The Silencer: A Bad Boy MMA Romance

by Aubrey Michelle

  “Is he the fat guy? Your boss?”

  Kim nodded her head. “He is, but let’s not say that in front of him. It’s not very nice.”

  “Why is he coming here? You’re not going to tell our secret, are you?” her face twisted with concern.

  “Actually, Brooke, I’m not going to lie to you. We are going to talk about that secret. I think…”

  “No!” Brooke shouted. “You can’t do that! I’m going to be in trouble. You promised it was our secret.”

  “Brooke, you don’t understand. I have to tell. It’s going to help us find out who took your brothers.”

  “How?”

  “You’ll understand,” she said, glancing at the end of the driveway. “When he gets here, I’ll ask if you and your sister can be present when we talk. Okay?”

  “Okay, but…” Brooke’s eyes widened in fear as she saw the dark sedan pulling into the driveway that led to the house. “He’s here!”

  Officer Kim Clark looked and, sure enough, he was driving up to the house. Showtime! She thought to herself.

  “Come on, Brooke,” she opened her car door. “Let’s go up and meet him.”

  §

  Inside the house, everyone gathered around the kitchen table. The Marshall’s were anxious and afraid. They didn’t know what to expect, but they were hopeful that it was good news; though, they doubted it. Ashley didn’t see either of her babies, which wasn’t a good sign. She whispered to her husband as the detective reviewed the analysis results. His eyebrows contorted in surprise as he viewed the officer’s handy work.

  “Quite impressive,” he praised her.

  “What?” Ashley said. She sat on top of her sweaty palms as her fear and anxiety became heightened.

  He looked at the Marshall’s before glancing back down at the paperwork spread out in front of him.

  “I think we should start with Brooke,” he said.

  “Brooke? Why Brooke?” Keith asked.

  Officer Kim nodded at the girl, giving her the okay to tell her story. Ashley and Keith’s eyes widened in terror as she unfolded the details of her secret pen pal. Keith interrupted his daughter in the middle of her story.

  “What?” he asked as she said he’d emailed the teacher. “I never emailed your teacher. What are you talking about?”

  The adults at the table eyed him with suspicion.

  “My teacher said that you emailed her and said you had a special person you wanted me to write to. That’s how I knew who my secret pen pal would be.”

  “But I didn’t email her!” he insisted.

  Detective Roderick halted the investigation. “I think it’s best if we call her right now. What was your teacher’s name?” he asked Brooke.

  “Mrs. Southerland,” Brooke answered.

  The detective quickly realized he’d asked the wrong person. He needed a first and last name.

  “What was her first name? Do either of you know?” he asked her parents.

  “No, but we can go look it up on the school’s website. I’m sure they have it listed.”

  Ashley excused herself to go find the teacher’s name so the detective could contact her. It didn’t take long to get in touch with her. Detective Roderick asked if there was any way she still had the email.

  “Oh, gosh. I don’t know,” she said. “I’m not even at the computer right now, but I can look and if I do, I’ll send it to you.”

  “That would be great. I know it’s been a few years, but what are the odds that you still have it?”

  She thought for a moment, “Pretty good, actually. I’m too lazy to delete emails. I still even have some from when I got hired on almost 10 years ago,” she laughed. “It might take a while for me to find it, though.”

  As he hung up with the teacher, they turned their attention back to the task at hand. Going over the evidence, detective Roderick noticed that the fingerprints matched someone in the Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System or IAFIS.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Marshall, are either of you familiar with the name, Timothy Denton?”

  Their jaws dropped as the blood drained out of their faces, leaving them a pale white.

  “I don’t know what’s going on,” Ashley said, “but that’s my father’s name. Tim Denton is my dad, but he died years ago. Most likely overdosed. At least before I had Chase, and he’s eight.”

  “Overdosed, maybe, but he’s not dead,” Officer Clark spoke up. “He’s very much alive—and active. Our most recent mugshot of him was just last year. He attempted to rob a convenience store.”

  “I see you’ve been doing your homework,” he commended her again. “Good work, Officer Clark.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Ashley asked.

  Keith was afraid his wife would pass out at any moment. He’d never seen her so ghostly white before. It was as though someone had sucked all of the life out of her.

  “No,” Officer Kim chimed in, “this letter has his prints all over. He must have put some work into it,” she said pulling out an evidence bag.

  For the first time in years, she looked at the “Local Girl Saves the Day” newspaper article that was once safely tucked away inside of Brooke’s book bag. Chills ran down her spine. How did she not put it together?

  “The rest of the letters he’d written her had a few fingerprints on them; where he’d folded them, and smudge marks from his hand resting on the papers as he wrote. This one, though,” she held the article higher, “was loaded with fingerprints where he must’ve clipped it out with scissors.”

  “Oh God!” Ashley nearly fell out of her chair.

  “Do you know what that is?” Keith turned to his wife.

  She slowly nodded her head in disbelief. “When Brooke was in kindergarten, I found it in her backpack. I thought it was a cute story that her teacher had made. I saved it in her kindergarten box with the rest of her keepsakes. How did you get all of this?” she asked the officer.

  “Brooke came to me one day while I was on duty. She told me that she was afraid she’d be in trouble, but she needed to tell me something.” She looked at the terrified child. “I told her we could pretend to play a game. She told me everything and gave me all the letters.”

  Their attention turned to Brooke. “I watched you put it away, mom. When you weren’t looking, I got in the box and took it back. I thought it was a good thing,” her eyes filled with tears.

  Everyone in that kitchen felt her pain. It wasn’t her fault, she was only a child. Ashley reassured her of that as she wrapped her arms around her daughter and held her tight.

  Rocking her, she consoled the frightened child. “It’s okay, baby. You didn’t know,” she kissed the top of her head. “None of this is your fault. Don’t ever blame yourself.”

  “What do we do now?” Keith asked.

  Chapter 9

  The Marshall’s worked through the night with the police as they questioned Brooke about every single detail she could possibly remember. Listening to her accounts, they began to notice a pattern. Following the information she’d given them, it appeared that Tim lived in their old apartment complex. Ashley became petrified as she thought about whether or not he’d lived there the entire time and they never knew it. Even though it was nobody’s fault—other than her dad’s—she hated herself for not seeing through everything he’d done. He’d been the one to mail the fake obituary, he made the “Local Girl Saves the Day” newspaper article. Most likely, he was probably responsible for killing their animals, and for the raccoon slaying. And this sick man, she thought, is the one who raised me. She wondered how she ever made it out of there alive. He was more revolting and gruesome than she could’ve ever imagined.

  Early the next morning, law enforcement headed out to the Marshall’s old apartment. Keith and Ashley could hardly stand the anticipation as they waited to hear the findings. Ashley had wanted to go, but they informed her she was not allowed. It was eating her alive to wait by the phone. Anxiously pacing the kitchen floor, she decided to che
ck her email. Mrs. Southerland had forwarded her a copy of the email, along with the detective, that Keith had supposedly sent. She became appalled and nauseated as she read it.

  “Keith come here!” she called upstairs to him. She couldn’t wait for him to read the email. It was disgusting.

  He came running down the steps, hoping the police had called. Disappointment set in when Ashley told him that she wanted him to read an email.

  “No, you’ve got to read this. It’s from Mrs. Southerland. The email that you allegedly sent.”

  Mrs. Southerland,

  Hi, this is Keith Marshall, Brooke’s dad. I was looking at your personal page on the district’s website and saw that her class is doing a special pen pal project. Unfortunately, I never saw the letter that was sent home that you’d mentioned on the web page. But with us being fairly new around here, we don’t really know many people, and there’s not many relatives that Brooke could write to. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to be her pen pal, but keep it secret so that she doesn’t know she’s writing her dad. I think what you’re doing is a great idea! She can send the letters to one of the vacant apartments, as I can get the mail that goes to that address. The mailbox lock is busted so she’ll never know it’s me. Feel free to contact me with any questions.

  Sincerely,

  Keith

  “He’s one fucked up man!” Keith punched the wall. “How dare he act like he’s me?”

  “Keith, please, calm down. Tearing up the house or hurting yourself isn’t going to solve anything. I just hope that if he really does have the boys, which I think he does, he doesn’t hurt them.”

  “So help me, God! If he even touches my boys, it’ll be the last time you ever have to worry about him. I can promise you that!” he began crying as he finally reached his breaking point.

  “I know, Keith. I know,” she hugged him. “Hopefully, we won’t have to wait much longer. It’s been almost a half hour since they headed to the apartment.”

  “It’s just killing me,” he sobbed as she rubbed his head, still embracing her.

  §

  Back at the old apartment complex, law enforcement officials huddled together as they devised a strategy to apprehend Tim and recover the boys if they were still alive. It wouldn’t surprise them if he’d killed both of them based on Ashley’s recollection of the threats her dad had made to her. All they could do was hope for the best as they began to break up and surround the building while some of them entered the complex.

  As detective Roderick and two uniformed police officers quietly walked up the stairs to the second-floor apartments. Standing outside the door, they occupied the sides of it as one of the officers wearing a bullet-proof vest knocked before quickly stepping out of the way. Their senses were heightened as the tense seconds ticked away before they heard the door being unlocked from the inside. The officers drew their weapons as the door began to open. But when the door opened, it wasn’t who they expected. It was just a young woman, a college student. Shocked, she gasped as she threw her hands in the air.

  “Don’t shoot!” she said as she remained in a surrendering position.

  The police lowered their weapons. She was apparently surprised by their presence and frightened by their guns.

  “May we come in?” the detective asked.

  She nodded her head, slowly lowering her arms.

  “Is anyone else in the apartment with you?” he asked her.

  “No, I live alone,” she said, leading them inside.

  Once the door was closed, they began to explain the situation and question her.

  “We’re sorry to have scared you, but we’re looking for a suspect, and thought he was in this apartment.”

  “Why?” she asked, still stunned.

  “He’s kidnapped two children—brothers—and was writing their older sister who’s only a couple of years older than them. She was writing to this address. Do you know who lived here before you?” he questioned her.

  Sitting on the couch, she shook her head. “No, I don’t. I thought it was a middle-aged couple, but I could be wrong. Who are you looking for? Maybe I’d recognize the name. After they moved, I used to get their junk mail.”

  “Our suspect’s name is Tim Denton. Ever heard of him?”

  She thought for a moment, “No, I don’t know him personally, but I do get his mail sometimes. I guess it’s easy for the mailman to mix it up, though, being that I’m 133F and he’s 113F.”

  “You know where he lives?”

  Before Detective Roderick could finish his sentence, they heard shouting coming from one of the downstairs apartments. Immediately, they rushed out of the college girl’s unit and began running down the steps. One of the ground floor, one of the police officers caught a man matching Tim’s mugshot trying to climb out of a window. The two had begun struggling, which was the noise they’d heard upstairs.

  Frantic with hope, and determined to apprehend him, the cops burst into the apartment to look for the boys. Entering the living room, officers did a quick sweep of the room before heading down the hallway and doing the same to the dirty bathroom. The entire living space smelled of dirt and chemicals; it was barely habitable for a wild animal to live in as filth and debris cluttered the house. Reaching the back of the apartment, they kicked in the bedroom door. Tim’s legs dangled inside the window as the two officers outside wrestled with him, trying to gain control of the situation. As they observed the struggle with their suspect, one of the cops heard crying. He placed his finger in front of his lip to quiet the rest of the team as he tried to hear where the sounds were coming from.

  The old, broken slatted-wood closet door caught his eye. He thought he saw movement coming from inside of it. As the officer opened the door, he quickly holstered his weapon as he witnessed the two young boys curled up together. Though they were crying and terrified, they were otherwise unharmed. The officer removed them from the closet, carrying a boy in each arm, not wanting to separate the children. They clung to his neck as though their life depended on it as they continued weeping. Bryce immediately started crying for his mom and dad as they carried the boys out of the apartment.

  Barely outside of the unit where the boys were held captive, everyone dove to the ground as they heard a gunshot fire. Their radios were cluttered with everyone chattering to see what happened. Officer Troy Deltoro wisped the boys into the back of his cruiser and fled the scene, taking them out of harm’s way. The rest of the police and agents gathered, heading to the rear of the unit. After the gunshot, their radios repeated “Officer down!” several times. Another shot was fired. Law enforcement dropped to the ground once again until it was to continue with their advance.

  Reaching the back of the building, they saw two lifeless bodies lying in the field. The first one they noticed was Officer Scott Benton, a member of the police force for nearly 12 years. A few feet from him was the body of Tim Denton. Agents clustered around the surviving police officer, Randy Waddell, to hear his recount of what took place.

  Struggling to get away, Tim tried climbing out of the window as the two police officers wrestled to gain control of the suspect. Upon their fight, Tim reached for one of their guns and had shot his partner. The officer was severely distraught over losing his partner of three years; he was a good man with a baby girl at home. After Tim had shot his partner, they continued to struggle until it was necessary to use lethal force to stop him from taking his life. He had two boys, about the same ages as Chase and Bryce at home; he wasn’t giving up easily.

  §

  As the police cruiser drove away from the old apartments that were once home, the boys began to calm down once they realized they were safe with Officer Deltoro.

  “You boys are going to be okay. We’ll go back to the police station and you’ll be able to see your family,” the officer reassured them.

  “That man told us that they didn’t want us anymore,” Chase said as he held his brother’s hand.

  “No, that’s not true at all.
Your mom, dad, and sisters have been so worried about you. They never stopped looking for you.”

  The remainder of the ride to the police headquarters was silent, other than Officer Deltoro talking into his radio, giving their location. Chase wondered whether the policeman was telling him the truth. He hoped he was. Although Bryce had been kidnapped long before him, he missed his family terribly. He couldn’t wait to see his mom and dad again.

  As they pulled up to the police station, people and news cameras were everywhere. It scared the boys as everyone surrounded the cruiser. Cameras were plastered to the windows as they caught a glimpse of the tear-streaked boys’ faces and their dirty clothes.