Code of Silence: Living a Lie Comes With a Price (35 page)

Elvis stepped forward. “Into the cooler.” He nodded toward the walk-in freezer.

Freezer. Brown’s Chicken.
No. Not there. God, help us.

“Please …” Cooper pleaded with Mr. Stein.

Stein looked away like there was nothing he could do. Elvis was clearly King.

Elvis took a step closer. “Get inside and sit tight. We need to explain to Mr. Lucky how he’s going to tie up some loose ends.”

“We’ll keep our mouths shut.” Lunk looked at Cooper. “Right?”

Cooper nodded.

“Like you planned when you came here tonight?” Elvis snickered. “Move.” He raised the gun.

We’re the loose ends.
Cooper pulled the heavy latch and swung open the insulated metal door. A blast of frigid air met his swollen face. A single light bulb illuminated the small room. Dozens of boxes filled the metal racks lining both sides of the freezer. He stepped inside with Lunk right behind him.
Please, God. Please, God.
He hiked his shoulders up, cringing at the thought of a bullet ripping through him at any moment.

The door slammed behind them like a vault. Or maybe a crypt.

“I thought they were going to shoot us,” Lunk said over the noise of the high-powered fan whirring inside. “Think they’ll leave us here to freeze?”

Cooper shook his head. In his gut he knew Elvis wasn’t going to leave anything to chance. Not this time. “They’ll make sure we’re dead before they leave. He’s going to make Mr. Stein do it.” He feared the door might swing open at any moment. He and Lunk would face a firing squad.

Lunk nodded, eyes wide—like he knew. These guys weren’t about to leave any witnesses around to identify them. He looked around the freezer and pointed at the ceiling. “What about crawling out the vent?”

The duct was big enough, and they could stack boxes to make a stairway up, but the vent cover was a problem. About twenty screws held it in place. “We’d need a screwdriver. Got a pocketknife?”

Lunk shook his head. He climbed up the rack and pulled on the vent cover. It didn’t budge. Jumping back to the floor he stood there, wrapping his arms around himself against the cold.

Even if they had the tools, Cooper doubted they’d have time. He dropped to his knees. “God, forgive me, I’ve been wrong about everything. Save us. Show me what to do. Keep Hiro and Gordy safe. And Frank.”

“You praying?” Lunk squatted down beside him.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Cooper stood, scanning the freezer, but kept an eye on the door. An emergency handle and latch assembly provided a sure escape for someone accidentally stuck inside, but they had the opposite problem. How to keep the robbers outside from getting in? He looked at the handle and back at the metal racks. An idea flashed through his mind.

“Thank you, God.” Instantly he unbuckled his belt and whipped it through the loops on his pants. “We need to be sure they can’t open the door.”

Cooper threaded his leather belt through the door handle, wrapped it several times around the one of the metal uprights for the shelves, and buckled it.

Lunk pulled on the belt to test it. “That’ll slow them down.” He took off his belt and did the same, testing it with a hard pull. It held fast. His breath chugged out in little white puffs of steam. “This metal door.” He looked at Cooper. “Think a bullet could get through?”

The door was thick, but probably filled with insulation, not solid metal. Cooper looked around. Boxes and boxes of frozen hotdogs, beef, and buns were neatly stacked on the racks. He lugged a box of hotdogs off the shelf.

“Let’s stack ‘em in front of the door. Make a shield.”

Lunk and Cooper stacked boxes like madmen.

When the wall of cartons reached waist high Cooper stopped and dug in his back pocket.
The phone.
He pulled it out and held it for Lunk to see.

“You have
two
phones?”

“I’ll call for help.” He turned on the power button and waited for the phone to come to life.
C’mon, c’mon.

“You call.” Lunk reached for another box and hefted it onto their growing shield. “I’ll stack.”

Cooper pushed the SEND button, redialing the last number he’d called. He held it to his ear with a shaking hand.
Please, God. Please, God.

On the third ring someone picked up.

“Hammer.”

“It’s me—! I need help!”

“Golden boy?”

“Yeah—Cooper MacKinnon—I messed up.”

“Where are you?” His voice was tough. All business.

“Locked in the freezer at Frank ‘n Stein’s. They’re going to kill us.”

“Hold on, buddy. I’m on my way.”

Lunk slid a box in place. The wall stood nearly to his chest.

Cooper pocketed the phone, grabbed a box, and started another row along the bottom to make the wall double thick.

Someone tried to pull the door open, then pounded on it.

Both boys stopped.

“Open the door. Now!” The voice was muffled, but not enough to miss the rage in it.

Someone yanked on the door again. The belts held.

“Last chance, boys. We just want to talk.”

Cooper eyed the belts. “God please don’t let them get in here.”

“Get down,” Lunk hissed. He dropped flat on the ground.

Cooper pressed himself against the icy floor next to him.

And the men opened fire.

G
unshots thundered from outside the insulated room. Bullets ripped through the door and slammed into the boxes. Others thudded high into the wall on the opposite side of the freezer. It sounded more like Fourth of July than Halloween.

Cooper felt the makeshift wall of boxes shudder every time a bullet lodged in it. He hugged the ground, wishing he could burrow through it to safety. He heard himself screaming.

Lunk tucked himself in a ball next to him, screaming as loud as the gunfire itself.

The gunfire stopped. And so did Cooper.

Lunk’s screams morphed into sobs and moans.

Cooper kept his head low but spoke directly into Lunk’s ear. “Follow my lead.” Lunk looked at him with wild eyes. He blinked once, then nodded.

Blam! Blam! Blam! Bullets slammed into the wall of boxes.

Cooper kept his eyes locked on Lunk’s. “Scream.”

Cooper shrieked and hollered while Lunk did the same.

Gunshots came faster now like two guns were blazing.

Cooper drew one finger across his throat and put his hand over Lunk’s mouth.

Lunk seemed to understand. He clenched his teeth like he was determined not to let out a sound.

“No!” Cooper howled, rolling onto his back. “You killed him. I won’t talk. Please, stop!”

Three more shots.

Cooper stopped abruptly. Lunk watched him wide-eyed.

Two more bullets hammered the back wall. Cooper kept his mouth shut.

Pieces of insulation, scraps of cardboard and smoke filled the air. Cooper’s body tensed, bracing for another round, but nothing came. Were they reloading? Did they leave?

Somebody pulled on the door again. The belts did their job.

Cooper put one finger to his lips. Lunk nodded.

“One more clip.”

It sounded like Elvis, but Cooper couldn’t be sure.

The room exploded in gunfire. The second shot took out the light bulb, covering them with darkness and shards of glass. The blackness brought its own terror, and a strange sense of protection at the same time. Bullets slammed into the boxes or the back wall.

Eight shots. Maybe nine. Cooper lost count, but his ears rang with the echos of them. Then silence. The kind of silence when you just know something is about to jump out at you.

Icy fingers reached up from the floor and gripped his gut.
So this is what it feels like to be in the county morgue.

Light from the holes in the door cast eerie beams against the back wall. Frosty, smoke-like swirls twisted and turned in the beams like they were squirming in the agony of death.

Are they gone?
The question looped in his brain.
Or are they waiting outside the door—listening just like me.

Cooper started shivering. He felt Lunk’s hand on his shoulder, pressing hard. Trying to let him know he was alive or trying to keep him still—he couldn’t tell.
Don’t worry, Lunk, I’m not going anywhere.
Try leaving now and they’d probably get shot. Wait for
help, and they may freeze to death. Maybe he’d been shot and was dead already.

He thought he heard more gunfire. Distant though. Definitely not inside. And maybe they weren’t even gunshots at all.

Cooper didn’t close his eyes, but he prayed. Thanked God they’d made it this far. Prayed the men were gone. Promised God for the umpteenth time that he’d never lie again.

“Th-think they’re g-gone?” Lunk whispered.

“I h-hope s-so.” Cooper’s teeth chattered.

“You p-prayin’?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t stop.”

The beams shining through the bullet holes broke for a moment. Somebody passed by the door.

Lunk gripped his shoulder tighter. He’d obviously seen it too.

Somebody pulled on the door again. Like the sickos wanted to see the bodies.

Suddenly his phone rang. Both boys jumped like someone had given them a jolt from a pair of defibrillator paddles—but they kept their mouths shut.

It had to be Hammer. He was the only one who had the number.
Where was he?
If Cooper answered the phone, Elvis and Mr. Clown would know he was still alive and they’d try to finish the job. Clenching his jaw tight, Cooper laid absolutely still and let the phone ring.

G
ordy rode hard and didn’t let up. Even with the wind roaring in his ears he heard faint pops in the distance. Like fireworks.
Or gunfire.
His stomach twisted and he swallowed back an urge to heave.

By the time he entered Kimball Hill Park, the Halloween night sky glowed with flashing red lights from the direction of Frank ‘n Stein’s. It looked like the world was on fire. His world was.

He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Hiro was still behind him. He’d put real distance between them, but she was flying, too. No way could he slow down to let her catch up, though.

Gordy’s legs burned, and a cramp tortured his side. But he didn’t let up. He was getting what he deserved. He shouldn’t have left Cooper. Should’ve followed his gut and stuck with him. If anything happened to him he’d never forgive himself. Never.

He sailed over the arched footbridge and nearly got air as he reached the top, then cut a hard left to pick up the bike path heading toward Kirchoff Road. Standing on the pedals to get maximum speed, he got a better view of Frank’s. Police cars were angled all over the lot. Not neatly parked in parking slots, but like they pulled in, slammed on the brakes, and left the car wherever it stopped.

Coop got in over his head this time. He went swimming in the deep end of the pool.
And I wasn’t there to help.

An ambulance roared down Kirchoff road and squealed into the lot, siren blaring. A fire truck rumbled behind it. Gordy sliced down the path under the road along Salt Creek. Something shiny stuck above the surface, reflecting red lights from the police cars. Handlebars.

Coop’s bike.
Dumped in the creek. The water stood deathly still like the bike had been there for some time.

God, please don’t let Coop be in there! Don’t let it be too late.
He scanned the surface for a floating body or a telltale sign of a struggle on the bank. Nothing. He gave the creek one more look, just to be sure. The water looked black.

Forcing himself to look away, he wheeled up to Frank ‘n Stein’s and skidded to a halt. He dropped his bike on the grass and pushed his way through the gathering crowd. Only when he pressed against the yellow crime scene tape did he stop.

Most of the lot was taped off in a zigzag pattern from post to car or tree. Police patrolled the perimeter, making sure nobody tried to press closer. A half-dozen officers stood around one of the squad cars off to the side. Spectators gathered on balconies of the nearby apartments.

Gordy drove a fist in his cramped side and motioned to the closest officer. “My cousin is in there.”

The man held up both hands warning him to stay back. “We’re still securing the area.” He parked himself in a position where he’d instantly see if Gordy ducked under the tape and tried to make a run for it.

“Securing the area?” Gordy choked out the words. “What does
that
mean?”

“Nothing good.”

Hiro’s voice. He’d forgotten about her for a minute, but somehow she found him. Sweat trickled down from her forehead. Tears flowed from the corners of her eyes.

“Why are so many cops here in the lot, then?” Gordy felt helpless. “Why don’t they go in and help?”

“A small team went in a few minutes ago.” A stranger next to Gordy pointed toward Frank’s. “The others probably have to wait until it’s safe to go in.”

Safe? Coop, what did you get yourself into?
He looked at Hiro. Normally any kind of police activity would have her mesmerized. But now she looked small. Weak. Biting her lower lip and rubbing the police star necklace.

The policeman’s radio squawked out a message. Gordy couldn’t catch what was said.

Hiro obviously got it. “It’s secure. They need paramedics.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Not Coop, God.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.” Please, Father, not Coop, too.”

Two paramedics hustled toward the building carrying some sort of medical bags. Two others rushed behind guiding a wheeled gurney.

Gordy wanted to follow them. Help somehow. Do
something.
He lifted the tape, but the cop eyed him until he lowered it again. He had no idea how Hiro’s intuition thing worked. All he knew was that he had a really strong sense of dread that Coop’s plan had gone terribly wrong … and he hoped he wasn’t right.

But he wasn’t the one with the spooky ability. That was Hiro’s department.

“What are you thinking,” he asked.

She didn’t answer, but shook her head and buried her face in her hands.

Gordy’s stomach sunk. She didn’t need to say a word. Her face said it all.