A Stranger at the Door (A Rachel Marin Thriller) Page 27

  Ruddock eyed them both, debating whether to trust them. His breath smelled like he ate too much meat and smoked too many unfiltered cigarettes.

  “Are you cops?” Ruddock asked. “Like, undercover? I don’t see no badges on you.”

  “We’re not cops,” Rachel said. “But I assure you that we could have the cops here before you can brew a pot of coffee.”

  “But we don’t want that,” Evie said. “We just want to talk to Benjamin. We think he has information that can help save someone’s life. We don’t want to get anyone in trouble, and that’s the truth. He can do the right thing here. He’s made mistakes. Now’s his chance to make up for them.”

  “My boy . . . ,” Ruddock said, absently scratching the inside of his nose, his eyes with a faraway look. “He’s a good boy. Never gotten into any trouble.”

  “I think you might be a little off there, Dad of the Year,” Rachel said.

  “I might know where he is,” Ruddock said. “But I need you to swear there won’t be no cops coming around here once you’re done.”

  “Funny,” Evie said. “I would have expected you to ask us to swear not to hurt your son.”

  Ruddock let out a small dismissive laugh. “What, you ladies? One thing about Ruddocks—we grow ’em strong.”

  Lightning quick, Evie reached out and grabbed Timothy Ruddock’s crotch. He let out a yelp so high pitched that Rachel wondered if he’d ever considered a career in opera.

  “Tell me where he is,” Evie said, “or I twist off your manhood like cherry stems.”

  “Stop! OK!” Ruddock squealed. “He’s . . .”

  They heard a shuffling noise from inside the house. Ruddock senior’s eyes flickered. He knew they’d heard it.

  “Back door,” Evie said.

  “On it,” Rachel replied.

  Before Rachel could move, they heard a banging noise and the sound of footsteps on grass.

  “Back door! Ben is running!” Rachel shouted. “You go that way. We can flank him.”

  Both women sprinted away from the front door, Rachel around the right side of the house and Evie around the left. On Rachel’s side, a six-foot-high wooden fence separated the front of the house from the back, latched with a padlock.

  Just my luck, Rachel thought.

  She stopped, stepped back, and measured. There were no footholds. The top of the fence was formed into wooden spikes. She took a breath, put her hands in between the spikes, and pushed herself up. She managed to swing one leg over the fence, but as she was bringing the second leg over, she felt someone grab her pant leg and pull her backward.

  The top of one of the spikes raked a gash deep into her inner thigh. She felt a searing pain, immediately followed by wetness as blood began to flow. She looked down to see Timothy Ruddock, bathrobe flailing as he tried to pull her down. She gave him a solid kick to the Adam’s apple. He went down, eyes bulging, hand at his throat. Rachel threw herself over the fence before he could recover.

  She landed hard, and the world swam. Her head pounded. Her leg throbbed. It took her a moment to regain her equilibrium.

  The backyard ran parallel to Mulligan Avenue. Rachel sprinted ahead, ignoring the fire in her leg and snare drums pounding in her head.

  “Come on!” Evie shouted. She was a good twenty feet ahead. Rachel could see Benjamin Ruddock sprinting away from them. Pedestrians stopped to watch. Rachel figured it wasn’t too often they saw a teenage boy fleeing from two women. He was young. Fast. In good shape. Rachel was no slouch, but she didn’t think they could get him on foot.

  At least not if they played fair.

  “That asshole stole my phone!” Rachel shouted. “Someone stop him!”

  Ruddock kept running, but Rachel saw a woman reach out and try to grab his arm. Ruddock shrugged her off, but it slowed him down. A man stepped into Ruddock’s path, but Ruddock managed to dodge his grasp. But again, it slowed him down. Evie was maybe ten feet behind Ruddock. Rachel twice that. But they were gaining.

  Suddenly a grizzly bear of a man stepped into Ruddock’s path. He was about three hundred pounds, with a thick black beard and wearing an unzipped leather jacket with only a tight white T-shirt underneath. When Ruddock tried to evade him, the man, displaying a shocking amount of agility given his size, mirrored Ruddock’s step, grabbed hold of his shirt, and tossed him to the ground like an unpaid bill.

  Ruddock tried to get up, but the man literally took a seat on the boy’s back, pinning him to the ground.

  “You’re not goin’ anywhere until these ladies get a word with you.”

  “They’re lying!” Ruddock shouted, prone on his stomach like a trapped butterfly.

  “Oh, yeah? Then why you running?”

  Evie and Rachel jogged up to the pair. Rachel caught her breath, her leg and head pumping blood. She laughed, thinking about the doctor telling her to take it easy given her head wound. Ruddock slapped pitifully at the large man’s legs.

  “Oh, so you like to play patty-cake?” the man said, smacking Ruddock’s hand hard enough to elicit a yelp.

  “Thank you, sir,” Rachel said, between breaths. “The four-hundred-yard dash was never my strongest event.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he said. “Tyler Rodenhouse. At your service. Squirmy little bastard, ain’t he?”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Evie said. “I’m Evie. This is Rachel. We owe you.”

  “You owe me nuthin’, lady. Want me to call the cops?”

  “No thanks,” Rachel said. “He’s not worth the trouble. We just want to get this over with, get back what he stole, and get home to our kids.”

  Evie said, “I think we have it under control from here. You can let him go. Just wish I hadn’t smoked for the first time in years before this kid pulled a Dr. Richard Kimble on us.”

  Rodenhouse stood up, and Ruddock immediately leaped to his feet. He threw a punch at Evie, but Rachel was able to grab his wrist before it connected. She brought her foot down into the back of Ruddock’s knee, driving him to the ground. He went to backhand Rachel, but Evie grabbed his wrist, twisted it behind his back, and shoved his face into the dirt.

  Rodenhouse looked at the two women, eyes wide. “Uh, yeah. I’d definitely say you have it under control. Just remind me never to get on your bad side.”

  “I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Rachel said.

  “Your leg’s bleeding,” Tyler said, pointing at Rachel’s thigh. “You should get that looked at.”

  “I will,” Rachel replied. “And . . . Tyler?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks. You’re one of the good ones.”

  He smiled. “Gonna tell my wife you said that.”

  Tyler walked away, leaving Benjamin Ruddock on the ground, Rachel and Evie standing over him.

  “The hell do you want?” Ruddock said, blowing dirt as he spoke. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You nearly got me killed,” Rachel said. “And if you don’t start talking, you just might get a kid killed too.”

  “I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to you,” Ruddock said. He picked up a small pile of dirt with his free hand and flung it weakly into Evie’s shin.

  “You’re telling me when I was following you and my son, you didn’t call Bennett Brice?”

  Ruddock tried to roll over, but Evie forced him back down.

  “Sure. I called Brice,” Ruddock said. “But I never spoke to Peter. I just told Brice you were there and he needed to handle it. I didn’t know what would happen next.”

  “You mean with the Spivaks,” Evie said.

  “Look. However Brice decided to handle it, that’s on him.”

  “That’s crap,” Rachel said. “A boy—a boy—put a gun to my head. You knew exactly what would happen. And now that boy’s father is dead. You have one chance, one chance, you bulbous undergrowth, to do maybe the only good thing you’ve done in your life and tell us where to find Peter Lincecum. I know you don’t want his blood on your hands.”
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br />   Ruddock seemed to deflate. He stopped fighting. And then, he began to sob.

  “I never wanted anyone to get hurt,” he said, his voice cracking.

  “I find that very hard to believe,” Rachel said.

  “Well, it’s true!” Ruddock sat up. He looked up at the two women. The fear and shame in his eyes let Rachel know he was done. “Brice came to me three years ago. My dad had just lost his job. He couldn’t pay our mortgage. Our electricity got turned off. We were going to get evicted. He didn’t care. He just kept drinking.”

  “You want us to feel sorry for you?” Evie said.

  “I don’t care what you feel,” Ruddock said. “It’s the truth. Brice told me I had two choices: work with him and see money. Real money. Or say no and end up like my dad. He called him ‘useless.’ You know what it’s like to hear someone call your dad that and know it’s true? Brice tells me the world is screwing me over. That people like me are getting left behind. That I’m owed my share. And he’s going to help me get it.”

  “Go on,” Rachel said.

  “Brice tells me I’m smart. That I have good grades. I do, you know. That with his help I can pay my dad’s mortgage, pay for anything I want. I tell him he’s full of it. But then, he shows me.” Ruddock looked at Rachel. “In two years, I’ve made two hundred and forty thousand dollars. That’s more money than my dad has made in ten years.”

  Rachel paused, then said, “You stole the rat from the biology lab.”

  “Huh?” Ruddock said, but his hesitation gave it away.

  “What was its name? Midge. You stole Midge from Ashby High. The one that was used to torture Matthew Linklater.”

  “I didn’t know what it was going to be used for, I swear. I thought they were just going to scare him.”

  “They?” Rachel said. “I know that two people together killed Matthew Linklater. One of them did the dirty work. That was Randall Spivak. But the other had to get him to open the door. That was you. You helped kill him.”

  “No way. I swear on my life I wasn’t there. Brice found out that Mr. Linklater knew about YourLife.”

  “How did he know?” Evie asked.

  “I don’t know. I really don’t. Brice always relied on the Spivaks for the really bad stuff. OK, I stole the rat. I figured it was going to be a prank. But I wasn’t anywhere near Mr. Linklater’s home the night he died.”

  “Killed,” Rachel said. “The night he was killed.”

  “Where is Peter Lincecum?” Evie said, the patience in her voice wearing thin.

  “I don’t know,” Ruddock said. Evie twisted Ruddock’s arm behind his back, and the boy squealed.

  “Talk,” Evie said, “or you’ll spend the rest of your life with your ulna and radius bones held together by a twist tie.”

  Spittle dangled from Ruddock’s lips. “You can break my arm,” he said, “but you both know what Randall Spivak is capable of. I’m not scared of you.”

  Evie twisted Ruddock’s arm harder, and the boy screamed again. Rachel placed her hand on Evie’s wrist and gave her a look that said, That’s enough.

  “Tell me where Peter is,” Evie said. “Maybe you’re not afraid of a broken arm. But I have contacts inside Pinckneyville who would just love to know about a good-looking guy about to serve time. A guy who hurt young kids.”

  Ruddock looked at Evie, true fear now spreading across his face.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “If you think I wouldn’t,” Evie said, “then you don’t know me.”

  “OK. But I don’t know where Peter is. That’s the honest truth,” Ruddock said, snot bubbling from his nose. “But I know who does.”

  CHAPTER 45

  Rachel was about to press the buzzer when she saw them standing across the street, waiting for the light. Gabrielle and Tony Vargas were each carrying three large grocery bags, stuffed to the brim.

  Rachel’s eyes locked with Gabrielle’s. She gave a slight nod that said, We’ve been waiting for you. Gabrielle acknowledged Rachel but seemed far from happy to see her.

  When the light changed, Gabrielle and Tony crossed the street. Tony spun around in the crosswalk, heavy bags outstretched, as though trying to impress his mother with his strength.

  Tony was five eleven, with sharp cheekbones, close-cropped black hair, and a wisp of a mustache. He wore a plain black T-shirt, just tight enough that Rachel could see where it strained slightly against his shoulders and biceps. His chin had just the slightest bit of pudge, but it would melt away soon enough. Rachel could see the faded red scar on his neck, like an errant mark from a watercolor, more translucent than red. Her heart hurt for the boy. She could only imagine what the wound had done to him, inside and out.

  Tony was growing into a tall, handsome young man. He had a full life ahead of him. Gabrielle Vargas looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks. Her eyes were bloodshot, the circles underneath them dark enough to hide coal. Her hair was tangled and stringy, and her white blouse was wrinkled and worn. But whatever was weighing on her, it hadn’t affected her son.

  “Ms. Marin,” Gabrielle said as they stepped onto the sidewalk. Her voice was pleasant but suspicious. “I’m sorry, did we have a meeting?”

  “No, Ms. Vargas, I apologize for showing up like this.”

  “That’s all right,” she said, artificially perking up. “And you are?”

  “Evie. Evie Boggs.” Gabrielle shook Evie’s hand, gently.

  “She’s a friend,” Rachel said. “From back in the day.”

  Gabrielle smiled lightly. “This is my son, Antonio.”

  “Tony,” the boy said. He held out his hand. Rachel shook it, as did Evie.

  “Firm grip,” Rachel said.

  “Coach Gleeson said I have the inside track to be starting outside linebacker next year,” Tony said. He flexed his bicep. “Benched two twenty-five for six reps this week.”

  Rachel whistled but couldn’t stop staring at the scar on the boy’s neck. He noticed her looking, and his confident demeanor evaporated. He seemed to withdraw and moved closer to his mother.

  “Is that . . . blood?” Gabrielle pointed at the torn fabric on Rachel’s pants, where her leg had been gouged on the fence by Timothy Ruddock.

  “It’s been a day,” Rachel said, wearily.

  “So, ladies, why are you here?” Gabrielle said.

  “Actually, Gabrielle, we were hoping we could talk to Tony.”

  Tony’s eyes narrowed. Gabrielle’s widened.

  “Me?” he said.

  “Him?” his mother said. “What do you want with my son?”

  “I’m hoping you can help us find someone. His name is Peter Lincecum. I think you know him,” Rachel said. Her voice was sympathetic but firm.

  Tony’s face became a shield. His eyes narrowed. His cheeks sank as he muttered “Don’t know him” with such utter conviction that only a fool wouldn’t know he was lying.

  Rachel stepped forward. Tony automatically retreated. Gabrielle stepped between them.

  Rachel said, her voice calm, “We know Tony knows Peter. Peter’s life is in danger. His father was killed by someone looking to do him harm. And that person is still looking for him. I have a feeling Tony knows all this. All we want to do is find Peter before he’s hurt. Or worse.”

  Evie tried to push between Gabrielle and Tony. “Listen, kid, we—”

  Rachel put her hand on Evie’s shoulder and pulled her back. For a moment Evie resisted, then relented.

  Rachel said, “I’m willing to bet that scar on your neck was given to you by one of the Spivak brothers.”

  “You need to leave,” Gabrielle said. “My son has nothing to say to—”

  “It was Raymond Spivak,” Tony said. Gabrielle turned around. Tony’s face was ashen. Eyes wet. “They need to know the truth. For Peter’s sake.”

  “Antonio, I . . .”

  “Raymond was nice at first,” he continued. “Came around a lot when he and my mom were seeing each other. My dad had just been sent away, and I was
angry. So angry. I don’t think I saw it because I didn’t want to see it. But, Mom, he was a monster.”

  “Baby, I—”

  “Sometimes I wouldn’t load the dishwasher right. Or I’d have music playing too loud in my room. Or I’d be playing Xbox when his show was coming on. And you could see it in his eyes. That he wanted to hurt me.”

  “Raymond never touched you,” Gabrielle said softly.

  “No, but Randall did,” Tony said. He looked at the women. “I was in my room, reading. Raymond didn’t know I was there. You were at the store. I heard Raymond talking to Bennett Brice on the phone. They were talking about hurting people. Taking their money. I knew I wasn’t supposed to hear what they were saying. I was afraid to come out of my room. When you came back and opened my door, Raymond knew I’d heard it all. He left without saying a word. You thought he was mad at you. Remember? You cried all night because he didn’t come back. He never came back. And you thought it was your fault. I was too scared to tell you the truth. I’m done being too scared to tell the truth, because people keep getting hurt by it.”

  “Antonio,” Gabrielle said, her eyes welling up. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I was walking home a few days later from a pickup basketball game at the Murray courts,” Tony said, his voice catching in his throat. “Randall appeared out of nowhere and shoved me to the ground. He put a steak knife to my neck. He told me if I ever told anyone what I heard, he would tie me to a chair, cut my mom’s head off, and serve it to me on a dinner plate so I could see your dead eyes. And then he did this.” Tony drew his finger along the scar on his neck, gently, as though recalling a memory on his skin. “Just to let me know he was serious.”

  Gabrielle put her hand on Tony’s cheek.

  “That’s why there are no photos of him in your album from that time,” Rachel said. Gabrielle nodded. She turned to Tony. “And I bet that’s when you stopped writing too.”

  “Felt kind of silly writing about superheroes,” he said. “That day taught me one thing. Nobody’s coming to save you. You’re on your own. Superheroes don’t exist. It’s just me and my mom. She’s the only hero in my life.”