Despite
my hesitation, I found myself making my way toward the shed, and stopped in
front of the door. I slowly reached for the handle. Whatever I found could be
relevant, so I forced myself to look into the small building.
The
door was locked, but I’d long since figured out how to pick a simple door
lock—one of the more useful talents Joe taught me since I began working with
him. There was a click and, taking a deep breath, I opened the door.
SEVENTEEN
Sam
Jake’s
parents were willing to give me a ride, but they didn’t want to leave me home
by myself, especially after hearing about the boy missing from school. “You can
call your brother, and have him let us know when he’s done working. I can give
you a ride to your house then, okay?”
“Sure,
Mr. Thompson, that would be great. Thanks.”
He
nodded in response, and left Jake and me to our own devices. “Your brother is
working with the police, isn’t he?” Jake whispered. “Some of the kids saw you
talking to them.”
I
shrugged, passing it off like it was normal. “Sure. He helps with missing
people all the time. Caleb went missing, so now Jason is going to find him.”
“How
do you know?” Jake asked. “Caleb could be gone for good, just like Shawn.”
Glaring
sharply at him, I snapped, “That wasn’t Jason’s fault. He didn’t start the case
until a week after Shawn vanished.”
“Chill,
Sam.” Jake held up his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t blaming him. Just saying
it could be the same thing.”
“Jason
has a better shot this time. He was brought in earlier, and he’s good at what
he does. I think he’ll find Caleb.” My voice was calmer now.
Jake
ended the conversation by moving to his game station to start it up. “Might as
well play until you head home,” he said with a grin.
Slight
apprehension hit me, and I hesitated. “Let me give Jason a call quickly. Just
to let him know where I am.”
My
friend didn’t pick up on my unspoken worry, and waved me off while he set up
the game. I slipped out the door, and stood on the back porch to call my
brother. Jason answered, sounding a bit flustered. “Hey, you okay?” I asked.
“That’s
the second time today you’ve asked me that. Is there something I should know?”
His voice was a little shaky, but he didn’t sound too upset.
Not
wanting to give myself away, I chuckled. “No. Just wondering how you are after
getting another missing kid case. And letting you know I’m at Jake’s house,
because his parents don’t want me home alone. So pick me up whenever you’re
done.”
Jason’s
answering chuckle seemed forced. “I’m okay, Sammy. Stop worrying so much. I’ll
pick you up when I’m done here, but it may be a little while. I’ve gotta get
back to work, Sam. I’ll talk to you later.”
He
would see me, but it was unlikely he would talk to me. Not in any meaningful
way. The two years since we ran away from Hannah, Alice, and the others were
about him escaping the past. Definitely not about getting over what happened.
Sure, he talked to me about my experience, but he was still tight-lipped about
his own. Not for the first time, I found myself wondering if he would be more
open if he knew every emotion he felt was known by me. I knew everything he
went through while in Trevor Mason’s grasp.
“Everything
okay, Sam?” Mr. Thompson came outside, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.
Forcing
a smile, I nodded. “Fine. Thanks.” I may not have the same experiences as
Jason, but I wasn’t any more comfortable being alone with an authority figure
than him. Especially when that person is a man.
My
discomfort must have been obvious, but he smiled with a slight shake of his
head. “Glad to hear it. Will Jason be coming to get you?”
“Yeah.
But he can’t get here until later. He’s still at work, and he’s not sure how
long it will take him to get done. Anyway,” I returned my phone to my pocket,
and started making movements back to the door, “Jake is waiting on me for a
game.”
The
man sighed slightly, his smile dropping for a moment before recovering. He
waved me on with another smile. “Go ahead. Enjoy.”
I
smiled hesitantly back at him, and headed inside. “Sam,” he stopped me, now
looking apprehensive. I paused, holding the door ajar, and waited for him to
speak. “If you ever need anything, to talk or…”—he trailed off with a wave of
his hand—“anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask.”
Now
I was confused, but I just said, “Sure. Thanks Mr. Thompson.”
The
door slamming behind me almost covered his soft reply. “Anytime, kid.” When I glanced
over my shoulder as I rushed up the stairs, he was gazing after me sadly. What
was that about?
“Sam,
you ready?” Jake asked impatiently.
Nodding
absently, I accepted the controller. “Ready for anything,” I said. Should I ask
about what his father said, or if Jake ever overheard his parents talking about
me? The question would probably come across as odd. There was no reason to stir
things up.
Jason’s
feelings, which had been put on the back burner for a few minutes, were
beginning to get stirred up. He was getting angry. Not scared, not frustrated,
but really and truly
angry
in a way I hadn’t felt from him since
Kindred—Jeremiah Mason, rather—threatened to hurt the people Jason loved. It
was the kind of anger that could drive him to do something he would later
regret.
“Ease
up, Sam,” Jake was eyeing me warily, and I realized my hands were clenched
around the controller so tightly the plastic was creaking. I was also glaring
at the screen like I wanted it to explode.
The
controller fell to the floor, and I took several deep breaths. Pushing Jason’s
anger aside with some difficulty, I returned to my own, less tortured,
emotions. “Sorry. I’m good. Just had a moment, I guess.”
He
looked doubtful, but returned to the game. My focus for something as trivial as
a video game was shot. Whatever Jason found, at least his powers were still
under control. It was a strong anger, but controlled.
For
now.
EIGHTEEN
Hunter
Dinner
out with the wife wasn’t as exciting as when we first met, but it was a distraction.
Sitting at home was boring, and who knew what the boredom would lead to. We did
sit and watch the news when we got home, which was the first I heard about the
missing boy. A sad occasion, especially so soon after another was found
murdered in the same town.
“Police believe the same person may be behind
both cases, but no more information has been released at this time,”
the
middle-aged reporter was saying.
“That’s
so sad.” Suzette looked at me. “Why would anyone want to hurt those boys?” she asked
innocently.
I
shook my head sadly. “I can’t imagine. But the police will find the person
responsible, don’t worry.”
If
they did find me, she would have to worry. But I wasn’t too concerned. So far
there wasn’t even a sniff at the door by a cop, and I didn’t think the
situation would change anytime soon. Unless I found myself unable to continue
this charade, which was becoming increasingly more likely, I would be safe from
discovery.
Changing
my habits now would increase the risk of getting caught, but knowing the risk
was not enough to deter the desire for long. If anything it would make life
more fun. The increased possibility of being detained, and questioned by the
police, would make my hunts much more risky. The threat was already pretty high
with the small size of the town. A stranger wasn’t immediately noticed, but
could be if seen in the wrong area.
But
discovery could lead to capture, and to arrest. While the trial process might
be entertaining, prison was deathly boring. I could only imagine the same
tedious routine day in, and day out. With only the possibility of some fights
to break the monotony, I would never last. “That’s where your cabin is, isn’t
it?” Suzette said, interrupting my thoughts.
“Don’t
worry, Suze. Only teenagers have been missing, from what I’ve heard. No
adults.”
“I
wasn’t worried; just wondering if you heard anything about the first boy. I
don’t remember hearing much after he was found, other than his body was
discovered in the woods.” Her bright green eyes peered into mine, and she
brushed back her long dirty-blonde hair waiting for my response.
I
sighed dramatically. “Suze, you know if you heard details you wouldn’t be able
to sleep. You don’t want to hear about how a teenager was murdered.”
Her
eyes flashed angrily for a second. “I was only asking. You don’t tell me
anything anymore. Hell, for all I know you were the one who found him. You’d
never tell me something like that.”
Great.
Now she was mad. I moaned, “Don’t be like that. Of course I’d tell you if I
found a body. What kind of person do you think I am? I just don’t like you
dwelling on this stuff, because I know it upsets you. And to answer your
question, no, I didn’t hear anything about him beyond what they said in the
news. I’m sorry if I upset you.”
She
should be satisfied with that. Her anger was so short lived, it was almost
amusing—although, not as entertaining as it would be if it actually ever blew
up into a real fight. As expected, her eyes softened, and she let out a gentle
breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry for getting angry. Can you forgive me?”
I
hid a smirk behind my hand, and regarded her carefully. “I don’t know… it might
take some persuasion.”
She
pouted. The expression was attractive on her, and I again entertained the idea
of using her in one of my hunts. A look of fear and pain flashing in those
beautiful green eyes, it couldn’t get much better. No. Not yet. “You’re
laughing at me. Again. Why is it you’re always laughing at me? I never laugh at
you.”
My
hand found hers, and I answered completely honestly, “Because you are a much
nicer person than I.”
NINTEEN
Jason
Inside
the shed was something I did not want to find. As I figured it would be. There
were mattresses firmly attached to each wall and thick padding on the inside of
the door. There was no electric light so the only illumination came from the
open door, and a small crack along the side of one of the mattresses. The
mattress likely covered a window on the back of the small building. On the worn
out mattresses were bloodstains. Not as much as was on the floor of the shed I
was tortured in, but enough to know something happened here that shouldn’t
have.
What,
exactly, I had yet to discover. Unlike Trevor Mason, these people didn’t keep
their tools in the shed. Beyond the makeshift soundproofing and splatters of
blood, the shed was empty. My teeth ground together, and my muscles clenched. I
was done here. Time to go get Nickels.
I
returned to the front door and knocked, not bothering to hide my angry stance
when I pushed past the frail woman to find Nickels talking to Caleb’s father.
“What did you do?” I asked harshly, getting into the man’s space, and meeting
his eyes fearlessly. He wasn’t much bigger than me, but he was stronger.
“I
don’t know what you’re talking about,” his voice shook with anger.
“Jason,
what happened? Leave him alone.” Nickels put his hand on my shoulder, but I
shook him off.
I
shoved Caleb’s father into the wall. “What did you do to Caleb?” I asked
through gritted teeth. “I saw the shed. Don’t even try to deny it.”
“Jason.”
Nickels pulled me back. “You need to stop before I have to arrest you,” he
spoke softly so the other man couldn’t hear him, and I put my arms up in
surrender.
“He’s
all yours, Detective. If you want to see the shed, it’s open.” The probable
abuser opened his mouth, but I interrupted before he could speak. “Before you
say anything, it was all above-board. Your wife gave permission for me to search
the property for anything that would help find Caleb. She wants to do what she
can to find her son. I’m guessing you aren’t as concerned.”
I
let Nickels lead me out of the house, and ignored his annoyed glances while
leading him to the shed. I stood silently as he looked around the little room,
and he drew similar conclusions. “Child abuse? Did you find anything else?
Anything that could help us find Caleb?”
“No.
Wait,” I said, closing my eyes. One of the three people from this house was
about a mile down the block right now, and I hadn’t felt anyone leave the
house. I faltered for a moment. Nickels didn’t know about my abilities. How
could I tell him Caleb was nearby without proof? “I think he left willingly. It
could be we’re not looking at this in the right way. He’s being abused. He’s
not great at school. And, from what we heard, he doesn’t have any close
friends.”
“All
true, as far as I can tell. You were right, by the way,” Nickels said. I looked
at him curiously. “The father wasn’t acting very concerned. Kept saying he
probably just skipped school, although I could tell the mother didn’t agree.”
No,
she didn’t. Her footsteps were approaching the backyard now, and her husband’s
weren’t with her. “Mrs. Larson,” I called out right as she appeared around the
corner. “Is there a place nearby where Caleb would go to get away?”
She
froze when I called her name, and glanced at the house fearfully. “Yes,” she
said softly. “The park. There are woods there, and I think there’s a small
clearing where he sits to think about things.”
“If
you really want what’s best for Caleb, you need to leave your husband. Your son
won’t stay with you unless you aren’t with
him
anymore. Think about it,
for his sake and your own,” my voice was soft, but the tone wasn’t, and Nickels
looked up sharply at the harsh emotion I showed.
I
gestured ahead of me. “Detective, I think we have a park to search.”
“You
might be right, but…”
“Not
the time, detective. Trust me on this one. I have a feeling we’ll find him
there.”
He
nodded tersely, and we drove down the street to the wooded park. It happened to
be a section of the same woods where Shawn was found, but I didn’t feel any
other footsteps near Caleb to indicate he was in any kind of trouble. When we
got out of the car I kept tabs on the vibrations from Caleb’s footsteps, and
tried to lead Nickels to him. It was a trick to do it without looking like I
knew exactly where I was going.
Caleb’s
heart rate was high and he was pacing nervously. He made no attempt to run
away, even when I was certain he’d heard us coming. “Caleb!” I called out,
letting him know we were looking for him.
We
broke through the tree cover into a small clearing, and there was Caleb. He was
just as I pictured him as we walked through the woods: pacing and nervous. What
I didn’t expect was the gun. “Caleb.” I raised my hands to keep him calm when
he swung around to aim the weapon at me. “My name is Jason. I’ve been looking
for you.”
He
laughed bitterly, “Well, congratulations. You found me. Now what?”
“Watch
yourself, Jason,” Nickels muttered.
I
gave him a sideways glance, and kept my hands raised to show I was unarmed.
“Well, that seems to be up to you right now. What are you doing?”
The
hand holding the gun dropped down, and I relaxed slightly at not having it
aimed directly toward my chest. “What’s it look like I’m doing?” His voice was
shaky, but he was trying to hide his nerves by tensing his muscles and glaring
at me.
This
part I was unsure of. I may have experienced firsthand what this kid went
through, but I wasn’t certain how to talk him down—especially when no one could
have stopped me when I tried. A glance at Nickels showed he had his gun trained
on the boy in case he made a move on me, and I wished he could just put it
down. Having the other man’s weapon trained on him would only emphasize the
stress he was under. Oddly, Caleb waited while I considered my options, and
watched me expectantly. “It looks like you’re hurting, and trying to find a way
to make the pain stop. But you don’t want to hurt yourself, do you? Not
really.”
He
looked surprised, and cocked his head, questioning silently why I’d think that.
After all, he was out in the woods with a gun. “You’ve been out here for hours,
Caleb,” I said softly. “Trust me. When you really want to end it, the process
won’t take hours. Only minutes.” Swallowing convulsively I continued, my voice
shaking. “You don’t want to die. You’re a smart kid, Caleb, and I understand
what you’re going through. It can end. You don’t have to stay with him. Just
tell us what he’s been doing, and he’s the one we’ll take away.”
Caleb
looked toward the ground, but stayed focused on me as well. I didn’t attempt to
move or speak while he thought things through. “I… I don’t know what to do,” he
said desperately, swinging the gun up toward me, and making Nickels tense up behind
me.
“That’s
okay, kid. No one really does in your situation. Trust me. Put the gun down,
and let the right person get punished for once. Please.”
The
few minutes while he considered his options were tense. Nickels was ready to
fire if Caleb made another move. The boy was tense. His finger was on the
trigger, and the gun still aimed at me. He met my eyes, and I said, “Trust me,
Caleb.” I held out my hand. “Just give me the gun, okay?”
He
nodded and took a few steps toward me. After another moment, he released the
trigger, and handed me the butt end of the weapon. “You really understand?” he
asked softly. Nickels put his own weapon away, and cuffed him.
“I
do,” I said, rolling up one sleeve to show the self-inflicted scars briefly. I
covered them again before Nickels could get a closer look. “Tell the police
what your father has been doing. Show them, if necessary. If there’s any
justice, he won’t hurt you again.”
His
lips twitched. Caleb clearly wanted to smile at the thought, but was unable to
go through with the full action. “Thank you.”
Nickels
led the boy through the woods back to his car. I followed slowly behind,
sorting through my emotions. This case got us no closer to the serial killer,
but we helped a boy. Who—eventually—would have followed through on his plan to
shoot himself. My anger at his father, and my personal experiences, outweighed
the fear of a boy who was a finger-twitch away from shooting me just for being
there. My hands shook as the adrenaline began to fade.
Stowing
Caleb in the backseat took only a moment, since he was cooperating fully, and
Nickels looked at me with sympathy and curiosity. “You’ve tried before, haven’t
you,” he stated. When I didn’t answer, he sighed and continued. “Do you think I
won’t still respect you? You’ve told me nothing of your past, and that’s enough
to tell me that it was bad. I’ve seen some of the scars, Jason. Trust me; if
something bad happened to you, I would only respect you more for getting
through it. You said earlier that you don’t think you have people who care, but
I’ll tell you: despite you trying to push me away,
I
care.”
The
detective’s emotions threw me a bit. He hardly knew a thing about me, how could
he think he cared about me? “Are we friends now, detective?” I asked softly.
“Because I’ve never done anything with you, besides avoid questions.”
“You
want to help people,” he said. “You are obviously hurting and angry, and, from
what I can see, you’re afraid of letting people get too close. Despite that,
you still care, and try your best to help. Those are the traits of a person I
want as a friend.”
I
glanced into the car, where Caleb watched us closely, and thought for a moment
before responding. “You’re saying… what, exactly?”
He
sighed heavily, opening his door, and talking over the car to me. “I’m saying
that if you let me in, even a little, I want to be your friend. But it’s your
choice, Jason. Let me know when you’re ready to be mine.”