by A. C. Katt
Liam went to the kitchen to get lids for the containers while Sam gathered the rest of Rick’s things. The limousine driver piled everything into the car. Kathleen jumped up on the seat between Rick and Sam, and Mort got out of his carrier and landed on Liam’s lap. Within fifteen minutes, they were on the road to the Rumson house.
“How far out in the wilderness is your new house, Milo?” Rick asked.
“It’s not really in the wilderness at all. We are in the foothills of the Sandia Mountains, within fifteen minutes of three major Albuquerque hospitals and numerous doctors of all specialties. Sam told us about your condition. We wouldn’t bring you to our home if we had no medical care readily available. Albuquerque is a small city, but it has better medical facilities than Long Branch or Red Bank. Plus, the hospitals have affiliations with some of the best teaching medical centers in the country. We will make sure you get every kind of help you need.”
“Milo, Sam, Liam—I’m going to be blunt here. I have a type of hepatitis C that’s difficult to treat, because up until twelve short weeks ago, I severely abused alcohol and every drug I could get my hands on. My liver is losing its function, and I’m dying. My only real hope would be a transplant.” Rick patted his brother’s knee. “Don’t start, Sam. I’m not fighting anyone for anything. I’ll not stand in the way of a child who never had a chance at life, or a father with responsibilities. Now, if knowing that, you still wish me to go with you,” Rick said, tears trickling down his face, “I’ll be forever in your debt.”
Liam slipped across the aisle separating the two bench seats. “There are no debts between brothers. I still owe you for saving my life.” Liam gave Rick a light kiss on the forehead and tucked him in next to Sam. “Whenever you need us, we’ll always be there.”
The rest of the ride proceeded in silence. The shrill ring tone of Sam’s cell pelted its song into the air.
“Notice it isn’t one of our hits on that damn phone,” said Liam. Milo, Sam, and Rick chuckled.
They decided not to stop at Liam’s house. Since he had never unpacked anything, his clothes would be hopelessly out of style and his instruments could be packed and sent later. The jeans and T-shirts he carried and wore would do. It was better than looking like an Elvis impersonator.
Of course, Liam took exception to the huge slur on his taste by mentioning his name and Elvis’ rhinestone-clad hide in the same sentence, and the general teasing and horsing around continued until Sam finally got a cell signal and attempted to reach whomever made the last call as they turned into the long driveway, pulling up to the front door. It was Menendez.
“Why won’t Joe answer his phone? He knew we were coming,” Liam remarked.
“Oh fuck, shit, piss, and corruption. Sam, give me that phone.” Milo pushed a few buttons and found a terse text message.
Hedge at Rumson, has J.B. Doesn’t know I’m here. Call cops.
He pushed the phone into Sam’s hand. “Sam, call 911. Bart’s at the house. He has J.B. I’m going in.” Sam immediately dialed 911 and had a quick conversation.
“I won’t let you go in there alone,” Liam said. “No matter what you may think of my man skills.”
Milo and Liam climbed out of the limo. Liam told the limo driver to take off down the drive to await the police and paramedics. They didn’t need more potential victims.
Liam whispered to Milo, “Use the key. If you knock, he’ll think something is wrong. I’ll shout for J.B.”
Milo made a lot of noise with his supposed fumbling with the key and the lock. “Damn it, Liam, it’s been a long time since I’ve used this door. I don’t remember the trick to it.”
“Give it to me. I do.” Milo went in first to check the lay of the land before Liam entered the house as the police pulled into the drive.
“Baby, you don’t get it. I’m used to New Mexican weather. It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here,” Milo said, keeping up the pretense.
“Yeah, got it,” Liam said. “Go on in and get warm while I try to extract the key. J.B. must have made cocoa or coffee.”
Liam watched as Milo ventured into the foyer. After a minute he followed, a bit hesitant at first, but when nothing happened, he picked up his step.
Suddenly, someone struck him from behind with a heavy blunt object. The excruciating pain almost floored him, however he found the situation more terrifying than the pain. Liam’s eyes clouded over and his head throbbed, but he could see two men grappling on the floor. One of them looked like Bart. Though out of shape, Bart outweighed Milo. Milo was stronger but didn’t have Bart’s reach. Liam tried to crawl to the great room wondering if he could find J.B.
He grabbed Bart’s gun from the tiled floor. Five minutes had passed. Milo and Bart still struggled, and neither looked like he would surrender soon. Liam had to put a stop to the fight before something happened to his lover. Still dizzy, he couldn’t stand, so he crawled to the kitchen. There on one of the big butcher blocks, he found J.B., naked and tied to the table.
Liam was in shock. “He didn’t—”
“No,” J.B. retorted, “he didn’t. He’s been saving that particular treat for you and Milo.”
Liam managed to get upright and grabbed a knife to cut J.B. loose. “Fuck, I left Milo alone with him. They were fighting and I went to find you. The sooner we get everyone together, the better. Where is Joe?”
“I believe he hid in the basement,” J.B. answered. “You go find Joe and I’ll help Milo. The cops should be here soon.”
“I heard them coming.”
“Here, take this,” Liam shoved the gun into J.B.’s free hand.
“Maybe you should keep it for protection until the cops arrive,” J.B. whispered.
“I don’t know how to use it, so I’m safer without it,” Liam answered.
J.B. pulled on his jeans and headed for the entry. Liam went to the basement door. He heard the cops at the front.
Spying a carving knife on the counter, he slid it carefully off the counter and crept to the basement door.
He hated the basement. In all the time they’d lived in the house, Liam had never entered the basement. Milo used to tease him about it, but Liam remained adamant. He’d been accidentally locked in a basement as a small child and spent hours alone in the dark before Lily and Frank found him. Even so, now was not the time to give in to his fears. In Milo’s words, he had to man up. Liam twisted the door handle and reached for the light.
It didn’t work, so he grabbed the flashlight kept by the stairs and started down. The house was old and had been renovated many times, but not one renovation had ever touched the basement. The stairs creaked and the air felt damp and musty. Liam kept the flashlight on high and attempted to do a quick search for Joe.
“Joe, are you down here?” Liam whispered.
“Is that you, Liam?” Joe asked. Joe’s voice sounded weak.
“Yeah, Milo’s upstairs fighting with Bart. J.B. is on his way to help him. The cops are here.”
Liam heard the click of a flashlight. “Yes, they are here, but they are busy looking for us upstairs. Shame it’s such a big house.” A second man held the light under his chin. Bart’s voice sounded frighteningly calm.
“And you are wrong as usual, Liam. Milo is fighting my cousin Barry, former Irish Extreme Fighting Champ. The cops will be too busy trying to tame him to get down here right away. It only takes a few seconds to cut your throat, baby.”
Liam bolted for the steps. Bart grabbed him from behind, using his forearm to maintain a chokehold on Liam’s neck. Bart dropped the flashlight in the struggle and Liam was able to get a better look at Joe. He was naked and bloody. Liam didn’t need to ask the question he’d asked J.B. He just drew in a deep breath and shuddered.
If we ever make it out of here, I’m going to kill the bastard personally.
Bart dragged Liam away from the steps. Liam surreptitiously felt for the knife he’d stuffed under his belt. It hadn’t slipped and remained hidden by his shirt.
; Liam took a deep breath and tried to sound reasonable, “Bart, would you please tell me what I did to you to make you want to hurt my friends and me so badly?”
“You didn’t. Our daddy did. He left my mother for Lily. He lived with Mom and me. Mom planned on marriage, and I would have had a real daddy, just like everyone else,” Bart answered in a sing-song cadence.
“Then Lily came along. I didn’t do anything right away, because Mom looked so much prettier than Lily.” Bart moved along the wall. “But Mommy got really, really bad after she heard Lily was pregnant. Mommy said the baby would get everything that should have been mine.”
“You know, brother,” Liam choked out conversationally, “the police are upstairs. It might be a good time for you to beat feet.” Bart paid no attention. The arm across Liam’s throat neither loosened nor tightened. The man’s actions seemed eerily robotic.
Joe looked to be in bad shape and until the cops showed Liam had to stave off disaster.
Bart continued his sicko sing-song saga in his ear. “By that time, I became desperate. Mommy drank and did drugs. She had me dealing, but she used so much I owed them money instead of making money. I had no one to turn to. I wrote to Daddy again, and this time I threatened Lily and baby brother if he didn’t come home and help. I got a visit from the cops for my trouble and got caught with the shit in the house. When I got home from Jamesburg Correctional, Mommy was dead.”
Bart let out a sick laugh. “No one disses Bart Henderson and gets away with it. Not even Daddy. It took a while, but I knew where you lived. I hung out at the garage where Lily got her car fixed. They began to give me small jobs. By the end of three months, I earned a job as a regular employee, and Lily came in to have her oil changed. The problem came when Frank drove the car the next day, not Lily.”
The room was deadly quiet as they listened to Bart’s twisted story. No one dared to interrupt. The longer Bart kept talking, the closer the cops got to finding the entrance to the basement.
“I stole a SUV from a North Jersey lot. I watched the Honda skid and I drove that sucker right into the driver’s side like a four thousand pound bullet. I jammed the gas and jumped from the cab before it hit and I had the pleasure of watching Witchy Lily go up in flames.”
“You didn’t get Lily, Bart. It was Dad,” Liam stated in a calm voice.
“Lily escaped and put poor Daddy in the car. I found out the next day. They came to get me, but they couldn’t prove a thing. But Lily knew I did it.” Bart’s sing song rhythm ended the story with his voice hitting an eerie high note.
“With the car burned down to scrap metal and all the employment paperwork burned to the ground along with Sully’s garage, murder couldn’t be proven. Fire is so satisfyingly thorough. Things got pretty rough for me though. The cops said I was their chief suspect, and they kept watching me, waiting for me to slip up. I knew that sooner or later they’d find a way to extract more evidence, so it was time for me to move on.”
“Lily knew that I would get her, especially since she deliberately put Daddy in that car. I wouldn’t have killed you, brother. Daddy could have brought you home with him and I could have been the one fucking your tight little six-year-old ass instead of Milo.”
“You fucking bastard,” Liam shouted as he made a grab for the knife. He managed to startle Bart, who had expected no resistance from Liam. Liam took the knife and stabbed Bart on the left side of his abdomen. The knife only grazed Bart because he jumped back. Unfortunately, the wound was neither deep nor debilitating. Bart grabbed for the knife, but it flew free and Bart punched Liam in the face. Liam’s screams brought footsteps to the basement door.
Bart grabbed and held the now-limp Liam by the throat as if nothing had happened and continued telling his tale. Liam moaned. Bart shook him. “Now, baby bro, I’m telling this whole story just for your benefit because you asked me nice. The least you can do is stay awake for it.”
Liam opened his eyes and attempted speech. He couldn’t get a sound out of his swollen mouth.
“Yep. I laid low for a while, then changed my name and got back into shape to give off a more youthful appearance. I didn’t want Lily to recognize me, so I shaved my beard and lost about twenty pounds. Instead of looking like I was twenty-two, I looked about sixteen. By that time you were twelve. It would have been pretty easy for a guy of sixteen to befriend a twelve-year-old kid. Isn’t that what your faggot friend Milo did?”
Liam again attempted to struggle against Bart’s hold, but Bart pulled his arm tighter, choking Liam. “I only fucked up when I forgot about Walt Cheever. He called the studio, looking for Milo, and said he would be attending your eighteenth birthday celebration. I got lucky and answered the phone when he called. I told him that Milo would be available after the concert. I knew what he wanted, he planned to tell Milo about me. I couldn’t let him. It was Sam’s last night drumming. I told Milo I’d be late so I had time to kill Cheever at the railroad station and make it back in time for the party. Milo never asked where I’d been. I got lucky that night, Old Man Cheever had my picture and file in his case. I took the money, the file, and the picture, but I left the wallet and the briefcase for the cops with no prints.”
Bart giggled, sending shivers down Liam’s spine. “I wore latex gloves, just like I will for you as Milo watches you die. I’m going to rape you bloody, just like I did six years ago in the club to which Rick so kindly escorted you. Then I’ll torture Milo with the fact that you’re dead. He’ll be begging me for death by then. He doesn’t do so well without you.”
Liam said, “You knew everything because you had Rick do your spying for you.”
“You fucker!” Milo screamed from the top of the stairs.
Bart casually dumped Liam to the floor, drew a gun from his waistband, cocked the trigger, and took aim at Milo.
Liam couldn’t help himself. He started to vomit where he lay.
He heard the cops yell, “Drop your gun!”
Milo started down the stairs with the cops right behind him. Bart crossed the room and pointed the gun between Milo’s eyes.
“Go ahead, you fucking son of a bitch, bastard,” Milo said, enunciating each word.
“What do you mean by that, you fucking queer?” Bart screamed.
“Exactly what I said,” answered Milo, sounding strangely calm even with a gun pointed to his head. “Your mother was a bitch, so that makes you the son of a bitch. She never married your father. The technical term for a child whose father didn’t sign the birth certificate is a bastard. That makes you a son of a bitch, bastard. I threw the fucking in because your only interest is fucking with other people’s heads.”
Milo casually picked at the dirt under his nails. “If you’re going to kill me, let me wash my hands first. Unlike you, I have an aversion to appearing disheveled in public. You stink.”
Bart became more and more enraged. The gun shook in his hand, but his finger never left the trigger. “Don’t you care, faggot, that Liam is going to watch your head being blown off your shoulders?”
“I care. But I’m sure you have something worse planned for him,” Milo answered. The cops inched closer.
“Yeah,” Liam piped up. “What did you do to Joe? Why is he naked and bleeding?”
“Because he didn’t stay out of my business,” Bart snarled. “He nosed around and found out who I was, and told you and most likely the cops. But it isn’t him or Mr. Mouth here that I really want to hurt. It’s you, Liam. You are responsible for taking away everything in my life that held any meaning.”
“Bart, you’re nuts. What did I ever really do to you, except try to avoid your stench?”
“Your mom stole my daddy; Milo should have been mine too. I knew then I needed to permanently separate you. I moved your clothes out with a few of my buddies who owned a moving van. Those two cats were wailing, so I cut their throats. When he came home, any trace of you disappeared.”
Hearing about the cats, Liam clenched his fists. But Bart seemed driven to finish hi
s story. “You know all the rest. I suppose Rick spilled his guts. You and he didn’t know that I gave him an infected needle that night after the bar for you. The stupid bastard took the dope himself and earned his hepatitis C for not doing what he was told.”
“So you forced Rick to hurt us to get his drugs. What did all this buy you, Bart?” Milo asked. “It didn’t get your father back. You had fame and fortune with Shattered Glass, but you blew that off when you destroyed the band. What was more important than fame and fortune?”
“Revenge,” Bart answered flatly.
When Bart took his eyes off him to answer Milo, he spotted the cops starting to move in. Liam dove at Bart to get him away from Milo. The sound of a gunshot pierced the air.
Chapter 23
I don’t need a conquering hero
Coming at me to make my day
All I need is my own sweet lover
Holding me closer in every way
My sweet lover, hold me close
Help me touch the sky
In your arms my dreams are real
Flying so hard and high
Helping me touch the sky
Bringing my dreams alive
Riding me hard tonight
Holding me till the light
Holding me through the night
Making my dreams shine bright
Nothing was ever so right
As being in your arms tonight
—Shattered Glass, “No Hero Tonight”
* * * *
Suddenly, the basement filled with cops. Milo looked around frantically. Liam? Where is Liam? In a panic Milo began to shout, “You have to find Liam, he’s been shot. Stop, fucking around, where is he, he’s hurt!”
Milo wrenched a flashlight from the hand of one of the state cops and pointed it in the general direction of where he’d last seen Liam. He spotted him.
Liam lay crumpled in the corner, bleeding profusely from a wound in his shoulder. Milo reacted like a wild man. He tore off his shirt and pressed it against the wound in Liam’s shoulder while screaming for a medic.
The paramedics rushed in the door. After a quick examination, they loaded Liam onto the stretcher. Milo didn’t notice he was crying, didn’t care that he was bruised and bleeding, he never let go of his baby’s hand. “I love you Liam, don’t leave me now, please Liam, I can’t make it without you.”
