the other, waiting for an answer.

“Sit down, Peter.” Nate indicated a chair next to Ric.

“I’d rather stand.” His face tensed, and his eyes shifted back and forth between his dad and the detective.

“There was another hijacking last night out on old Highway 251. Things went bad, real bad. Three men were killed, including our driver, John Halsted.”

“Killed? What happened? What about the shipment?”

“That’s another story. Another young man is in ICU in critical condition. He crashed his vehicle about three miles from the hijacking. The cargo area was filled with boxes of Oxycontin.”

“Well, he got what he deserved.” Peter snarled.

“Peter, don’t talk like that. Nobody deserves to die.”

“He should have thought about that before he tried ripping us off.” Peter extended his hand to Ric, “Nice to meet you, Mr. -”

“Detective.” Ric firmly gripped Peter’s hand and shook it. “Detective Ric Santiago. I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

“You’ll have to excuse me. I’ve got work to do.” Turning toward his father, he added,  “Dad, keep me informed, okay?”  He quickly left the office.

Ric stood up and stretched his long legs. “Nate, I need you to think about what I said. Get back to me with any names you think could be behind this.”

“I will, Ric, but it’s not coming from this end. My people are loyal, and they know what’s at stake.”

“I understand, Nate. Just let me or the Chief know if you come across anything.”

They shook hands, and Ric left the office, wondering how father and son could be so different.

**********

Ethan approached the police officer posted outside Tyson’s room. The ICU was cold and sterile. The nurse at the front desk had given him a pass so he would be allowed to see Ty for ten minutes. The officer studied the access pass Ethan handed him and then let him enter the room.

The gravity of Ty’s condition met him full force as he walked into the hospital room. Gauze covered almost every inch of Ty’s lifeless body except for the leg and arm in casts. His head was a turban with two eyes, two nostrils, and a mouth. Monitors beeped, air pumps breathed, and numerous colored bags slowly dripped into the IV.  

“Oh my God, Ty, what have you done to yourself?”  Ethan pulled the chair closer to the side of the bed. His stomach was doing somersaults. “Man, I hope you can hear me. You have to wake up. The police are saying all kinds of trash about you. You have to tell them it isn’t so.

“Listen, I know you didn’t steal a car, and I certainly know you had nothing to do with that hijacking. But it doesn’t make any difference if we can’t prove it. What were you doing, and how did you end up driving a stolen car?

“And look at you, man. “ Ethan reached out and touched Ty's arm. He made several short, quick gasps, struggling for air.

“I tried to call you, but you didn’t answer. I wanted to tell you I was sorry. I’m praying you didn’t end up doing something stupid just because you were mad at me. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Do you hear me, Ty? You have to fight to get better. I’ll get you a private detective and the best lawyer in town. We can fight this, but first, you have to wake up.

“Please, Ty, you’re my best friend. I need you to wake up.” He rested his head on the edge of the bed. 

The police officer tapped on the door and then opened it. “I’m sorry, sir, but your ten minutes are up.”

Ethan nodded and stood next to the bed, squeezing Tyson’s hand. “Ty, don’t you check out on me. Remember all the plans we made. We’re still going to do them, you hear me? You have to want to live, Ty, so fight … fight like hell; if not for you, then do it for me. I need you to get better. They say I have to go now, but I’ll be back. Hang in there, okay?”

Tears ran down his face. “I’m not saying goodbye, you hear me? It’s not goodbye, Ty. I love you.” He squeezed his friend’s hand one last time and left the room.

**********

The Last Chance was deserted. Besides Dwight and Nancy, there’d only been a handful of customers all night. Dwight spun his beer bottle around on the top of the bar. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. When Nancy didn’t talk, trouble was brewing somewhere.

“How come you’re bartending tonight?” Dwight asked the question but didn’t stop spinning the empty bottle. “Where’s Jesse?”

“What you asking me for? I’m not his keeper.” Nancy’s voice was edgy.

“No, but you are his boss. I just thought he might have told you why he wasn’t here.”

“It’s not a big deal. Haven’t got any customers anyhow.”  Nancy set another beer in front of him. “Just drink your beer and shut up.”

“Aren’t we touchy? I was just makin’ conversation. Sorry, I asked.” Dwight tipped back the bottle and let the cool liquid run down his throat. 

“Now, Dwight, honey -” The phone rang, and Nancy walked to the end of the bar and answered it.

“Last Chance. Nancy speaking.”

“What the hell happened out there?” the voice on the other end snapped. “There’s three, maybe four people dead.”

“I don’t know.” Nancy turned and smiled at Dwight, puckering her lips to form a kiss. “It’s not a good time.”

“Not a good time!” The man on the other end of the line sounded ballistic. “A detective was asking questions at the plant.”

“Calm down. Nothing connects to us.” Nancy turned away from Dwight, whispering, “I told you now isn’t a good time. Call me tomorrow.” She hung up and moved back down the bar to Dwight.

Dwight picked up Nancy’s hand and stroked the back of it with his finger. “What was that all about, Sweetie?”

“What? Oh, the phone call. Nothing, just one of the beer distributors trying to push a new product. I told him I wasn’t interested, but he didn’t want to take no for an answer.”

Dwight eyed her. He could tell she was nervous. “Probably one of your boyfriends looking to move in on my territory.”

“Dwight ..."

The shrill ring of the phone startled Nancy. She tried to ignore the call. “Aren’t you going to answer it?” Dwight asked.

“Oh, sure I am. Guess I was daydreaming about us.” She turned and went to answer the phone.

“Last Chance. Nancy speaking.”

“The last woman that hung up on me is dead.”

“My, my, aren’t we feisty tonight. We both know you’re all talk.” She laughed,."I told you to call me tomorrow. Goodnight, Peter.” She hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and turned around. “Oh! My God, you scared the crap out of me. Sneaking up on a girl like that.”  She wrapped her arms around Dwight’s neck and kissed him. “You weren’t listening to my conversation now, were you?”

“Uuuff! What do I care about a beer salesman? I wanted to get my arms around you.”

They both laughed, but neither believed the other one.

Now, what’s she hiding, and who’s Peter?
Dwight picked up his beer and took a long swallow. She’s hiding something.