Through the ashes, p.17
Through the Ashes, page 17
Due to the constraints in space, he hadn’t dug deep the first time. Which he was thankful for. He felt the plastic of the bag just as his hand was beginning to cramp. He focused more on the edges of the bag until he could pull it free from the hole. Once he had his arm wrapped around it, he began crawling backward toward the opening of the crawl space, pulling the bag with him as he moved.
Once he felt the air of the outside world, he propped himself up on his knees, keeping the bag under the house. He looked around, ensuring no one was there to ambush him. Either Klein or whoever was coming to collect. When he felt confident no one was there waiting for him to come out, he reached back under the house to retrieve the bag. He forced himself up, tucking the bag under his arm as he walked briskly back to the porch, barging into his house and locking the door behind him.
He suddenly felt very alone. It was a somber realization that made his skin grow cold. There was no guarantee that they wouldn’t kill him once they got the money. He wondered if the note had been their way of asking for a ransom because, as he thought about it, they had made no mention of John. Ethan felt a rising sense of confidence in his suspicion that John hadn’t been taken at all. He willingly left, and he was the one asking for the money.
Ethan cut the plastic from the duffle bag, sliding it free. He pulled the zipper, revealing three bundles of cash, equaling approximately $1.5 million, if he remembered correctly. He had put another $1.5 million in an off-shore account—the account and routing number were somewhere in the bag. Ethan would have to go to the other side of the property for the rest of the money. He had known keeping it all in one location would prove catastrophic, except now that he was prepared to be rid of it, separating the cash was becoming more of a liability than he expected.
Ethan closed the bag again, taking it back to his room. He opened his closet, sliding the heavy bag to the back, stacking a box and unwashed clothing over it.
Ethan made his way back to the living area, where he found his phone sitting on the counter. He turned it on, partially surprised to see there was still battery life since he couldn’t recall the last time he had charged the thing. He tapped the phone icon and dialed a number he pulled from memory.
The phone rang twice before a petite voice answered, “Lang Investigations. How may I direct your call?”
“Marshall Lang, please. This is Ethan Barret.” Marshall Lang had been the one and only private investigator Ethan rode along with during an investigation. He was a visible force with a shaved head because he felt it was easier to disguise himself if an investigation called for it. Ethan wasn’t sure what the man’s natural hair color was, if he truly needed glasses, or if they had simply become part of his ever-changing appearance. But he was good at what he did, always getting results. More importantly to Ethan, he knew Mason Sharp, the investigator John often used and was supposed to call for a background check on Beaver.
“Ethan. I didn’t think I’d hear from you today, of all days,” his deep voice had a smoothness to it that radiated.
Ethan pulled the phone from his ear to check the date. He had intentionally not checked the date each day and made it a point to stay busy. He hoped he wouldn’t know when the anniversary had come. He hoped he would’ve worked through it and at some point realize it had passed. Instead, he was there on November 2nd, forced to know it had been one years since his family was murdered.
“Are you calling about your case? Because I don’t have anything for you. I wish to hell I did.”
“No,” Ethan stammered, swallowing his shame. “I’m calling to see if you’ve spoken to Mason Sharp recently.”
“No, can’t say that I have. It’s been a few days. He said he was working something big, something that was going to finally let him retire. Lucky bastard, my body’s taken a beating over the years. A cold beer and a hot beach is exactly what I need.”
“You say he’s been gone a few days? Did he say where he was going?”
“No. Just that he got a big lead and was following up. When he got back, he’d be putting in his retirement notice and closing up shop.” There was a brief pause. “What’s this about? Is everything okay?”
“I think so. I just had something I wanted to run by him, but if he’s about to hit the big time, he doesn’t have time for me.”
“I’d be happy to help you out. What were you needing?”
“Nothing serious. You know, I save you for the most important stuff.”
Another pause. “So, are you back practicing law? I hadn’t heard anything about it.”
“No—I—I just wanted a background run on someone I was thinking of hiring for a remodel project out here. But it’s not that important.”
“Okay, well it was great hearing from you. And my thoughts are with you today.”
“Thank you, Marshall. I appreciate that.”
Ethan ended the call, checking the time before he sat the phone back down. It was 4 p.m., which meant he had a couple hours before nightfall. He suspected if John and Mason hadn’t shown up by now, they were waiting for the concealment of night. He had time to get one more thing out of the way before they came to collect the money. He knew whether he gave it away willingly or not, the night would end with him dead. Ethan knew he should’ve trusted that nagging sense that he should’ve sent John away. But John had been his best friend—his only friend—which he thought meant something.
Chapter 37
Ethan stepped out of his truck in the center of Beaver’s driveway. He saw Beaver rocking on his porch, a fat cigar between his parted lips, a steaming cup of something in his hand.
“Wasn’t expectin’ to see you this evening. Cigar?”
Ethan waived off the offer, leaning against the porch railing opposite Beaver.
“I just wanted to thank you for all your help. I wouldn’t have survived the last year without it.”
Beaver’s brow raised questioningly. “Well, anytime you need somethin’, you know where I am.”
“I know.” Ethan had searched for the right words to say to Beaver, but the short drive hadn’t provided the opportunity to discover them as he’d hoped. “I don’t want to alarm you, but I wouldn’t feel right if I said nothing. No matter what you hear tonight, stay home.”
Beaver pulled the cigar from his lips, slowing his pace in the rocker. “What might I hear? Just so I know if it’s somethin’ I should be checkin’ in on or not.”
“No matter what you hear, I want you to stay home. I don’t want you getting yourself caught up in my mess.”
Beaver shrugged. “If I hear somethin’ concerning, I can’t promise I won’t go checkin’ on it. I gotta protect my land. And my neighbors.”
“The best thing you can do to help me is to stay home. It’ll all make sense tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Beaver huffed. “I guess I can do that. What kind of shit you get yourself into, boy?”
“Do you remember when you told me there’s a lot of reasons a man buries his past?”
Beaver’s eyes said he did.
“Turns out I didn’t bury mine deep enough. It’s come back on me.”
“This got somethin’ to do with your family?” Beaver took a hit from his cigar before tossing it over the rail into the yard.
Ethan nodded. “I went against everything I stood for to make a deal with an evil man. I took his blood money, and when he felt I went against our deal, he killed my family. Some of my former colleagues found out, so they’re going to take the money off my hands.”
“And you’re suspectin’ you’ll put up a fight for it?”
Ethan lowered his eyes, shaking his head. “They can have the money. I just have a feeling there’s only one way things can end tonight. Whether I’m right or wrong, I don’t want you getting caught up in the mix. I already got you too involved. You’ve done more than I should’ve ever asked of you.”
“You know, good neighbors are hard to come by. I ain’t too fond of the idea of havin’ to find a new one.”
“I’ll leave the deed under my mattress, signed over to you. No one has to know whether you paid for it or not. Then you don’t have to worry about any neighbors.”
Beaver stood from his rocker, extending his hand for Ethan. “It was a pleasure knowin’ you, Ethan.”
“You too, Beaver.”
“You know, finding a new neighbor is one thing. But finding a new friend is much harder. I don’t have many friends left these days, and I’d like to think you’re one of them.”
Ethan offered one last smile to Beaver, returning the sentiment, before making his way back to his truck. He had half an hour of daylight left.
When he got back to the cabin, he drove the truck to the far end of his property near the dead maple tree. He had buried the second bag on the side of the tree facing the house. It was much easier to retrieve than the first, despite the mud, because he could use the shovel instead of his hands. Once he saw the top of the trash bag covering the duffle inside, he wrapped his hands around it. He tossed it into the back of the truck and went to the cabin just as darkness claimed the last bit of the day.
Chapter 38
Ethan paced around the cabin’s living area for nearly ninety minutes before the gentle hum of the ATV motors broke the silence outside. They were coming from the rear of his property, growing louder with each passing second. They stopped somewhere behind the cabin. He went to the counter, tucking the revolver into his front waistband and hoisting the duffle bags onto his shoulders. He went out to the front porch, cautiously descending the steps, making sure he didn’t fall. Once he rounded the house, he spotted the two ATVs, easily recognizable from the dilapidated cabin he had gone into. He expected to see John waiting. At the very least, approaching the front of the house from the ATVs, but he wasn’t there.
Ethan dropped the bags into the wet grass, calling out to John.
He wasn’t surprised when John came from the back of the cabin, trailed by Mason Sharp. Mason had lost a bit of weight since Ethan had last seen him, but his thick glasses still hung from the bridge of his nose. A black skullcap hugged his balding hairline.
“I should’ve known you were involved when you left the pictures,” Ethan said to Mason. “And I should’ve trusted my instincts with you,” he told John.
“A lot of things should’ve gone differently, Ethan. But they didn’t, so we find ourselves here.” John’s face was partially hidden in the darkness, but there was something different about him.
“An interesting time to extort me,” Ethan declared, looking down at the bags resting on either side of him. “The night of the anniversary.”
“I think it’s the perfect night,” Mason countered.
“What better night than the night you killed the woman I loved?”
Ethan’s throat locked on him. Of the many different responses he had and hadn’t expected, that response made no sense to him. Finally, he found his voice. “What?”
“Don’t play stupid, Ethan. It’s just us out here. You might’ve fooled the cops, but you’re not fooling us. This was never about the damn money. It’s always been about her,” John’s voice was almost a growl.
“And we have proof you did it,” Mason added. “As you’ve seen.”
“Who are you talking about? Who was the love of your life? Who the hell do you think I killed?”
“Stop playing games!” John screamed as he barged toward John from the shadows. His face contorted in an angry flash. “You found the letters. You knew Kristina was going to leave you for me. That’s why you killed her!”
It was as if an ice pick entered Ethan’s chest, sending cold through his veins and causing a tremble to begin in his knees. “Vargas killed my family. And she would’ve never given up on our marriage for you.” Ethan felt the gun pressing against his appendix. For a moment, he thought about pulling it to make John sorry for the baseless lies he was spewing. He could shut his mouth once and for all.
Instead, he told John Waters and Mason Sharp again, “The money is right there. In one of the bags is the account and routing number for an offshore account with the last two-and-a-half million. Take the money and leave.”
“Or what? You’ll kill us like you did your wife and daughter? Like you killed Vargas.”
Ethan shook his head, “You were with me when Vargas was killed. You know I had nothing to do with that.”
“I know you left on your own. If you could pull a gun on two kids you didn’t know, who’s to say you didn’t kill Vargas and those dealers?”
“This is insane. You accuse me of killing my own family and then Vargas. You’ve lost your mind!”
“She told me, Ethan!” John took a big step forward, getting almost close enough to grab Ethan. “She told me you found the letters, and she told you she was leaving.”
A déjà vu sensation nearly dropped him.
“We want you to turn yourself in and answer for what you did,” Mason said from behind John.
Ethan remembered the argument.
⸙
Ethan had been looking everywhere for his checkbook. The usual places all turned up nothing. He knew Kristina sometimes used the checkbook to pay bills that charged fees for online payments. She hated paying a convenience fee and, as an act of revolt, would pay with checks to make it less convenient for the company.
He went into her office, which she used as a reading room more than an office. But there was a desk with a computer in case she decided to work from home. Of course, even when she did, she usually wrapped herself in a blanket and found the spot on the couch that curved to her body.
Ethan went to the desk, pulling at the first drawer, which was where she usually kept the bills and important documents. Strangely, the drawer had been locked. She never locked anything, not even the front door half of the time. Ethan dug around the stacks of paper on the desk for the key, frustration building as he wasted time searching for something he shouldn’t have to. All he wanted was the damn checkbook, not to go on a wild goose hunt.
He finally found the key tucked behind her James Patterson section of the bookcase. Ethan huffed his way back to the desk, unlocking the top drawer, and pulling it open. He grabbed his checkbook, which rested on the top of a few folded sheets of yellow legal pad paper. As he started to close the drawer, pissed off that he had spent so much time on something so simple, his curiosity began to pull at him. Why lock the drawer at all?
He pulled the three sheets of folded papers out, opening the first one and reading it. His heart split as the words from the page processed in his mind. Someone was telling his wife how beautiful she was. How lucky they were to have her. Someone was telling her how much they cherished holding her, kissing her, and making love to her. They couldn’t wait for her to be all theirs, so they would never have to share her again. Ethan scanned down the page.
With ALL my Love,
John.
John who? The only John he knew was John Waters. His best friend since college, the best man at his wedding. So, clearly, it had to be someone he didn’t know.
“What are you doing in here?” His wife’s shaky voice pulled him from the letters. He stood from the seat, throwing them at her, but they fluttered lifelessly to the ground.
“Who is he? Who is John.”
Shame caressed her face, “I’m sorry. We didn’t want you to find out like this.”
“We who? Who the fuck is he?!”
Her eyes told him, but he needed to hear it. “John.”
“My best friend John?”
She only nodded.
“I want you out tonight,” Ethan’s voice seethed. “Get your shit and get out. I can’t believe you’d do this to me.”
“What about me?” She asked, reaching for his arm as he tried to pass her.
“You? You’re the one sneaking around on me. Don’t you dare try to turn this into my fault!”
“You’re never here, Ethan. I’ve been lonely and I ran out of excuses to tell Mary about why you’re never home.”
“So that gives you the right?”
Kristina shook her head. “I’m not saying it was right, but I felt alone. He was there.”
“Well, at least you’ll have a place to go. Now get your filthy hands off me.” He tugged his arm away.
“You should go,” she mumbled. “Mary and I will stay here. I don’t want to have to explain why we are going somewhere else. Not yet.”
Ethan saw red, which frightened him enough to bring him back. “You are not taking her. I’m the district attorney, trust me when I say you will be lucky to ever see her again. And if you think you’re getting the house, you really are out of your mind. You can stay downstairs until you find a place to go, but I want you out of our lives.”
Ethan forced himself past Kristina and then headed down the hall to Mary’s room.
The next afternoon, Ethan walked the two blocks from his office to John’s. His blood still bubbling from the confrontation with Kristina the day before. He couldn’t shake the image of Kristina and John together, their bodies pressed together in his bed. Their lips caressing the way she had promised was only for him. The crisp fall air cooled him enough during the walk he thought he could have somewhat of a conversation before he punched John. The betrayal was strong enough to nearly lock his fists in a clench.
Ethan went into the building, bypassing the front desk, and headed straight for the elevator which took him to the third floor. As if on autopilot he went to the third office on his right, barging in. He knew the door leading to the private offices would be locked, forcing him to stop by the reception desk this time. The woman behind the counter was new. She hadn’t been there when he stopped by the week before to meet John for lunch, which he had supposedly forgotten and scheduled a meeting. Now, Ethan knew, he was probably with Kristina. The woman slid a Plexiglas window open, offering a friendly and slightly seductive smile. Her blond hair had long black streaks mixed throughout, matching the dark mascara painted onto her eyelashes.
