Juliandra

by Shawn Hill

CHAPTER 8 - THE ANSWERS

  It takes an hour and a half for Thomas to get to Rosewater Avenue where law enforcement remains present working around his home. The police cruiser, Juliandra died in, is still parked in front, and now has red colored sticks protruding from it, depicting the trajectory of each bullet. All Thomas needs is his wallet, which should be in the bedroom on the nightstand. Quietly, he maneuvers himself to the back yard and waits for an opportunity to get inside without being seen.

  It was warm last night and they had left one bedroom window open, but the trick will be getting the screen off and climbing in unnoticed. He crawls around looking for something, anything to help pry the screen out. During the search Thomas stops and shakes his head. What am I doing? He thinks. My belt buckle… Duh! Thomas moves back to the window, removes his belt, and uses the buckle’s prong like a screwdriver to pry the lower part of the screen upward. Slowly, he pulls it out and sets it on the ground. From the outside the bottom of the window is as high as his shoulders, creating a need to have at least a small object to stand on in order to get in quietly. This problem is quickly resolved when he grabs one of Juliandra’s potted plants, empties it out, and flips it upside down to use as a step.

  Once inside, Thomas crouches and looks over at the nightstand, but doesn’t see the wallet. He drops to his hands and knees and begins to search in all directions, thinking he might have moved it during the mornings’ events. Clearly, it wasn’t in the bedroom, so he slowly crawls out into the living room, making sure to stay below the windows. Just as he peaks over toward a table holding the entire weeks worth of mail, two voices from outside become clear and begin to get louder as if a couple of policemen were walking towards the open window. Thomas freezes in place and turns his head in that direction to see if anyone comes in to view.

  What seemed to be an extraordinary amount of time to stay in one spot, remaining absolutely motionless, soon pays off. Those voices that had become loud and clear begin to get further and further away, easing his tension and allowing him to turn back toward the table in the entryway. There it was on the floor, underneath, where it must have fallen. Without pause, he shimmies across the floor and grabs the wallet before turning to make the short but nerve-racking journey into the bedroom where the open window awaited his departure.

  The distant voices start getting louder again as Thomas slowly makes headway on his trek to get out of the house. He could easily make out the conversation. It was two officers walking the perimeter using some optical equipment to measure distance at various points. Again he has to pause for a few moments before the voices travel away, giving him another opportunity to act and escape the potential of getting caught inside. Moving as silently as possible he climbs out and sneaks his way to the property line, leaving the scene on foot. Holy crap, I can’t take much more of this.

  While walking, the mission becomes clear, and his thoughts focused. He’s going to rent a car and head to Boston to find Jason. Time is of the essence and he’s got to avoid sleep at all cost, or he’ll have to relive the morning’s events all over. In his travels he spots a small BMX style bicycle in someone’s yard. It’s not right to just take it, he thinks. But, I believe the owner would understand. A quick look around and the bike becomes his current mode of transportation.

  It takes some time, but he finally arrives near the airport, drops the bike, and walks the rest of the way. Wallet in hand, Thomas steps into the rental office and in no time drives out of the parking lot with a minivan. The van seemed a better choice since there was no way of knowing what might be needed later. So many theories, plans, ideas and random thoughts keep zipping around in his mind. Should I have a weapon? Poor Reggie. How do I act? Who do I say I am? Life seems meaningless without her. What if this guy can’t be found? What if I find him? This is all crazy!

  The first stop is at a nearby SuperStore to grab food, a change of clothes, and energy drinks that will undoubtedly become one of the essential weapons against his body’s desire to nod off. It takes almost 45 minutes to pick out supplies, pay, and make it back to the vehicle before getting on the road. According to the GPS, it’ll be another three hours and forty-six minutes before arriving at the Bristoly Lounge where Jeremy and Jason spent so much time. It’s a long shot, but Thomas is determined to do something rather than wait.

  The sun’s going down, the night’s closing in, and his long trip comes to an end when the van stops right in front of the building’s main entrance. It was the second closest parking spot there, and he couldn’t help but feel that under any other circumstances it would have been impossible to get. It was Saturday night, a good night to go out, he thinks, the odds could work. Trying to be discrete, Thomas quickly swaps his clothes inside the van then heads into the building through the double doors. The lounge is to the left and now all he has to do is go in and wait to see if Jason shows up. It only takes 12 steps to find a chair and only 10 seconds to notice someone at the bar who resembles the picture of Jason he saw online. Plan… plan…plan… I need a plan, Thomas is frantically thinking. Art… I’m into art, and I am interested in buying some art. That’s it.

  Unsure but anxious, tentative but motivated, he rises out of his seat and walks towards the bar while trying to force himself to relax. His hands are sweaty and slightly shaking as he approaches. The gentleman, who’s waiting for a drink, happens to turn and makes eye contact. Nope, not him, Thomas thinks as he veers off to the right side of the bar.

  “I’ll be with you in a moment.” The bartender says.

  “I’m in no hurry,” Thomas replies. “I’m just waiting for a friend anyway.”

  The bartender pours the contents of a shaker into a glass, pushes it towards a gentleman in front of him then walks over to Thomas.

  “What can I get for you?”

  “Well, I don’t want to start drinking without my friend.” Thomas explains. “Can I get a club soda with cranberry juice for now?”

  The bartender grabs a glass and fills it with ice. “No problem at all,” he says. “First time in the lounge?”

  “Yes actually, I’ve never been here, but it’s really nice.”

  “It can be. I guess it depends on who comes in. I’ve been around quite some time and people always seem to find themselves in chaotic situations, even though they’re a tiny bit more civilized these days.”

  “Hah… Very true, they are just a tiny bit more civilized. Not much though. I think the surroundings have changed but people haven’t”

  “You have no idea how right you are. But, that’s a whole other story. So, did your friend recommend the lounge? Have they been here before?”

  “Yes, he did. He comes here all the time and never stops talking about you. I mean you guys. Well, I mean the lounge and the staff of course.”

  The bartender hands Thomas his drink. “Really? I know a few of the regulars. What’s his name?”

  “Jason.”

  “Hmmm, I see a couple Jasons in here often… Common name though; what’s his last name? I know a Jason Morellow and a Jason Brean.”

  “Jason Brean! That’s him,” Thomas says. “That’s my friend.”

  “Ohh yeah, he’s here quite a bit. In fact, he stays at the hotel almost every Friday and Saturday. Seems like a decent guy; talks about painting and photography all the time. Thought I saw him earlier. He may have beaten ya here.”

  “No Way.”

  “Yeah, let’s see. Try over to the right side. I think he’s at a booth with another friend of yours.”

  “Hey, thanks. I’ll go find him. Thanks again.”

  A sudden shower of nerves falls over Thomas as he walks off. After all, he’s moving in the direction of a man who could potentially shed some light on his now dark life. A few steps and there he is, sitting alone sipping from a wine glass. On the opposite side of his table sat another glass, empty and abandoned. Thomas slows his pace long enough to confirm it’s actually Jason and then continues to approach while forcing his lips to smile. Several thoughts
about how to ask questions swirl through his head as he gets closer and closer. The pace slows again as the details of Jason’s face become clear. He can see tears making their way down his cheeks. Suddenly, out of the blue, that unoccupied seat across from the crying man gets refilled as a forty something year old guy, in a black pinstripe suite, sits down. Thomas quickly chooses an open table nearby and plunks down. Jason is clearly upset and talking loudly to the person in front of him. Thomas sits patiently; nursing his drink and trying listen without looking directly at them for too long. Unexpectedly, a lounge server pops into his view and asks if he’d like to see a menu.

  It startled him, but he thought, how Perfect. Of course, that will buy me some time.

  “Yes, please,” he replies. “I’d love a menu.”

  The server fades from his vision as quickly as she appeared and Thomas focuses his hearing on the conversation that is now privy to anyone within a 30-foot radius. He can hear Jason loud and clear.

  “Today is the anniversary of Jeremy,” he says before getting hushed by his associate.

  Jason’s voice lowers as he wipes a tear from his right eye and mumbles something to the other man whom he’s called Chief twice. It takes Thomas a minute to process what he heard, but he believes he understood him to say, “That fuckin’ bitch’s father might as well have killed him.”

  This Chief guy hushes him again, gets up and leaves the lounge angry. He isn’t the only one angry at this point. Thomas is filling with rage and he doesn’t even know the context of their conversation. It’s been too much today; too much has happened and he just wants answers. That statement has to be what he thought; it has to be. Thomas orders a burger to waste time and watches Jason as he continues to drink. A change of plan is needed. Asking questions is no good anymore. It has to be an interrogation. He has to get him alone.

  A few more drinks and the server taking care of Jason’s table decides to cut him off, and informs him that the lounge will not bring anymore alcoholic beverages. Jason becomes loud, belligerent, and begins to cause a scene. He demands another drink and starts a long streak of cursing, calling the server several names and commenting on how useless she is. The lady stayed calm and collected, explaining again that they can’t serve him anymore, and if he doesn’t calm down they’ll have him escorted out. Jason stands up, starts to walk, but trips over his own feet and falls to the ground. Karma! Thomas thinks. And, opportunity. He springs up and walks over to Jason who’s trying his best to push off the floor and onto his knees. Thomas extends his arm and reaches for Jason’s hand to help.

  “It’s okay ma’am, I got him. My friend here is just upset tonight. I’ll help him out.”

  Jason looks at the server. “Yeah, my friend here is gonna help me out lady. Not you or your stupid ass lounge police. Oooohhh.”

  Jason reaches in his right pocket, pulls out the contents and sifts through it to find two one hundred dollar bills which he tosses onto the table. Something in the mix of paper and money catches Thomas’s eye. It was a small picture. It was Brighten. He couldn’t believe what it was, but it was there. Jason crumbles everything back up, shoves it into his pocket and starts to stagger away. Thomas is enraged, but does his best to smile while following Jason out of the lounge area and into the hotel lobby. Jason steps towards the elevators and reaches in his pocket again, looking for his room key. The plastic key falls to the floor and Thomas leans down to reach for it. He makes out the room number 612 written on the sleeve just before Jason snatches it away and continues toward the elevators. Thomas follows until Jason stops and turns around.

  “This is where we part ways friend, unless you’re coming up to my room to blow me.” He laughs a bit, “Understand?”

  Thomas raises his hands to gesture his understanding and doesn’t take another step as Jason enters one of the elevators. As soon as the doors close he makes his way to the stairway and runs up to the sixth floor as fast as he can. Out of breath and dripping sweat, he completes the last set of stairs and pushes open the metal door to find he’s made it just as Jason is walking out of the elevator. Thomas stays by the doorway and waits to see which direction he will go. Nobody else is around, but thinking it looks suspicious to be standing in one place, he decides to walk casually in the direction of Jason. Thomas stays a few steps behind until Jason gets his door open. When it widens enough, he speeds up and pushes him inside, not even thinking about who or what could be in there. Once again, the tearful yet belligerent drunk man ends up on the floor after losing his footing from the sudden accelerated entry to his room.

  “What the fuck man?” Jason slurs as he rolls over to see who pushed him. “What the fuck? Ohh, it’s you friend. Come to suck my dick I see. Well get to it! Ahh hahaha, all you had to do was ask.”

  Thomas, still enraged at the mere thought of Jason’s involvement, shuts the room door and steps over his body to deliver multiple punches to his jaw, knocking him out. It was disturbing to him how easily the man on the floor lost consciousness. How fragile, he thought. One second a man is talking and the next second he might as well not exist. The idea was scary. Anger and regret are mixed together with feelings of sympathy now that the loud obnoxious voice is silent. Anger does seem to be the strongest though.

  “Suck that, you piss ant.” He says under his breath.

  Thomas removes everything from Jason’s pockets and searches through the contents before scrambling to prop him up into an office chair at a small desk. He uses the power cords from the hotel hair dryer and coffee maker to tie the man’s legs and hands together before grabbing a clothes iron from the closet and rolling the chair into the bathroom. Jason is slowly gaining consciousness, and soon his eyes open and begin to shift left then right before homing in on Thomas who’s standing directly in front of him, staring at a picture. In one hand he’s holding a pile of papers mixed with money and a photo of Brighten. In the other, an image of Juliandra extracted from that pile. Jason begins to scream, yelling out for help. Thomas puts the picture in his pocket and proceeds to punch Jason in the nose.

  “Stop screaming or I’ll punch you until you have no face. Stop screaming,” Thomas says.

  Blood pours from Jason’s nose and falls over his lips down his chin, mixing with the steady stream of uncontrollable tears from his eyes. He begins to spit onto the floor in an effort to keep the fluid from building up and sticking to his mouth. Thomas knows that this is the guy, this is the man with the answers, and he can’t, he won’t, he must not stop until he gets those answers. He grabs the iron and plugs it in to a power outlet, turning the dial to the highest setting.

  “I just wanna say that I’ve seen a lot of movies, and I’m pretty sure I can torture the living hell out of you if I need to. In fact, my favorite movie has a scene where this guy takes a hot iron and burns the crap out of the bad guy until he tells him what he wants to know. Have you ever seen that movie? It’s got the best torture scene ever, the best in my opinion anyway. I mean, I don’t have an iron. Ohh… Wait, I do have this iron here. And look, it’s heating up right now.”

  “What the hell do you want friend?” Jason asks.

  “I want some questions answered. I’m not a violent man, but I’ll do what I have to if you don’t answer my questions.”

  “Who do you think you are? Are you some kind of cop or something?”

  “Who am I? Who do I think I am?” Thomas says. “How about who was I? You fuck! I was a husband, and I was a happy man, and I was someone enjoying life until this morning.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I… am talking about my wife, Juliandra. How about, who was Juliandra? Huh!”

  Jason’s eyes widen for just a second, giving away his familiarity with Juliandra’s name. “Who is Juliandra?” He asks.

  Thomas immediately punches Jason in the nose again. “Wrong answer. Try again!”

  He reaches back to the iron, taps the bottom to test the temperature and picks it up.

  “I want to know
how you’re connected with my wife’s death.”

  Jason spits a bit of blood onto the floor. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he says.

  Thomas closes his eyes for a few seconds before reaching back to throw another fist. Jason suddenly lunges upward and grabs Thomas with a loud grunt. The power cord binding his wrists didn’t hold well, and he was able to loosen it enough to free his hands. The hot iron slides into the sink and the two men slam against the bathroom door. Out of instinct, from repetitive training during taekwondo classes, Thomas clasps his hands behind Jason’s neck and drives his right knee into him over and over until Jason collapses to the floor. Thomas picks him up, throws him back into the chair, grabs the lose power cord and reties his wrists as tight as possible with no regard for blood flow. He steps toward the sink still breathing heavily, looks into the mirror and sees a man who is desperate, angry, and losing his moral bearings. Focus… he thinks Focus! Jason is also breathing heavily, starts coughing, and eventually vomits onto the floor and his own body.

  “Tell me what I need to know and I won’t hurt you anymore,” Thomas says.

  “I don’t know anything.”

  Thomas grabs the hot iron and hovers it over Jason’s left thigh. A tear falls from his face as speaks again. “Tell me what you know about my wife, Juliandra.”

  “I don’t know her.” Jason replies.

  An ear piercing scream envelops the room as Thomas presses the iron down and holds it. Smoke begins to billow upward followed by a faint sizzling sound and the smell of burning flesh. Thomas pulls it off, puts the iron back in the sink, and ties a towel around Jason’s mouth to keep him quiet.

  “Just let me know when you want to talk, alright? I’m going to move the iron to a different part of your body until there’s nowhere left to burn.”

  Thomas reaches again for the iron and presses it against Jason’s right thigh, holding it in place while Jason screams into the towel.

  “Just let me know when you have some answers.” He says.

  60 seconds go by before he pulls the iron off, moves it to Jason’s chest and pushes it forward; holding it there until he can no longer stand the sound of Jason’s muffled screams or the smell of his skin burning. Thomas backs away, puts the iron down and leans into the bathtub just in time to vomit while Jason remains bound wincing in pain and shaking his head back and forth. He turns the shower on to mask the noises and wash away the mess, picks up the iron, and starts again. From outside the bathroom door the sound of spraying water and muffled screams fill the room for over ten minutes before nothing but the sound of the shower remains. The screams were replaced by a pain filled voice, the volume of which would change in cycles as Jason’s brain registered the magnitude of his burns. Thirty more minutes pass before Thomas finally comes out and closes the door behind him. Jason talked. He finally broke and told Thomas everything he wanted to know. Thomas had succeeded, but it didn’t feel like success at all. It felt empty, unsatisfying, and wrong. Do the ends really justify the means? He thought. He didn’t know anymore but the answers were brought to light.

  It was all for Jeremy who Jason had been in love with for many years. He explained that Professor Ledger sexually abused both Reggie and Jeremy, but Jeremy had developed some kind of twisted bond with the Professor, who was also his stepfather. He felt the abuse was out of love, a way in which his stepfather expressed how much he cared. Jeremy became jealous of Reggie for receiving extra attention and developed a deep hatred for him later after he accused the Professor of sexual abuse. Eventually, his stepfather committed suicide and Jeremy vowed revenge for his loss. He paid to have Reggie killed, but that death didn’t make him feel better for long. He wanted Reggie’s family to suffer even more. He wanted them to feel the loss that he felt. After living three years without his stepfather, he couldn’t bare it anymore and committed suicide himself on the third anniversary of Ronald Ledger’s death.

  In a final act of vengeance, just before Jeremy ended his own life, he asked Jason to hire three separate assassins to shoot one of Reggie’s children on the tenth anniversary of his death, July 12th 2014. The three contracted killers were instructed to fire only once so there would be three bullets in the victim, one for each year Jeremy was alive without the love of his stepfather. It was his ultimate revenge and was to be done at exactly 9:36am, Ronald Ledger’s time of death. Thomas almost felt sorry for Jason as he was telling the story. Jason loved Jeremy enough to kill for him ten years after he was dead, even though Jeremy had only ever really loved his stepfather. In some strange way, Thomas couldn’t help but respect Jason for holding out so long during the interrogation. That feeling however was short lived once he learned it was a mere coin toss that decided Juliandra’s fate. Nothing more than a damn coin toss. Jason didn’t care which one died, only that the person he had once loved asked him to do it.

  Thomas walks over to the bed, sits, and begins to cry. It was all too much to take in. He can’t believe what he has done to another human being for the sake of his own cause. Was it just? Was he right? Does this end justify his means? He looks up into a mirror on the wall, wipes away the tears then pulls the picture of Juliandra from his pocket.

  Yes… For now, the answer is yes.