by R. L. King
“Okay,” he said when Stone took the seat opposite him. “Whatcha want? Whatcha got for me? I hope it’s somethin’ I can sell. I’m runnin’ short this month.”
Stone didn’t bother asking why he was hanging out at a bar tossing back beers if he was short. “I think I can help you with that. But I need you to answer some questions for me first.”
Darner’s expression went guarded, and his aura flared. “Oh, shit. You said you weren’t a cop.” He looked like he might leap up and make a run for the exit.
“Calm down, Mr. Darner. I didn’t lie to you—I’m not a cop.”
He didn’t look convinced. “That’s just what a cop would say. And quit fuckin’ callin’ me ‘Mr. Darner.’ That’s my dad, and he’s an asshole. Just call me Roy.”
“All right. Roy. But I promise, I don’t mean you any harm.”
“So this ain’t about what happened over at the Purple Pussycat? ’Cuz that wasn’t me, man. I wasn’t nowhere near there when that shit went down.” He frowned and focused harder on Stone. “You ain’t a lawyer, are you? Did my old man finally kick it and leave me the family fortune?” He laughed like that was the biggest joke in the universe, but Stone, watching his aura, saw the tiniest shred of hope beneath it.
“I’m sorry, no.” Stone reached into his jacket pocket and peeled off one of the hundreds he’d brought. He laid it on the table with his hand over it, revealing only enough so Darner could see what it was.
The man’s eyes went wide. “That’s a hundred bucks, man.”
“Yes.”
“That’s what you got for me?”
“That, and possibly more. Depending on how much you can help me.”
Darner looked like he was going through an interior struggle. “Hey, listen, I can’t get involved in nothin’ illegal. I’m on parole. I can’t afford to go back inside again, or lose my job.”
Stone could tell it was killing him to say it, and some of his annoyance melted away. “I’m not asking you to do anything illegal. I just need you to answer a few questions for me.”
“I’m not rattin’ anybody out, either. You some kind of PI?” His eyes still hadn’t left the hundred.
Stone pushed it across the table and lifted his hand. “That one’s yours. No strings attached. My questions aren’t about anyone but you.”
“Um…” He only hesitated a moment longer, then picked up the bill and stuck it in his pocket. “You serious?”
“Absolutely.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed again. “Okay. What questions?”
Stone leaned forward, pitching his voice to its most persuasive. “I want to talk about what happened five years ago, Roy.”
The effect was nearly instantaneous: Roy Darner went pale under his blotchy tan, he physically jerked back, and his aura exploded with unease. His watery blue eyes widened as they fixed on Stone’s. He shook his head back and forth emphatically.
“No. No, no, no.” He shoved his chair back and started to get up.
“Please. I know this is probably painful for you, but you might help someone else if you’ll talk to me.”
He hesitated, taut as a coiled spring, halfway between leaping up and bolting and sitting back down. Finally, he dropped back into the chair. “I don’t wanna talk about it, man. That was some bad shit. What did you mean, it might help somebody else out?”
“I have reason to suspect that whoever kidnapped you five years ago might have done it again.”
Darner took a big swallow of his beer. He was still pale, and his aura had barely settled. “Again? You mean like…now?”
“Yes. Recently. Another boy was taken, and it looks like a similar situation.”
His eyes narrowed. “How you know that? You said you weren’t a cop.”
“And I didn’t lie. I’m working as a consultant with a private investigator who was hired by the boy’s parents to find him…that is, before he turned up again.” Stone wondered if Darner might have heard about Tyler Ellerman. He wasn’t sure how far it might have reached, but given that the boy was taken in the Bay Area and found in Dallas, it could easily have made the national news.
Darner obviously didn’t pay much attention to the national news, however. His expression didn’t change. His breath quickened and he stared down at his hands. “I don’t wanna think about it. I’m still tryin’ to put that shit behind me.”
“Even if you might help catch this man before he inflicts the same thing on another child?”
The man’s struggle was obvious. Stone sympathized with him, and wished he didn’t have to put him through this.
Darner looked around the bar again, then back at Stone. “Okay,” he said, clearly reluctant. “I’ll answer a few more questions if it’ll help somebody out. But you’re gonna have to make it worth my time. I told you—I’m short this month. And I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
Stone pulled out another hundred and slid it across the table, avoiding the puddles of beer. “I’ve got eight more like that if you can help me. A thousand dollars total.”
“You are shittin’ me.” Once again, the glimmer of hope appeared in both his tone and his aura. “A thousand bucks? Just for answerin’ questions?”
“I promise, I’m telling you the truth. This is that important.”
Another swallow. “Okay. Okay. I don’t like this. But for a grand, I can afford to drink till I forget about it again. Go ahead. Ask.”
Stone nodded. “Thank you, Roy. I know how difficult this is for you.” Finally having enough of the loud and annoying country music rattling his brain, he cast a small spell on the immediate area to lower the ambient sound level and amplify Darner’s voice to make it easier for him to hear.
He pulled out his small notebook. “First thing: can you tell me as much as you remember about what happened to you? I know it was a while ago, but try your best.” He settled back, never taking his eyes off the younger man.
Darner didn’t seem to know where to start. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, took another long drink from his beer—it was almost empty now—and swallowed again. “Uh…yeah. It was five years ago, like you said. About this time o’ year. Summer. I was off school.”
“Where did you live at the time?”
“Wilmette. That’s a suburb of Chicago.”
“Yes, I’m aware. A rather upscale one, if I remember correctly.”
Darner dropped his gaze. “Yeah. My parents got money.”
Stone filed that away. It might be relevant, but he didn’t want to bring it up yet—not until he’d established more trust. “Do you remember what you were doing the day it happened?”
“Hell, yeah. You think I could ever forget? Our neighborhood was next to a woodsy kind o’ area. You know, lotsa trees, a little stream, that kinda thing. We used to hang out there all the time. Me and my friends were there, just, you know, dickin’ around like kids do. Drinkin’, smokin’ a little weed, lookin’ at skin mags. Teenage dumbass stuff.”
Stone nodded, but didn’t reply.
“Yeah.” Darner took a deep breath and let it out in a ragged shudder. “Okay. So, it was a Friday night. We were hangin’ out like usual, but we got into it a little bit, me and one o’ my friends.”
“Got into it?”
“Yeah. You know, over a chick or somethin’. I barely even remember. It seemed like it was important at the time, but…” He shook his head. “We were idiots. We didn’t know shit.”
Again, Stone waited, watching Darner’s aura. It billowed with agitation.
“So anyway, I got pissed and took off. Figured I’d walk around till I cooled off and then go back. I headed further into the woods, walkin’ along the creek.” He stopped and looked into his nearly-empty glass. “I sure would like another beer right about now.”
Morrie’s Roadhouse didn’t have anything as sophisticated as table service, and Stone didn’t want to either leave Darner alone at the table or let him go get his own beer. The man was like a skittish animal, ready to lose his nerve
and take off the moment he was out of sight. “I’ll buy you one when we’re finished. Please, go on.”
“Why do you even care about this, man?” Darner asked with sudden fire. “I mean, come on—what are the odds it’s the same guy? This was five years ago, and halfway across the country.”
“I’ve got my reasons.” Stone nodded toward the pocket where he’d stashed the two hundreds. “You don’t need to know what they are. I’m paying you well for your answers.”
It finally seemed to sink in to the young man that he wasn’t going to get away—at least not with a thousand dollars, which was probably more money than he’d had at once for a very long time—unless he played along. “Okay, fine. You know I still have nightmares about this shit? Even after all this time?”
“That doesn’t surprise me. I’m sure it was a terrifying situation.”
Darner’s head snapped up. “But that’s the thing. It wasn’t. I don’t fucking remember any of it.”
“You don’t remember being grabbed?”
“No, man. That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell you. I was walkin’ along the creek, halfway drunk and pissed off ’cuz my buddy Ike was hittin’ on a chick I liked, and next thing I know it was two days later and I was wakin’ up in the middle of the night behind a dumpster in Calumet City.”
“Hmm.” Stone jotted that down in his notebook. “How far is that from where you lived?”
“Other side of Chicago. I’d never even been there.”
“What did you do?”
He glared. “Whaddya think I did? I was a good little boy back then—mostly, anyway. I found an all-night gas station and called my parents. They called the cops and they came and picked me up.”
“I see.” He considered. “Were you injured at all? Did you feel odd?”
“Nah. Wasn’t hurt. Little woozy maybe, but they took me to the hospital and checked me over, and they didn’t find nothin’. No signs of drugs or anything like that. And they didn’t mess with me—you know—that way, either.”
Stone hadn’t intended to ask about that—he had no reason to suspect the kidnapper of any sexual motivation based on their existing data—but he wrote it down anyway. “You said you have nightmares about what happened. Please don’t take this question wrong, but—how can you have nightmares about something you don’t remember?”
Darner leaned in closer, and once again his aura went crazy. “Yeah. That’s a damn good question, ain’t it? I figure it must just be my brain fillin’ in the blanks, y’know? But they’re some pretty fuckin’ realistic blanks, if you ask me.”
“When did you start having these nightmares? Did the police ask you about them?”
He shook his head. “Nah, they didn’t start till later. Like a year later, almost.”
“Hmm…” Stone was beginning to form the beginnings of a hypothesis, but he wondered if it wasn’t more wishful thinking than scientific speculation. “Did something happen after a year that might have triggered them?”
“I don’t think so. I tried goin’ back to school, but I couldn’t concentrate, y’know? My grades were never great, but at least I showed up. After it happened, it just didn’t seem like any of it was worthwhile anymore.”
“Did your parents do something about it?”
“They tried sendin’ me to therapy, but that was bullshit. I didn’t want to talk to no touchy-feely chick tryin’ to get me in touch with my feelings. They even tried some hypnosis shit, figurin’ I was repressin’ somethin’.” He spoke the words with contempt.
“And that didn’t work?”
“I don’t think so. She never said nothin’ about it, and stopped after a couple times.”
“Is that when you started getting in trouble with the law?”
“Yeah. I just didn’t care anymore. All I wanted to do was get drunk or high so the nightmares would stop. My dad cut me off when I was eighteen—told me if I didn’t get my shit together right fuckin’ now, I wouldn’t get any more help from him. Mom tried to take my side, but Dad’s the boss in our family.” Now his voice dripped with contempt. “Good old Dad. You know, if you’d been a lawyer and told me he kicked off, I woulda been glad to hear it. Only bad thing woulda been it woulda hurt my little sister. She actually gets along with the old bastard.”
Stone leaned in closer. “I’m sorry to have to ask this, Roy, but can you tell me anything about the nightmares? Are they always the same, or different each time?”
“They’re always kinda the same.” He shuddered again. “I don’t wanna talk about ’em.”
“I’m afraid I have to ask you about them. They could be the key to what I need to find out. If you want the rest of the money, I’m going to ask you to try for me.” Stone supposed this wasn’t entirely ethical—but then again, he wasn’t operating from any kind of official capacity. If this helped them find the kidnapper, causing Roy Darner a bit of short-term distress didn’t bother his conscience.
Darner looked for a moment like he was about to take off, eight hundred bucks or no eight hundred bucks. “Fine,” he finally said, defeated. “But I don’t know how they’re gonna help. They don’t make any damn sense.”
“Let me be the judge of that.” Stone leaned forward, pen poised over his notebook. “Just tell me at your own pace. I’ve got nowhere else to be tonight.”
“Yeah. Okay. Uh…” He stared off into space. “There weren’t any faces or nothin’. I can’t tell you what anybody looked like.”
“That’s all right.”
“So…I was in a room. On a bed. There was stuff all around me—kinda like some kind o’ mad scientist lab in a horror movie. Candles and shit. My arms and legs were pinned down—you know how it is in dreams when you want to run but your body won’t move?”
“Yes, I know what you mean. Do you remember any sounds? Smells?”
“Nah. Bright lights, maybe. Flickering, like one o’ those old movie screens.” He shook his head again. “I wish I could tell you more. As long as I gotta talk about it, I wish I had more to help you with.”
Stone didn’t miss his agitation—and likewise didn’t miss the shift in his aura. He didn’t think Darner was lying to him; in fact, it almost seemed like the man was trying to fight his way through something he couldn’t penetrate. And if that were true, it might mean the data was in there, but he couldn’t access it.
He was glad he’d brought a lot of money with him tonight, because the next thing he asked wasn’t going to come cheap.
Darner scrunched up his face, then slammed his fist on the table, making the peanut shells jump. “I ain’t got nothin’ else! I’m not lyin’ to you. If I remembered anything, I’da told the cops back when it happened. Or that therapist chick.”
“It’s all right, Roy. I believe you. The truth is, I believe the therapist was right: you are repressing something. I think I can help you with that if you let me.”
“No way.” Darner shook his head several times and held up his hands. “Nobody is messin’ with my head anymore. And besides, I told you—it didn’t work. The therapist chick already tried it.”
“I daresay I’ve got some techniques the therapist didn’t have access to.” He leaned forward. “Listen—I need the information you’ve got, and I’m willing to make it worth your while to try retrieving it. I promise you, it won’t hurt. It might even help you.”
“How the hell can it help me?”
“If you’re repressing the details about what happened to you, accessing them again might be like…clearing out an infection. They want to get out. That’s why you keep having the nightmares.”
Darner narrowed his eyes. “You mean, if I can remember what happened I might stop havin’ ’em?”
“I can’t promise anything. But it’s certainly a possibility. Are you willing to give it a go, at least? As I said, I can absolutely guarantee that even if it doesn’t work, it won’t cause you any additional distress.”
He was tempted—Stone could see it. Money aside, the lure of banishing the night
mares that had been plaguing him for years was strong. But he was also scared. He looked around nervously. “I dunno, man.”
Stone was ready for his hesitation. “Tell you what—suppose I make it even more worth your while? If you let me try this, I’ll double the money I’m offering you.”
That did it. Darner’s eyes went wide. “Two thousand bucks? Just for lettin’ you hypnotize me?”
“It’s not exactly hypnotism, but it’s similar. Yes. Two thousand dollars in cash. And when I’m done, I’ll leave and you’ll never have to deal with me again. What do you say, Roy? Is it a deal?”
The last of his reluctance began to crumble, but he still looked uncomfortable. “Do we…have to go anywhere?”
“No, we can do it right here.”
“Here? In the middle of all these people?”
Stone would have preferred to take him someplace more private, but he didn’t want to risk losing him at this point. “It’s fine. I’m very good at this sort of thing. It would help if you know some secluded space in here we can use. A maintenance closet or something.”
“Yeah, there’s a storeroom in the back. I think it’s locked, though.”
“Let’s go find out.” He pulled another small stack of bills from his pocket. “Here’s the rest of the thousand. I’ll give you the other half once we’re done.”
The feel of eight hundred dollars in his hand drove off the final vestiges of Darner’s resistance. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s do this and get it over with. I really need another beer.”
The storeroom in the back was indeed locked, but Stone didn’t let Darner see that. He popped the door and waved the man in, then closed it behind them, re-locked it, and flicked on a light switch.
The space was a little cramped, its shelves lined with bathroom supplies and cleaning products, but it would have to do. Stone flipped a bucket over and pointed. “Have a seat there. You can lean against the shelf if you like.”
Darner settled himself on the bucket. Both his posture and his aura indicated he was a lot more nervous than he was letting on. “How long is this gonna take?”
