Splintered
Page 22
“Anyway, I haven’t gotten the psych reports yet, you know how they get all pissy when you try to get someone’s mental health records, but I do know he was institutionalized till the age of fifteen and then in the foster care system until eighteen. Once he became an adult, he legally changed his name to Drew McCormick and set about building a whole new identity and life for himself.”
“Jesus Christ,” Hutch cursed and ran a hand over his three-day old beard. “How in the hell did he become head of security? Don’t they do a background check?”
“His record is clean. Guy didn’t have so much as a parking ticket, and you know no one, including prospective employers, have a right to juvenile records. He was meticulous in keeping normal-looking on the surface, but just like what we found in the basement of his home, Michael was keeping the evilness within him well hidden.”
Hutch noticed the sickened look on Granite’s face when he mentioned the basement. “You’ve seen it?”
Granite nodded, the color draining from his face as if he were picturing it.
“That bad, huh?”
Granite tilted his head and met Hutch’s gaze. “You experienced his evilness up close and personal, what do you think?”
Hutch remembered the look in Drew’s—Michael’s eyes. He might have said he was trying to rid Hutch of the devil through torture, but Hutch knew better. He’d seen it shining in the fucker’s eyes. Michael was the devil, and he was enjoying every cut, burn, and scream. Not only was he enjoying it, the sick bastard was getting off on it.
“I think I better sit down,” Hutch retorted and slumped down on the mattress.
“I figured out the timeline between kills. Edwards received one week off for each twelve weeks he worked, and what he had in mind for his victims took time. The basement was like a medieval dungeon or torture chamber. Chains were bolted to the walls and ceiling. Along the entire length of another wall was an assortment of weapons, sex toys, giant fucking dildos.” Granite shook his head, the color leaving his face once again as he remembered the horrors of what he’d seen. “The worst part was what they found in the freezer.”
Hutch closed his eyes and hung his head. He had a good idea what Granite was about to reveal, and the thought made him nauseous.
“Hutch, there were more than eighteen.”
Hutch’s eyes flew open, and he snapped his head up, looking at Granite with disbelief. “What?”
“Twenty-three clear containers. Jesus, the sick bastard had saved the victims’ dicks as trophies,” Granite spat angrily.
“And you said I was no fun, Mr. Bearer-of-bad-news.”
Granite ignored Hutch’s poor attempt to lighten the horror hanging heavily in the air swirling around them. “It will be weeks before all the DNA results are in, but I was talking to Struk, who pointed out that if they were homeless or runaways, we may never know who the other five victims are.”
“All we can do is try our best to identify them.”
A soft knock on the door interrupted them. “Agent Hutchinson?”
“Yeah, c’mon in.”
“I have your discharge papers,” the nurse announced as she entered the room.
“Thank fuc—I mean, great,” Hutch responded.
“I’ll head out and get the car,” Granite offered.
“No, stay,” Hutch told him. “I want to go see Byte before we leave.”
Granite nodded and sat back in his chair, putting away the horror in his notebook.
Hutch couldn’t get discharged and out of the room fast enough. He wanted to see Byte, see with his own eyes he was okay, and then he wanted a hug. But only one man could give him the kind of embrace he needed. Hutch needed Noah, because in his arms Hutch knew the weight of what he’d just learned would be eased a little. Noah made him feel good just with his nearness, and he hoped he wouldn’t have to be too far away from the man ever again.
Epilogue
THE EARLY-MORNING sun streaming in through the bedroom window made Noah snuggle farther into the mattress and pull the covers up over his head. It was his last day of teaching, last day of seeing patients at the campus outreach center. He’d been working toward this day for most of his adult life—he’d officially be Noah Walker, PhD. Dr. Walker. Yet not even the excitement of his last day was enough to pull him from his bed.
The alarm sounded, and Noah groaned in protest, burying his face in his pillow.
“Shut up, I’m not ready, damn you!” The alarm didn’t listen and continued to screech until Noah was forced out of his warm bed and slammed a hand down on the snooze button with an irritated huff.
He flopped back on the mattress and stared at the ceiling. He knew why he wasn’t ready for this day to begin, why he was dreading it, had been dreading it for the past week. No matter how much he wished otherwise, Hutch, Granite, and Byte would be leaving today. Michael Edwards’s, aka Drew McCormick, reign of terror on the gay community had come to an end, as had the agents’ time in Chicago. The idea of them leaving—the very real possibility of never seeing them again—made Noah’s chest hurt.
Had he only known the men for such a short time? Jesus, it felt like so much longer than a couple of weeks. He supposed it was the shared experience, the uncertainty, fears, frustrations, and the triumphs was why he felt so bonded to them. He was going to miss them all terribly, especially Hutch.
Noah closed his eyes and scrubbed his hands over his face. Yeah, especially Hutch.
Most of his life had revolved around his obsession, and for the past eight years, he’d let it propel him through his studies, excel at them. It left very little—no time to form friendships or date or even think about what it would be like to have that one special person in his life.
So now what?
School was done, and the one man he thought he could actually see himself with for more than a random hookup was leaving. The idea of having so much free time on his hands bothered him, and for the first time, the thought of being alone scared the bejesus out of him. His time with the guys might have been brief, but it was long enough for him to discover he enjoyed the camaraderie, the friendship.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Noah blew out a frustrated breath and then pushed himself to a sitting position. “I seriously hate that damn thing,” he grumbled and reached over and turned off the alarm.
He briefly considered going back to sleep, hiding from the day, but a rap on his door had him leaving his bed grudgingly. He grabbed a pair of sweats from the floor and slipped them on as he made his way to the door. He looked out through the peephole—something Hutch had insisted on—to find the man himself standing on the other side. Noah could feel the smile spread across his face as he flung the door open.
“I brought bagels?” Hutch said in way of greeting and held up a small brown paper sack.
“C’mon in,” Noah responded and stepped back to allow Hutch entrance. “I just got out of bed, so I haven’t started the coffee yet.”
“Really? I thought you’d have been up and raring to go, excited about your last day. Didn’t you say they planned a going-away party for you down at the center?”
“I’m excited,” Noah lied, keeping his back to Hutch as he set up the coffeemaker. “But the bed was pretty warm and…. Well, not even the thought of a potluck was enough to rouse me.” He pushed the button on the coffeemaker and then turned to lean against the counter.
“Have you given any more thought to what you’re going to do after you graduate?” Hutch asked as he pulled a bagel out of the bag and handed it to Noah, then grabbed another for himself before tossing the bag aside.
“Other than taking a six-month sabbatical, not a clue,” Noah confessed.
He kept his eyes low, picking at the bagel, not daring to take a bite as the thought of what the day was to bring caused his stomach to churn.
Hutch placed his hand under Noah’s chin and tilted his head up, forcing him to meet Hutch’s eyes. “I know that look. What’s going on in the amazing mind of yours?” Hutch asked gently.
“Just thinking about my future, what I want to do next,” he admitted.
“Have you ever thought about Virginia?”
“What about it?” Noah asked cautiously.
“They have a great entry program at Quantico. You’d be a real asset to the bureau.”
“Never really thought about it. I mean, I always thought I wanted a cushy desk job, but I don’t know.” Noah worried his bottom lip with his teeth. After being around Hutch and the other guys, Noah found the idea of working with them appealing. “I wouldn’t know how to go about it, where I’d live, where to begin. I’ve been a little occupied the past few years. Hadn’t really thought about my future seriously, I guess.”
“I may be able help you get in the program.” A lopsided grin spread across Hutch’s face. “I might know one or two people within the bureau. Hell, you could be a rookie with Byte. He’s finally decided to join us officially. Hey, maybe one day you could even be part of our crazy-ass team.”
“I thought he said the bureau doesn’t hire hackers.”
“Don’t let Byte fool you. He’s got a master’s degree in IT. Besides, what better way to combat hackers than with one of your own? Seriously, you should really think about it.”
Noah’s heart started thumping wildly, the nausea of moments before turning into a pleasant fluttering sensation. A few years ago, he’d thought casually of joining the FBI after school, the idea appealing. With Hutch asking him, offering to help, it was more than just appealing, it really did sound like a dream come true.
“So you think you may be able to help me, huh?”
Hutch tilted his head, his grin growing. “Yeah, I think I can, Dr. Walker.” Hutch slid an arm around Noah’s waist and pulled him close. “You could be my prodigy, and I’d be more than happy to show you the ropes—or my cuffs.” He waggled his brows.
“I’m not sure, but I think threatening to use cuffs on your understudy may be pushing the whole sexual harassment thing to a new level.” Noah smirked.
“Well, you know what they say, you have to break a few rules to get the job done.”
Noah’s happiness grew in spades as he imagined what it would be like to live in Virginia and work with Hutch, Byte, and Granite. He kept his voice neutral, however, when he said, “I’ll consider it.”
Hutch pecked him on the lips and then turned Noah loose before grabbing a mug from the counter. “You’ll do it,” Hutch said, sounding confident, as he poured a cup of coffee.
“Oh really? And what makes you so sure?” Noah countered.
“I have a way of reading people.” He brought the mug to his lips, blew on the hot brew, and then looked up at Noah. “I’m psychic, ya know,” he said with a wink and then took a sip.
Noah gaped at Hutch, who started to laugh. Noah apparently wasn’t as good at reading people as Hutch was, because he had no clue whether the man was teasing or not. But he damn sure planned on finding out the truth. He was moving to Virginia.
About the Author
SJD PETERSON, better known as Jo, hails from Michigan. Not the best place to live for someone who hates the cold and snow. When not reading or writing, Jo can be found close to the heater checking out NHL stats and watching the Red Wings kick a little butt. Can’t cook, misses the clothes hamper nine out of ten tries, but is handy with power tools.
Visit Jo at http://www.facebook.com/SJD.Peterson; http://sjdpeterson.blogspot.com/; https://twitter.com/SJDPeterson; and http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4563849.S_J_D_Peterson. Contact Jo at sjdpeterson@gmail.com.
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