Cruel Justice (28 page)

Abie glanced at the door they had come in through. He wanted to run, to get away from Sam and go home to his parents. But could he make it to that door without being caught? And that staircase outside—it was so old and dangerous; Abie wasn’t sure he could get down by himself.

And if he didn’t get away, if Sam caught him, what would Sam do to him? It was too risky. Too impossible. He wasn’t even sure he could find the door—his eyesight was so blurry.

“Here we are,” Sam said triumphantly.

The loud voice startled Abie out of his reverie. The opportunity was lost.

Sam handed Abie a magazine. “See? That’s what I had in mind. Just silly little pictures. Harmless.”

Abie thumbed through the magazine. It wasn’t a nice magazine with slick paper, like the ones his mother got in the mail. The paper was rough and coarse.

Abie glanced at the pictures. All of them were of little boys about his age. But they weren’t wearing any clothes, or at least not many. Some of them were posed in strange positions or with chains and black leather stuff Abie didn’t recognize. In some of the pictures, a little boy was posed with a grown-up man. They looked like they were doing really weird gross things to one another. Why would anyone want to do stuff like that?

Abie closed the magazines. The pictures were making him sick. He didn’t even know why. They just did.

“Doesn’t that look fun, Abie? Wouldn’t you like us to have some fun like the people in the magazine?”

Abie didn’t answer. He didn’t want to say yes, but he couldn’t think of any answer that wouldn’t infuriate Sam. It was so hard to
think.

“Answer me, Abie. Wouldn’t you like to take some pictures like that?”

There was something new in Sam’s eyes, something that frightened Abie. If he could run through that door now, he would, no matter what the chances. But Sam had clamped his hands down on his shoulders again. Abie couldn’t move.

“Answer me, damn it!” Sam literally picked Abie up off the ground and shook him violently back and forth. “Don’t you want to pose for the goddamn pictures!”

Abie felt tears welling up in his eyes. He didn’t want to cry; his dad had told him that only babies cry. But he couldn’t help himself. He was so scared. So so scared.

“You’re being a bad boy, Abie!” Sam was screaming now. He shook Abie again and again, harder and harder. “You shouldn’t be a bad boy. Bad boys have to be punished! Don’t you understand?”

“S-sure,” Abie said, voice cracking. “What—whatever you want.”

Sam took a deep breath, then released it. The color returned to his face.

“Well, good,” Sam said finally when he had sufficiently recovered himself. “That’s very good indeed. Let’s take some pictures, then. Now, do you want to take your clothes off yourself”—he leaned forward and pressed his face into the boy’s hair, drinking in his scent—“or should I take them off for you?”

Mike drove Ben up and down the streets of the abandoned Richfield section of north Tulsa. Ben scanned the streets on both sides of the car. It was all unfamiliar to him. Richfield was a district Ben had never had any occasion to visit. As far as he knew, no one ever came here.

Most of the buildings had been razed. The few that were still standing were gutted or boarded up. Rubble was strewn throughout the streets and alleys. A few years back a wealthy real-estate developer had proposed developing this part of town into an upper-class preserve, a yuppie enclave. Gilcrease, only nicer. He bought up and tore down most of the residences and street-front stores, but before he got to the renovation part of the plan, the oil bust hit, followed by the long-lingering recession. The project was abandoned. And Richfield was left in shambles, even worse off than it had been before.

“Are you sure this is where the creep lives?” Ben asked as he stared at the urban oblivion.

“I’m sure this is the address the DMV gave me for his license-plate number.”

“Are we sure it belongs to the man we’re looking for?”

“The car registered is a gray Ford sedan. Unless he stole the car, this is the right address.”

Ben peered through the passenger window at the vast wasteland. “But no one could live out here.”

Mike nodded grimly. “I think we have to face reality. The man we’re after is smart. And careful. And he didn’t start this sick business yesterday, either. He prepared.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, for instance, he registered his car and license under a fake address. It’s not that hard to do. No one really checks; most of the time the officials will blindly accept anything you write on the form.”

“That’s disappointing.”

“Very. After all, if the address is fake, it’s a safe bet the name is fake, too.”

“But why here? Why this address?”

“Beats me. Probably it’s the first address that came to his mind. Maybe he’d been out here for some other reason and knew no one lived here. After all, the only way he could be caught would be if he gave an address already claimed by someone else. The computer would catch that. So he probably—”

Without warning, Mike slammed down on the brakes. Since he had been traveling at a considerable speed, the sudden stop threw Ben forward against the dash.

“What are you doing?” Ben screamed. “There’s not another car in sight! Only you could nearly kill us when you’re the only car on the road.”

Mike didn’t say anything. He was staring out the window on his side of the car.

“What’s the matter? What are you looking at?”

“I’m not entirely sure. But I think it’s …
yes
!” Mike popped open the door and sprang out of the car. “Blue!”

“Blue?”

“Right. I’ll go in the front. You drive around the block and watch the rear exit. And call for backup. We may need it. Don’t let him get away!”

“
Blue?
” Ben wanted to ask several more detailed questions, but it was too late. Mike was already barreling across the street, his trench coat flapping in the breeze.

What was it Mike saw? Ben squinted into the blazing sun and peered at the building Mike was making a beeline for. It looked like all the rest of them to Ben. Empty, hollowed out. Ruined. Graffiti on the walls. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except—

Wait a minute. He was looking too high. There was something on the ground, something on the sidewalk in front of the building.

Something blue.

Ben crawled into the driver’s seat and threw the car into drive while fumbling with the handset.

It was a blue book bag.

“T
HAT’S IT, ABIE. NOW
just a few more.”

Abie stared into the camera lens and tried his best not to cry. He was so scared of Sam. The look in his eyes terrified him; he was certain the man would hurt him if he got mad again. If Abie didn’t do everything Sam wanted him to do.

Abie had stripped down to his underwear, no further. Sam had grinned, said something about taking it one step at a time, and began clicking the camera. He kept moving Abie around, repositioning him, telling him to act happy or sad or other words Abie didn’t even understand. Abie hated this, he felt … he didn’t know. Gross. Dirty. It made him sick, and it made him sad.

It made him want to be home with his mommy.

And dad.

Sam stepped away from the camera. “All right, then. Let’s try another pose.”

“Don’t wanna,” Abie whispered, backing away.

“Tired of posing? Well, I guess that’s fair. You’ve been working hard. Maybe we should take a break.” He reached out and grabbed Abie’s hand. “Maybe we should do something else. We could play a game. You and me, together. A real fun game. Would you like to do that?”

“No,” Abie said, lower lip protruding. “Don’t wanna play a game. I wanna go home.”

“All in good time, Abie. All in good time.” He held fast to Abie’s hand. “Do you like to be touched, Abie?”

Abie tried to twist away. “No!”

“What about when your mother pats you on the back to help you fall asleep? I bet you like that, don’t you, Abie?”

Abie continued to squirm. “So?”

“Well, that’s okay for little babies, Abie, but grown-ups have other ways of touching. Better ways. Would you like to learn about those?”

Abie was so scared he didn’t know what to do. Tears tumbled out of his eyes. He yanked as hard as he could, but he couldn’t get away.

“I said, would you like to learn what grown-ups do?”

Abie continued to struggle.

“Answer me, Abie.” The man pulled the boy close to him. His hands slowly moved around Abie. “Do you want to do something wonderful?” He stroked Abie’s chin. “Do you?”

“
No!
” Abie took Sam’s hand inside his mouth and bit down on it as hard as he could.

Sam shrieked.

Abie tried to break away, but Sam still held his arm firmly.

“You ungrateful brat!” Sam slapped Abie, hard, right across the face. Abie tumbled backward, falling onto the exposed concrete floor.

“I didn’t want to do that,” Sam said quickly. His breathing was becoming fast and irregular. “You made me do that. You’re a dirty boy, and you had to be punished. Now let’s see if we can do better—”

Abie pushed himself to his feet. Something about the slap had worked wonders, had shaken him out of his lethargic, dazed state. He felt a surge of energy charging through his body. He was free of Sam for the moment. He was going to make the most of it.

Abie ran behind the camera. “Stay away from me!”

“But Abie. We’re friends.”

“We’re not friends! You’re not my friend. You’re—I don’t know what you are. But I don’t like you anymore.”

A dark cloud seemed to cover Sam’s eyes. “Don’t be this way, Abie.” He stepped slowly toward the boy.

“Stay away from me!” Abie reached into the equipment bag, pulled out the Polaroid camera, and threw it at Sam.

Sam dodged the camera, but it fell with a crash onto the concrete floor, shattering into pieces.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Sam snarled. “You’ve ruined the camera.” He continued advancing toward Abie. “I don’t allow my little boys to hurt my belongings.”

Abie grabbed the black bag and hurled it at Sam. Sam caught it, but the impact knocked him backward.

“All right, Abie. Now I’m mad.” His jaw was tightly clenched. “And you don’t have anything left to throw, do you?”

Abie ran to the back of the room. He slammed against the door and turned the knob—

It was locked.

“How stupid do you think I am, Abie? Of course I locked the door. We wouldn’t want anyone walking in on us, would we?”

Abie kicked and pounded on the door, all to no avail.

“It’s pointless, Abie. It’s a very strong lock. I put it in myself.”

Turning, Abie saw Sam hovering over him, his face burning with anger. Abie pressed back against the door, more scared than he had ever been in his life. There was nothing else for him to do, nowhere else for him to go. He was trapped.

“Now I’ve got you, you dirty, weak little boy. And now you’re going to be punished. Over and over again. Until you’re clean.”

Abie screamed, but even as he did he knew that he was far, far away from anyone who could help him.

W
HY DID IT ALWAYS
happen like this? Sam thought. Why were the little boys always so mean, so unappreciative in the end? Didn’t they know he loved them? Didn’t they know all he wanted was to take care of them, to share something wonderful with them? Couldn’t they see that?

He pinned Abie against the door. He pressed his hand firmly against Abie’s chest, then leaned forward and immersed his face in Abie’s hair.
Oh God!
He smelled so delicious! So intoxicating! He loved this boy so much.

“I’ll give you one last chance to be good, Abie. Won’t you play with me?”

“No!” Abie screamed, tears in his eyes. “I don’t want anything to do with you. I want to go home!”

Sam reared back his hand and slapped the boy across the face, even harder than before. He grabbed Abie and pounded him against the door. “I was so good to you. I gave you everything you wanted. And how do you repay me?
How?
” He squeezed Abie so tightly his fingers left impressions on the boy’s skin, then pounded him against the door again and again.

“You’re hurtin’ me!” Abie cried.

“I’ll do worse than that.” He took his free hand and clamped it around the little boy’s throat. Abie gasped, but too late. He couldn’t get any air.

“I don’t want to do this, Abie. I truly don’t,” Sam said as he squeezed even tighter. “But you’ve left me no choice. You’re no use to me when you act like this. No use at all.” He pressed his thumb down against Abie’s larynx while tightening his chokehold.

Why did it always have to end this way? It could have been beautiful. They could have trusted one another—

But no. Abie had proven he couldn’t be trusted, just like the boy in the park, and the boy at the mall, and all the others. He couldn’t take the chance of their escaping once they made it clear they would talk.

They had to die.

Gritting his teeth, he squeezed even harder. Abie’s face was turning blue, and he no longer appeared to be breathing. It would be only a few more seconds now. …

J
UST AS SAM TIGHTENED
his chokehold he heard a tremendous booming noise, and the wall behind Abie seemed to lurch forward. Distracted, the man eased his grip on Abie’s throat. What in the hell …?

Wait a minute. It wasn’t the wall moving. It was the door.

Someone was trying to break down the door. Someone was trying to get into his secret place.

Before he could react, the door bowed forward again, and a few seconds after that it burst open, knocking Abie several feet into the room. Abie fell face forward on the concrete floor, motionless.

Sam jerked his head around and saw a bulky man with dark wavy hair and—despite the fact that it was probably a hundred degrees outside—a tan trench coat. He was holding a gun.

“Freeze, you son of a bitch,” the newcomer said. “You’re under arrest.”

Mike tried to absorb the scene as quickly as possible. The man crouched in front of him had to be the pervert. He was tall and he was wearing a Marvin the Martian T-shirt and a red wig that had fallen forward on one side.