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  “Jack, you have to let those men go!” she shouted to him. “You can’t do this!”

  “We can’t let them go, Mom! This is the only way!”

  “Jack, let them out right now,” insisted Catherine.

  “No, Mom, we won’t do that! Not even for you!” said Jack.

  Catherine heard the hurt inside him, in every syllable. She heard the genuine fright and honesty in his statements. Guiding, and even coaxing, her boys to do the right thing was her responsibility, she knew that, but she also saw that one more step forward would mean one thing, and one step back would mean another. She was at that point in her life where everything seemed to be critical. Each move was either a good move or a bad one, generating either pride or intolerable regret. Everything she did and thought had such impact, such repercussions. And in the depth of herself, she had never really known if she was a positive influence on her world and family. She didn’t know if she had been the best mother she could have been. She had been feeling doubt and confusion for so long.

  On this day, in this instant, everything became clear for Catherine. This would be the moment her sons would remember their whole lives. Whether she had stood up for them or stepped back to take refuge in a system that had let them down. It would be the critical factor in their view. She knew how smart they were. What care had she shown her sons after the death of their father? Had she really been there for them, or had she been hiding within herself, within her own self-pity and sadness, absorbed in her work, in her vain preoccupations, in her loneliness? Was that the best she could do for them? Really? Had she really pushed herself to her limits for her sons? That’s what they had done for their father, and by inference it was what they would have done for her. She recognized that and felt she needed to finally assume her responsibilities.

  She stood halfway between armed police and the fortress she had built. Inside it, her beloved sons, however misguided, were fighting for what they believed in. Suddenly, the weight that had been on her shoulders seemed to lift. She took a deep breath and turned once more to look at Tom and his police officers.

  Catherine then did the most important thing she had ever done in her life. She steadied herself, surrendered to her instinct, and committed to her life, to her kids, as never before.

  Having made her decision, she eyed Tom, who looked back at her with anticipation.

  “Catherine?” he asked.

  With tears of joy, fright, pressure, worry, love, she ran with all her might to the door where her son stood. She grabbed him and pulled him inside their cherished Valhalla. She held him hard, barely giving him a chance to slide the heavy glass door behind her.

  She hugged him, bringing her face up close to his.

  “Never, never, never, never, never, never do anything like this again! You should have talked to me! Don’t you know you can count on me? Hey, mon petit Jacques. My great big unbelievable boy! You’re right, you deserve better! From everyone! And I’m never letting go of you again!”

  “Alright, Mom, it’s okay. We’re okay.”

  Moving quickly behind them, Noah and Zeph slid the extra locking mechanisms of the rear doors back into place. Noah ran to his mother. She opened her arms and squeezed him, too.

  “Oh, Noah, my little genius. How could you do all this? My God, you are both, we are all, in so much trouble!” said Catherine. “And you, young man, where are your parents?” Zeph just shrugged. “They went travelling again, left you alone? Well, maybe I should adopt you, eh? What would you say to that?”

  “Fine by me,” Zeph smiled. “I like the food here!”

  “Come here,” she said to him. Zeph came close and she hugged him, ruffling his already messy hair.

  “I missed you guys so much, you have no idea. I made a horrible mistake to leave you alone here. And look at all that happened! Oh, my God! When did you plan all this?”

  “A little while now,” said Jack, downplaying it. “Then Claude Millet crashed his ATV in the woods, and we took advantage of it.”

  “I should beat you so very hard. What would your father say? Oh, my gosh!” said Catherine, suddenly seeing the three captive men staring back at them. She walked toward them, but then stopped herself. “Are they okay?”

  “We’re just fine,” said Millet, sarcastically.

  “Get us the fuck out of here!” shouted Lennox.

  “I can’t feel my wrists,” said Davis. “Please do something for us!”

  Catherine stood before the three, unsure what to do or say next.

  Tom walked away from the line of police vehicles, going to the edge of the forest, to the woodpile where Paul Carignan had been shot. Hanes followed him, caught himself and stayed back, realizing his Deputy Chief needed some space. Hanes turned back to the barricade.

  Tom took a deep breath. His hands were shaking. He was so angry and unsure of what to do next. There was a police playbook that he and his brotherhood of cops had all been trained to follow, but he’d long ago known that the positive outcomes, or the negative ones for that matter, to situations like these never came from cookie-cutter methods, they came from inspired, peaceful gestures, understanding and compassion, none of which he was good at. His best skills were brutal, forceful. He was seriously afraid that he was incapable of leading his small bunch of well-meaning cops to a good outcome. It wasn’t the pressure of authority that scared him. What scared him was his own ability to cause damage. That was his best skill. Damage.

  Tom’s frustration was unbearable. The pressure was like a seizure, shooting through his muscles from his entire biochemical mesh of nerves, tightening and releasing, over and over. He went into a fury, kicking at the logs of wood, picking up a thick, fallen branch and smashing at everything, the ground, the logs, the trees, the air. Taking a few steps toward the valley, he launched the heavy branch into the air, watching it drop and shatter against some boulders in the distant field. He stopped, caught his breath, and walked back slowly to the barricade. Hanes, Kearns and his crew did their best to pretend they had not witnessed their boss throwing a fit, but it didn’t really work.

  “Feel better?” asked Hanes.

  “No, not really, can I punch you? That would make me feel better!”

  “He’s back!” said Hanes, loudly.

  Tom took his cell phone and dialled the house. He waited. This time the call was answered.

  “Hello.” It was Catherine.

  “Tom Doran here.”

  “Okay,” answered Catherine softly.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “What my son said. He had no choice. Well, I really don’t have a choice, do I?”

  “There’s always a choice, Catherine.”

  “Okay. I made it.”

  “What are you going to do now? You’re going to condone their hostage-taking?”

  “I don’t know. I know I’m responsible for this no matter how you look at it. Might as well be next to my sons as they go through with it.”

  “Go through with what? Have you thought about that?”

  “No, I haven’t.” Catherine heard herself say this and felt both horror and excitement. She was always planning everything, from floor to ceiling, from morning to night, and for the first time in a very long time, she was improvising.

  “Look,” said Tom, “I get your position, okay. I understand you have to protect your sons, but I promise you I’ll do everything possible if only you let out those three men.”

  “There are no real men in here except the boys.”

  “Catherine? Catherine, you are going to regret this. Please do the right thing.”

  “The right thing! Really? Right thing for a corrupt little town with no law, no accountability? Right thing for you, so you can make this go away quietly? Right thing, so everyone can go home to their families and forget this ever happened? What right thing? Tom, we can’t forget. Our family wa
s broken a year ago by a shot taken by one of seven men. Those three men are guilty by association. They’ve done nothing to bring out the truth of that night. Only my son had the nerve and spirit to say that! So which right thing? You tell me!”

  Tom was silent an instant.

  “Think about this. That’s all I’m asking.”

  Tom sighed.

  “I made the right decision,” Catherine added. “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”

  He knew he wasn’t going to change her mind. “What’s the next step, eh, Catherine, what?”

  After a silence, Catherine answered. “Pizza.”

  “What?” said Tom. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “No. Pizza. All dressed. Lots of it. And hurry up. My sons are hungry.” Catherine hung up.

  Tom put his phone back in his pocket.

  Hanes looked at him for the result of his call. “So?”

  “Pizza,” said Tom.

  “What?” said Hanes.

  “You heard me. Get pizza out here. Lots of it. And Coke. Now!”

  “Uh, yeah, sure,” said Hanes, slowly processing the request. “Hey, can we throw in a few for us and the crew?”

  “I don’t give a shit what you do,” said Tom.

  The video clips the boys had recorded of the interrogations of their captives were hard for Catherine to watch. She often asked her boys to back up so she could hear part of a statement again, and the more she heard, the more the logistics of that September night intrigued her. She wanted answers to the questions that had weighed so heavily on the boys. Who were those seven hunters? What did they do that night? How did they break up into groups for the shooting contest? How many rifles did they have? How did they regroup? What did they see and hear?

  The boys kept their own comments to a minimum so their mother could make up her own mind. When she asked questions, their answers were brief and precise. In one video segment, Jack was pushing Davis for details of his hunting route that night, but Davis lost it, yelling back.

  “I’m not telling you anymore! Okay? That’s it! Untie me now! Arrrgghh! I don’t care! I don’t care about your father and what happened to him. He was an asshole! Okay, face it kid. What we’re all saying here! The hard truth is he had lots of enemies in town because he was such a pain in the ass! I’ve had enough of this! Fuck!” As Davis shouted, Lennox laughed at him. It was a demonic, crazy laugh.

  Catherine winced. Lennox’s laughter made her angry. She bolted from her chair, ran to Zeph, who was winding away the hose they’d been using to clean the mens’ urine from the floor. She took the nozzle, turned it on full blast, and shot the hard stream of water directly at Davis and Lennox. She left Millet out of it at first, then included him, too. Jack came to her and gently held the nozzle, eventually working it from her hands and turning it off again, giving it back to Zeph. Catherine threw herself on a couch facing away from the hunters and sobbed. Noah came and snuggled with her, holding her.

  Twilight. Tom was eating pizza in his truck. He had watched the pizza delivery to the house from the quiet of his truck. He let Jonathan, from the pizza shop, bring it directly to the rear sliding door. A completely bald, skinny young man, Jonathan usually had an easy smile, but he was uneasy, making a delivery under the cover of police rifles. Tom was not worried that anything would happen to Jonathan.

  “It’s perfectly safe,” he told the young man.

  Jonathan was an amateur photographer, and he had his camera around his neck when he carried the pizzas to the door. He then ran back to his truck for a few more boxes. Once he had handed all the pizzas over and his hands were free, he snapped photos in all directions.

  “Stop that!” Hanes ordered. Jonathan backed away from the barricade but continued taking picture after picture from a distance as the pizzas were circulated amongst the cops.

  Tom wasn’t bothered. Jonathan was a good kid and would stay out of their way. Then Brian Henley arrived, pulling up in his long, white Mercedes, and that did bother Tom. He hoped Henley wouldn’t spot him sitting in his truck, but Henley walked right up to Tom and sat in on the passenger seat, shutting the door.

  “Pizza?” offered Tom.

  Henley ignored the offer. “What’s your plan here, Tom?”

  “Planning to have another slice,” he said.

  “Seriously!” Henley quipped.

  “Seriously, waiting it out a bit,” said Tom.

  “How’s waiting going to resolve this?”

  “Might not, but that’s what the manual says to do.”

  “Really?” asked Henley. “The manual! You know, I don’t get you. Either you take everything too seriously or not at all. How do you do that? No middle road with you, eh?” Tom could sense Henley’s anxiety.

  “What do you want, Brian?”

  “What the community wants.”

  “What is that again?”

  “Peace, Tom. A sense of calm throughout our county.”

  “Oh right. So, you want me to walk up to the Carignan family over there, and just say, hey, remember to be happy and let these guys go. Be satisfied that we never held anyone responsible for the shooting of Paul Carignan. Just be happy! Go home! Oh, but you are home. That’s right. And he was shot right here outside your home, fetching wood for the fireplace. Sure. That makes sense. Shot down, just like that.”

  “Relax, Tom.”

  “I’m the cop that should have found a guilty party and brought them to justice, to the courts, for this nice family.”

  “No, Tom. Chief Bernier is the cop that should have taken care of this. Our way. Quiet and controlled. That’s what we want. But he’s shitfaced. Again! He should’ve taken care of this before it got out of hand. Right? We’ve talked about this before, Tom, something that Paul Carignan never understood. We have it good here in Beaufort because a few of us maintain control of the place. It’s our town—but it won’t be for long, if we open the goddam gates and say, here come on in, run the show!”

  “I know the story,” said Tom. “This is a control-freak-infested little town. I get that. But, Henley, protection shouldn’t be only for those the Mayor and her Council want to protect. Everyone deserves the protection of the law.”

  Henley would have none of it.

  “Yeah, yeah, and Paul Carignan deserved the same protection. La dee da! Of course! Let me tell you about a curious thing that happened to me today. I got a phone call from my bank letting me know someone was trying to hack into my accounts, and they almost succeeded. You know how the bank figured out that it wasn’t legit? I’ve given my accountant full access to two of my bank accounts, for various reasons, payments, and so forth. But the banker found it curious that my accountant would want to close those accounts, which I’ve had for years, that’s why he called me. So, I told him this was a very curious thing, since my accountant has been held hostage by psychotic teenagers for the last day and half,” said Henley.

  “Claude Millet is your accountant?” Tom said.

  Henley looked in Tom’s face and was about to respond when Hanes knocked at the truck window. Tom rolled it down.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You’ve got to see this,” said Hanes, as Kearns came up with a laptop. “Those boys sent out an email with personal information on the hunters. The names of everybody they suspect, the ‘seven hunters,’ they call them.”

  “Who did they send it to?” asked Tom.

  “They sent it to you,” Kearns said.

  “And who else?” asked Henley

  “Just Brooder for now, it seems. But they could send it to anyone.”

  “Jesus H. Christ!” said Henley, holding his head. “Cut their Internet!”

  “We did! Or we tried, because they still have a signal, we don’t know how. Lars is back at the office, trying to figure that out,” said Tom. “This house is a survivalist�
�s dream.”

  “Lars? He’s the best techie you’ve got?” Henley exclaimed. “We’re screwed.”

  No one spoke. Henley was clearly agitated. “I’ve got to see the Mayor!” he said, “Tom, no more waiting! Go in and get those three hostages and put that entire family in jail before they do real damage!”

  “Can’t do that, Brian.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because the ‘entire family’ doesn’t exist anymore. The father’s dead.”

  “You know what I mean, Brooder! I don’t care what you have to do, but do it now, or we’ll be dealing with you instead.”

  “Tarred and feathered, eh?” prodded Tom.

  “Do it, Tom. Those kids were sending us a message, that they can send our private information to anyone they choose. “

  “I agree there,” said Tom. “That was the message.”

  Henley was incensed. “That’s no power for children to have! You got me?”

  “Why so nervous?” asked Tom. “Something to hide?”

  “I’ll be back!” said Henley, climbing out of the truck and slamming the door, heading for his white Mercedes.

  Tom climbed out from his side, too, and stood with Hanes and Kearns.

  “What do we do now, Boss?” asked Hanes.

  Tom looked at the Carignan house. He took a deep breath.

  “How did it get to this?”

  The captives ate their pizza with wrists bound in front of them. It was hard work but they were hungry.

  The house line rang, and Catherine answered.

  “Hello.” She listened a moment. “Oh hello, Kevin. I’m busy right now.” Her boys glanced at her.

  Catherine continued her phone conversation. “I don’t know, Kevin. Just tell our clients the truth. Try that for a change.” She paused, listening again before saying. “Oh, you’re upset? Isn’t that something. Why, because I’m not there doing all the work for you? I’m sure you’ll find your way out of it.”

  It appeared Kevin wasn’t giving up too easily on the other end. Catherine paced.

  Noah spotted an email of interest. “Hey guys, look at this, it’s from one of Dad’s friends! He sent our video links to some of our dad’s clients! Look!”