Frank gave a small lopsided nod, almost a shrug. “We do. He said something to me, just after the break-in up at the house.”
“What?” Three voices echoed badly off the hospital wallpaper.
“I think we’d all better sit down,” Frank said. “I need some tea. And it’s not as though we’re getting in anytime soon,” he added, motioning to the monitored room behind them.
The party went into a small waiting area, where there was slightly better seating. “Evan spoke to me, when you went with Remy and Sam to look over the damage,” Frank began. “He mentioned he was from the Carolinas somewhere. He wasn’t specific.”
“Narrows it down,” Jesse said. “Still, that’s not that earth shattering. What else did he say?”
The old lawyer sighed. “Realize I would not be breaking this kind of personal confidence if there weren’t lives at stake.” The three young people nodded. “Evan also mentioned being witness to a thwarted robbery while in college. He managed to stop the crime from taking place. Made a very dangerous enemy in doing so.”
“Did he mention a name?”
A full head of gray hair shook. “No. He said it had once been a friend, from primary school. Got into drugs. The young man went to prison, but still managed to make an attempt on Evan’s life. I greatly assume it was before his sentencing that the attempt took place.”
“That would scare the shit out of me,” Eric said. “I’d leave town too.”
“There’s more.” Frank sighed. “Evan mentioned that he once was an addict. Pills.”
“He told me his old man was a bastard, control freak. Threw him in pharmacy school against Evan’s wishes.” Rachel froze. “Oh, God…”
“Pharmacists burn out rather quickly. The stress that comes with the job is insane. It doesn’t take much for one to start popping pills to get through the day,” Jesse said. “Happened to my sister-in-law. She finally gave it up.”
“But it explains why he won’t even look at a pharmacy, and why he hates taking medicine. He won’t take something unless the pain’s unbearable.” She looked at Frank. “We have to know what he took, if for nothing else so we can help him calm down.” She looked at Jesse and Eric. “What do we know about the call? Anything?”
Both men shrugged. “Only that it’s what sent Evan off the deep end,” Jesse said. “I’ll get his phone from his effects. I’ve got a sneaking suspicion whoever it was might try to call back.”
“There’s a part of me that hopes he or she does,” Rachel said. “And another little part that hopes they don’t.”
“I’ll get started on that research. The more we know, the faster we can hopefully find those lads.” Frank started for the elevators.
“I’ll call Becka, have her come up to stay with you. I’m going back out there to scour the bars. I’m not totally convinced Cooper Lavelle doesn’t have his hands in this somewhere,” Eric said. “I’ll check in when I find anything.”
“I’m on the phone, and I’ll talk to the Sarge. I’ve got a feeling I’ve just become the point man on this case.” The officer sighed. “I just wish my friends weren’t in it up to their necks.”
“You and me both,” Rachel said quietly.
Chapter 30
The sounds of feet stomping overhead woke Remy out of a fitful sleep. He was shivering, and the damp air that surrounded him wasn’t helping matters. To his left, the small closet in the corner was beginning to reek beyond the confines of its walls, and the smell had made him nearly throw up more than a few times.
Next to him, Sam fought with an imaginary attacker. He shifted to and fro against the cement floor, murmuring as he struggled with his nightmare. His teeth chattered loudly, like fingers pounding on a keyboard.
In the far right corner Josh had curled up into a ball, slipping his knees into the small space between his bound limbs. He had rocked himself back and forth in an attempt to put himself to sleep, to no avail. His eyes shifted upward with every echoed step above him. Remy made his way over to the younger man. “Josh, you okay?” he asked.
Another set of feet thundered directly above them, and now the sounds of voices floated through the layers of wood and drywall. “Scared,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving the ceiling. “And I’m starving.”
Remy settled in next to him. “Me too,” he confided, wincing as the voices reached screaming levels. It was hard to make out the conversation above them through the thick ceiling material, but Remy could tell that whatever was going on upstairs wasn’t good.
“D’you…d’you think they’re gonna hurt us?”
The older boy shrugged. “I don’t know. I hope not.”
Nearby, Sam began to twitch harder. “No…no…” he said, his words becoming clearer as he spoke. “No, don’t…don’t hurt them…please…no…” A gasp filled the room, and Sam’s head jolted off the floor. “Remy? Josh!”
“It’s okay, Sam,” Remy called out as loudly as he dared. “We’re over here in the corner. Just follow my voice.”
Sam’s long, skinny frame rose from its uncomfortable spot on the floor and he made his way toward the others. “What’s going on?” he asked, fighting a yawn.
“Same shit, although there’s something going on up there,” Remy told him. “Surprised they didn’t wake you up with all the yelling.”
“I didn’t hear anything.” Sam’s face looked sheepish in the glimpse of light the room still had. One of the light bulbs had burned out, casting half of the small space into shadow fast. The stairs were still illuminated, as was the opening to the water room, but the corner the three were inhabiting was pitch black. “I didn’t sleep very well.”
“Surprised you slept at all, considering the fight you were having with yourself,” Remy said. He looked at his friend. “Nightmare?”
“Yeah.”
“I been having ’em too,” Josh added.
“You’re not the only one,” Remy admitted. A loud crash echoed badly off the ceiling, and the three prisoners winced. “What the hell is going on up there?”
Sam settled in and put on his concentration face. “They’re arguing about something,” he said after what seemed like ages. “I can’t tell what.”
“Arguing or starting a war?” Remy cracked. “’Cause if that’s arguing…”
“There’re a lot of voices. More than the three we started with.”
Josh paled. “Th-there are more bad guys?”
Sam silently ticked off the different voices he could make out. “There’re at least six people up there. Maybe more.”
“Oh, shit,” Remy whispered. He started to stand up, nearly falling as he fought for his bearings. “Come on,” he said, bending over to help Sam up. “Let’s get out of sight.”
“We’re in the dark right here,” Josh pointed out.
“Yeah, but we might be able to sneak upstairs if they bring their fight down here.”
“How?” Sam said. “This isn’t the biggest space, Remy. And going in that other little room isn’t going to help—there’s no way out of there should someone block the door.”
Remy shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know that a fight up there isn’t going to end well for us, right?”
“Well, maybe it’s not about us,” Sam reasoned. “Could just be about money, or maybe someone didn’t get cigarettes or something.”
Josh sat where he was. “If they don’t see us, couldn’t we make them think we ran away?’
“Think about it, Josh. There’s no other door. The one we have is locked. We don’t have any shovels or pickaxes, so breaking out isn’t an option. Hell, we can’t hold one, the way we’re trussed up.” Remy raised his hands, bound at the wrists by a thick plastic zip tie. “What makes you think they’re going to assume we found some magic way out of here?”
“I dunno. Out of sight, out of mind?” A stray beam of light managed to bounce off of a bright brown eye, and the sounds of something shifting caught Sam and Remy’s ears. “Maybe they won’t notice us if we stay where it
’s dark. It’s hard to see.”
“Or we could move underneath the stairs,” Remy pointed out. “No one’s looking under there, either. I could try and turn off this light, and then it’s pitch black in here, so by the time they get the light on we could be out the door.” Remy raised his limbs and found he could just barely reach the glowing bulb, let alone reach the switch. “Sam, you’re taller than me. Can you reach up and hit the switch?”
“I can try. You’ll have to give me directions, though.”
Remy led Sam just underneath the light. “Reach up. Can you feel the light bulb?”
“It’s hot.”
“Okay, now reach your fingers up just a little bit more, like about two inches…now circle toward my voice…okay, you’ve got it. Now push the little tab in, toward Josh. Josh, say something.”
“Like what?”
The light went out. “Perfect,” Remy said. “Now, come on.”
“I…I can’t see,” Josh protested. “I don’t wanna trip and fall.”
“Josh, you won’t trip. Sam made it, right?”
“Yeah…”
“Okay, so now I want you to follow my voice. Can you do that? Follow my voice.” Remy kept his voice calm despite the frustration that was building inside. The sound of shuffling footsteps followed, and soon the small body collided softly with Remy’s own. “Okay, now I think the stairs are a couple steps away.”
“They are,” Sam’s voice said, piercing the darkness. “About five steps to the left.”
Just as Remy settled against the concrete wall under the stairs, the locked door flew open. “We’ll be takin’ our things now,” a deep, harsh voice said. It was a voice Remy didn’t recognize. The new wooden planks above the three young men creaked and groaned with each step. “Damn, didn’t you leave a light on in here?”
Come on, Remy thought. Come on, come on, come on…
“You want ’em? Find ’em.” One of the Southerner’s lackeys, the thinner of the two, spat the words. “I want my damn money, bastard!”
“You’ll get paid. We’re takin’ the risk here.”
The sounds of more footsteps followed, each set heavier than the last. “That asshole drunk up there keepin’ an eye out?” one of them said, his voice gruff and cold.
“Better be. Considerin’ what he owes us, I plan to collect on this. Not workin’ for free.”
“Come here, brats,” another one catcalled, in a tone so chilling that it made Remy’s insides quake. “You want out of this hole?”
Beside him, Josh wiggled, nearly taking a step forward. Thinking quickly, Remy inched in front of him, pressing his hands onto the younger man’s mouth. He let out a slow breath, willing Josh to realize what he was doing and stay silent.
“Where are you, you little pieces of shit? Come out, or we’ll leave you here to rot.”
Josh struggled harder. Sam reached over and stood next to Remy, pressing his hands on Josh’s shoulder to get him to stay still.
“Search the place,” the evil voice commanded. “Swear to God, if you’re blowin’ smoke up our asses…”
“Maybe we are,” the Southerner shot back. “My business isn’t finished yet. I agreed to hand them over once that was complete, not before!”
“Well, the terms changed. We want ’em now. Not like you won’t be paid for your trouble.”
“No. I’ve waited too long for this. I want Liam to suffer.”
“Damn idiot, what’s stoppin’ you from tellin’ this Liam or whatever that you killed ’em or something? Not like you’ll have to deal with ’em if it comes to that.”
Josh stopped struggling. Remy could feel the young man’s breath hit his palm in giant bursts.
“Hard to sell when you don’t have proof of life. You can’t wait a day or two? I was planning to call him up just before you barged in.”
The sounds of bodies shuffling and footsteps near the stairs increased. “Fine. Two days. But we’re stayin’ right here till it’s done. And we’re takin’’em with us. Our man has his own plan for ’em, and if it gets me and mine what we’re owed, I’m inclined to go along with it.”
“I don’t care what happens to the brats. Pains in my ass, you ask me. But mind, couple of them are fighters. I hope you planned well for that.”
“We’ll deal with that. Come on boys, let’s make ourselves at home.” One by one, the loud footsteps walked up the stairs and through the door, finally sealing the opening they had exited through once more.
A collective sigh of relief flooded the room. “I-I don’t like this,” Sam stammered. “This isn’t good.”
“They’re gonna kill us,” Josh cried.
“But who are these other people?” Remy wondered. “And who’s Liam? And what do they all want with us?”
It was a question none of them could answer.
Chapter 31
Jesse Baker stared at the simple smartphone he held in his hand. It contained, among other things, the last phone number that Evan had received, a number that ended up conveniently blocked.
“Damn,” he muttered, glaring at the screen. “Couldn’t make things easy, could you?”
In a small conference room, Frank Parker was making full use of the laptop he’d invested in once his old PC had finally given up the ghost. He still had access to several legal search engines, and he was making some slight headway in tracing his young friend’s footsteps.
Eric Ingham and his wife Becka were camped out in the waiting room at Hope Memorial, watching their friend Rachel pace the halls nervously. She hadn’t any nails left, but she continued to chew the stub of one, threatening to draw blood. “There’s got to be something we can do,” she kept saying. “There has to be something we can do…”
“It’s a little too much, isn’t it?” Becka said, leaning in toward her husband. “I mean, Evan? An addict?”
“Happens to the best of them,” Eric replied. “But I never thought he was the type.”
“And when I talked with Frank earlier, he said he was making some progress on Evan’s past, but it’s been slow going. He thinks Evan might have changed his name when he came here.”
Eric sighed. “Great. So now he’s not even Evan Dyer. Then who the hell is he?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Eric’s wife said. “Evan is Evan, whether he started as an Evan or not. Rachel mentioned he had a bad relationship with his family…maybe he just wanted a fresh start somewhere.”
“Frank mentioned he was a witness to a crime. Witness protection, maybe?” Eric sighed again as he pulled off his overcoat. “I searched out every bar and liquor dealer in Otter Lake. There’s no trace of Cooper anywhere.” He frowned. “I’m still not convinced that the man’s not involved somehow. It’s just too convenient that his nephew goes missing—the nephew he’s been harassing and terrorizing for years—and now the man himself is nowhere to be found.”
“I don’t know why Cooper’s so insistent that Remy stays with him,” Becka mused. “I mean, he couldn’t give a shit less about Remy’s welfare. More than likely he wants to keep using him for the check Remy gets each month.” The woman made a face. “Bastard.”
“There’re a lot of questions,” Eric said. “Unraveling them is gonna take some time.”
The sound of a phone ringing got everyone’s attention. It was a ringtone the little group was familiar with. “Hello?” Jesse answered, hoping he could pass for the slightly higher pitched Evan.
“This ain’t Liam. Where is he?”
“Unavailable. Who is this?”
“Who is this?” The voice had a distinct Southern accent to it.
“Friend. What do you want with Evan Dyer?”
The phone hung up. “Shit,” Jesse said. “Too short to trace.” He looked at the Inghams and Rachel, who had stopped her pacing. “He definitely sounds Southern, and he knows Evan, but he used the name Liam. What’s betting that’s Evan’s real name?”
“I’ll tell Frank,” Eric said, rising from his seat. “Cross-reference th
e name Liam with a case in either North or South Carolina having to do with robbery or drugs.”
“The longer we wait here, the longer those kids are out there somewhere,” Jesse said to the remaining women. “And who knows what they’re going through while we’re waiting on Evan?”
The sound of Pachelbel’s “Canon in D” erupted in the quiet hallway, startling the few souls left on the hospital floor. Though visiting hours were over hours ago, the nature of Evan’s case allowed for some arrangements to be made to have people present, should he wake up. Rachel pulled the phone out of her coat pocket and activated it. “Hello?”
“Well now. Pretty voice. Bet my friend got himself a pretty lady to go with it.” The voice was Southern. Rachel pointed at the device, mouthing the words “it’s him” at Jesse, who was already making a phone call.
“Wh-what do you want?”
“I want to know why my friend didn’t pick his phone up. Could have been important.”
Rachel swallowed thickly. “He’s…he’s in the hospital.”
“Shame. I wanted this to take some time. I don’t have an endless supply of it, however.”
“What do you want?” Rachel asked again, a little more forcefully. “Who are you?”
“Oh, that’s not important. The who I am bit, anyway. What I want, though, is my friend to hit redial the second he’s out. Tell him it’s a life or death call. Literally, life or death. Remember, tell him.”
The phone hung up, and Jesse shook his head again. “It’s in the area, but we could only narrow it down about two hundred miles. And that doesn’t mean the kids are in that range.”
“That guy gives me the creeps,” Rachel said. “What does he want with Evan?”
“I wonder,” the officer said. “Frank mentioned a friend of Evan’s that went to prison.”
“You think?”
“Can’t hurt to find out,” the man said as he placed his own phone to his ear.
* * *
Inside the glassed-in room a thin figure began to stir. Pale eyes blinked in the harsh incandescent light. Evan looked down the length of the uncomfortable mattress to find several tubes sticking out of him and more in his nose. An annoying beep rang out through the room, and the beep turned to a blaring alarm when he disconnected the lines from himself. He slowly shifted his slight weight to angle his feet off the edge of the bed when a wall of people in white coats came in, pressing him back against the mattress. “Mr. Dyer, you have to lie back down,” one of the doctors said, his tone no-nonsense and stern. “You need rest and to stay calm.”
In the House On Lakeside Drive Page 15
