Libertyville Chapter 2

Meet Ryan Carter, Judgment Sign Guy, and a Mother on a Quest to Find Her Daughter

[The following is a novelized excerpt from our upcoming series Libertyville. You can find Chapter 1 here. We will publish more selections in the coming days and weeks, so please subscribe to keep updated. Also, we could really use your support to help produce the pilot. Learn more and invest here and here. Thank you!]

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Ryan Carter had started to hate the buzz of his iPhone. The automated bill collectors were relentless, and with four credit cards, a car payment, the power bill and a phone charge all past due, it seemed like the device never stopped vibrating. Each alert was another needle in Ryan’s skull, pushing his anxiety level higher.

Driving an Uber didn’t help either. Ferrying entitled tourists and wealthy businessmen around Libertyville in his 2015 Kia Optima didn’t make the fifty-two-year-old feel any better about himself. But it was all he had going at the moment, so when the infernal cellular device started reverberating again as he waited outside the airport, Ryan mustered up the last bit of optimism he could find and glanced at the screen hoping it was a fare. It wasn’t. The caller ID read “Freedom Property Management” and with a sigh Ryan reluctantly touched the green call button.

“This is Ryan Carter.”

A heavily accented Indian voice responded. “Hello, Mr. Carter. My name is Barb and I’m calling about your rent payment for this month.”

“Uh huh.”

“It is now fifteen days overdue and if we don’t have that by tomorrow evening, you will be automatically locked out of your apartment.”

Ryan’s attempt at remaining calm lasted about half a second. “Well, Barb,” he began, emphasizing her first name in a mocking tone. He couldn’t stand the way companies tried to make their overseas call centers seem less foreign. “Maybe if my rent hadn’t doubled in the last two years, I’d be able to do that.”

“I understand your frustration, Mr. Carter, but,” the woman began before Ryan abruptly cut her off.

“Do you, Barb? When was the last time you were in a Libertyville grocery store? Which one do you shop at?”

“Uh, well, sir, I…”

“Sixty bucks for a one bag of food! Sixty!” Ryan let his frustrations boil over. “Or how about this, Barb? Do you understand what if feels like to work all day to make just enough to put gas in the car and do it all again tomorrow. Have you done that, Barb?”

The woman on the phone paused, cleared her throat, then started in with a defense that sounded to Ryan like she was reading from a script. “Well, sir, the rate of inflation has been a concern to everyone at Liberty Property Management, but the underlying economic indicators show that Libertyville is on a solid foundation and our current political leadership has a plan to help life continue to get better every day.”

Ryan was a mix of incredulous and confused. Why was this woman giving him a political stump speech? “What the hell are you talking about?” he yelled into phone.

“Um, well…” she responded feebly, her voice cracking.

Ryan had actually been to India a few times, and he loved it there. The people, the food, and the smell that hit you as soon as you stepped outside at the airport; there was nothing like it anywhere else in the world. And as the woman floundered, an image flashed in his mind of what her current situation was probably like, and he realized that he was being a jerk. He took a deep breath and found a more conciliatory tone.

“You know what, Barb, I’m sorry,” he sald, no longer emphasizing her name. “I’m guessing you work long hours, too, and that you don’t see much of that money you are collecting.”

“That’s true,” she confessed in a low voice.

“Listen, can you work with me, here?” Ryan implored. “What if I pay half now and the rest in a week or something?”

“Honestly, Mr. Carter,” Barb answered with genuine pity in her voice, “there is nothing I can do. The system is completely run by a computer program. I have no ability to change it. If it doesn’t receive your full payment, it will lock you out.”

“And who runs that program? Who owns the company?” Ryan asked, frustration again starting to show in his voice.

“I have no idea,” Barb responded.

Ryan pushed the end button on phone’s call screen and threw the device down on the driver’s seat with a loud “Aaagh!” It bounced quietly onto the floor, which made Ryan even more upset. It was times like this that you needed and old-fashioned phone with a handset that you can slam down with a bang. Just one more drawback of this digital age, he thought to himself.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

After briefly considering drowning his sorrows at a bar, Ryan decided to finish out his regular workday. The fact that he couldn’t afford to even get a buzz on at $18.00 a drink played no small part in his decision, and he reasoned that he was less likely to have a panic attack if he stayed distracted. As such, he taxied a few more people back and forth from the airport, then accepted a fare on Main Street.

As he caught sight of his passenger, Ryan instantly regretted his decision. The young man’s face had appeared clean cut and friendly in his profile pic, and that remained the same in real life. The problem was his outfit. It consisted of dress pants, a button-down shirt, and a pair of sign boards hung around his neck that proclaimed, in large capital letters, “THE END IS NEAR” on one and “JUDGMENT IS COMING” on the other. Ryan disliked Christianity in general, and he had a special distaste for fringe apocalyptic street preachers and wannabe prophets.

He had been cultivating this attitude from his youth. Ryan’s father was killed in Vietnam soon after Ryan was born and his mother had decided she would rather turn on, tune in, and drop out than raise a baby. So, while she burned her bra, put flowers in her hair, and chased “the scene” from Haight Ashbury to the East Village and eventually to Libertyville, Ryan found himself on his grandparent’s farm in Montana. His grandmother was an English war bride who followed her beloved American G.I. back from World War II. His grandfather raised a few cattle and worked occasionally for the railroad. They never had much, but they were good people who had done their best for Ryan, and he had loved them dearly, especially Grandma. Her steadfastness in making their ramshackle farmhouse into a home through the cruelties of life on the Northern Great Plains was an inspiration. He remembered with fondness how she religiously served tea and a small snack every afternoon with a smile, even if it was forty below and blowing outside.

The rest of the elder Carters’ religiosity, however, had worn thin over time. They were faithful church going folk, but Ryan was always bothered that they could never seem to settle on one church. They had worshipped a small Bible Chapel, but when that congregation split over a disagreement about the order of end time events, the family drifted through several congregations. Ryan could never keep it all straight, but he did know that everyone seemed very focused on the Second Coming of Christ. This also bothered him. Indeed, one of his strongest “Christian” memories of childhood was watching the movie A Thief in the Night at summer camp and having his camp counselor tell him he shouldn’t bother dating because Jesus would return before he could settle down and raise a family anyway. It scared Ryan at the time, but thinking back now, it all just seemed silly.

Ryan’s skepticism only grew stronger during his teen years. Grandpa passed away and Ryan helped organize some of the families financial documents. In doing so he realized that one of the reasons they were perpetually short of money is that his grandfather sent most of it to his favorite television preachers. Ryan despised those charlatans. “If I don’t get fifty million dollars to buy a new jet, God’s going to call me home,” one had famously claimed. The fact that he got the fifty million drove Ryan crazy. While that crook lived in mansion, his grandmother struggled to put food on the table. He found the whole enterprise revolting.

So when Ryan saw that his fare was some kind of religious lunatic, he considering cancelling. However, he did need the money, so he pulled up to the sidewalk and helped the man load his signboards into the trunk.

The ride was uneventful. Signboard guy kept busy texting, and by the time Ryan delivered him to his hotel, the two had barely exchanged ten words. Then, as the man grabbed his placards from the trunk and started to walk away, Ryan noticed that he had left a vinyl pouch in the back seat. The zipper was partially open, and the small case appeared to be stuffed with cash.

“Hey, buddy, you forgot your fanny pack!” he yelled.

The man looked back and returned to the car. He grabbed the pouch with a big smile and appreciative nod.

“Thank you very much, sir,” he said with a wink, “but it is called a belt bag.”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Ryan worked his way back toward the airport in search of fares, but the early afternoon lull was in full effect, so he pulled into a strip mall parking lot across from the police station and opened a sports gambling app on his phone. After scrolling for a few minutes, he settled on a prop bet on that evening’s Vipers basketball game. Deandre Wallace had been playing well recently, and Ryan felt confident that he would get over 19.5 points. After double checking how much money he had left on his bank card, he entered that amount, took a deep breath, and tapped his thumb on the button labeled ‘Submit Wager.’ He then closed his eyes and slouched in his seat with a sigh.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The buzz of the Uber app brought Ryan out of a semi-slumber. His first inclination was to ignore this one and take a decent nap, but when he read that the ‘distance to pick up’ was only 45 feet, he decided to see who the passenger was first. He looked around the parking lot to spot the person hailing him and noticed a well-dressed, tall, blonde middle-aged woman pulling a roller bag across the street toward him from the police station. She was gorgeous. The nap would have to wait.

Michelle Anderson was clearly flustered and frustrated. “I can’t believe that place,” she spat under her breath as she threw her suitcase in the trunk and opened the front door of Ryan’s car. “Do you mind if I sit in the front? I get a bit carsick in the back.”

“Not at all,” Ryan smiled as he slammed the trunk and checked the destination on his phone. “Looks like we are going to the Ritz?”

“Sounds right,” she responded as if she wasn’t quite sure. “I have my assistant do all that, and this was last minute.”

“Uh huh,” Ryan responded, before Michelle really got wound up.

“And then when I got into town this morning it was too early to check in and I just wanted to get down to the police station and now they’ve been giving me the run around for hours and, well, it’s been a day,” she explained with a gasp.

Looks like I am going to hear a lot more than ten words in on this ride, Ryan thought to himself with a slight smile, marveling at the speed at which she talked. “I understand completely,” he empathized, as they both buckled up and headed downtown.

Michelle wasn’t as forthcoming as Ryan expected, though, so after the first block he ventured a discussion starter. “Sorry about your experience at the police station. Those guys can be jerks.”

“You’ve had a few run-ins with them, have you?” Michelle responded with a mischievous glimmer in her eye.

“I was one of them,” answered Ryan, immediately regretting his answer.

“Oh…?” Michelle queried.

Ryan waved his hand to indicate it was nothing. “It’s a story for another time.”

Michelle seemed to be alright with letting the subject lie, so after a couple of beats Ryan plowed ahead. “What about you? What were you doing down there?”

Michelle hesitated for a moment, glanced at Ryan as if to decide if he was trustworthy, then answered, “I’m trying to find my daughter. She ran away 8 months ago, and I haven’t seen her since,” she sighed.

“Wow, I’m sorry to hear that,” Ryan responded with genuine sympathy in his voice. “What was her name?”

“Emma. She’s sixteen,” answered Michelle, scrolling through her phone and then holding up a picture of a girl much younger than sixteen, apparently from happier times.

“Sixteen can be a tough age,” he offered.

“She had a really tough time with the divorce,” Michelle began, staring hard at the picture. “Just been so angry the last few years. Wouldn’t talk – the only thing she ever said to me was, ‘I hate you.’ One night I go to her room and find a note saying she was leaving so she could - ” here Michelle made air quotes with her fingers –  “be free to live her own life.”

“Sounds like me when I was sixteen.” Suggested Ryan, trying to make that sound encouraging.

“Ya, I was there too, I guess,” Michelle conceded. “The crazy thing is, though, I’ve made a real effort to be a supportive and open mom. We didn’t really have any rules, I got her a car…not that she used it much. Mostly spent her time scrolling on her phone or making TikToks. She wanted to be a social media influencer. I just don’t know.

Ryan wanted to remain emotionally supportive; more than one former love interest had explained to him how bad he was at that. But his natural personality instincts and experience as a detective were starting to kick in.

“Has she been posting on social media?” he asked.

“Nothing. Her old accounts have been dark since she left.”

“What about your ex? Has she been in contact with him?”

“He says no, but he’s a liar and a cheat, so…”

“Where do you guys live?”

At this Michelle paused and Ryan realized he had moved into interview mode, if not quite interrogation. “I’m sorry,” he said, holding up his palm like a traffic cop and shaking his head. “That is none of my business. We are almost to your hotel”

“No, it’s all right,” she responded gently. “He’s got properties everywhere. And women everywhere. I don’t bother trying to keep track. I got the house in Newport Beach along with a tidy alimony payment for putting up with him for so long.”

They rode along in silence for a few moments before Ryan’s curiosity, and concern, got the better of him. “So what makes you think Emma is in Libertyville?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m probably just being stupid,” Michelle answered, starting to dig in her purse, “but I got this postcard in the mail the other day.”

“I didn’t even know they still made those.”

“Right?!” Michelle laughed, which to Ryan’s surprise made him momentarily forget the harsh circumstances of the day and bask in the wonder of life. It had been a long time since a woman had laughed at his jokes. “Anyway, here it is,” Michelle continued, snapping Ryan’s attention back to the card. It says, ‘Your daughter is in Libertyville. Please come and get her out of the city, because it is about to be destroyed.”

Ryan looked over scrunched his eyes. “Destroyed? What is that, some kind of terrorist threat?”

Michelle looked at the card again. “Well, I mean, maybe, but it seems more like a warning. Like maybe a religious thing?”

Michelle handed the card to Ryan, who examined it while waiting at a light. He glanced over the message Michelle had read, which was handwritten in cursive on the back of the postcard, and then flipped it around to the front. There were two phrases: “THE END IS NEAR” and “JUDGMENT IS COMING.” Both were styled in exactly the same font and colors as the signs that Judgment Guy was wielding earlier in the day. This recognition must have crossed his face, because Michelle noticed something. “What do you see?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he lied, “it’s just kind of crazy, right?”

“I know, I know,” she sighed in resignation, “but it’s literally the only lead I’ve had since she left. I just had to follow it.”

Ryan flipped the card a few more times. “No return address or contact info.”

“Nope”

“And the cops were not interested in following up?”

“Not even a little. They said that kids run away all the time, and they usually come back on their own, and this wasn’t anything to go on.”

“Well, it’s not much, that’s true,” Ryan admitted.

The light turned green, and they drove quietly for a block. This time Michelle broke the silence, after stealthily looking for a ring on Ryan’s finger and not finding one.

“Do you have any kids?” she asked?

“No,” he lied again. “The whole marriage and family thing just never worked out, ya know?”

“I do,” she replied, nodding her head thoughtfully.

Ryan turned into the Ritz parking lot, pulled up in front of the main doors and they both got out. “Alright, well, good luck. I hope you find your daughter.” It was, to Ryan’s chagrin, all he could think of to say as he got the roller bag out of the trunk and handed it to Michelle.

“Thank you,” she replied genuinely. “And thanks for the ride.”

Ryan awkwardly held out his hand for a handshake and Michelle took it graciously, held his hand for perhaps a moment too long, then turned towards the hotel entrance. Ryan moved towards the driver’s door, then heard Michelle call out.

“Listen, I’m going to need some rides tomorrow, and I could really use somebody who knows the city. Would you be interested in scheduling a pickup in the morning?”

Ryan smiled and went quickly tried to think of any way possible that he could make that work. He couldn’t. “You know, I would definitely be up for that,” he replied with a smile, “but I’m actually moving tomorrow – getting out of this town.”

Disappointment flashed in Michelle’s eyes, but she managed to make light of the situation. “Oh, trying to avoid the coming destruction, huh?”

Ryan laughed. “Something like that, I guess.”

“OK, well, thanks again.” Michelle waved and entered the hotel.

Ryan got in his car and drove off, taking a long look back in the mirror as he did.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“And that’s an easy layup for Wallace, who now has 10 points in the first quarter,” the play-by-play man announced excitedly through Ryan’s car radio.

“This kid is on fire! He’s had a great start to this game,” the color commentator chimed in.

Ryan pumped his fist slightly at the first favorable news he had heard all day. His mood soured quickly, though, when he noticed Judgment Sign Guy at the side of the street. Ryan swerved across two lanes of traffic and pulled into a parking spot next to the young man with the placards. He rolled down his window and screamed, “Hey, what kind of scam are you running here?”

“Excuse me?” the man replied, showing no sign of offense.

“Are you sending postcards to rich women to get them to come to town? It is just a con, or is kidnapping involved, too?”

“You get right to the point, don’t you, Mr. Carter?”

“How do you know my name?”

Sign Guy ignored the question. “I’m glad you are here, actually,” he said calmly. “I need a ride to my hotel. Could I retain your services?”

“No!” Ryan snapped back. So far this was not going at all how he expected, and he was trying not to get flustered. “Now tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m happy to answer your questions, but can we do that on the way? I’m on a bit of a tight schedule.”

There was something about the young man’s presence and the way he spoke that Ryan had not experienced in a long time. It reminded him of someone, but he wasn’t sure who. Perhaps his grandmother? But that didn’t make sense. Ryan pushed the thoughts out of his mind.

“No,” he repeated.

The young man looked around and pleaded his case: “What’s the harm? Do you have another fare waiting?”

Ryan didn’t, and reluctantly submitted. “Fine,” he muttered, “get in.”

“Thank you!” Sign Guy responded, just as someone drove by and hurled a plastic water bottle at him, narrowly missing.

“Love it or leave it, buddy,” a man screamed from a raised pickup truck with a ‘Restore Liberty to Libertyville’ bumper sticker on its tailgate.

“What the…” Ryan began, taking out his phone and trying to get a picture of the truck’s license plate. “Are you OK?”

“I’m fine,” the young man responded calmly, apparently unfazed by the incident. “Happens all the time.”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The sun was starting to set as Ryan navigated towards the street preacher’s hotel. “OK, let’s start with this. What’s your name?” he asked.

“Justice.”

“Seriously?”

“Indeed. Nice to officially meet you,” Justice confirmed, holding out his hand.

Ryan almost laughed, but managed to stifle it while reciprocating the handshake. “OK, how do you know my name?” he asked again.

“You drove me this morning,” the young man replied matter-of-factly.

“Nobody remembers that stuff,” Ryan shot back.

“I do. Especially since you were so kind in alerting me about my belt bag.” Justice gave the bag a tap, which Ryan noticed this time was closed and very securely fastened around Justice’s waist.

“Ah yes, the fanny pack.” Ryan couldn’t resist a little dig.

It was Justice’s turn to stifle a laugh. “Well, I was so impressed that I started a file on you and did a little research.”

“A file?! Why would you do that? What are you talking about?”

“Well, part of my work is to be on the lookout for good people,” Justice answered.

“Ha, well, you’re barking up the wrong tree here, pal,” scoffed Ryan. “So, what, you’re like a job recruiter?”

“I suppose you could say that, yes.”

The basketball game was still on the radio, just loud enough that Ryan could follow.

“Wallace makes the second of his free throws to put the Vipers up by six,” a voice announced through the door speakers.

“That’s nineteen for Wallace, and we are still in the first half!” the color commentator added, as Ryan pumped his fist a bit harder this time.

“He’s not going to make it to twenty,” Justice stated flatly.

“What did you say?”

“Wallace. The prop bet over-under was 19.5, right?

“Ya.”

“And you took the over?”

“Ya.”

Ryan’s statements were sounding more and more like questions.

“Well, Wallace’s brother put twenty grand on the under.”

Ryan turned up the radio.

“Here’s Johnson, passes to Wallace who brings it over center, tries to make a quick move around Miller and, oh, he’s down! Looks like he’s grabbing his knee!”

“He’s obviously in a great deal of pain, Jack,” the color man interjected. “Looks like he twisted or popped something. Here come the trainers on the floor. I’m guessing that’s the end of Wallace’s night.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Ryan exploded. “What is going on here? Who are you?”

“I’m just a guy trying to do my job.” Justice’s voice remained low and calm.

“And what job is that?”

“Well, my team and I were sent here to evaluate the city,” Justice began. “There has been an outcry against it, so my boss wanted us to see if what he was hearing was correct; check and see if things are really that bad, that kind of thing. So, we’ve been doing that, and the evidence is clear – things actually are that bad – so now we are beginning to warn people to repent and flee the coming judgment.”

“Oh good grief!” Ryan jumped in. “Listen, I don’t have time for all this crackpot stuff. Why don’t you tell me how you knew Wallace was going down?”

“Well, to be completely accurate, I didn’t know he was going down. The last time this happened I think he developed a ‘stomach virus’ during the first quarter. But like I said, we’ve done a lot of research on the people of this city, and have a lot of…information.”

“A lot of files?”

“Yes, a lot of files.”

Ryan couldn’t decide if Justice’s apparent lack of guile irritated him or impressed him. He seemed entirely different from everyone else in Libertyville, but that could be, Ryan thought, because he is simply the best con man in town.

“What about the postcards? Do you mail those to people in your files?”

“No, I just hand them out,” Justice responded with a questioning glance. “I don’t mail any. Why?”

“I met a woman earlier with one about her daughter. That wasn’t from you?” Ryan looked closely into Justice’s eyes to see if he could catch him in a lie.

“No,” Justice answered with apparent sincerity. “What did it say?”

“It told her to come get her daughter because the girl is in danger. Do you think the girl is in danger?”

“Everyone in this city is in danger.”

“So you don’t know where the daughter is?”

“We can try to look her up if you have a name.”

“Emma something,” Ryan offered. “16 years old.”

“OK, I’ll see what I can find out tonight,” Justice offered. He then noticed that they were almost at the hotel and switched gears. “For now though, we still have some business to discuss.”

“What kind of business?” Ryan inquired as they pulled into the parking lot, kicking himself inside for even opening the door on this converstion.

“Like I said, I’ve always on the lookout for people to help with the cause.”

Ryan moved to end this quickly. “I’m not part of anyone’s cause.”

“OK, I understand maybe you’re not ready to volunteer to hold sign boards, but would you be interested in a paid position?”

All Ryan could think was ‘say no, say no, say no,’ but the words that came out of his mouth were, “What are you talking about?”

“Well, I don’t drive, for one thing, so having an Uber available would be handy. Second, there’s still some stuff going on under the surface that I haven’t been able to pinpoint. I could use someone with investigative skills to give me a hand – help me get a more accurate picture before judgment comes.”

Ryan broke out laughing. “You want to bring me on board your crazy train? Ya, I don’t think so.” Ryan got out of the car and unloaded the sign boards from the trunk.

Justice was undeterred. “It’s a well-paid gig. My boss is not short of resources.”

“I gotta get going. I have packing to do.” Ryan started to walk away, and then paused. “Just out of curiosity, though, what do you consider well-paid?”

“Two thousand a day. First week paid up front,” Justice answered.

“Now I know you are shady. What is it, drug money? Are you the one taking Wallace’s bets?” Ryan asked as he pointed at Justice’s fanny pack.

“It’s all clean and above board, Mr. Carter,” Justice assured him. “You can take it with you right now.”

“And what makes you think I won’t just take it and not come back?”

“You could have taken it this morning.”

Ryan’s mind was spinning, but the thought of not having to pack boxes – he hated moving - settled the deal for him. “You know what, I am going to take your money, and I am going to investigate what is going on in this town. And when I find out what you are up to, I will be happy to see you locked up.”

“Excellent!” Justice responded with a big smile. “I am thrilled with your decision. And please, investigate away. It will be good for you to get back in the game.”

Ryan was rendered temporarily speechless by the reference to his former life as a cop. How much did Justice know about his past? It couldn’t be that much, or he wouldn’t be trusting him with this money, right? Ryan didn’t know what to make of it. He did know that the fanny pack filled with cash was an answer to, well, not prayer, because he didn’t pray, but something.

“Let’s start tomorrow morning,” Justice suggested cheerfully.  “I’ve got some people to meet around here – why don’t you go talk to the mom and see if you can track down the girl. I’ll text you any info I find on her.”

The thought of seeing Michelle again hit Justice with more emotional force than he was prepared for, and he quickly tried to erase the sparkle that he was sure had flashed in his eyes at her mention. “Ya, OK, that sounds good,” he replied as flatly as he could muster.

Justice smiled, said goodbye and walked into the hotel while Ryan got in his car and signed off from the Uber app for the day.

Neither saw the young off duty police woman intently taking pictures of them from across the street.

[More of this story coming soon - subscribe to stay updated, and support Libertyville here. We are facing a month end budget shortfall and are praying for $7000 by August 1.]