Jamie Garrett - Riley Reid 01 - Jesters and Junkies (4 page)

I had decided to follow Marty, the drug dealer, the next night. Reason dictated that he’d have to meet up with whoever supplied him with the heroin. My hope was that since it was a Sunday, he’d sold most of what he had and needed to resupply.

Richard had taught me how to tail people. He didn’t do so on purpose. On more than one night, I joined him in his car when I was younger. This was allowed upon my relentless insistence. I was a very willful teenager and refused to give up when I wanted something.

From what I remembered, it was important to keep your distance. As long as your target doesn’t know they’re being followed, they wouldn’t try to lose you. You didn’t have to worry about them driving away too fast. You didn’t have to worry about losing them. That was especially true in such a small town. There were no nearby highways for him to take.

Before I could tail Marty, I had to find him. I knew Tim & Terry’s closed at three in the morning. Little did I know I’d have to wait until then before Marty would leave. To pass the time, I chatted with Lisa on the phone.

I was parked in the abandoned train station parking lot, which also served as parking for Tim & Terry’s. There I could clearly see the front door of the bar. Anyone who went in or out couldn’t escape me spotting them. Plus, if Marty wanted to go to his car (if he had one), I’d know.

The digital clock in my car read 2:53 a.m. It was hard to keep my eyes open. Each lid felt heavy. No amount of caffeine could keep me awake. And for a couple of minutes I fell asleep.

“Riley? Riley!? You still there?” Lisa was practically screaming into the phone. It woke me back up.

“Yeah … I’m here,” I said trying my best to sound fully awake and alert.

“So what do you think?” asked Lisa.

“About what?”

“Weren’t you listening? I was thinking about quitting.”

I looked at the clock. It was 3:01. Marty emerged from the dive bar. He was with a woman dressed in a skin tight animal print skirt, a tank top and high heels.  “Yeah. No, I think that’s a horrible idea. I gotta go.”

I hung up on Lisa and put my hand on the car keys, which were already in the ignition. With my focused attention, I watched Marty and the woman with him stumble to his old Nissan. It was one of those cars that had tail lights that were part of long rectangle that spanned the length of the car’s rear. Apparently, business wasn’t that great for the would-be Casanova.

When tailing someone, you had to keep your distance. I kept that in mind as every urge was to immediately start following Marty as he pulled out of the train station parking lot. It wasn’t until he was almost a block away that I started my car.

I kept the red rectangles of his brake lights in the distance. We both left downtown. Where he was going, I did not know. The possibility that he’d make some stops to make some sales didn’t occur to me. It made my task a little trickier.

The first stop he made was about five minutes from the bar. It was at a modest ranch home. Marty got out. He looked around to make sure the coast was clear. It was a good thing I turned my engine and lights off.

Marty was only inside the ranch house for a handful of minutes. He came back out and got in his car. I followed him to another house where the same scene repeated itself. That happened three more times before he started to head out of Stone Harbor.

I trailed Marty’s car as he took dark, twisting roads, flanked by thick woods on both sides. Several times, I lost sight of him. Every little dirt path or driveway made me second-guess whether or not he got off.

Once again, I lost track of Marty’s car. But I spotted something eerily familiar to me above the tree line. It was the top of a building with a gigantic hole in it. I’d seen the building before. I saw it in my dream. That was enough for me.

With a screech, I dug my foot into the brake pedal. My car came to a violent halt. I shifted into reverse, then proceeded to make a u-turn. Mindful of my speed, I looked for a road that led to the building with a hole in it.

The gravel covered driveway that led up to where the building was couldn’t have been much more than a car width wide. I almost missed it. As soon as I started to turn my wheel, I turned off the headlights. Even inside, I could hear the gravel make that crunching noise as I drove over it. That wouldn’t do.

I stopped only a couple of feet into the gravel driveway. Before getting out to get a better look, I texted Lisa to let her know where I was. One can never be too careful. In front of me were very dark woods and what I assumed were drug dealers.

Every step I took was soft and deliberate. I had to make sure I wasn’t heard. Yes, I had my gun on me but no desire to have to use it. The strong smell of a waterfront was delivered via cool breezes. Sounds, including boats softly hitting a dock and gentle waves, could be heard through the bugs’ buzzing. 

The trees started to thin out. What was at the end of the driveway came into view. It was an abandoned marina. Just a couple of nights before, I’d visited the same place while dreaming. There was one big, dilapidated building with a hole in the side and part of the roof. I could see the silhouettes of long-forgotten vessels. Their masts reached up into the night sky, sailless.

And parked in front of the sole building were three cars, one of them Marty’s. Another one of the cars was a sedan of some sort. It was the third car that stood out. In fact it wasn’t a car at all. It was a van with a sun printed on the side. Under that sun were the words, “Fresh Horizons”.

I took out my revolver. Before moving on, I opened it up and double checked that it was loaded. When I snapped it shut the sound made me wince. Hopefully, no one heard that. So far, so good. I had to move closer.

My heart raced as I rushed across the open parking area in front of the building. If anyone was around, I was exposed and in full view. Noise be damned; I ran.

When I reached the building, I pressed up against the side. I stayed there until I could catch my breath. Once I was ready, I started to search for a hole or crack to spy through.

It didn’t take me very long to find an opening in the side of the marina building. Inside, it was dark, but I could see several people inside.  Marty, whom I recognized from his skinny shape, was smoking an e-cigarette and talking with another man draped in shadow. They were talking low, making it nearly impossible to hear a word they were saying. I paid no mind to the third man who left out the back door.

As the drug dealers talked inside, I took out my phone. After going through the settings and turning off the flash and noise on my cell camera, I prepared to take a shot. A couple of photos later I blindly felt around for a pocket to put my smart phone away. Of course, I dropped it.

I bent over to pick up my cell phone. It was in some dirt and debris, so I wiped it off before standing back up. Before I knew it, I felt a prick in my neck. The only thing I could compare it to at the time was a bee sting. Today, I can tell you it felt like a needle. That was due to the fact that it was.

Turns out third man from the marina building detected my presence. Alarm bells should have gone off as I watched him leave out the back. Seconds after getting a syringe to my neck, I started to feel a little funny.

As I stumbled backwards, the man who had injected me was in clear view. I couldn’t quite make out his face, with the exception of his long brown beard. But he was big man. He grabbed my arm and shook the gun out of my hand. Even if I wasn’t drugged, he was too strong for me.

The whole world slowed down around me. Any little light left a trail. Both of my pupils were dilated into the size of dimes. I was high, very, very high. What was running through my bloodstream at the time is still a mystery. But it made me a less than effective investigator.

“Get the boss man outta here. He don’t need to be around for this. I’ll take care of her,” I recognized the voice. Even though it was a little distorted, I heard Marty.

“You sure?” asked the big bearded man who drugged me.

Marty came into view. His limbs looked as if there were no bones inside. They were loose and a little wavy. He was smiling and pointing at me. “Look at her, man. The bitch can barely stand. She’s not going to be a problem.”

I tried to hit Marty as he approached me. Instead of the punches I intended to throw, I just swiped at him wildly. My legs got tangled up and I fell to the ground. Small pebbles and pieces of gravel slipped under the skin of my palm. It hurt, but not as much as being lifted up by my hair. Marty stood me up with his hand full of my scalp.

“Do I know you? You look real familiar, girl. You were at Tim & Terry’s last night, weren’t you? Yeah you were the junkie tease, right? You look different but I’d recognize these anywhere.” Marty reached for my chest. I swiped. That time I managed to hit his hands away.

Marty laughed. “Still got some fight in you, huh?” I saw the Fresh Horizons van and the sedan back up out of the marina parking lot. “Let’s see what I can do to change that.”

I tried to flee. It was the only plan I could come up with, but my legs didn’t want to cooperate. Every few steps I stumbled. The world around me was rocking back and forth like the boats that I was quickly approaching. At one point I threw up, which earned some cackles from Marty.

“Careful, girl. You don’t want to fall in, do you?” Marty was mocking me. But he was also warning me. I didn’t believe him, though, and kept going. He produced a gun and pointed it at me. So I picked up my pace.

Suddenly the solid ground beneath my feet wasn’t there anymore. I found myself falling. And even more disturbing, I didn’t care. Just as long as the nightmare was over with, I’d go with it. Then the cold shock of the Rappahannock River hit me.

I sank like my pockets were filled with cement. The water was ice cold and murky. All I saw was blackness around me. Any air I had in my lungs was quickly being depleted. I was convinced that it was the end.

Warm and bright sun rays hit my face. It was nice. My eyes slowly opened. And, much to my surprise, heaven looked like my bedroom.

No, it wasn’t heaven. I wasn’t dead. But how did I manage to avoid drowning.

“You awake?” I’d never been so happy to hear Lisa. She calmly walked in with a cup of coffee in both hands. Once of them was handed to me after I sat up in bed.

“What happened?” I asked. All I could remember was following Marty and ending up at an abandoned marina. And the van, I remembered the van. I remembered the Fresh Horizons logo across the side.

“You sent me some text about you following that sleazy drug dealer to some docks on the Rappahannock. I figured you were in over your head, as usual. So I went there. And I found you clutching onto a piece of driftwood talking complete nonsense. Naturally, being the amazing friend that I am, I pulled you out.” Lisa sat down on the edge of the bed next to me.

“Was there anyone else there?” I pictured the distorted face of Marty laughing at me.

“Not that I saw. To be honest, though, I was too busy saving you.” Lisa gave me that judgmental look that both reminded me of my mom and Molly Greyson. It was that look that no matter how old you are, it makes you feel you’re ten years old.

“Right… thank you for that by the way.” I put my coffee on my nightstand.

“You’re welcome.” Lisa took a sip of her overly-sweetened Joe.

“How long was I out?”

Lisa took out her phone and looked at the time. “Well, it’s about three so… about ten hours.”

Ten hours! I pulled off my sheets and attempted to get out of bed. Lisa put a stop to that pretty quickly. She made me agree to take it easy for the rest of the day and to go to the doctor the next. Every part of me wanted to get out there and follow up on the Fresh Horizons lead, but Lisa could be pretty terrifying at times.

When I checked the time, it was half past eleven p.m. After Lisa left, I just vegged out in front of my TV. I watched the trash they pass off as entertainment these days then went to my laptop.

I brought up my browser page. Without even thinking, my fingers spelled out F-r-e-s-h-H-o-r-i-z-o-n-s. The first thing that came up was the rehab facility’s home page, so I clicked on that.

Elevator music played on the home page as I browsed. It was a decent website, clearly professionally done. There was contact info, a directory of services offered and even a virtual tour. Lastly, I watched the section that said “Testimonials”.

A video of a young woman came up. It seemed as though she was an actor and not an actual patient like it said on the bottom of the screen. She went on to talk about how Fresh Horizons helped her kick a meth addiction. Another video had a guy talking about his alcoholism. There was an endless supply of sappy stories of perseverance.

The last video that came up caught me by surprise. It was a handsome young blond-haired man with brown eyes. On the bottom of the screen was his name. It read, “Dennis Clark.”

“I was at the lowest point of my life. Heroin and pills ruined everything for me. I got expelled from school. My parents kicked me out. All I had left were the drugs. Then I came to Fresh Horizons, and everything changed for me. I realized that there was more to life than partying. I realized there was something out there worth living for. If any of this sounds familiar, do yourself a favor and come to Fresh Horizons. I promise you won’t regret it.”

There was something sad about seeing Dennis talk and hearing his voice. It was sad because I knew that video was the only time anyone could hear him ever again. Never again would he express a new thought.

I watched the video of Dennis again. Then I played it for a third time. It was on that third viewing that I noticed something strange about him in his video testimonial. When he got to the part where he said, “…do yourself a favor and come to Fresh Horizons. I promise you won’t regret it,” his facial expression changed.

The change on Dennis face was slight, but I caught it. It was his eyes. There was guilt. Why would he feel guilty about recommending Fresh Horizons?

When I was done with the Fresh Horizons website, I wasn’t at all tired. I decided to turn to what had become my favorite pastime, looking for any sign of my parents. Considering I had pretty bad computer skills, I couldn’t break into any state or federal records so my means of finding said information were limited. All I could think of was my dad’s car.

Eleven years after I saw the Trans Am, I still remembered it clearly. I remembered the golden firebird on the hood. I remembered the glossy black paint job. I even remembered the smell of the leather seats.

I searched any website I could think of that cars were sold on. The idea was that maybe my dad was still alive and just now selling his prized car. Perhaps I’d find a posting for a black, 1978 Pontiac Trans Am for sale by a user named Troy R. As you might’ve guessed, I had no luck. Discouraged, I closed my laptop and climbed into bed. With so much on my mind, it wasn’t easy to fall asleep. Thoughts of my case and parents kept me awake longer than I wanted to be. An hour later, I finally managed some shut eye.