They're Gone

by E. A. Barres

  And so Temple’s idea had developed. A plan to expose the nature of men in the highest reaches of society, or hold them hostage. And to do it by taking advantage of the poorest, the most wretched, the people he’d grown up with and reviled.

  And like any scheme built on greed and lust, it had worked perfectly.

  Until recently.

  Carelessness and killing was running through his men like an infection. It hadn’t mattered before. Nobody—police, media, family—worried about a pimp losing his life. Those murders were counted as casualties of the country’s never-ending drug war, shrugged away. As long as it didn’t explode like crack had in the eighties, or stretch into the suburbs, Temple could use violence like a surgeon used a scalpel.

  Unfortunately, his business had exploded. And was reaching into the suburbs.

  Maybe the price of his blackmail had gone too high, and bankruptcy was harder for men to admit to than adultery. Maybe he’d ordered more kills than necessary, not bothering to spread them out, even occasionally two in one night. Maybe he needed to scrutinize the men he worked with more thoroughly (Dammit, Levi, he thought). But whatever the reason, the past months had turned into a bloodbath. A necessary one, but a bloodbath.

  Because of men like Grant Thomas threatening to inform the authorities, all in a misguided effort to help a whore.

  Because of men like Hector Ramirez, splashed in so much blood that he’d grown repulsed. And wanted to flee.

  Because of men like Freddie Harris, a pointless coward, useless after the loss of his partner.

  Scott Temple had built a business based on the unreliability of men, and now that same unreliability was undoing his work.

  But Temple had done enough. He had the home in Aruba, fake passports, and a second life waiting in case this life was revealed. All he needed to do was snip the last few threads, find and burn those photographs Hector had taken, and he could take the money and disappear. Become a new person. Someone completely different from that poor Dundalk kid who’d pathetically stayed to work in Maryland.

  He’d finally leave that person behind, discard his skin like a snake.

  Become someone new.

  Reach his highest potential.

  Temple breathed in the cold night air, locked his Prius.

  Glanced around, saw two people hiding in a car and definitely watching him.

  He headed into his townhouse.

  The alarm system beeped as Temple walked in. He shut it off. Normally, the first thing Temple did was change out of his business suit into something more comfortable, like jeans or sweats, but he could tell that this wasn’t going to be a normal night.

  On the other hand, he was really hungry, so he tossed a frozen burrito into the microwave and slapped the door shut.

  Temple glanced out the window, saw the two people still sitting in their car. He couldn’t see anything other than their silhouettes, but could tell they were definitely watching him. He wondered if he’d have time to change.

  But then two women stepped out of the car, took pains to softly close the doors.

  Temple realized who the women were and was momentarily impressed.

  He went upstairs, got his .22, and slipped it into an ankle holster. Let his pants leg drop over it.

  Then he went to the kitchen to eat his burrito and wait for them.

  Waited to snip these threads.

  CHAPTER

  57

  CESSY RANG THE doorbell.

  Deb looked at her. “You’re ringing the doorbell?”

  “Yeah, why not?”

  “I thought we’d sneak around or something. Try and take him by surprise.”

  “We’re not exactly a pair of Navy SEALs.”

  “Right, but I just thought—”

  The door swung open. Cessy and Deb looked at Temple.

  He was taller than Deb expected. And a lot more plain-looking than she’d imagined. Parted brown hair, mild eyes, looked like he’d be happiest talking about how well his rose bushes were doing.

  Definitely didn’t look like the mastermind behind a murderous crime wave and extortion ring.

  And he was holding a burrito.

  “Why, hello there,” Temple said cheerfully. “How can I help you two ladies?”

  “Where’s my daughter?” Deb asked.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “My daughter, Kim. Where is she?”

  Temple looked confused. “Ma’am?”

  “Stop fucking around,” Cessy said, “and answer her.”

  “But I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Temple frowned. “Why don’t you two come inside? I have burritos.”

  “Or,” Cessy said, “you could come with us.”

  “Well,” Temple said, “no.”

  Deb felt like she was losing control. “Where’s Kim?”

  Her voice was higher and harsher than she expected.

  “I really don’t know who you’re talking about,” Temple said, “but maybe we should talk about this inside?”

  “Fine,” Deb said, and she stepped through the doorway.

  “But we—” Cessy started, then she sighed and followed her.

  And noticed the bulge near Temple’s ankle.

  “Come to the kitchen,” Temple was saying as he passed through the small foyer. “Like I said, I’m starving.”

  “The idea was to get him to come with us,” Cessy whispered to Deb harshly. “Not to step inside his house.”

  “My daughter might be in here,” Deb replied.

  Cessy gritted her teeth, followed them.

  Like everything else Cessy had seen of the house, the kitchen was sparsely decorated. No pictures on the wall, clean countertops, smudgeless stainless steel appliances. Temple stood near the sink.

  He took a small bite out of the burrito. “So who’s this Kim?”

  “You know who she is.”

  “Do I?”

  He sounded so confident that Deb second-guessed herself before she pressed on.

  “Where do you have her? Is she okay? Just tell me if she’s okay.”

  “I don’t know who this Kim is.”

  “Tell me the truth!”

  “I am telling you the truth.”

  “Hey,” Cessy said, her voice louder than either Deb’s or Temple’s, “we’re not going to come to an agreement here, and Deb and I don’t have all night.”

  Deb and Temple looked at her.

  “So I have something else to suggest. Another approach.”

  “What’s that?” Temple asked suspiciously.

  Cessy lunged at Temple, ducked down, and grabbed his leg.

  “What are you doing?” Deb asked, surprised at both Cessy’s action and how quick she was.

  Temple lost his balance and fell face-first into his plate. He swore, the mild-mannered demeanor gone, and violently kicked Cessy away. Temple reached down and lifted his pants leg over his ankle.

  Deb saw his holster.

  She pointed. “He—he has a gun.”

  “Why do you think I went for his leg?” Cessy asked, and she scrambled to her feet and launched herself again.

  Temple took out the gun and Cessy grabbed it, wrenched it away.

  It clattered on the floor. Deb picked the gun up, held it loosely.

  It was the first time she’d ever held a gun. It was lighter than she’d expected, smaller. Almost like a toy version of the real thing.

  Cessy lifted Temple’s head up, grabbed a knife from the counter and pressed it into his neck.

  “Let’s try this again,” she said. “Where’s Kim?”

  “I don’t—”

  That was all Temple managed to say before the edge of the knife dug into his neck.

  Temple went rigid. He looked forward, hands flat on the table, burrito stuck to his cheek.

  “Where’s her daughter?” Cessy asked again.

  Temple looked directly at Deb. It was as if his dark eyes were burning through her.

  “If I knew where your daughter was,�
� Temple said, speaking slowly, “do you really think this is the best way to find out? Do you think I’ll help you now?”

  “Bitch,” Cessy said. “I have a knife pressed against your neck.”

  “We know about you,” Deb said, and she hated the unintentional quaver in her voice. “People told us what you do.”

  “Did they?”

  Those unblinking eyes stared hate into Deb.

  “They said you run an extortion ring of prostitutes. That you’re at the center of it. That my husband was being blackmailed, and then they killed him. That Cessy’s husband was part of it, and they killed him too. Killed plenty of people.”

  “Ex-husband,” Cessy added.

  “Ladies, let’s assume that’s true,” Temple said. “Let’s assume I have two identities. One as the district attorney of Baltimore County, and one as the head of this … gang. Do you think either of those jobs makes me the type of person to give in to a pair of inexperienced women coming in here and threatening my life?”

  The gun was starting to feel heavy in Deb’s hand. She didn’t know how to hold it, didn’t want to aim it at anyone in case it accidentally went off. She shifted hands and held it loosely, pointing at the floor.

  “All we want is her daughter,” Cessy said. “Then we’ll go, and you never have to hear from us again.”

  “Because regardless of either of those jobs,” Temple went on, ignoring Cessy, “you can be sure I’m protected, correct? And if I do both those things, then I have both the good guys and the bad guys watching my back.”

  That uneasy feeling started to spin in Deb’s stomach.

  “Stop delaying,” Cessy said, and she wormed the tip of the knife in a small circle. “Where’s her kid?”

  A thin line of blood raced down Temple’s neck.

  He closed his eyes, squeezed them in pain, lips nothing more than thin lines.

  When his eyes opened, he looked straight at Deb again.

  Deb’s chest tightened.

  “You don’t have to worry about the good guys too much,” Temple said. “You’ll spend four to five years in jail. I’m assuming neither of you have anything on your records yet, so this is breaking and entering and assault, and that’s just to start, although a judge might have leniency, depending on why you’re here. If, like you said, your daughter’s really missing, rather than just down in Ocean City for a few days with some guy she didn’t tell you about. My guess is the judge will ask me if I think you should face the full extent of your charges.”

  He lifted his left hand, touched the blood on his neck.

  “I do.”

  Neither Deb or Cessy said anything.

  “That’s the good outcome,” Temple said. “Here’s the bad one.”

  He looked at the blood on his fingers, picked up a paper napkin and wiped his fingers with it.

  Cessy kept the knife firm.

  “Let’s say I am mobbed up,” Temple went on, crumpling the napkin. “Let’s say I do have a gang of pimps and killers. That means there are a lot of dangerous men out there who need to make sure no one finds out the truth about me. Because if I go down, then they go down. So they need to make sure I stay safe.”

  Cessy glanced around the room.

  Deb realized she was sweating underneath her shirt.

  “Now, you’ll need to listen closely to this part,” Temple said, and he gestured at Deb. “Especially you.

  “If I really do have your daughter tied up in, oh, some basement somewhere, with, say, two killers watching her, and all of these people are watching my back to make sure I’m okay, then obviously your daughter … Kim, right? You said her name was Kim?”

  Deb’s mouth was dry, barren. She nodded.

  “Then Kim is my big chip right now. And the only reason I’d keep her alive is for information. But if I’m not alive, or if those two killers don’t hear from me at regular times, then it stands to reason that we’d cut off any expendable threats.”

  “What are you saying?” Deb asked.

  “I’m saying there’s no way out of this for you two,” Temple replied. “You’re going to end up in jail, or you and your daughter are going to end up dead. But there’s a third option.”

  Cessy wormed the knife point again.

  This time Temple’s eyes stayed open, although they narrowed.

  He and Deb stared at each other. Until she understood what he was suggesting.

  Deb pointed the gun at Cessy.

  “My daughter for her,” Deb said.

  CHAPTER

  58

  KIM COULD BARELY walk when they untied her.

  Her left leg was so cramped that it was difficult to stand. Her spine felt swollen.

  She cried out when someone grabbed her wrist, grabbed her where the ropes had bitten into her. They bound her wrists with some sort of zip tie, but not in the same place the ropes had burnt her.

  They held her elbows, led her forward. She shuffled between them, the hood still over her head.

  “Where are we going?” Kim asked.

  “Stairs.”

  The first steps sent electricity through her sore thighs. She climbed carefully, slowly, until they reached the top of the staircase. They didn’t rush her.

  She was guided through quiet rooms until a doorway led to a temperature change, a fifteen- to twenty-degree drop. She heard a car door hollowly open, and Kim realized she was in a garage. She was pushed into a seat. A door shut behind her.

  Other doors opened and shut. The car shifted as people sat inside. She heard and felt the engine rumble to life.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked again.

  “You’ll see.”

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  “No.”

  Kim wondered if they’d lie about that.

  She was still afraid, but her emotions felt like they’d hit a wall; as if, at this point, she couldn’t be more scared. She remembered stories of people who had lost their entire families in horrific tragedies, and how hearing of each death eventually numbed them; the sadness still there, but pushed too far.

  Her fear was there, and it was everything, but it didn’t seem like it could get deeper.

  Kim kept quiet as they drove, her head down.

  She wanted to ask more questions, ask where they were taking her, but she didn’t want to draw attention to herself.

  She heard cars speed past on the dark highway.

  “Where are we going?” she asked again.

  Neither of the men acted like they heard her.

  Kim stayed quiet until the car pulled to a stop and the engine died.

  Someone pulled off her hood.

  She looked up and blinked. Recognized Levi Price in the passenger seat, the burned man in the driver’s. He wore a hooded sweatshirt, but she could see the charred skin on his hands as they rested on the wheel.

  The burned man turned in his seat, faced her.

  ”We’re going to walk with you from the car to a townhouse. You’re going to hold a jacket over your wrists. You’re not going to stop on the way. You’re not going to run for help. You’re not going to say a word. You’re not even going to breathe too loud.”

  “Okay.”

  “What?”

  “Okay.”

  “Your mom’s inside,” Levi Price said.

  She looked at him, surprised. He was fixing his hair in the visor mirror.

  “She is?”

  The burned man nodded.

  “She’s okay?”

  Levi flipped the visor up. “She came to save you. Seems like it worked. Let’s go.”

  They led her from the car to the townhouse, and with each step, fear left a little. Some of it was the relief of seeing her mom. And maybe it was being outside, in a community of houses presumably filled with people. So many opportunities for someone to save her.

  It only occurred to Kim when they opened the door and pushed her inside that these men could have been lying.

  She tried to take stock of where s
he was. The warm house, the bright lights.

  “Kim?”

  Her mother’s voice. Kim turned, saw her mom and ran toward her, clumsily, hands still bound.

  CHAPTER

  59

  “ISN’T ANYONE GOING to hug me?” Cessy asked.

  Temple grinned as Price and the burned man filed into the room. “I’m afraid not.”

  Cessy watched the burned man as he looked around, sizing everything up, taking in every detail, giving Temple a handgun with just a touch of judgment. Then she turned her attention to Price, who was clearly waiting for Deb to stop hugging her daughter and pay attention to him.

  Cessy shifted her weight uncomfortably, and the burned man and Temple immediately turned their attention toward her. Price was still watching Deb.

  “Relax,” Cessy said. “Just a cramp.” She straightened out her leg and rubbed her thigh.

  “You asked what happens next,” Temple said. “I’ll tell you.”

  “Awesome.”

  Temple smiled again. “We’re going to question you about everything that’s happened, and then figure out what to do with you.”

  “You mean you’re putting a bullet in my head.”

  “It’s a small bullet.”

  Kim and Deb stopped hugging.

  “What’d he say, Mom?”

  Cessy looked over at Kim and Deb, saw the concern on Kim’s face, the guilt on Deb’s. Deb’s hand holding Temple’s .22 was pointed down, but Cessy noted the tension in her arm. She didn’t trust Deb’s experience but, with Kim here, Cessy trusted her willingness to shoot.

  Well, she thought, that’s interesting.

  And then Price stepped in her line of sight and faced Deb.

  “Are you doing okay?” he asked, his voice earnest.

  “For Christ’s sake, Levi,” Temple said, “she’s not interested. She’ll never be interested.” He sighed and sat in a chair facing Cessy, chin resting on the back, arms wrapped around it. The burned man walked over and stood next to him.