The woman approached carrying a large purse and a small suitcase. Not a lot of stuff for the three of them, “Hey, little one, if you’re hungry, too bad. I didn’t ask you to run away from your home—“ Home? That place wasn’t my home. “—So just suck it up! You’ll live till morning!”
****
Cassandra hung tight onto Mandy’s hand as they walked down a narrow and dark hallway. She heard Mandy’s mother turn what sounded like a key in a lock. A door came open, and then a light came on from the room. They entered the room. There were two beds, two small chairs, and that was all. The place was not even as nice as her last foster home, and somehow that didn’t surprise her. She wondered where they were.
The woman driver entered the room and put the suitcase in the corner, but hung onto that big purse. She wondered what could possibly be in it. It didn’t even look very heavy.
“Shut the door,” the woman said to Mandy’s mother, then she looked at Cassandra, who instinctively tried to shrink behind Mandy. The woman laughed, “Come here, honey, I want to talk to you.” She gestured with her finger, “Come on,” and suddenly seemed half nice.
She approached. The woman held out her arms, grasped her and pulled her into a hug, “I’m going to be your mommy for a while—“ She smelled like…She didn’t know…sweat and something else. She didn’t like it, and barely returned the hug. She just did not like this woman, and for sure didn’t trust her, “Well, like it or not, honey, I’m now your mommy, or your boss, however you want to see me.” Then the woman released her, just kind of brushed her away.
Cassandra didn’t run—although she wanted to—when she returned to Mandy, and stood beside her and a little behind.
A knock.
“That’ll be the boys,” the woman driver said, “Open the door.”
Mandy’s mother obeyed. Two young boys came in. A taller one, probably thirteen or fourteen, the other younger, and…looked familiar. Cassandra couldn’t help herself. She stared at the younger boy. Something about the eyes…cold, and empty, as if nobody was inside. She knew she knew him, but from where?
The older boy approached the woman driver and handed over something…money!—what…?
“Mandy, get undressed.”
What?Why?
“Lola,” the woman driver said to Mandy’s mother, and pointed to the other bed, “You too, you know what to do. Honey, you go over in the corner by the suitcase, and you watch closely to see everything that happens!”
Cassandra hurried to the corner, and squeezed herself in as tightly as she could and held tightly to Rachel Ray—What’s going to happen?—And suddenly she just knew as the memories came flashing back, and that was where she had seen the smaller boy. She remembered those eyes; she would never forget them!
****
Nicole didn’t reach Brentwood until late, and, of course, she came across no young girl hitchhiking.
“I guess I knew I wouldn’t find her,” she said to herself, “But I had hoped….”
****
Cassandra remained in her corner, wedged so tightly she feared she might not get out again, and still, she had not gotten far enough away from what had happened. She couldn’t believe what had happened. The larger boy had done to Mandy what had happened to her two years ago, and the smaller boy had done the same to Mandy’s mother.
Yet it didn’t seem the same. Mandy and her mother didn’t seem to like what happened to them, but they didn’t fight, or scream. They just laid there, with their eyes open, just staring at the ceiling till it was over. Then the boys had withdrawn, pulled their pants up and left, quickly, and both Mandy and her mother had gotten dressed again, so quickly, and then laid down and covered themselves. Would they sleep in their clothes? As if…what? Their clothes and the blanket would stop what happened from happening again?
She was certain neither had liked what happened to them. And the woman driver, she had just stood and watched, not smiling, not…anything.
The woman driver had turned to her, “Did you watch closely, honey, like I told you to.”
She didn’t want to even answer, but did, “Yes….”
Good, because tomorrow night we’ll get a boy for you too, if not before.” The woman’s face went cold as she turned away and said not very loudly, but Cassandra heard clearly: “I’ll put the word out on the street that there’s a nine-year-old girl available. That’ll bring’em out’a the woodwork.”
Cassandra began making plans. If she could get the woman to trust her, and not always hang onto her, or have Mandy hang onto her, or as soon as that door was left open, she would run, fast and far, and maybe find Nicole. How she wished she could find Nicole—Nicole—the only grown up woman who had ever been nice to her. Nicole did have a man with her, but he seemed nice too. In fact, if he wasn’t nice, Nicole wouldn’t be with him. So, he was. He was nice! She was sure.
Chapter 43 He Remembers Her
On the way back to juvie Les Paul was having his thoughts. He remembered the young girl. Those blue eyes and that light brown hair, and the way she held her mouth. Oh yes, he remembered her. He also remembered she didn’t smile much, and how she tried to protect those other girls. Even though he didn’t look directly at her or make close eye contact, he remembered her, how she screamed ‘He reaped me!’ He was also pretty sure that she remembered him.
That strange pronunciation of the word ‘rape’ had gotten him in trouble more than once with the older boys, not serious trouble, of course, but embarrassing. He wondered if she still pronounced it the same, and if she had ever been raped again. She had acted pretty clueless this night, as the big woman kept giving her orders to ‘Watch!’ ‘Don’t close your eyes!’ Didn’t matter to him of course, because he didn’t do young girls.
That one, though, was pretty cute, and he knew she’d be even cuter if she smiled. Maybe he should re-examine his priorities. Funny he would think of that anyway, that he didn’t do young girls, as if he had been doing this for years and years rather than just a couple months…
He saw soldiers lining up facing him. He knew they were soldiers because they all wore blue uniforms and blue caps—they were Civil War soldiers! He had seen pictures of the long lines of soldiers in blue and gray shooting at each other, but why were they lining up facing him?
He moved his hand to wave at them—he couldn’t move his hand! He was tied up! Why was he tied? At least ten soldiers now faced him—
“Attennn—SHUN!”
He didn’t see the man who had shouted that command but he did see the men stand tall, at attention, their long rifles stiff at their sides—
“Port—ARMS!!!!”
The soldiers all raised their rifles and held them slightly away from their chests, stock to their right, barrel up and to their left.
“The hood.”
That command wasn’t shouted. He felt a sense of a black thing hung over his head—What?—then slipping down past his eyes, shutting off his sight—“Readdieee!”
What? He heard a shuffling sound, then a bunch of clicks.
“Aim!” Aim…what…?
“Fire!” Wh—
A bunch of…something, hit, all over the middle of his body. Just thuds. The thuds didn’t hurt, yet in his growing and developing young mind he suspected that what had just happened was not a good thing.
Les Paul shook his head. They had just shot him! A bunch of Civil War soldier-guys had just shot him! Why? What had he done? Why would he have a stupid memory of the Civil War? As if he had been there!
Why?
The memories he kept having were so stupid. Somebody was constantly killing him, hanging him, shooting him—once he had even been forced down to his knees while a warrior in a metal suit lifted a sword over his head—Jesus! Stupid memories!
“Whaddya thinkin’ about, Baby Boy?”
“Nuthin’! And that’s not my name!”
“Well, what is your name? Nobody seems to know.”
“Shut the fuck up or I’ll beat your stupid
head. We’ve got a good thing goin’ here with these girls and tomorrow night they’ll be back.”
“Tomorrow? Good thing?—Why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they need the money.”
“I heard from Pierce that when this bunch got back they’d have something special for us,” Edsel, the other boy said, “Do you spose that special thing is that really young girl they had there tonight?”
“I don’t know.” It hadn’t occurred to Les Paul that the other boy had even noticed her, and why the hell wouldn’t he have? Suddenly—for just a few blazing seconds—he felt protective of her, and that totally confused him. Sure, he didn’t do the young girls, but before then it had never occurred to him to protect them…he snarled to himself and forced that thought away!
“You say ‘girls,’” Edsel said, “But I hear you only do the old lady. What’s with that?”
“Shut the fuck up or you won’t be goin’ with me ever again.”
Edsel kept quiet then. Les Paul had his own thoughts to contend with. There were so many boys there now at the juvie center, and so many were now looking to him for leadership, ever since Pierce had been transferred elsewhere. And maybe he was wrong about not doing the younger girls. Maybe this night he would choose the young girl, not the dark-haired one but the real young one he remembered. Maybe she’ll scream ‘Reap!’ again.
As he saw the hole in the fence up ahead, he smiled. Yes, maybe I will.
Chapter 44 The Discrepancy
The next morning while having breakfast, Nicole’s cell phone began playing one of her favorite Carrie Underwood songs. She answered immediately and heard the voice of her man, “The job couldn’t pass a background check, so it got cancelled,” the chaplain said, “Did you get the Amber Alert out?”
“We did, but, as Sikorsky said, she could be anywhere by now—anywhere in the country, or even the world—because it’s been quite a bit more than twenty-four hours.” Nicole felt her throat catch and swallowed.
“We won’t give up on her though, my dear. The Amber Alert was the least we could do. What about Baby Boy? Anything new on him?”
“Not that Sikorsky knows about, but he did suggest that you and I go down to the juvie center and take a look for ourselves.”
“We’ll do that, and we’re landing in about an hour Can you pick me up?”
“I will, we’ll get you something to eat, if you need it, and then the juvie center.”
****
Two hours later they stood with the center director at a one-way mirror that faced the boys’ recreation area. By the open door that lead to the outdoor recreation area stood Les Paul with the attention of three other boys.
“Seems our boy has maybe become something of a leader,” the chaplain said.
“Yes, he is,” the center director said, evidently agreeing, “The other boys—even the older ones—seem to look up to him a lot. That’s something the center has needed for a long time, someone to set a good example, and Baby Boy certainly does that.”
“How, specifically…?” Nicole asked.
The chaplain knew she was fishing. Depending on what Les Paul had done to gain this man’s trust, and whether or not it would seem sincere and truthful or just one more manipulative scam to get what he wanted.
“Well, for one thing,” the director said, “Our church services have been mostly ignored in the past, but when I’m out there with the boys I’ve actually heard Baby Boy talking about Jesus Christ and encouraging others to come to services. ‘After all,’ I heard him say one day, ‘It’s just for one hour a week.’”
The chaplain heard Nicole’s slight choke that she immediately covered up with a short coughing fit, “That’s wonderful!” she said after recovering, “What else has he done, for instance…?”
“Well, he breaks up fights regularly. Even though he’s a few inches shorter than most of the boys, he gets right in there and breaks them up.”
“Wow!” This time Nicole didn’t even try to hide her… amazement, “You don’t suppose he creates the fights, just so he can break them up and look good…do you?”
The director stared at her and some of his friendliness seemed to disappear, “Absolutely not! I’ve come to trust that boy with no doubt, and I depend on him for help.”
“I see,” Nicole said, “Sorry, but I wanted to find out how you really felt, and I guess I did.”
“You certainly did, and if that is all, folks….” The director turned and nodded toward the door.
“That’s all,” the chaplain said, and took hold of his wife’s arm, “And we thank you kindly for your help.”
****
“Can you believe that guy?” Nicole asked when they were out of hearing.
“Yes, Nicole. I can. He wants to believe there is good in everybody, and I applaud him for that.”
“We should have told him some of the things that boy has done.”
“You’re surprising me, my dear, and you know we can’t…legitimately—and morally—share those things, those details of Les Paul’s life. And his many lives, of course, which we really don’t know about. For all we know this is only his second life as a criminal. Or maybe even just his first.”
“It’s not.”
“You sound so sure.”
“I am, Rad. I think that boy has been around…maybe forever. Somebody, some…thing has to have carried around at least the concept of evil, from…what the hell? From the beginning. Even the cave man days. I bet there were some bloody murders back then. Les Paul is as good a vessel as any to do just that.”
“You sound pretty certain.”
“I am. Back in the cave man days there wasn’t much for religion, but there had to have been murders and rapes, every crime man has ever thought of, all started back then, and our own Les Paul has carried it to contemporary times.”
“Wow, that’s quite a concept, my dear.”
“I believe it, Rad, and I believe you. And I know it’s difficult to keep believing in something with no more to go on then the passage you saw in that book, but I do believe you saw and read the word of God that night.”
“I believe it too, Nicole, although, but for you being with me…well, I don’t know if I would have had the courage to keep going.”
“You would have, Rad. I’m certain of it.” Nicole stopped them and looked solidly at her husband, “And it seems we have come to sort of a dead end with Les Paul, for the time being anyway.” She touched his arm, “Your belief in our mission isn’t slipping, is it?”
“No, it’s not. I guess I was just appreciating hearing you with that director of the center.”
“Yes, I believe he’s quite the gullible idiot.” Nicole brought her smile back and got them moving again, “And not to drastically change the subject, but our Cassandra is still missing—Rad, we have to help that child.”
“I agree, Nicole, and I want to help her too, and, if we can find her we’ll make every attempt to adopt her and take her into our life.”
“Really?” She stopped again and turned to her husband, “You really want to?”
He guided her to the passenger side of her vehicle, a semi-private spot, then took her into his arms and held her really close, “We had a quick hug at the airport, my dear, but we haven’t had a real good hug for a while.” He pulled her even closer and enveloped her, and she responded in kind, “We’ll find her, Nicole.”
“We have to, Rad, and hearing you say that makes me feel better.”
“Good, and I have something else to share with you.”
“Yes?” She stepped back, “What?”
“Our good juvie center director is totally trusting of his boys, but, in my line of sight was—you couldn’t have seen it where you were—what should I call it? A discrepancy. That’s it, a discrepancy in the fence.”
Nicole was openly excited, “A discrepancy?”
“A hole, my dear. I didn’t point it out to our director friend just in case I was wrong, but I have a sneaking suspicion that our Baby
Boy is leading his fellow juvies astray. We’ll get in touch with Sikorsky and the three of us will go back there tonight and maybe see what’s what.”
“Brilliant, my dear chaplain. Are you sure your conniving soul belongs to God?”
“Not to God yet, but He maybe will call in His favors someday.”
Chapter 45 Diva Girl
Cassandra was having a good day, or so she thought. A few hours earlier they had all gone to Burger King for breakfast. For a few minutes she had actually been free. She could have run. She can run fast so she knew they couldn’t have caught her. Mandy had caught her that time in the ditch because she was so unsure of herself, and hungry, and frightened, but this time she knew she could have outrun her.
Twice, even, a police car had been close, but, she had decided, maybe the woman driver wasn’t so bad. After all, weren’t they going to eat again? This time at Dairy Queen! She had never been to a Dairy Queen!
She saw the Dairy Queen in the distance. She hadn’t been to one, but she knew what they looked like. But the woman driver turned onto a different street.
“The Dairy Queen is on the other street!” she cried, not yet even able to believe that the woman driver had probably lied to her.
“Hang onto her, Mandy.” The woman driver turned and glanced back, “We’ll go to the Dairy Queen afterwards.” Then she smiled that smile that was such a big fat lie!
“After what?” she cried. Then she felt Mandy’s iron grip on her right arm. She jerked toward Mandy, but Mandy wouldn’t even look at her. The older girl just kept facing forward.
A pressure entered her chest. She knew it was tears, and she even felt like letting them go, but didn’t, “Mandy—“ instead she choked and swallowed—Nicole—and muffled any more sound with her left hand, then she swallowed and swallowed again, and kept her left hand over her mouth. She just refused to cry, to show these cruel people that she was weak—she wasn’t weak! She’d show them! And why had she again thought of Nicole? Nicole couldn’t help her. She wondered if Nicole even remembered her.
The Light at the End of the Tunnel Page 20
