Page 26 of Heartless Legacy

The map marker on the screen taunts me. It’s been another month. Another month of one let down after another. Another month of nothingness in my search for Thea. Today, there’s been a break in one of the other mysteries I’m working on. Finn was right about the indentation on the scrap of paper being an overseas address. It’s registered to Canaday Global Waste Transport Company. Their website lists an office in Red Cliffs.

Finn’s been watching me stare at the screen for the last fifteen minutes. He finally breaks the silence and asks, “Why would The League send you a box of trash with an address for an overseas waste disposal company doing business in a town that’s practically deserted? Our contract for the city and campus is through Alcott Waste Solutions.”

“How do you know that?”

“Sometimes I have to hand deliver items to their incinerator.”

I don’t even need to ask what type of items they could be. “Maybe this new company was on campus soliciting for a contract. It could have nothing to do with The League. It could’ve been a prank and I’m just overthinking it.”

“Maybe.” He gets to his feet and says, “There’s one way to find out. I’ll meet you in the lobby in ten minutes.”

Finn and I exited the highway a few minutes ago. The disparity between Canyon Falls and Red Cliff became blatantly obvious the moment we did, and the drive through town is depressing as shit.

“I can’t believe this used to be a part of Canyon Falls.” Finn says, as he makes a right-hand turn.

“I can. Big development will always push others out to make room for their expansion.”

He waves towards the driver's side window as we pass another empty building. “But they haven’t expanded beyond the toll road. I bet you a hundred bucks the number on that lease sign on the highway is out of order.”

He’s talking about the Bishop Realty Group sign. “It’s old, sure, but that’s how these things work. Just because people want to build doesn’t mean they can right away. There are environmental reports, dirt samples and all kinds of things that need to happen first.”

He cuts his eyes at me. “We both know that the only thing the Bishops are waiting for is to buy land for cheap, lease it high, and brag about how much profit they made, hoping it will get them elected to the right committees. They don’t give a shit about ruining the environment in the process.”

We stop in front of the abandoned building that’s supposed to be the local address for Canaday Global Waste Transport company. I’d hazard a guess as to say there hasn’t been a business operating here for as long as I’ve been alive.

“What now?” Finn asks.

I shove open my door and climb out of the car. He follows, pointing at the crumbling sign hanging over the doorway. Wewalk the length of the building and down the side towards the back door. This side is just as rundown as the front. When we get back to the front of the building, I scan the street, looking for signs of life. There might be someone around who can answer our questions.

Judging by the phone booth on the corner and the faded newspaper in the broken newspaper box, this town took its last breath before the internet became a thing. If we find someone to question, the answers won’t be free.

There was no one around who could offer any helpful information about Canaday Global Waste. The people we found at the laundromat said the couple who originally occupied the building sold the business twenty years ago. They know the name of the company changed to Canaday, but no one knew where the functioning arm of the business moved to. The name stuck with them, because they expected new job opportunities. Instead, the people who worked for the original business were laid off.

They had even more to say about the big development company that’s been pushing them out of their homes. Bishop Realty Group has purchased forty acres of land in Red Cliff, butthere’s been no applications, blue prints or permits filed since the date of purchase.

There are four similar purchases made by the company over the last forty years in Connecticut, Arizona, Florida, and Canyon Falls; where the old ice cream factory used to be. That business move makes no sense. Bishop buying the land and never making a move to develop it has to be costing him money.

Finn gestures towards my monitors when I walk back into the room. “It’s snowing on your cameras.”

It’s the feed to the traffic cameras that were offline at the beginning of the summer. I slide into my chair and rewind the recorded feed to where it was last broadcasting. Since that first day, there have been three more instances of the cameras being offline, and at least a dozen points where the feed was looped. The latitude and longitude of the cameras places them in the middle of a barren wasteland of dirt off the highway.

Finn swivels back and forth in his chair. “It must be a bad signal or something. What’s out there, anyway? A rest stop? A campground?”

“I don’t know, but according to the map, it’s about ten miles away from where we saw Bishop’s lease sign over by Red Cliffs. Five years ago, Bishop Realty filed a building permit for a multi-use residential property, but there’s no record of them ever breaking ground.” I spin my chair to face him. “What I do know is for there to be nothing but dirt and tumbleweeds out there; somebody paid to install traffic cameras, which seem to get tampered with a lot.”

Finn shrugs. “Maybe it’s some kids tagging up the road signs or partying and they fuck with the cameras so they don’t get caught.”

I’m ready to agree until a vehicle drives by one of the cameras, seconds before the feed cuts out.

Chapter 18

Thea

The building sways from side to side., and I don’t think the motion I’m experiencing is because I’m unsteady on my feet. The natural disaster draws the guard’s attention from me. He rushes out of the room before securing my chains. Through the open door, I can hear windows shattering, and people yelling in the halls. We’re having an earthquake. I’ve been in California for a year and this is the biggest one I’ve ever felt.

This is my chance. I can use the commotion to sneak out of the building. Against the backdrop of shouts, I hear consecutive pops, like firecrackers. I inch towards the door, peeking into the hallway. Men dressed head to toe in black, complete with black hockey masks, sweep through the far end of the hall. Some are ordering staff to stay in place, others are opening doors to all the rooms. One yanks a body out from under a desk and growls, “Where is he?”

The staff member doesn’t answer and gets a fist to his face. Once. Twice. A third time, and he crumples to the ground. I hear another pop.Notfirecrackers. They’re gunshots. Whoever these people are, they’re executing us. Did Lazarro cross the wrong bidder, or is this Malcolm finally tracking me down?

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