Part 7 (1/2)
”Agreed.”
Brock drove fifteen miles over the speed limit to reach the next house or business. They kept encountering wooded bends. He kept reminding himself the sign said it was twenty miles until they reached Blue Hills. Hannah was about to complain about how long they had been driving when the next turn directed them to a paved road, and up that road, the woods cleared. Soon, they parked at a business called ”Conquer the Mountains.” It was a one-story retail store that sold hiking expeditions into the local Appalachian mountains with guided tours and access to rental supplies. Brock was grateful the front was packed with cars. That meant people were here.
He parked in the open spot closest to the sign showing a cartoon climber hiking up a steep incline. They got out of the car. Brock opened the business door for her. Inside, shelves of mountain packs, tents, souvenirs, and both cash registers were ransacked. The place looked to have been robbed.
”Oh my G.o.d, what happened here?” Hannah winced when she found the phone near the register had been smashed into too many pieces to be of use. ”G.o.d, the phone.”
”It looks like this place suffered a riot.”
”You'd be right.” A fl.u.s.tered man in his early thirties approached them from the back room. His hair was slicked back, s.h.i.+ning in the light with a gelled sheen. The rest of him was dressed as a mountain climber, wearing a blue and yellow windbreaker and pants. He seemed to be in muscular shape, though his color was sallow in the face and he was despairing in the eyes. ”Somebody knocked over my registers, stole my merchandise, and then they decided to bust up my displays. You'll have to excuse me, this just happened. I'm a bit fl.u.s.tered.”
”We understand,” Brock said, stepping closer to him and shaking the man's hand. ”We just had a man from the road wave a gun at us. He was an older gentleman.”
”That's got to be Ned Barnes.” He accepted Brock's handshake. ”I'm Michael Sands, by the way.”
”How did you know who the man was?” Hannah neglected to introduce herself. ”Was he the one who robbed you?”
Michael paced the store, checking the corners, righting up displays, trying to piece them back together so he could restock the mountain packs, clothing, and apparel that was strewn on the floor. After stressing over his merchandise, he addressed Hannah's questions.
”No, that old fart couldn't unlock a door, never mind rob me. He's probably drunk. And did he flash a gun at you? It's empty. It's his way of getting tourists and strangers to listen to him. It's all for attention. He's thrown in jail every other night. If his grandson wasn't the sheriff, that a.s.shole would be facing serious jail time. Small towns, go figure.” He eyed the dinged up metal shelving units with disdain. ”They took baseball bats to my shelves. Why didn't they just burn it down while they were at it?”
Brock understood the man was distressed, but he couldn't take the chance the old man did have a loaded gun and would harm or scare someone else. ”Listen, do you have a working phone?”
An apology spread on the man's face. ”You probably want to talk to the police. I'm sorry, why didn't I think of that? Yes, we have a phone, but let me call him. I know the sheriff pretty well. My dad and him are good buddies. I can clear this up real fast so you folks can be on your way.”
”That would be great.” Hannah stepped closer to Brock, holding his arm. ”Thanks for your help, Michael. And I'm really sorry about your store.”
Brock watched him for a moment, and then Michael made to step to the back room when he snapped his fingers as if he just remembered something. ”Hey, I forgot, my only working phone is a pay phone. During the heist, whoever cleaned me out even took all of my quarters. It costs fifty cents to make a call. I hope you have some change.”
Hannah dug into her purse and handed him the coins. The man's face lit up as he accepted the coins. Michael hurried into the back with quick steps. After a long moment of silence, Brock turned it over in his head. ”Can't you call the police for free?”
She thought on it. ”Yeah, you can.”
”Maybe he forgot. It looks like he's having a really bad day.”
”I would be too if my business was robbed.”
”Or if an old man aimed an empty gun at me.”
”No kidding.”
Brock remembered staring at the GPS screen before spotting the old man. They were less than ten miles from The Piedmont Inn. At least he would have a story to tell Angel to break the ice, he thought, instead of jumping right into drug addiction and how terrible of a brother he'd been.
Thinking aloud, ”I'm still nervous about Angel.”
”I bet you are. Once we get this out of the way, we'll drive out to her. Do you have the phone number of the place she's staying?”
”When what's his face comes back, we'll ask him if we can make another call. I wonder why Angel's here in this town. Maybe an old friend lives here, but I hope, I hope, she isn't shacked up with some drug dealer on the run. Why else would she be so far away and in the middle of nowhere?”
”You can't say, so don't. We don't know anything yet.”
That's when they heard a sharp clap and then the turn of a lock. The place was silent, suddenly no cheesy store music.
”What was that?” Brock took quick strides to the back area. Hannah stayed right behind him, clutching his s.h.i.+rt, as they moved pa.s.sed the boys and girls restrooms to a set of double doors. ”Hey, Michael? Are you back there?”
”Brock, he said there was a payphone. So where the h.e.l.l is it?”
”Maybe it's in back.”
”n.o.body keeps a payphone in their stockroom.”
”Let's just check out the back room and find out what's going on. We don't jump to anymore conclusions until then, okay?”
She whispered it, ”Deal.”
”Michael,” Brock called out again, more insistent this time. ”Where are you, buddy? Mike, you there? Come on.”
Throwing open the doors, the back room was a small access with shelves of back stock and an emergency exit. No other rooms, Brock deduced. ”It's obvious what happened. The man took off.”
”Why would he do that?”
”Maybe he wasn't the store owner.”
”But why would he make up that story about being robbed and then asking for change for the payphone.”
Brock's words sharpened. ”I don't know, but we should leave.”
He opened the emergency exit door and grabbed Hannah's arm, and they both left the building. The moment they entered Blue Hills, the events kept getting stranger.
Brock took the lead. ”Stay quiet, I'm going to take a look out front to make sure all's clear.”
Hannah forced him back by his coat. ”You're not going without me.”
Brock kept his eyes on the edge of the wall. ”I'm just going to stick my head out and take a glance. That's all. I promise. Just stay here. I'll be two feet from you. You keep your eyes glued.”
Though the store was in a clearing, they were a sprint's distance away from the woods. It would be a quick way to hide if anything weird happened.
Brock leaned forward, pivoted his body so only part of his head would stick out, and he spied the huddle of people around their car. Two were men, each of the guys working a coat hanger down into the window. A woman was watching the road with a double barreled shotgun in her hand and a scowl that would deter any pa.s.serby from stopping the obvious crime from happening. Each of them were dirty and ragged as if they'd been hiding in the woods. One had popped open the pa.s.senger side door, and all three of them began frantically rooting through the glove compartment, under the seats, and another popped open the trunk and checked out the goods.
”What do you see?” Hannah asked. ”I hear something going on out there.”
Brock kept watching them and noticed a fourth woman. She was approaching the storefront with a large rifle in her hands.
”s.h.i.+t, this isn't good,” Brock whispered, trying to figure out what they should do next. Their phones didn't work. Michael had run off and left them behind. They still had a mile or two before they reached any lodgings or the public. ”I think we should run, and I mean right now.”
Hannah was about to speak up, but he clamped his hands over her mouth, stole her arm, and they took off running to the nearest group of trees. Brock wanted to tell her there was no time to explain, but watching the woman strut up to the building with the gun in her arms and the bad intentions on her face, he knew better than to ignore his better judgment. After running far enough, they hid behind a group of chestnut trees. They hunched down on their knees and Brock pointed at the building.
”They're coming. We needed to run. They're armed.”