Cut to the Bone

by Ellison Cooper

  Sayer looked around the room and continued, “The boy that survived, Declan Iverson, is out of surgery and I’ve sent our new victim’s advocacy team to speak with him. Hopefully Tino and Vesper can gather something useful there.” She had great faith that if Declan knew anything her neighbor would find out.

  Trying to sound optimistic, Sayer reviewed everything else they had with the task force—Egyptian artifacts, boys shot, missing girls, the murder of Rowena. Unless Declan or Al had something new, or they managed to track the bus somehow, they were all out of leads. She ended up circling back again and again to the same horrifying conclusion.

  The girls were gone.

  FAIRFAX HOSPITAL, FALLS CHURCH, VA

  Tino de la Vega stood in the hospital room doorway watching Declan Iverson and his mother as they hunched together. The boy sat up in the hospital bed, still groggy from surgery. The faint peach fuzz on his face was the only indication of his almost eighteen years. Otherwise, between his round cheeks and narrow shoulders, he could’ve been twelve years old.

  The boy’s mother held his hand too tightly. Her face was twisted into a frozen mask as she held back tears.

  After months of training and certifications, this was Tino’s first official assignment as a victim’s advocate for the FBI and he didn’t want to make a mistake with such fragile people.

  “You ready?” Tino whispered to Vesper, who looked up at him with a wide canine smile. The dog wagged his tail as Tino straightened Vesper’s therapy dog vest.

  They entered the room together.

  “Hello, Ms. Iverson. Declan. My name’s Tino de la Vega and this is Vesper. The FBI sent us to see if we can be of any help.”

  “You’re from the FBI?” Ms. Iverson asked, suspicious eyes glancing toward the door where she knew there was an agent stationed just outside.

  Tino smiled warmly, knowing that he definitely didn’t look like he worked for the FBI. “Vesper here is a therapy dog, which means he’s mostly just here to pet and cuddle if Declan would like. And I’m here to act as Declan’s advocate and to help him talk about what he saw, if that’s something he’s up for.”

  Ms. Iverson looked to her son for direction. He nodded.

  “That would be great. I didn’t know they let dogs in hospitals…” Ms. Iverson trailed off, watching her son closely.

  The boy’s face was pale, but he held out his hand toward Vesper. Vesper eagerly approached and licked his fingers.

  “He can get up on the bed with you if you’d like,” Tino said.

  Declan patted the bed next to him. “Come on up.”

  Vesper leaped up, turned twice, and settled down along Declan’s body with a chuff of contentment. He tucked his head onto Declan’s lap and a genuine smile flashed on the boy’s face for just a moment.

  Ms. Iverson saw that and smiled as well. “Thank you. Are you … does that mean you can stay here with Declan for a little while?” Her mouth trembled with emotion. “I was just telling Declan that I … I have to leave soon. If I don’t show up for my shift at work, they’ll fire me. It’s just me making money and…”

  “And I told Mom that’s not legal for them to fire her for needing a day off.” Declan’s mouth curled down.

  Ms. Iverson let out a harsh laugh. “I know it’s not, but who’s gonna sue them for me?”

  It was clearly a familiar interaction between mother and son and Tino could see the strain of it.

  “I understand,” he said lightly. “I’m happy to stay as long as you’d like. Do I have your permission to interview him about what happened? Anything he can tell me might help the FBI stop whoever did this.”

  Ms. Iverson looked to her son again, uncertain.

  “Yeah, Mom, I want to help. You go. I’m totally fine.” He smiled again, though this one didn’t reach his eyes.

  She got up and gave him a quick hug and squeezed his hand. “I should be able to get back here in five or six hours. I’ll call whenever I can.”

  “I’m good, Mom. I’m in a hospital. And I’ve got company now.” He scratched Vesper, who rolled over, exposing his belly.

  “I’ll keep an eye on him,” Tino said as she gathered her coat.

  Ms. Iverson tried to put on a brave front, but as she hurried out her face crumpled.

  After she shut the door, Declan also crumpled. The easy smile fell away with an exhausted sigh. His shoulders slumped against the hospital bed.

  “You put on a good show for her. You’re a good son,” Tino said.

  “She’s a good mom,” Declan said, voice thick with emotion. “Thanks for staying. I really do want to help.”

  “But you’re exhausted.” Tino pulled snacks out of his bag. “Have you eaten? I’ve got fresh banana bread or chocolate chip cookies. I could also arrange for someone to bring a hamburger and fries if you’d rather.”

  “I’m not hungry just yet.” Declan rested a hand on Vesper’s head. “What do you want to know?” he finally asked.

  “Let’s just start at the beginning. What happened?”

  “I wasn’t really paying attention at first. I was talking with Kate.”

  “Kate?”

  “Kate Brooks. My girlfriend. Though my mom doesn’t know about her yet. We’ve only been dating a few weeks. We were talking about college because she got into MIT, but I didn’t. But we both got into Cal Poly so we were trying to decide, you know. Should we go somewhere together.” His voice cracked and he looked away.

  Tino waited out the wave of emotion. “It’s okay to be scared and upset.”

  “I know, I’m just … he’s still got Kate and I ran.”

  “Hey, I know the woman in charge of the investigation. She is the most badass FBI agent you’ve ever met. She won’t stop until she brings Kate home.”

  “No joke?” Declan looked up, eyes hopeful.

  “No joke. I once watched her single-handedly take down a serial killer.”

  “That’s cool.” Declan tried to smile. “Anyway, I wasn’t paying attention when the bus pulled over. I saw police lights, so I figured we’d been pulled over for speeding or something. But then the man got on.”

  “Could you give me a description? So it was just one man?”

  The boy looked out the window, anguished eyes reflecting the low afternoon sun. “It was just one guy. Or I think it was a guy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He was like … I don’t even know how to say this without sounding crazy.”

  “Describe whatever you’re thinking. You never know what might help.”

  “He was like a real zombie.” Declan let out a short laugh at himself. “That’s all I could think of. He smelled like something rotting and … and his face was all sunken. He looked dead.” Declan looked up at Tino for reassurance.

  “That’s great, Declan. I have a sketch from another witness.” Tino pulled up the sketch based on Al Valentine’s memory. “Does this look right to you?”

  Declan’s whole face tightened at the image. “Yeah, I would’ve made him look a little more … monstrous, but maybe that’s just me.”

  “So you said he smelled bad. That’s really important. Maybe he’s sick or hasn’t showered in a long time?”

  “Yeah, he smelled really bad. Like rotting meat bad. And he moved like a zombie, all shuffling and slow. You know what I mean?”

  “Shambling?”

  “Exactly. He was shambling when he got on the bus. Slow. And he kept saying the same thing over and over like some creepy song.”

  “He was singing?”

  “Sort of, it was like a nursery rhyme, repeating over and over, but not in English.” Declan looked down at Vepser and put his other hand on the dog’s side.

  “Okay, so he moved slow. Shambled onto the bus like a zombie,” Tino prompted.

  “Yeah, and everyone kind of let him. I mean, I think even the bus driver thought he was a cop until he got on. And then we were all kind of freaked out. It was like, you know when everyone can tell something is wrong, b
ut no one wants to do anything because then it makes it real?”

  “Yeah, I get that.” Tino nodded encouragingly.

  “So we all just sat there watching this guy shamble down the bus aisle hoping he would just get back off again. But then the chaperone, Mr. Berry, he got up and asked the guy to leave. Then the guy went from George Romero zombie to 28 Days Later zombie.”

  “You’ve lost me,” Tino said gently.

  “In old George Romero zombie movies, the zombies were all slow and dumb. You know, they were relentless, but you could outrun them and they couldn’t open doors. But in 28 Days Later, that’s another zombie movie, they were fast and smart, like super zombies. It was like the guy transformed. He had the gun out and shot the driver before anyone could even tell what was happening.” The words tumbled out in a torrent. “He shot the driver then made Mr. Berry gather all our stuff and zip-tie our hands behind our backs. After Mr. Berry dumped all our bags and phones and stuff off the bus, he shot Mr. Berry, too.”

  Declan scrunched up his face as tears began to fall, making him look exactly like his mother had just before she left. “Sorry,” he said.

  “Declan, you’ve just been through something really traumatic. You never have to apologize for having big, messy feelings about what just happened.”

  “I know … it’s just. I’m here. Alive.”

  “And your friends aren’t. Trust me, I know exactly how that feels.”

  “Oh yeah?” Declan asked through his tears.

  “Yeah, I was in Iraq during the first Gulf War.” Tino rolled up his sleeve and held out his arm. A ragged scar ran from elbow to shoulder. “The three other guys with me didn’t make it,” was all he said. That wasn’t a story to share with this boy right now. But he wanted him to know that he really did understand.

  Declan looked at the scar for a long time. “Does it remind you of them?”

  “Every day.”

  Declan nodded with understanding. “After he shot Mr. Berry, he told all the boys to get off the bus. He lined us up and told us to get on our knees. So we did.”

  Tino let him pause as long as he needed to.

  “He … I thought maybe he was going to let us go because he got back on the bus for a minute. I thought about making a run for it, but he could see us and I thought … but I was wrong. He got back off and started shooting. He hit the first boy, kid I didn’t know, right in the forehead. Then he just stared down the line. I decided, if he was going to kill me anyway, I might as well try to take him down. So I rushed him. A few other guys jumped up, too.”

  Declan looked out the window again as he continued talking.

  “We caught him off guard enough to make him fumble the gun. But I guess he managed to shoot the others while I just ran into the woods.” Tears started to fall down Declan’s face. “I left Kate. I left all of them and I ran and hid.”

  “There is nothing you could’ve done to stop him. Your hands were literally tied. If you had stayed, you would be dead, too,” Tino said firmly.

  “Yeah.” Declan didn’t sound convinced. “Anyway, when I was running, he got a shot off and winged me. I ran until I found the shed and shouldered my way inside. I was able to get my hands in front of me and hunkered down. I tried to stop the bleeding. I thought he might come after me. By the time I thought it was safe, I’d lost so much blood, I couldn’t really, you know, go anywhere. So I just wrapped myself in those bags to stay warm.” His voice faded.

  “You’re doing great, Declan. I think it’s probably time for you to rest. Is there anything else you want to tell me before I let you sleep?”

  Declan shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  Before Tino could respond, the boy’s eyes fluttered shut and he crashed into a deep sleep of sheer exhaustion, hand still curled in Vesper’s fur.

  Vesper looked up at Tino for guidance and Tino gestured for him to stay. Vesper curled his head back against the boy’s body and also fell sound asleep.

  Watching Vesper and Declan, Tino let his own emotions surface.

  This was finally where he belonged.

  After college, he thought he knew what he wanted when he joined the army. And his facility with languages meant that the army sent him directly to language training. After learning Arabic, Pashto, and Kurdish in less than two years, he was sent to the Special Warfare Center in Fort Bragg to complete the Psychological Operations Specialist Course. And Tino had loved studying psychology. But that road eventually led to the front lines as an interrogator. After a year in Iraq, he didn’t ever want to use those skills again.

  So he walked away from the army and dedicated himself to his desire to nourish and nurture. He got married to a wonderful woman. Had two kids. Learned a new skill—cooking—and then opened a restaurant that became the hottest spot in D.C. He was considered a success by any measure except happiness. Cooking was never personal enough, with him stuck back in the kitchen, but it was realizing he was gay that shook the foundations of his life and he once again fled everything except his kids.

  Which was how he ended up spending his days gardening and reading in the town house he shared with Sayer. And he’d been content to while away his days, spending as much time as possible with his kids, until Vesper came into his life and, once again, shook everything up.

  And now, finally, this was where he belonged. Instead of forcing people to talk, he and Vesper could help the traumatized regain their voices. Protect them. Give them a safe space.

  It might’ve taken him a very long time, but he was finally becoming the real Tino. It was time for him to stop feeling like this life was just a waypoint toward something else. This was the life he wanted to grow old into. An old friend was trying to sell him a house that Tino was quite fond of. Maybe it was time to take all the money he made selling his restaurant and buy the damn house? It had room for his kids to stay with him, and a guest cottage for Sayer and Adi of course. Vesper would love the huge garden. He was tired of being cautious. No more waiting around.

  The thought released a knot in his stomach that he’d been carrying around for years.

  “You’re like a slightly overweight, dusty old gay butterfly emerging from the cocoon,” he muttered jokingly to himself.

  “Hello?”

  Tino startled at the deep voice in the doorway.

  A large man in a navy blue suit stood just outside in the hall, badge in his raised hand. The seams of his blazer strained at the shoulders, barely able to span the muscly expanse. The kind of guy Tino used to call a meat shield.

  “Name’s Agent Crenshaw with the FBI. I was told by the nurse that the boy’s family had left. Who’re you?”

  “I’m Tino de la Vega,” Tino said cautiously as the man approached, badge still out. Though he couldn’t pinpoint why, Tino’s internal alarm rang loud and clear. One benefit of psyops training, he was very, very good at reading people. And something about Agent Crenshaw’s body language was off. Tino glanced at the door, hoping to spot the agent outside but the door was already swinging shut.

  “So what has he given us so far? Anything of use?” Crenshaw expertly flipped the badge back into his pocket. The leather badge case was well-worn, but the movement felt practiced, conscious rather than habitual.

  Tino’s internal alarm got louder. “No, nothing of value.”

  Agent Crenshaw’s forehead furrowed slightly. “Well, that’s too bad. I’ve been sent to take the boy into protective custody. Which means that I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I’m not supposed to allow anyone in this room other than medical personnel.”

  Tino knew that Sayer would never have approved of protective custody without letting him know. “Ah, see, I’m a certified therapist sent by the FBI and his parent-appointed advocate. Since he’s a minor, I need to remain with him at all times and it seems strange that the FBI didn’t let you know I’d be here.”

  Agent Crenshaw tilted his head, face chagrined. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t think you understand. That’s not how thi
ngs work, Mr. de la Vega.”

  The false sympathy coupled with the slight tightness at the corner of his eyes was all Tino needed to confirm that this man wasn’t what he claimed. Perhaps he was something relatively innocuous like a reporter, or perhaps he was working with the killer, here to finish Declan off before he could tell anyone what he saw.

  Tino slowly stood up, placing himself between Declan and the man claiming to be Agent Crenshaw. “I have a very good understanding of how things work. Why don’t I call the lead investigator on the case and get this cleared up?”

  Crenshaw didn’t answer.

  The two men faced each other, electricity crackling between them.

  Vesper lifted his head, sensing the rising tension.

  Crenshaw’s jaw jutted forward with anger, but his eyes darted back and forth between Tino and Vesper. Crenshaw hadn’t expected to encounter an old army guy and a three-legged dog and he clearly wasn’t entirely sure what to do next.

  “Why don’t you have a seat while I call Agent Altair?” Tino said casually. “I’m sure we can figure out where the miscommunication happened.”

  The man took half a step back. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to wait. I’ll come back.”

  He turned to go, but Tino stepped around him to block the exit. If this man was working with the killer, he couldn’t let him walk away.

  Crenshaw didn’t telegraph the attack at all.

  Tino only had time to turn his face away from the punch that slammed into the side of his cheek. His head snapped sideways, his vision exploding with a light show that temporarily blinded him. But his old training kicked in and he swung back with a low jab to the solar plexus.

  Crenshaw huffed out a sharp breath and Tino followed up with an upper cut.

  But Crenshaw was ready. He danced back, avoiding the hit and jabbed out, landing a hard punch on Tino’s nose.

  Tino staggered back and crashed into the food tray next to the hospital bed. Blood erupted from his nose. He choked on the torrent flowing down the back of his throat.