by James Hunt
Kerry didn’t take the piece of paper. “I need something else. Something more tangible.”
“Ugh, I just told you what I’m about to give you—”
“Think of it as a down payment,” Kerry said, realizing that she sounded like an enforcer.
Arthur rolled his eyes and then removed a folder from one of the filing cabinets behind his desk. “Here. These are some of his newest accounts. Businesses he just opened up. I have to create dummy corporations to guise them to launder money. Technically they haven’t done anything illegal yet, but will that work?”
Kerry took the papers from him. “You’re doing the right thing, Arthur.”
Arthur shook his head. “Just don’t get me killed.”
15
On the drive back to the precinct, Jim tried calling Nate three times. Each time the phone went to voicemail, but Jim didn’t bother leaving a message. After the conversation with the woman in the park, Jim realized he had trusted his friend too blindly. He had allowed the past to cloud his judgment of the present. Jim considered heading toward Nate’s apartment, but he wanted to see if he could uncover some more information on the man in the photograph.
Even though Jim didn’t have a name, the gang database with the department allowed Jim to search for past criminals by their tattoos.
Once Jim was at his desk, he went to work, identifying as many tattoos as possible on the man that were visible. He saw some tribal rings, a skull, a silhouette of a woman with a devil’s tail, but none of them provided any match. But then Jim saw a key on the side of the man’s neck, and when he entered that into the system, he got his first hit.
The gang this guy was affiliated with called themselves The Door Men. The gang started out as a collection of former bouncers at clubs and grew from there, hence the origin of their moniker. Their work at clubs that featured high-profile criminals garnered them an opportunity for extra work.
Jim cycled through the list of men that had been arrested with that tattoo, but there was no sign of their guy, which meant he hadn’t been arrested by anyone in Seattle law enforcement. Still, Jim needed a name.
With no luck uncovering the mystery man’s identity, Jim looked at the profiles of the other gang members who had been arrested. He noticed a theme of drug arrests and decided to take a short walk over to the VICE unit to find both Glenn Ruthers and Connie Loughlin at their desks. The pair seemed to be in a good mood when Jim walked up and hoped to use that to his advantage.
“Celebrating something?” Jim asked.
Detective Glenn Ruthers, a man who looked more like an aging rocker than a Seattle detective, raised his coffee mug in salute. “I would say taking fifty kilos of heroin off the streets is cause for celebration.”
Jim raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Fifty kilos? That’s a lot.”
“More than we expected,” Loughlin replied. “Thanks to your partner.”
Jim frowned. “Kerry helped you with this?”
Detective Ruthers nodded. “Her dad gave her a tip, and it came through.”
“What brings you to our neck of the woods, Jim?” Loughlin asked.
“Yeah, I heard you caught your own big fish today,” Ruthers said. “Cleaning up the streets one bag of heroin and one pervert at a time.”
“I need an ID,” Jim said, and then he showed Ruther and Loughlin the picture he received from the woman at the apartment complex. “You recognize him? He’s part of The Door Men gang.”
“Don’t know him,” Loughlin said.
Ruthers squinted and then leaned forward in his chair. “Let me get a closer look at that.” Jim handed Ruthers his phone. “Yeah, I do know him. Bill Fayette.” He handed Jim the phone back. “He’s been enforcing for big names for almost a decade now. We’ve questioned him a few times but could never find anything to leverage charges against him.”
“Any idea on who’s backing him?” Jim asked.
“No,” Ruthers answered. “But some of the guys he runs with have been arrested, and they always have a high-priced lawyer. Whoever it is has a lot of money.”
Jim pocketed his phone. “Thanks for the info.”
Jim turned to leave, but Ruthers barked at him one last time. “Hey!”
Jim looked back.
“Aren’t you going to congratulate us?” Ruthers asked, spreading his arms wide and grinning like a mad man.
“Congrats,” Jim answered, and then he returned to his desk.
“Ah, he’s no fun,” Ruthers said.
Jim searched for anything he could find on Bill Fayette and his possible connections, but the man was a ghost on social media. No accounts, no pictures, no posts, nothing. Jim leaned back in his chair, thinking of his next move.
From the very beginning of this case, Jim hadn’t possessed all of the information. Nate had chosen to omit certain details about his life, and Jim had made the mistake of not taking a closer look at his old friend. Because the number one rule when it came to missing person cases was, look at everyone, even the parents.
But it was better late than never.
Jim confirmed that Nate’s story about the death of his ex-wife was true. From there, he found the grandmother’s information, the one who had filed the original missing persons’ report for Tim when Nate took the boy on the run.
It had been years since the report was file, but Jim wasn’t surprised nothing came from it. Despite the number of children who were recovered every year, there was still a significant number who never made it home.
Jim dialed the number on file, unsure if it was the same and then waited while the phone rang in his ear. Even though Nate had been deceitful, Jim still felt like he was betraying his friend by calling. But Jim wasn’t taking any more chances.
“Hello?” a frail voice answered
“Mrs. Matthews?” Jim asked.
“Yes, who is this?” She answered.
“My name is Detective Jim North. I’m with Seattle PD,” Jim replied. “I wanted to ask you a few questions if that’s all right.”
“Seattle?” she asked. “What’s this about?”
“I’m afraid we’ve found some criminal activity in the area involving identity theft,” Jim said. “We found some of your information among the evidence, and I just wanted to confirm a few things with you.”
“Identity theft?” She groaned. “Oh my goodness.”
“It looks like your information hadn’t been used, but I wanted to call and notify you regardless,” Jim said, hoping the ruse would work. “Can you answer a few questions for me?”
“Okay,” Mathers answered.
“Thank you,” Jim said. “It looks like the criminals managed to get your information online. Do you use the computer frequently?”
“Computer? No, I don’t have one,” she answered.
“What about anyone else in your household?” Jim asked, hoping to get her to talk about Nate’s son. “Does anyone else have a computer in your home?”
“No, I live by myself,” Mathers answered. “How did my information get online?”
“Maybe by a grandchild?” Jim asked.
Mathers grew quiet. “Oh. Well. I’m afraid I don’t—” She suddenly stopped, and Jim thought the call had dropped, but then he heard some quiet sobs on the other line. “I don’t have any grandchildren.”
“Okay,” Jim said, feeling guilty for fishing. “Well, it looks like everything is all right now. Have a good day, Mrs. Mathers.” He hung up the phone before she could reply.
It was clear to Jim the grandmother had given up hope on recovering her grandchild, so Jim felt confident on crossing her off the list.
Jim’s phone rang, and for a moment, he feared it was the grandmother calling him back. But he dismissed that and answered.
“Detective North,” he said.
“Got a woman on the line for you,” Hale replied. “Says you’ve been pestering her about an ex-boyfriend?”
Jim leaned forward. It was Nate’s ex-girlfriend. “Put her through.”
A click echoed in Jim’s ear, and a woman’s voice was mumbling something inaudible.
“Nancy Turrett?” Jim asked.
“Yeah,” Nancy answered, her voice growing louder as she brought the phone’s speaker closer to her mouth. “What the hell do you keep calling me about Nate for?”
“I wanted to ask you some questions about your relationship,” Jim answered.
Nancy scoffed. “Not much of a relationship. He gave me drugs. I gave him blowjobs.”
“Drugs?” Jim asked. “What kind?”
Nancy immediately backtracked, forgetting that she was speaking with a detective. “I don’t—Look, I have to go.”
The call ended, and Jim let the phone linger by his ear. Nate had told Jim he’d cleaned up his act, but the closer Jim looked at his friend, the easier it was to see through the lies. And now, questions were starting to pop in his head, questions he should have asked from the very beginning.
Like how Nate had been able to find a job, an apartment, do all of the normal things someone required when filling out applications and performing background checks. If any of that had happened, it would have been flagged, and the authorities would have been notified. Nate would have had to not just deal with fake IDs but procure social security cards for both him and his son, and that was no easy task.
Jim had never pushed Nate to figure out the details of his life. He had taken the case blindly, but now his vision had cleared and it was time for answers.
16
Jim continued to call Nate the entire drive toward the apartment complex. And with each ring he heard without Nate picking up, he wasn’t just irritated; he was worried.
Jim struggled to justify Nate’s reasoning, his behavior. He was afraid that there was something else happening with his friend, something more sinister. But until he finally heard the truth from Nate, he knew that speculating was only going to cause unnecessary stress. Doubt was a cancer that ate away at everything it came into contact with.
Even if Nate hadn’t told him everything, Jim was certain there was a reason. But then again, Jim didn’t really know Nate as well as he thought he did. A lot can change over the course of ten years.
Jim pulled up to the apartment complex with the phone still ringing in his ear. He hung up and pocketed his mobile. He then made sure his gun was loaded. The Glock didn’t have an external safety, so it was ready to fire at a moment’s notice.
And while Jim was hopeful that there was a perfectly normal explanation for all of this, he knew he needed to ready himself for whatever was waiting for him up there.
Jim exited the vehicle and headed for the building. He kept his eyes peeled along the way, looking out for anyone, particularly the man from the photograph, Bill Fayette. But Jim saw no sign of the man.
A quick flash of Jim’s badge at the office granted him entry. The clerk at the front didn’t even bother asking what Jim was doing there.
Jim bounded up the steps to Nate’s floor and hurried toward the apartment. He considered knocking on the woman’s door to help him get the story out of Nate and to see if anyone was lying, but the woman had already done enough, and Jim didn’t want to put her in any more danger.
“Nate!” Jim pounded on the door and then pulled on the knob. “Open up, now!”
At first, there was no response, and then Jim heard footsteps on the other side, and the door opened.
“Jimmy,” Nate said. “I didn’t realize you were coming over.”
Jim studied his friend. The man was pale and sweaty. He looked like he hadn’t slept all day, but there was something else, something past the perplexed and nervous expression, and Jim saw that his friend’s eyes were dilated. “You’re high.”
“What?” Nate scoffed. “No, I’m not high.”
Jim had seen enough junkies in his day to know when someone was using. And now that he was here, looking at his friend, Jim admonished himself for not following through with the correct protocol. He should have done more in the beginning and investigated Nate’s past. That was the first thing any detective would do when dealing with a missing person, always look at all of the family, including the parents.
“What did you do, Nate?” Jim asked.
Nate continued to play dumb. “I didn’t do anything! I’m just sitting here, waiting for you to help me find my son!”
“And why did someone take your son?” Jim asked, growing louder. “Why didn’t you tell me about Bill Fayette?”
The name immediately registered on Nate’s face. He didn’t even try to hide it, but Jim wanted to know what was so important about this man.
“What’s going on, Nate?” Jim asked. “What aren’t you telling me?”
It was the sincerity in Jim’s voice that finally caused Nate to breakdown. He swayed from side to side, and for a moment, Jim thought he was going to collapse.
“I didn’t…” Nate couldn’t even get the words out before he started crying. He fell back into the sofa and buried his face in his hands.
In the years Jim had known Nate, his friend had never been a coward. Sure, he was scared shitless sometimes, but he never broke down like this. Whatever he had done was bad.
Eventually, Nate finally calmed down, but he reverted to a comatose-like state. He sat on the couch, staring at the floor, not moving, and Jim wondered if he would need to call the paramedics.
“After you left, I was genuinely happy for you, Jimmy,” Nate said. “I don’t think there’s anything better than seeing somebody you care about go to a place they deserve.”
Nate looked up from the floor and stared into Jim’s eyes. There was sincerity there, a genuineness that Jim remembered from their time together in the foster system.
“But after you left, I lost my way,” Nate said. “I didn’t have a compass anymore to help guide me on the right path. That’s what you are for me. You were the one who always helped me find my way home.” He scoffed and chuckled to himself. “I guess as much of a home as either of us could have had growing up, huh?”
“Why didn’t you try to come to find me?” Jim asked. “I looked for you after you aged out of the system. Hell, I even tried contacting you before that happened.”
Nate avoided Jim’s gaze. “I didn’t think you’d like what you would’ve found. Hell, I didn’t like what I saw when I caught my reflection in the mirror.”
Jim took a few steps closer to his friend, but the distance between them still felt immeasurable. “Whatever you’re caught up in can be fixed. But you need to tell me the truth.”
Nate looked up, and he was on the verge of tears. “I really fucked up, Jimmy. I fucked up so bad. I had to do it.”
Jim still wasn’t following what his friend was saying. “What did you have to do?”
“I owed them so much money,” Nate said. “There wasn’t any way out of it. Most of it wasn’t even my fault. It was my ex-wife—stupid junkie. She dug us a hole that I couldn’t lift us out of, no matter what I tried to do.”
The longer Nate spoke without specifically telling Jim what the heck was going on, the more worried he became.
“Somebody took your son because of money you owed?” Jim asked.
“It was the only way for me to get out of the debt,” Nate answered. “It’s because of my job at the warehouse. I’m in charge of logging all of the shipments to come in at night. The guy wanted me to make sure that a few shipments remained off the books. I never really touch the stuff. I only made sure that it was off to the side, and when a truck came to pick it up, I made sure security cameras were turned off or pointed in a different direction. That’s all.”
Jim tensed. He didn’t like the way this was shaping up. “And this Bill Fayette, he’s the person you’re working for in all of this? Who is his boss?”
“I don’t know!” Nate shouted and exploded off the couch. “I came to you because I just needed help! Okay? I needed—” He cut himself off and tried to calm himself down. “I needed a friend.”
“Bullshit,” Jim
said. “What was the point of this, Nate? If you really wanted to help your son, then you would have told me the truth about everything. I’ve been out there chasing my tail while your son has been missing!”
Nate flinched and then looked away.
“I called your son’s grandmother,” Jim said.
Nate looked sharply at Jim. “What?”
“But I don’t think you have to worry about her,” Jim answered. “She seems to have given up on ever seeing her grandson again.”
Nate’s cheeks reddened. “I told you what would happen if you did that—”
“I didn’t out you, Nate,” Jim said. “But I need to know the truth about what trouble you’re in and don’t feed me that bullshit line about friendship. You came to me for a specific reason. Why?”
Nate chewed on his lip, and Jim could tell he was on the verge of spilling the truth, but Jim didn’t understand why he was so hesitant.
“I know about the other people in the building,” Jim said. “I know what this place is, how people here are kept to keep them quiet. What are you being kept quiet for, Nate?”
“My job!” Nate screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. “It was impossible for me to find a place to work, all right? I had a son to provide for, but my prospects didn’t involve anything legal. I took the job that I knew would keep food on the table and keep my son with me. Because that’s where he belongs. Not with his grandmother, some old hag he barely knows. I know what it’s like to grow up without a father. You do, too. And I’ll be damned if I let you make me feel like shit for doing what needed to be done for my son.”
It was the first honest thing Nate had told Jim, and with both men still fuming, Jim decided to be the first to bring the temperature in the room down.
