The Pineville Heist (16 page)

Within minutes, Amanda had a warm blanket wrapped around her shoulders and she was whisked into the ambulance. Similarly draped in a blanket, Aaron was brought in and sat on the bench opposite her.

Just before Aaron could get comfortable, a large man appeared in the doorway of the ambulance, a pad and pen in his outstretched hand. “I need to get your statement, son,” said the cop, staring coolly at Aaron.

Aaron looked over at Amanda with trepidation. She was his responsibility now. Wasn't she? When a lady cries on your shoulder, you need to stay with her? Aaron wasn't sure, but Amanda smiled calmly and said, “It's okay, Aaron. I'll be fine.”

She'll be fine. It was over. Aaron nodded and stepped out with the cop. He glanced back towards her, as the other EMT closed the ambulance's rear double-doors one by one, and then moved around to the driver's door. After another slam, an engine started and the ambulance pulled away.
Goodbye, Miss Becker.

“Get me down from here!”

“Mikey!” Aaron exclaimed as a cluster of cops looked skywards. Mike was waving his shirt over his head, drawing their attention. “Thank God you are okay!”

Just to see a friendly face, Aaron couldn't help but smile.

Aaron and Mike were sitting side by side in the back of a police cruiser, with the door slung open, waiting for the results of the room-by-room investigation at the school.

“I can't believe that Steve…” Mike shook his head, hardly able to bring himself to say the ugly words.

“I know, I know,” Aaron said consolingly. “Mister Parker, too.”

One of the cops wandered from the school, just as a limo bounced into the parking lot, skidding to a halt in front of the cop.

“Shit.” Aaron knew exactly who had arrived. The whole town recognized that limo as Derek Stevens, the mill killer.

Right on cue, Derek hopped out, talked pensively to the cop, who pointed over in Aaron's direction. Aaron slid out of the cruiser and awaited the onslaught either of condemnation, discipline, concern, or all three.

“Oh my God, Aaron,” Derek blurted out, seeing the red stains beneath the gray polyester blanket around Aaron's shoulders.

“It's okay, Dad, I'll be fine.”

“Is he under arrest yet?” Derek turned to the cop, before flicking back to Aaron. “Don't say anything until I get you a lawyer.”

“Under arrest? For what?” Aaron asked, perturbed.

Derek looked from Aaron to the cop, unsure of what was actually going on. Both faces, Aaron and the officer in charge, seemed equally blank.

“I don't understand. Tremblay said you and your friends… were involved.”

“And you believed him?” Aaron choked. “Tremblay did it, Dad.”

“What?”

“Tremblay and Carl stole your precious money, not me. And thanks a lot.” Aaron pouted, surprising himself that he even had enough energy to care about his father's low opinion of him, as a potential bank robbery suspect. Had Aaron survived the night of the Pineville Heist for nothing? What started as a mad moment under the canoe, a split decision to take the money in the first place, led Aaron down a road to manhood. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't easy. But Aaron grew balls in the midnight hours. He found confidence to stand up for himself. He braved evil and came out on top.

The officer nodded, supporting Aaron's side of things. “It's true, Mister Stevens. The money's inside the school. If it wasn't for your son here, they would have gotten away with it.”

“And if it wasn't for Amanda calling the cops, you wouldn't have me or the money, so screw you, Dad.”

“Amanda?” The officer raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Yeah, you know… Miss Becker.” Aaron thumbed over his shoulder, pointing to where the ambulance was parked earlier. “My teacher.”

“Miss Becker didn't call us down here. He did,” the officer nodded to Mike--who, from the few hours spent on the rooftop, half the time spent shirtless and waving at cars was now slightly shaking. “You should be thanking him for flagging down a passing truck.”

Puzzle pieces were scattering in front of Aaron, a jumble in his subconscious. He thought he had it figured out. All the pieces seemed to fit, but now one giant part of the puzzle was missing…

Amanda. Where was she now? With her bandaged up foot, she had discharged herself from the hospital. A case of shock, go home, get some rest.

Yet, rest was the last thing on Amanda's mind as she stepped into the back of a waiting taxi cab.

It was a short drive from the hospital. The sun was rising through the trees of the forest. A low mist was starting to burn off, leaving a tranquil woodland scene, with dew on the bluebells and glistening on the bark of the towering redwoods.

The cabbie wasn't confident that he'd driven Amanda to where she wanted to be. “Are you sure about this? There's nothing out here.”

Amanda was sure. “I'll just be a few minutes. Wait here.”

She stepped out of the cab and wandered down a muddy sidetrack. In her pocket, her cellphone; Amanda flipped the lid, revealing that it was actually a portable GPS unit. Same make and model as the GPS unit that one of the hapless bank robbers, Gordie, had punched coordinates into. In fact, it was the
exact
same GPS unit.

The screen illuminated as Amanda pressed a button; a pre-entered location popped up on the screen with a subdued beep. Not too far from where she was standing.

Quite out of place in the woods, Amanda's work shoes were getting dirty. No matter, she could buy plenty more. Her wounded foot was hurting now but nothing that a few weeks in Aruba couldn't fix. Hell, a few
years
in Aruba.

The beep was getting louder and more frequent. She was honing in on her destination. Just behind this next clump of trees. Under some brush, instead of an 'X', a wooden plank marked the spot.

Amanda tossed the GPS device on the ground and prepared to get dirtier. She clawed her manicured nails beneath the plank and dragged it from the hole. Dusting her hands on
her skirt, she leaned over the edge–at the bottom of the ditch, Jake, Gordie and Steve's corpses.

“Oh Jesus, Carl…”

The smell hit Amanda's nostrils and she stepped back repulsed, then leaned in for a second look–beneath the pile of bodies, she saw a welcome sight. The green backpack, bulging with stolen cash.

Despite her disgust, Amanda wasn't about to let a couple of stiffs get in the way of her and all that money. She'd come too far to bail now.

Screwing up her face, Amanda reached her arm down, over the top of Gordie, and grabbed the protruding strap of the backpack. It was heavy and wedged under Gordie's shoulder. Amanda leaned in closer for better leverage, straining and breaking a small sweat.

Now her face was a mere inch or two from Gordie's white, rolled-back eyeballs. And the pack of cigarettes, wedged in his top pocket. Her brand, as it so happened.

Then with a big tug, the backpack came loose and Amanda brought it out of the hole. Taking a deep breath, she hurled the bag to the ground, and she paused for a split second. Made up her mind. “Screw it.”

Amanda knelt back down and stuck her arm back into the hole. Her hand re-emerged with Gordie's pack of cigarettes. A girl's gotta do, what a girl's gotta do.

Flipping open the pack, Amanda put a cigarette into her mouth. Holding the filter between her teeth, she patted her skirt pockets. No lighter.

With a grimace, Amanda leaned over the edge of the hole. It would be worth it, she thought.

And she was right. Walking along, with the backpack hanging from her shoulders, and the lit cigarette burning from her happy lips. Not too shabby, Miss Becker.

The trail ended here and she was free and clear. There was nothing to tie her to the crimes of four scheming criminals. She would play out the rest of the semester as the dust settled and then quietly walk away from the high school and Pineville for good. With Carl no longer in the picture, Amanda imagined dropping some dough on a small and swanky ocean view apartment in Marina del Rey. Take in some LA sunshine. A devious smile shone across her face.

Yet, her smile quickly turned into a displeased scowl. The taxi was gone, leaving a tell-tale set of tire tracks in the mud.

“Son of a…”

“Bitch,” Aaron finished her thought, whilst stating his own.

Amanda whirled around to see Aaron with several officers who he'd led down to the wooded area.

Her mouth curved into a perfect 'o' and the cigarette–that she struggled so hard for–tumbled from her lips, extinguishing with a fizz in a brown puddle at her feet.

“I have to hand it to you, Miss Becker. It turns out you really are quite the actress after all,” Aaron said to the stunned woman; now a virtual stranger. The Miss Becker that Aaron thought he knew had retracted turtle-style into the shell of this body, leaving only a criminal caught red-handed. “I reckon you deserve an Academy frickin' Award, for sure.”

“What?” she said sheepishly, feeling the police officers' eyes crawling all over her.

The officer in charge took a large step towards Amanda, and she immediately recoiled a step backwards. Her eyes were frightened and dancing around the faces surrounding her. “We found this on Carl,” the officer announced, producing an envelope–with two plane tickets inside. “Two tickets to Aruba; in Carl's and your names. Planning a little trip, were we?”

Amanda went on the defensive: “So what? It's no secret we were dating. How could you…”

Aaron quickly interrupted her argument, “They were one way, Miss Becker! It's pretty hard to put a play on Monday night when you were planning on sipping margaritas with Carl on a beach, don't you think?”

In his other hand, the officer revealed a pair of shiny handcuffs. Amanda stepped back again, but this time bumped into another officer behind her. She let out a tiny yelp. The officer unzipped the backpack and nodded to his superior. “Pineville bank bags,” he called out.

Her face dropped. “I'm sorry, Aaron,” Amanda said, staring down at the murky puddle, with the cigarette slowly circling the water.

“And you didn't even call for help? You just sat in that car thinking of ways to spend the money… knowing I wasn't ever going to come out of that school alive.”

“I'm sorry!”

“Tremblay said they'd stashed the rest of the money near the campsite. So, I knew it was the only way to be sure about you, by returning to the woods, to see if you were 'in' on it,” said Aaron, with a shake of his head. “Honestly, I could've expected this much of Tremblay, maybe even Carl, but not you, Amanda. How could you? I trusted you. Saved your life.”

“I'm so, so sorry Aaron.”

“Yeah. me too,” Aaron shook his head and looked away. He couldn't look at her anymore. “Me too.”

Aaron watched the cops slap on the metal cuffs and start pushing Amanda away, leaving the backpack on the ground. She watched it reluctantly disappear from her. Mascara staining her cheeks. Crying partly for the money, partly for Carl, but mostly for herself. Confusion about the mill setting
all these nasty chain of events in motion. Her dreams and plans shattered by greed. Now all Amanda's confidence and strength was with Aaron. He assumed a new role and stood tall. Taller than he ever had before.

The officer in charge glanced at Aaron, who was looking solemn, broken and really damn tired. “So, what about you, kid?”

“The show must go on.”

RRRRIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNGGGGG.

The bell signaled the end of class. Within seconds, the janitor disappeared back inside the maintenance room and the freshly-mopped hallways of Pineville High School were filled shoulder-to-shoulder with adolescent students.

They wandered past the library–still closed for cleaning and asbestos removal–of which there was none–and the empty Principal's office.

Two weeks had passed them by. The school had closed down. Time needed to clean up some of the mess. Get over the devastation and loss. Consider it an early holiday for the 234 students. But time stands still for no one except the dead. The spirit of Pineville can't be stopped and another night of carnage was about to ensue–that being the fake stage deaths in Hamlet.

Amongst the throng of kids, Aaron and Mike emerged from English class. The substitute teacher, a bookish woman, gathered up her belongings and her '#1 Teacher' coffee mug and ventured off to the staff room in search of a refill.

As Aaron made his way to his locker, a few students slapped him on the back, giving him thumbs-up gestures and tossing out cordial comments like “Way to go,” “Hey, Aaron,” “Break a leg tonight, man.”

Despite feeling ready and rehearsed, having spent more time treading the boards of the school stage than many of the
other actors, particularly after his impromptu sword-fighting with the former Sheriff; these well-wishers only added to the tension creeping up Aaron's spine and the twisting pit in his stomach since his half-eaten bowl of Cheerios that morning.

Nevertheless, Aaron smiled and reciprocated several high-fives before opening his locker. He pulled his Hamlet book off the top shelf and stared at the mud and water stains spread across it. The corners damaged and worn. He rubbed his hand across the cover. A sly smile crept across his face. He reached further into the locker and fumbled around to grab his frilly costume.

There was a newspaper clipping, taped haphazardly to the inside of the locker door: “Town Pays Tribute To Hero Student At Parker Memorial.” On the same clipping, a headline to a missing article: “Stevens Completes Mill Purchase: Announces Expansion.”

“Is he coming?”

Aaron turned abruptly, slamming the locker door, and looked into the dazzling green eyes of the pretty girl from his English class, Marissa. Shrugging nonchalantly, Aaron tucked the copy of Hamlet and his costume under his arm, and strolled down the corridor beside Marissa.

“Well, good luck tonight anyway.”

“Thanks,” Aaron said a little shocked she was actually talking to him. It was really a first. The object of his affections since her family moved to Pineville from the big city of Thunder Bay at the start of the semester, Marissa was quickly drawn into the 'punish all things Stevens' fan club. He had all but given up on her. Things can really change on a dime or in his case millions. This could be good.