Sheepdogs: Keeping the Wolves at Bay, Gordon Carroll [howl and other poems .txt] 📗

the next day and said Roger Doors wanted to meet him at some cabin of his in the mountains down in the Springs. I went with him, but he dropped me a little ways from the cabin so they wouldn’t know about me. Shane said they had lots of stuff to eat and showed him how he could work for them making games for as long as he wanted. It all sounded great and Shane was really pumped. I thought that was that and we were going to be rich, but then a couple nights later I heard Shane crying and when I looked down, from my top bunk, I saw him on his knees praying. He was asking for forgiveness for going against my dad and for making the game and for being greedy and for bringing me into it. I tried to tell him that what we did wasn’t really wrong, and that I wanted to still sell the game. He said no and we fought about it. Finally he said he was going to tell Mr. Hepperman he wouldn’t give them the game and he was going to destroy it right in front of him.”

I nodded, feeling his hurt and knowing what was coming next. “And what did you do, Joseph?”

The tears were pouring again but he didn’t stop. “I… I took one of the blank new thumb dots they’d given to Shane and switched them. I kept the real dot. I didn’t tell Shane. I killed him, didn’t I? And maybe Amber too. I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know. I thought Shane took off for awhile to decide what to do. I didn’t know.” He broke down again, crying softly into his pillowcase.

“Where is it?”

“My backpack.” He pointed to a green and black backpack sitting by my feet. I opened the straps and saw the thumb dot sitting in a small clear case just inside. It was smaller than a thumbnail, just like Mr. Spock said.

Funny, it didn’t feel like it could be worth ten million dollars or a boy’s life. “All this for a game?” Of course I knew it wasn’t about the game at all, no, it was about the money. It’s always about the money. A game like this, marketed the right way — what had I read on the Internet? Expected to bring in at least a billion dollars in profits. I wondered if Tom Franklin would really have refused to sign the contract for his sons if he knew it was worth a fortune. A game about murdering cops for fun and profit, sighting in on young impressionable teens as their target audience was sick, I admit. But ten million dollars? Would Tom’s conscience be able to stand against that kind of temptation? Could mine? Superman, yes, Batman even, Hugh Beaumont for sure. But a normal human being? Wow, tough.

“Joseph, I need this to get Amber back, you understand?”

He kept his face buried as if too ashamed to look at me. “Take it. I never want to see it again. I hate it! I hate it!”

I nodded, then stood. “What about the contract Hepperman signed?”

“Shane had it.”

I tapped the thumb dot with a finger. “Thanks, Joseph. I know this is hard, but try to be brave for your family. I’ll get Amber back. This will all work out.”

He looked up at me a final time, his lips trying to form words that wouldn’t come. I thought I knew how he felt; remorse, guilt, grief. Yes, I thought I understood. It wasn’t until later, after it was already too late, that I learned how badly I had underestimated his pain.

40

It was too late to head to the Springs so I started back to my house. Max sat in the back, his nose out the open window. I called Sarah Gallagher at CBI. It was after five, but I knew she worked late.

“CBI, Sarah.”

“Any luck with my friend in the Defense Department?”

“Hi, Gil, I’m doing fine, and you?”

“Sorry, it’s been a long day.”

“Are you all right?”

I smiled into the phone. “Yes, I’m fine, thanks.”

“I’m glad to hear that, and yes, he gave me a name, Arnold Verick.”

I thought back on guys I’d run into over the years, sifting through names and faces. “Never heard of him.”

“He’s ex DEA, ex-special forces.”

Like I’d thought. “Anything else?”

“I ran him through NCIC/CCIC and several local law enforcement data banks I just happen to have access to. He’s in charge of security for a company called Micro Corp. in Colorado Springs. I googled him and found out he was hired by the CEO, Roger Doors himself, two years ago.”

“You sound like you’re familiar with Roger Doors.”

“When I go online playing Bloody Suzy, no one can hold a candle to me. My character is Bloody Sarah 713 and she’s a level thirty-nine ninja-priestess. It’s the best game of all time and Roger Doors produced it.”

I shook my head. “Somehow I can’t picture you as the geeky gamer spending hours in front of a computer killing things.”

“I work too much,” she said. “Gaming is an outlet for stress.”

And a way to hide from possible rapists? “You need to get out more, Sarah.”

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

“You are way out of my league, Sarah. Thanks for the help. Would you fax a copy of everything you’ve got to me?”

“Sure. One last thing. I found three residences for Roger Doors here in Colorado. The first is a mansion in Colorado Springs. He also has two cabins, one in Aspen, the other in Manitou Springs. But I can’t find any other information on them. No deeds, surveys, permits, or anything else. Power has its privileges. I’ll send you everything I have.”

“You’re the best, Sarah.” The cabin in Manitou must have been the one Joseph and Shane had gone to.

“I know. Don’t be a stranger, Gil.”

I told her I wouldn’t, thanked her again and hung up.

My phone sang almost immediately. “Gil Mason.”

“You did a very foolish thing, Mr.