Endangered

by Robin Mahle

Nick was already making his way to the man who appeared to be the officer in charge. “Deputy Lewis?” He offered his hand. “I’m Agent Scarborough. We spoke on the phone.”

  “Yes. Thank you for coming down.” The deputy glanced over Nick’s shoulder to Dwight. “You’re with Agent Scarborough?”

  “Agent Jameson and this is Agent Reid.”

  Once the pleasantries were exchanged, the deputy began, “We’ve spoken with the manager over there. He doesn’t seem to have any idea when Lyle Stroud was here. The guy next to him is the night manager and he seems just as clueless.”

  “Any surveillance video?” Nick asked.

  “Afraid not. This place is pretty dated.” Lewis gestured to Kenny. “I guess the kid over there says they’ve been slowly working on upgrades, but their computers are almost four years old.”

  “So they don’t know which room Stroud was staying in?” Kate asked.

  “That’s a big fat no as well.”

  “I assume the rooms have all been cleaned recently.” A thought was forming in Kate’s mind that just might get them somewhere. “So I doubt we’ll find much there. You mentioned to Agent Scarborough that Colton left a note from a notepad inside one of the rooms. It had the hotel’s name on it.”

  “That’s right.”

  “What are you thinking, Kate?” Nick asked.

  “I say we look at the notepads in the rooms and see if we can find one that has an impression on it. You know, look to see if the writing left an impression on the sheets below. At least we’ll know which room they were in and that would narrow down who was staying there and when. It isn’t much, but it’s all I’ve got right now.”

  » » »

  Colton’s stomach ached with hunger as he waited for his first of only two meals to be brought in to the increasingly pungent bathroom in the basement of some old woman’s home. A new day had dawned and he only figured that because of his sleep patterns. His eyes couldn’t distinguish between night and day in this room, but his body apparently could. He wondered how the hell she could not know he was down there. He tried to stay active, often running in place just so he could feel his heart beat in his chest. But as he gazed in to the small mirror, he saw his face had grown pallid, dark circles formed beneath his eyes, and he was weakening despite his best efforts. Perhaps that was what the man wanted; a weak, frail boy who could no longer put up a fight. Not that Colton did anymore.

  The note must not have worked and he’d risked so much to put it there. The night before they arrived here, the man had gotten a room in another run-down motel that Colton thought was on the way to here. He didn’t know why the man didn’t come straight here, but didn’t ask the question.

  But the note had been his one chance. The time had come for the man to do as he wanted, but he needed to use the bathroom first and left Colton alone for only seconds and those seconds were not wasted. He hopped off the bed and grabbed a pad of paper he’d spotted on arrival. A pen lay next to it and he quickly scribbled the words. When he heard the toilet flush, Colton yanked the sticky note from its pad and jumped back onto the bed. He stuck it to the bottom side of the table next to the bed and prayed the man wouldn’t find it. He didn’t think he would, though, because he’d already had a few of the mini bottles of booze. He always did beforehand.

  The next morning, just as they were about to leave, the man was pre-occupied with a piece of paper in his hand. Colton didn’t know what it was except that it looked like a list; a grocery list? He didn’t know and didn’t care. And as he waited for the man to get up, Colton sat alone on the edge of the bed and reached for the sticky note.

  When it was time for them to leave, the man did as he always did, walked to the vending machine and plunked in a few quarters to retrieve a soda and chips. They began walking toward the parking lot and passed by an ice machine. With the note in the palm of his hand, Colton pressed it against the side and continued to walk beside the man until they reached his truck.

  But it seemed it had all been in vain. He’d even given them the man’s name and they still weren’t here. And his hope had dwindled.

  The man never seemed to leave the house, which made any attempts at escape or even of being heard, a futile effort. How much longer was this going to continue?

  The door handle turned, pulling Colton out of his trance. He gazed upon the brassy knob as it twisted, listening for the click of the catch, when it would open. He rushed to the corner between the tub and the wall, pulling his knees close to his chest. The man liked to knock him around a little and this was the best way to shield himself from the worst of it.

  The door opened on creaking hinges, the dampness of the bathroom having rusted them. And there he was.

  “Here, eat this.” The man set down a small plastic plate on which a sandwich rested, along with a few thin potato chips and an applesauce cup. He looked at Colton, his eyes examining every inch of him.

  Colton pulled his knees closer, as though the man’s eyes had the ability to physically control him. He trembled, waiting for what the man would do next. It was then that an unexpected burst of conviction escaped. “Why don’t you just kill me?” The hate in Colton’s eyes pierced the man’s vacant expression. He’d grown tired of that expression and something inside him snapped. “You’re letting me starve to death anyway. What’s the fucking point?” It was the first time Colton had ever said that word in front of an adult. He and his friends often used it around one another to prove how grown-up they were. Only now did he understand its true meaning.

  The man’s eyes narrowed into mere slits. “Boy, you don’t tell me nothing. You don’t talk to me unless I say so. I thought you figured that out by now. The fuck you think you are?” He stepped inside the room, closing the door, and squatted in front of Colton. “Your time’s coming, boy. Don’t you worry about that.” He held his stance, staring into Colton’s eyes.

  Colton stared right back.

  The man formed a wry smile and nodded. He pushed up again and stood tall over Colton. “That’s what I thought.” A final huff of his breath and the man turned away, leaving again.

  Colton’s head dropped and his pulse began to slow again. It took all his energy to look the man in the eyes and it was everything he had inside him. He stood up on shaky legs, reached for the plate that balanced on the edge of the tub, and began to eat.

  » » »

  Colton opened his eyes. He had fallen asleep, probably from the adrenaline he’d exhausted from his encounter. The footsteps sounded above him and he knew that meant dinner for the man and the old woman. It must be nighttime again.

  He considered his options as he did nearly every second of the day, only since they’d been here, he continued to search for a way out. Planning, scheming for a way to escape from the man. In the end, he couldn’t muster the nerves. In the end, he was still a twelve-year-old boy, afraid and missing his family. But desperation was settling in his bones and he expected death would come at the hands of the man sooner rather than later anyway. So what did it matter?

  “Here I go again,” he whispered. It was the same conversation, over and over in his mind. He glanced upward to the ceiling and listened to the muffled words, some mild laughter and this made him wince. If he could just get her attention. He knew the risks, but then, what if he succeeded?

  Colton rose from the towel on which he rested. His knees ached from being bent for too long and his head spun as he stood. Weakness was consuming his body and soon there would be no fight, or even thoughts of fight left in him. He steadied himself until his head cleared. A curtain hung, pushed to one side of the tub and shower unit. Colton eyed the plastic, moldy liner and drew his eyes upward toward the rod. It hung inside two brackets that were bolted into the wall. The rod itself rested in the cradle of each bracket. On examination, it appeared the rod could easily raise from those cradles.

  Colton stepped on to the edge of the tub, bracing himself with his arms, which just spanned the length of it. The tips of his fingers touc
hed each side. Once steadied, his right hand raised to the rod and he pushed up on it. The rod lifted. Colton smiled. He tried the other side and that side lifted as well. He then removed his hands and shifted his balance to his legs, which still had some strength because he ran bases a lot and Coach would often make them run laps if the boys were misbehaving.

  He pushed up on one end of the rod until it was free and slowly lowered it until the opposite side was forced from its cradle. The rod was heavier than expected, but that was because of the curtain on the one end. It was difficult to balance.

  Stepping off the edge of the tub, Colton stumbled but didn’t fall, nor did he drop the rod. If he made any noises now, his plan would fail. He set it on one end and let the curtain slide off. It felt like plastic, but that didn’t matter: it would do the job. The adrenaline surged once again, making him lightheaded, but only for a moment. His mouth dried instantly and his tongue stuck to the roof of it. “Calm down.” His body wasn’t listening.

  Diversion. It was just supposed to be a diversion so that the old woman would hear and insist on coming down to the basement. What could the man do then? Sure, Colton knew he would pay the price, but the damage would be done. And if he couldn’t escape, then he would make sure the man would get caught. It was all he could hope for now.

  Colton inhaled a deep breath and squeezed his hands tightly around the rod. Raising one end above his shoulder, he slammed it against the small mirror and a great crash sounded in his ears. His eyes were closed as he smashed the mirror but now opened to see the damage. Shards lay in the sink and on the floor.

  He heard a chair screech hard on the floor above and voices that grew louder. He’d done it. The old woman had heard and they were coming down. How was the man going to get out of this one? Colton smiled as his chest heaved and his eyes widened, staring at the door, waiting for it to open. The rod still in his hand, he had a weapon. But wait, glass would be better. He reached for a shard and cut his hand. No matter. He would slice the man’s throat with it when he came near.

  The basement stairs exploded with heavy footfalls. This was it. Colton braced himself. His feet, shoulder-length apart. His grip on the broken piece of mirror, though drawing blood, was firm. Shouts. He heard shouts and it sounded like the old woman.

  Colton was ready.

  » » »

  Kate studied it closely to be sure, but it appeared she’d found the notepad. “I think we got it.” She turned to Nick and Dwight while they surveyed the room with the single queen-sized bed. “Come take a look.” She stood back as they both approached and hovered over the white slips of paper with the Serene Motel logo on it.

  Nick raised the pad toward the light and examined it. Imprinted in the thin paper were the words Colton had written. “What do you think?” He handed it to Dwight.

  “This is it. Let’s get this to the manager and find out when this room was rented last.”

  » » »

  Kenny appeared to have calmed down during the couple of hours his lobby had been inhabited by several sheriff’s officers and a team from the FBI that was searching his rooms. He feared they might find other, perhaps more incriminating evidence as to the type of clientele that he catered to. Not that he wanted it that way, but they had to keep the doors open and that sometimes meant renting to less desirables with a criminal past. Still, it wasn’t his fault if his guests brought in illegal drugs or worse. He noticed the FBI agents approaching and his pulse began to rise.

  The bigger agent pushed through the door, his broad frame practically obscuring the woman behind him, who Kenny thought was much too pretty to work for the FBI. Although he would never express such a thought out loud for fear of being called sexist, which he was. Finally, the last to enter was the more sophisticated-looking man. Built, but not husky and a little older. He had one of those V-shapes that Kenny admired, but he still thought this one was arrogant and definitely the leader of this little trio.

  “We found it.” Nick approached Deputy Lewis, holding the notepad. “It was in room 124.” He turned to Kenny. “Can you find out who’s been in that room before and after May 18th?”

  Lewis and the agents swarmed around Kenny, who wanted to piss his pants right now because he’d never been through anything like this and it scared the hell out of him. Still, he tried to man-up and began to search the recent guests of room 124.

  Kenny punched in the dates and a screen appeared. “Okay, so it looks like we’ve had three guests in there two days before and yesterday, the 19th.”

  “He would’ve most likely stayed only one night.” Nick leaned over Kenny’s chair for a better look.

  Kenny punched in a few more commands. “Looks like they all stayed for only a night. That’s usually the type we get around here. But we have some names here. Oscar DeLuca, Marco Rojas, and this last one has two people on it, a Stan and Delilah Smith.” He turned to Nick. “Although I don’t think that’s their real names. We get those types too.”

  “Uh-huh.” The name Marco sparked a memory and Nick referred to Dwight. “What was the name of that guy we talked to at the dairy farm? Wasn’t it Marco something?”

  “Yeah. Marco Rojas, that’s right. That’s got to be him. He’s using his co-worker’s name.”

  “He did here, anyway.” Nick returned his attention to Kenny. “What’s the date?”

  Kenny leaned in and his eyes squinted. “He checked out yesterday.”

  Nick slammed his fist down on the high-back fabric chair that Kenny was sitting on, nearly shaking him off. “God damn it! We missed him by a fucking day!”

  “Let’s step outside, Agent Scarborough.” Dwight jumped in to calm his partner and the three walked outside.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” Kenny said.

  “Calm down, Nick,” Dwight began. “We’re close. He left yesterday.”

  “Yeah, that’s great, but we have no goddamn idea where the hell he’s going.” Nick placed his hands on his hips, appearing infuriated at the complete debacle that this case had become. “Son of a bitch. We were this goddamn close and he slipped through our fingers again.” He turned toward the lobby door. “Maybe if people paid some fucking attention to something other than themselves!” His raised voice would have easily carried through the glass door and he made no apologies for it.

  Kate regarded Dwight with great concern. She’d seen Nick angry before, but this was different. He was losing perspective and distance and that was when mistakes happened. “What about the other manager, the kid?” Kate needed to quickly diffuse this. “He would have been the one checking him out. Maybe he saw Colton, or at the very least, he might’ve seen the car he was driving. We can confirm then if he’s in the same vehicle.”

  With a calmer tone, Nick agreed. “You’re right. Let’s see what he knows.” Nick turned on his heel and walked back inside. “Kenny, would your night manager have been the one to check out Marco Rojas yesterday?”

  “Yes, sir.” Kenny was sweating again after watching the agent flip his lid.

  “We need to see him right now.”

  Kenny picked up the radio and called Rickey, who was meandering around somewhere outside, trying to avoid the tense scene.

  “You think he’ll be able to ID Stroud?” Deputy Lewis asked.

  “Better than that, I’m hoping he’ll tell us what kind of car he was driving. If the son of a bitch got rid of his old truck, we can update the Amber Alert and the BOLO. We’re a still day behind, but it’s better than nothing.”

  “Rickey says he’ll be here in a just a minute, Agent Scarborough.”

  “Thank you. In the meantime,” he said to Dwight, “I’m going to give Detective Mason a call and let her know what’s going on. I’m hoping like hell she’s making some progress on her end.” Nick stepped back outside to make the call.

  “You did good, Kate.” Dwight rested a hand on her shoulder.

  She watched Nick as he stood outside on the phone. “Yeah, well, a day late and a dollar short, right?”
Kate returned her attention to Dwight. “I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s too close. He flies off the handle at every obstacle. I’m not sure how long he can stay objective and focused.”

  “There’ve been plenty of times you were too close and he let you do what you needed to make things happen. Just give him the benefit of the doubt. He won’t do anything to compromise the investigation.”

  “Is he really close with the Talbots?”

  “I’m not sure how close. I can’t recall him talking about them, or his buddy, Jake, but then, Nick doesn’t talk about much else besides work. So, that doesn’t mean anything.” Dwight noticed the kid approaching. “Looks like our guy is here.”

  Rickey approached Nick and the two stood outside for a moment before entering.

  “So, you remember him?” Nick asked as he walked back inside.

  “Sure. He was kind of bald, a little heavy-set, maybe mid-thirties? Could be younger, but the bald head made him look old.” Rickey moved toward the counter that Kenny still sat behind.

  “But you didn’t see a kid with him?” Nick continued.

  “No, sir.” Rickey looked up as though in deep thought. “No. Definitely no kid.”

  “Rickey, you remember what that man was driving?” Kenny asked and immediately regretted interrupting the agent.

  Rickey looked up again, only this time placing his fingers over his thick chin. “Let me think. Yesterday morning, must’ve been early ‘cause I just finished making another pot of coffee.” He looked to Nick. “It was early, well before the ten a.m. checkout time.”

  “Rickey, do you remember the car he was driving?” Nick appeared impatient. “This boy’s life is in danger and I need you to think hard.”

  Rickey swallowed and appeared anxious to say the right thing.

  “Just answer the question,” Kenny said.

  “It was, um…” Rickey paused, squeezing his eyes shut. “It was a truck, blue, I think. Yes, it was a blue truck.”