Chapter 29.

No Onions Michael sat on the couch in his loft, staring at a blank TV screen. He checked his watch. 7:10 p.m. He hadn't heard a word from Aaron since dropping him off at home the night before and he was deeply concerned. He pulled the slip of paper with Aaron's number on it out of his pocket and looked at it for a moment. Then he entered the number into his phone and pressed CALL.

Souther had some fast food spread out across his expansive desk. Needles and Beeks were there, and Aaron had been invited to join them.

Beeks unwrapped his cheeseburger, lifted the top bun and looked inside. He wasn't happy. "Which one of you sons-of-b.i.t.c.hes got my d.a.m.n burger?" he said.

"Chill out, Beeks," Needles said. "No one got your d.a.m.n food."

Aaron felt like part of the team, now, and comfortable enough to contribute to the conversation. "Mine looks okay," he said.

Beeks scratched the onions out of his burger. "I specifically told 'em 'No d.a.m.n a '"

"Shut up," Souther said, holding up his hand. "I hear something ..."

"I think it's me," Aaron said, reaching into his pocket for his phone. He didn't recognize the incoming number, but he tapped ANSWER anyway then held the phone up to his ear.

"I'll take that," Souther said, reaching across the desk, and Aaron gave up his phone.

Michael was confused by the rustling. "Aaron?" he said.

"Who's speaking?" Souther said.

Michael looked at his phone for a moment, then pressed END CALL.

Souther slid the phone back across the desk to Aaron.

"Who was it?" Aaron asked.

"Wrong number," Souther replied.

Michael walked over and lifted his jacket off its chair, slipping his phone into the inside pocket. But as he started for the door, he hesitated and swapped the light jacket for a heavier coat.

Souther leaned back in his chair. "Things are heating up a bit around here," he said. "Tomorrow's job is the big score we need so we can lay low for a while."

Aaron glanced at the others and listened attentively. He looked forward to the thrill of riding lookout again. And as far as he was concerned, his current earnings were already spent.

"I'll be in charge this time around," Souther continued then he looked straight at Aaron, "and you're going inside with me."

Aaron looked around to see who Souther was referring to. Beeks and Needles looked at each other and then at Aaron.

"Oh, you mean me?" Aaron said, pointing to himself. "Inside? In the bank? While you rob it?"

"While we rob it," Souther said. He leaned forward and folded his hands on the desk.

Aaron knew very well that his big day of riding lookout qualified him to ride lookout a nothing more. He pictured a few of the bank robberies he had seen on TV and in movies, but he couldn't see himself playing any of the parts. The idea was totally absurd.

"But I've only been a lookout," he said. "I-I'm not ready to go inside."

"You'll be fine," Souther said, as if it happened every day. "Besides, the pay for an inside man is fifty times what it was riding lookout."

Aaron thought about that for a moment. $25,000 was an incomprehensible sum. It could mean a whole new start for him and his mom.

"Give me your phone, kid," Souther said. "What's your mother's number?"

Aaron paused, confused, and almost asked why. But instead he chose not to. It wouldn't help to argue. "She's in my contacts," he said. "Here, let me do it." He set up the call then reluctantly handed over his phone again.

Ashley lunged for her phone, catching it after the first ring. "h.e.l.lo?" she said.

"Have you ever been to Sally's Diner?" Souther said.

Her heart sank a she had hoped for someone better. "No," she replied. "I don't think so."

"I want to do an exchange," Souther said.

Ashley's hand went to her mouth. She knew from Souther's inflection that he wanted more than mere ransom money. "What kind of exchange?" she asked.

"Aaron's freedom for yours."

The motel room closed in around her, and she reached for the bed as the floor fell away.

Aaron tried to grab his phone. "What are you doing?" he cried.

Souther touched his index finger to his lips and gave Aaron a look that made him sit down. Then he continued with Ashley.

"I believe that to be a fair exchange," he said. "Does that sound fair to you, Ashley?"

Ashley dug deep, but found nothing a she was empty. Her knees grew weak and she sat on the edge of the bed.

"Ashley?"

She placed her hand over her heart, summoning all of her will. "Yes," she said at last, her voice small and lifeless. "I think that's fair."

"Excellent," Souther said with a smile. He was pleased with how this was going.

Aaron couldn't believe what he was hearing. He reached for his phone again, but Souther turned away from him and continued his conversation.

"I'd like you to meet me at Sally's Diner tomorrow night at 6:30," he said.

Ashley could no longer contain herself. "Why meet at Sally's? Why not send one of your goons and just take me? You know where the h.e.l.l I am."

Souther became cruelly patronizing. "You're a grown woman, Ashley. I want this to be your decision."

Ashley closed her eyes and touched her fingers to the bridge of her nose. You want what to be my decision? Whether or not I kill myself? She was tempted to refuse him, but of course there was no way she could do that. She replied slowly, scarcely breathing.

"Okay," she said. "You win. I'll be there."

Souther was deeply satisfied. He leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the desk, then looked at Aaron while he spoke to her.

"Listen carefully," he said. "If you tell anyone about this meeting ... your son dies. If you stand me up or show up late ... your son dies. If I see anyone with you at the diner ... well, I think you get my point."

Ashley felt as though she might faint at any moment. "I need to talk to Aaron," she said.

"Well, aren't you a lucky girl," Souther said with the sincerity of a veteran game show host. "He's sitting right here." He handed the phone to Aaron. "She wants to talk to you."

Aaron took the phone. "h.e.l.lo?" he said.

Ashley couldn't believe it was actually him. "Aaron?" she said. "It's me. It's Mommy."

Tears welled in Aaron's eyes. "Don't worry, okay, Mom? I'm fine. I love you. I'll call y a"

Souther s.n.a.t.c.hed the phone. "And, Ashley," he added, "don't be a fool and try to save the world or something."

Tears flowed from Ashley's eyes. She was exhausted. "Mister," she said softly, "I don't want to save the d.a.m.n world ... I just want to save my little boy."

"I'll see you in twenty-four hours," Souther said coldly. Then he hung up and slid the phone back to Aaron.

Aaron was incredulous. "What was that all about?" he cried. "You said if I helped you my mom would be safe!"

"Oh, I didn't mean any of that," Souther explained. "I was just messing with her." He leaned forward and rested a patronizing hand on Aaron's knee. "You trust me, don't you, kid? I'd never want to hurt you ... or your mother."

Aaron pulled away, sickened by the evil that was Johnny Souther. "You're a liar!" he said. "I hate you!" He buried his face in his hands.

Souther casually wadded up the trash and chucked it out his office window. "If I were you, kid," he said darkly, "I'd choose my words a bit more carefully in the future.

Chapter 30.

Target Practice Needles and Beeks took Aaron out of Souther's office and headed down the walkway toward the stairs. Aaron felt like he'd been hit by a truck.

Needles wanted to tell him not to worry about what Souther had said back there, but he knew Aaron wouldn't want to hear it.

Instead he turned to him and said, "Would you be interested in taking a tour of the practice range?"

Aaron looked up. "The what?"

"You know a the shooting range. Target practice. I thought maybe you could use a distraction about now."

Aaron had encountered many different shooting ranges in his video games, but he had never seen a real one. "Uh ... sure." he said. "Where is it?"

"I'll show you," Needles said. He looked at Beeks. "Are you coming with us?"

Beeks wasn't interested; he preferred to use the range alone. Besides, he had other plans. "No," he replied. "I got things I gotta do. Y'all go on without me."

Aaron had hoped he'd join them. "See ya, Beeks," he said with a little disappointed wave.

Beeks nodded and headed off to the kitchen to make a sandwich.

Needles lit a lantern, and Aaron followed him to the far west-end of the cannery. Cut into the wood floor in an out-of the-way first-floor corridor was a trap door held in place by two heavy iron hinges. Needles set the lantern on the floor, flipped up the large recessed pull-ring, turned it a half a turn, and yanked open the hatch.

"Ready?" he asked.

Aaron nodded.

Needles swung the heavy door over and lowered it to the floor, and then, using the lantern to light the way, he led Aaron down the steep wooden steps into a dark bas.e.m.e.nt.

It's like an old ship's ladder, Aaron thought as he descended. He could only imagine what kind of c.r.a.ppy firing range the thugs had cobbled together in such a dark, out-of-the-way s.p.a.ce.

"What do you use for targets?" he asked, doubtfully.

Needles was proud of the range he and Beeks had built, and he knew Aaron was in for a nice surprise. "You'll see," he replied.

Aaron stepped off the ladder onto a dirt floor and for a brief moment he thought he was back in his cell. But then Needles held the lantern high and the practice range loomed into view.

At first glance Aaron was disappointed. He naturally compared the s.p.a.ce to the high-tech, brightly lit ranges he knew from video games. This range was tiny and as dark as a cave. The ceiling was very low; the 2 x 12 floor joists that supported the floor above ran the length of the s.p.a.ce and they barely cleared Needles's head. Exposed electrical wiring wound between rusting cast-iron water and sewer pipes that ran in every direction.