Indebted (28 page)

“Jesus fucking Christ, Tristan. You’re starting to remind me of Aaron’s little friend, Chloe. Give me half a second to answer everything, and then I have questions of my own. I’m positive time is of importance here, so this has to be quick.”

“I agree. Shoot….”

“When I got back to Aaron’s apartment, the place was torn to shreds and there were two dead bodies on the floor. I found what looked to be evidence of a struggle in the hall, then nothing. There’s no hint to where Aaron is. I did notice the bodies were members of The Natives, so I went over to pay Sam a visit after I found you and got help. You managed to tell me he had been taken before you passed out. After some convincing, Sam filled me in that Evan, Adam’s little brother, set this up and took Aaron. He says he doesn’t know where he’s hiding, and I tend to believe him.”

Tristan curses and punches the bed, which in turn makes him hiss in pain and grab his chest. I swiftly jump up to see if I can help in some way, but after a minute, he relaxes again.

“I’ll live, Liam. Don’t worry about it. What’s your next plan of action? Have any of the boys heard anything on the streets?”

A little reluctantly, I explain, “Actually, Tristan, that’s why I’m here. I mean, I care that you’re okay and I want to be here for you, but I know Addison has that part covered. Aaron doesn’t have anyone out there right now caring for him, so I thought….”

Tristan raises his hand to stop my babbling. “Enough. I understand completely. You need to find him. The question is, what are you still doing here after saying all that?”

“Well, no one seems to know where the little weasel is hiding, and you did surveillance on them for quite some time. I was wondering if maybe you remember some sort of secret hangout the younger guys in The Natives have.”

He looks overwhelmed for a few moments as he runs through everything he can remember. Tristan’s breathing a little heavier, and I’m beginning to worry I’m working him up—exactly what I promised Addison I wouldn’t do.

“Fuck, Liam, are you telling me Aaron’s life depends on some little snippet I might remember? Do you realize it’s been months since I’ve even been in that area, except to deal with a job? What if I can’t remember? God damn it!”

Tristan, who is always so cool and collected, is starting to have a panic attack. I never thought I’d see the day.

“Tristan, you need to calm the fuck down. If you can’t think of anything, I’ll find him some other way. I just thought I’d try you first before running all over town, shaking down every member of that brain-dead bunch.”

“Fuck, I don’t know. I didn’t pay much attention to Evan. I’ve always just thought of him as some hapless kid in a den of thieves.” By this time, his monitors are going off and his heart rate is off the charts. I have a feeling the docs will be in any minute to check on him. Tears are pouring down his cheeks. “I’m so fucking sorry, Liam. This is all my fault. If I’d just fought harder or suspected something was up, none of this would be happening.”

Rubbing my hand up and down his arm, I try to soothe him as my stomach twists in knots. The guilt is eating me alive, and I feel helpless. Not only because I’m causing Tristan so much pain, but because I am now at a dead end with my leads for finding Aaron. My throat constricts as the words “dead end” run through my head.

“Shhh, Tristan. None of this is your fault. If anyone is to blame, it’s me—I shoulda never brought Aaron into this world. I knew I couldn’t have him in my life, but I let my selfishness get the best of me. It’s going to be….”

Addison bursts into the room and interrupts, “I fucking told you not to rile him up. Look what you’ve done. The doctor is headed this way to more than likely sedate him again. You motherfucking asshole! Get out! Get out now!”

“Addison, you don’t understand. If I don’t find out this information from Tristan, Aaron will be dead! Do you want that on your conscience? I can’t lose him, Addison, any more than you can lose Tristan. At least you know where the fuck he’s at and people are here to take care of him. Aaron is out there—scared and surrounded by strangers, assholes who want nothing more than to use him to get to me. They’re going to hurt him or even kill him.”

My throat strangles out those last few words. The thought of Aaron being killed has me close to falling apart and sinking to the linoleum.

Addison just stands there, stunned at my outburst. Before she can say anything else, Tristan calls her to his side. After whispering a few words to her, she wipes tears from her face and nods.

Turning back to me, she says, “I understand, Liam, I do. Tristan has explained to me he can’t give you the answers you so desperately need. He says that’s what’s got him so upset, not anything you’ve done. I’m sorry for getting worked up, but Tristan is as much my world as Aaron is yours. I won’t let anything hurt him, not even you. My prayers are that you find that sweet man of yours and that he will be okay. I think it’s time for you to go, though.”

As if to back up her words, the doctor comes in the room and starts tending to Tristan. Quietly, I take my leave, as I’ve caused enough trouble for two of the dearest people in my life.

I walk through the waiting room toward the exit doors, my mind whirling with what the hell I should do next. With a resigned sigh, I pull out my phone to dial Luke. Hopefully, they’ve found out something by now.

As I’m on the phone talking with him, my personal cell beeps, alerting me that I have a message.

“Hey, Luke, let me call you back real quick. I need to check on something.”

“Sure thing, Boss.”

Picking up my other cell, I see I have several voice mails and messages from that number.
Fuck! You need to call them!

Suddenly, the air leaves me as I see a text from none other than Aaron, sent just under an hour ago.

I want to see
Groundhog Day
. It’s funny when people are watching us watch it. Love you, Aaron.

What the fuck?

M
Y
BREATH
comes out in sharp, short bursts.

My hands, once clenching the phone, have now gone slack, making the device drop and clatter on the floor unnoticed. The thundering in my ears drowns out any noise around me. Questions are going a mile a minute in my head.

What the hell does this mean? Who the fuck would send you that text? Did they make him text you? Why would they have him text something so bizarre?
You’d think it would be a list of demands or a location. Something… anything.

Picking up the cell off the floor, I head over to one of the hard plastic chairs in the waiting room. I need to calm the fuck down and think this through. Sinking to sit, I barely register the cold seat. My only thoughts are on this screen in front of me. My intuition tells me this text is vital for some reason.

I want to see
Groundhog Day
. It’s funny when people are watching us watch it. Love you, Aaron.

One thing this tells me for sure is Aaron is coherent enough to answer questions. No one knows about the special place this movie has gained in our relationship. It was once Aaron’s favorite, but now it’s our flick to watch with popcorn on those rainy days—a go-to film when we need a laugh or to lighten the mood.

The message was sent with Aaron’s phone. Then the thought strikes me….
Maybe he’s trying to tell you something only we would know.
It seems strange for Aaron to send this weird statement out of nowhere. He was in that house when everything happened.

Sitting hunched over the little handheld, I read the words repeatedly. Nothing comes to mind except memories of us watching the movie together. I run through the inside jokes we’ve made due to seeing it so often. His wish about wanting to repeat the most perfect day again and again. Yeah, today is definitely not that day.

Grunting in frustration, I feel like the biggest idiot in the world. Something says I should know exactly what this means, and it’s right there on the tip of my tongue. I’m getting angry with myself now. In a huff, I refocus my energy on the first sentence.

I want to see
Groundhog Day
.

This sounds really odd to me, but I’m going to go with the simplest answer first.
Where have you watched the movie
Groundhog Day
?
The first place that comes to mind is my condo. If this is a clue from him, then the first place I need to look is my place. Feeling like I finally have some sort of direction, I hurry to my home.

As I walk in the door, I toss my keys into the bowl on the side table and make my way to the bedroom. There in the middle of the space is the huge bed. The memory of what we thought would be our last day to ever see each other flashes through my mind. I so badly wanted to show him how I felt and that it was more than what it seemed. I thought of his body curled up next to me on the mattress as we watched that ridiculous movie, the little laughs and snorts he would make at the sarcastic commentary of the main character. I remember when he shared the tidbits about the game he played with his mom. My heart ached seeing the sadness in those beautiful green eyes. I wanted nothing more than to promise him he would never hurt like that again.

The thought of Aaron in pain snaps me out of my reverie.
You need to be searching for clues, not enjoying memories, asshole. Besides, look what you’ve done. You’ve caused him nothing but pain because you couldn’t leave him alone.

Pissed at the situation and myself, I glance around for anything that seems out of place. Nothing sticks out so far. I desperately walk to the movie shelf and entertainment area—still nothing.

Enraged at my inadequacies to figure this damn text out, I yell, “God damn it!” then dump the shelving unit over, causing all the DVDs to fall to the floor. I’m panting hard from exertion and anger. Hate for myself and the life I lead fills every pore of my body.

I groan and grasp handfuls of my hair. “What does it mean? Why would he be so cryptic?”

Getting yourself worked up is helping no one. If he made a riddle of this, there has to be a reason for it. Think about it practically.

Doing that, I grab a notepad and pen—scribbling down the first part. “I want to see
Groundhog Day
.” I write down everything I can think of while chewing my bottom lip.

• Aaron has seen the movie hundreds of times.
  
• We’ve watched it together at least six times.
  
• It’s worded weird.
  
• Why would he say “see” instead of “watch”?
  
• Aaron is a college-educated person. He wouldn’t screw up his language that badly, even under stress.
  

Figuring out that I may have deciphered the first clue, I get excited.
Okay, so what does the word “see” mean to you?
“Fuck, I don’t know! Oh great, now you’re answering yourself.”

Getting an idea, I hurry to the other room and grab a dusty thesaurus off my bookshelf. I swiftly thumb through the pages until I reach the word “see” and read the results. My eyes scan the words, and as they latch on to a few, I underline them “discern, spot, notice, catch sight of, glimpse, catch/get a glimpse of, make out, pick out, spy, distinguish, detect, perceive, note. informal:
lay/set eyes on
. literary: behold, descry, espy.”

The only thing I can think of “to set eyes on” means, is the setting where the movie took place. What the fuck is that town called? Pukstaky?—no. Punsticky?—no. Punxsu…. Punxsutawney! That’s the name!

So, from this sentence, I deduce he’s in Punxsutawney. Now I’m feeling even more confused. Why the fuck is he there and sending me a text all secretly? Why doesn’t he come to me? All these questions are driving me mad. I know no one would have sent him there or have taken him there, because this is our thing.

All of a sudden, a light bulb goes off over my head, and I feel almost weightless with relief. Whoever had Aaron doesn’t have him anymore, and he’s telling me he’s okay. Just as quickly as the elation swamps me, it leaves, and anger replaces it. Why the hell did he run off and now make me aware he’s fine? Why didn’t he get Tristan help? That time could have cost my best friend his life.

Promptly, I elect not to jump to conclusions and to decipher the rest of the message, writing it down as I did the first part.

“It’s funny when people are watching us watch it.”

Figuring out this text doesn’t seem as overwhelming. I sit there and stare at it for a few minutes, and the spacing is glaring at me. That extra space between “us” and “watch.”

You know it could be a typo.

“No, I don’t think it is.” I’m answering myself again, which is not a good sign.

My work phone rings and disturbs my train of thought. Hitting the answer button, I holler into the receiver, “What?”

“Whoa, boss,” Luke answers. “I thought you’d want to know we located Evan. He’s telling quite the tale, and I’m certain you’re going to want to hear this in person.”

Fuck! Just what I need, another damn mystery. “Hold him there, and I’ll get back to you for the address. I have something else going on that takes precedence over Evan and his stories right now.”