Ridley Pearson - Killer Summer

Sumner pursed his lips until bloodless white and nodded solemnly.

“Mastermind,” Stratum said.

She then waited for some kind of response.

“That was it,” she finally said. “The one word he wanted me to say. Mastermind. ”

Sumner was flash-frozen by what he heard. Then his lips twisted and a wave of relief seemed to melt his agonized expression.

“I…” he started, then trailed off. “The point is… No one knows what it’s like…”

His eyes flashed at the camera angrily. He was addressing it, not Stratum.

“Trying to hold this together without her mother, trying to reinvent the wheel and get something going… In this economy, no less. Are you kidding me?”

Stratum said nothing.

“But, here we are, right?” he continued. “I want to help her. If I don’t do something now and it’s later determined that if I had… If it gives the sheriff an advantage…”

“It comes down to money, right?” he continued. “Love and money. How fragile it all is, how quickly it all changes. All you ever want to do is protect her, take care of her, keep her out of trouble. Steer her away from the things that are only going to make it harder and push her toward the things that make it easier… college, good friends. Build her a solid foundation to stand on. Am I right?”

He jerked back in his chair so abruptly that he went out of frame of the camera. Fiona widened the shot, noticing in the process that her finger was trembling.

“Mastermind,” Stratum repeated.

He looked up at Stratum, up at the camera, and winced.

“They say I’m a one-hit wonder, did you know that? You know what it’s like to hear that said about yourself?”

He closed his eyes slowly, shook his head, opened them, managed another smug grin.

“To stay in the game…” he continued. “There’s a level of play that I don’t expect you to understand, but it’s critical if you’re going to see the A scripts, if you’re going to have a chance at the big projects.” He leaned forward across the table, the camera laboring to keep him in focus. “A bridge loan, that’s all.” He was shouting by now. “ ‘ Nothing to it!’ he said.” Sumner snorted. “Nothing to it…”

He exhaled and looked around the room anxiously. “He’s a clever man, your sheriff.”

“He’s a keeper,” Stratum said.

Sumner put his hands behind his head and stretched. His neck made a popping sound. It wasn’t fear in his eyes but anger, a man pitting himself against the world. Fiona cowered into the corner.

“Okay,” he said. “Pay attention.”

Again, he was addressing the camera directly.

Fiona pushed herself farther into the corner, her back flat against the cool wall.

“I first met Christopher Cantell when we were developing the script for Mastermind. He was brought in as a paid consultant.”

Fiona threw her head back and it hit the wall with a thud. Sumner’s eyes ticked in her direction but only briefly. He looked back into the calm, unresponsive face of Deputy Gloria Stratum and said, “Ransoming the Lear… That was my idea.”

As the sky passed from faintly maroon to sapphire, the forest interior remained dark as night. Kevin and John were being led down the log steps to the airstrip and river beyond. Kevin had never known such darkness, his heart heavy with regret, his limbs jangled with frustration. He and the cowboy walked along in silence, the rush of the river constant and growing louder like ringing in his ears.

He assumed the plan was to lock the two of them in the Learjet. He didn’t know what they had in mind for Summer, but just the thought of that made him angry at the cowboy. They should have put up more of a fight than they had.

They reached the flat, graveled plain of the riverbed. Kevin spotted the pilot on the riverbank with a raft and some gear. As they walked closer, he could see it was an established put-in.

Upstream and down, towering cliffs formed a gorge through which the river churned, opening only briefly here at the ranch. Kevin saw it for what it was without an explanation from John, whose body language was becoming increasingly agitated.

“You’d better provision us well,” John said. “The first take-out is four days downriver.”

“We’re well aware of that,” said the pilot. He was holding John’s handgun.

“And a snakebite kit and a water filter-”

“Enough! You’ll have what we give you. Be happy we’re not leaving you tied up here to starve. That option was seriously considered.”

“Without sunblock and a tarp, what you’re offering will be worse than starving-”

“I said shut up.”

The two hijackers exchanged a look that, even in the dark, Kevin understood.

“They don’t care,” Kevin said. “They just want us out of here. They’d rather the river kill us. That way, maybe it won’t be called murder.”

“Shut your trap.”

“Y’all plan to scale the face of ol’ Shady,” the cowboy said. “I saw the climbing gear all laid out.”

“None of your business,” the copilot said.

“Taking the girl?” the cowboy said.

“You’re not getting the point,” the copilot snarled.

He struck with lightning-quick speed, a single blow with the gun to the back of the cowboy’s head. He was shorter than the cowboy, and the blow connected just above the neck.

The cowboy lurched forward but remained conscious and retained his balance.

“What I was trying to tell you,” the cowboy struggled to say, “is that you want to take the north route if you’re going with the girl.” He caught a breath. “There are two routes up that face, and although the south route appears easier from the ground it’s far more difficult at the top. The girl won’t make it unless she’s an experienced climber. In fact, none of you would. And watch out for the hawk nest on the north route. Half the time, those damned birds are in that nest and will come after you like they mean business. The other half of the time, they’re in the air and will attack from behind. This time of day, they’re in the nest. And you ain’t seen nothing angrier than a hawk when its nest is disturbed.”

The copilot clearly wanted to stop him from speaking but was too taken by what was being said.

“Okay, then,” the copilot said, “get into the raft.”

“Our hands? We won’t make it around the first bend with our hands tied. We’ll come up against the Widow Maker, and that’ll be all she wrote.”

“You’ll have your hands free.”

The raft was eased out into the current. The copilot motioned the two into it and they waded out and climbed in awkwardly. The pilot waded out with them and untied their hands while the copilot kept the gun on them. Kevin wondered if the copilot had the nerve to shoot them, if he could aim well enough to hit them at fifteen feet. The cowboy was probably thinking the same thing.

And then, with a push, they were off, into the churning current, into cooler air and a slight breeze not felt on shore.

They moved downstream quickly, coming up even with the camouflaged jet sitting at the end of the airstrip. The pilot and copilot watched them.

“Have you ever rafted?” the cowboy asked, climbing past Kevin, immediately all business.

“Couple of times.”

“I’ll take the stern and steer. You do as I say the minute I say it. You got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Stay on the right for now. They’ll be two commands: paddle forward, paddle back. I’ll do the rest. There’s a number four ahead. Won’t be so bad this time of year with the low water and all, but it’s no picnic… especially in this light.”