Deliver Us (61 page)

For a long minute he looks like nothing but a grandfatherly, harmless old man. But they all know better than to be fooled by appearances.

“Who was that pretty little thing you were just talking to? That your boyfriend? He’s awfully pretty...” Trace coos, bile dripping from the words, as he slides the long, well-sharpened blade from its sheath on his thigh.

“You the assholes that broke into my apartment?” Harry growls. Fighting against Micah and Trace, he blinks at the blinding light.

“Did you like our present?” Trace grins. “Notice you didn’t call the cops or anything, so you couldn’t have been
too
upset with us.”

“If you’re trying to blackmail me with those files... well... they aren’t mine. You can’t prove they’re mine. I’m with one of the best law firms in the state. You... you....”

With a jerk of his arm, Trace cuts off Harry’s air, silencing him. As Harry chokes, Trace says, “That’s enough from you. You talk when we allow you to talk. You know those files are yours. We can prove it. Let’s leave it at that. We’re not here to blackmail you. We don’t want your filthy money.”

By now Harry is bucking and pulling at Trace’s arm in a feeble attempt to get a breath of air.

“Understand?” he asks sweetly.

Harry makes a strangled sound and nods, his face beet red and lips beginning to turn blue.

Trace lets up, and Harry gulps down a lungful of air.

“Now, here’s the game we’re going to play,” Trace instructs. “Those pictures we found? One of those little boys is a member of my family. You raped him. Repeatedly. What you did scarred him for life and hurt him in ways you can’t even begin to imagine. So I want to hear you say his name. That’s all. I want to hear you say his name and admit what you did to him.”

Lifting the knife, he drags it feather-light over Harry’s throat. Micah reaches up and, using huge, equally sharp scissors, starts to quickly cut his suit away. The edge of Trace’s blade leaves the equivalent of a paper cut in its wake, not even slicing deep enough to bleed.

“And if you stay quiet? You die. I don’t want to kill you, but I will if I have no choice. So you better start talking.”

Harry’s eyes dart around, his mouth works soundlessly as he digests the instructions.

“I’m gonna give you to the count of three. Then I want to hear a name, or I slice your throat and leave your body here covered in the pictures of your victims for the cops to find. Talk to me, Harry. Say the name. One....”

“No wait!”

“Two....”

“Maybe we can work something out....”

“Three.”

“Parker! Parker Shepherd!”

Micah looks up at Ben and sees the muscles in his body all go tense at once like he’s getting ready to pounce or fight. They knew this was a possibility, for him to say a name other than Gabriel’s, since the proof was there that there could have been other victims. It doesn’t make it any easier to hear, though. None of the pictures they’d found on the drive they’d hacked into showed Harry with the boys, so they could have been downloaded pornography rather than snapshots specifically taken by Harry. The sound of the name voiced from the monster’s lips validates everything they have feared.

“Parker Shepherd,” Trace mimics. “You raped him?”

In the darkness behind the floodlight, Ben holds the microphone on the digital recorder toward Harry’s face.

Harry fights, defiance starting to color his features.

“You raped him? You raped Parker?”

The point of the knife twists where it rests, opening the skin right above Harry’s collarbone.

“AHH! STOP! Yes! YES! I did it!”

“How old was he when you raped him?”

“...I don’t know... twelve? Eleven?”

Trace glances at Micah. “Well, Harry, that’s not the name we’re looking for. But I think Parker deserves some justice too, don’t you?” He says to Micah, “Hold his left arm.”

The pasty-white skin of the top of Harry’s arm, wrinkled, loose and covered in age spots, covering lean muscle that hints at former strength that’s been wilted by time and age, is overlaid with Trace’s glinting silver blade. Working quickly and skillfully, the first three letters are done before Harry even feels what’s happening and begins to scream. A rag is stuffed in his mouth, laced with a chemical to keep his muscles relaxed, his senses slightly dulled without diminishing his pain.

When Parker’s full name is engraved on Harry’s arm, Micah’s gloved hand dips into the container of black ink. Getting a good dollop of it, he rubs it into the wound, coating the thin, deeply scrawling lines thoroughly; making sure they are filled before wiping the excess away and covering the strip with a narrow bandage.

“Okay,” Trace growls. “Let’s try this again. Those pictures we found? One of those boys was a member of my family. You raped him. Repeatedly. And scarred him for life. So I want to hear you say his name and
admit what you
did to him
. And if you say the wrong name, guess what happens? If you say the
right
name, we leave, and you live. So what do ya say, Harry? Gimme a name....”

The phone rings two or three times where it’s been stuck in the tray under the stereo in the rental car before Gabriel reaches for it and looks at the caller ID. Darrek is changing lanes and searching for their exit, so it falls to him to take the call.

“It’s Kyle. Again.”

“I’ll call him back later,” Darrek says offhandedly. “Let it go to voicemail.”

“Nah. You said he sounded weird last time...” Gabriel flips open the phone. “Yeah, it’s Gabriel.”

“How’s it going, Gabe? I’ve been worried about you guys,” Kyle says from the other end of the bad connection.

“Well, it’s been one of those days, ya know?” He slumps back in his seat and lays his head against the headrest, closing his eyes. Darrek glances over and his lips quirk in a pleased grin.

“So you saw him then. Did you say anything? Did he see you?”

“Yeah. To both. It wasn’t anything like I thought it’d be.”

“No, I guess not. Where you headed to now?”

“To see my mom. I think that’ll be even harder. I was just a kid when I disappeared on her. Never even sent a letter to tell her I was alive. I feel pretty guilty about that, even if she did ruin my childhood.”

“Damn. I don’t even know what to say, man. Let me know how it goes, okay? I’ve been freaking out over here. Can’t get anything done. Is Dare there? Can I tell him somethin’?”

“Sure. Hold on.”

“Oh, and Gabe?”

“Yeah?”

“Good luck. We’re all pullin’ for ya.”

“I know. Thanks. Here’s Darrek.”

He hands the phone over and Darrek feels the knot of anxiety loosen a little at the small glow of hope and strength on Gabriel’s face.

“Kyle?” Darrek asks.

“Get him out of there if it starts to go south. Don’t make him deal with that woman if she goes psycho on him. I don’t care if she
is
his mother. She’s done enough damage.”

“You don’t have to tell me. That’s why I’m here. I’m gonna do what’s best for Gabe, and that’s it.”

He can feel Gabriel looking at him, but Darrek keeps his eyes on the road.

“Look,” Darrek continues, “I’m still worried about you. Everything okay over there? Is Ben around? Can I talk to him?”

“Nope. I’m alone. He’s busy today. I guess that’s why all I can do is sit here and worry about y’all. I’ll let you go. I won’t call anymore, but please let me know if Gabe’s okay after all of this. I’d appreciate it. The other guys are all worried too.”

“Sure. I’ll do that. Later.”

“Later.”

The phone gets shut off and tucked into Darrek’s pocket.

“No more calls ’til this is finished,” Darrek says, turning on his blinker and merging onto the exit ramp.

“Yeah. Last thing I need is for Knox or Trace to start hounding me. At least Kyle is....”

“Sensitive to your feelings?” Darrek offers. “He is a well-trained sub. He knows how to make people he likes happy.”

“I just never thought I’d be confiding in him like that. It’s so odd. But just as odd as everything else today.”

“Yeah,” Darrek agrees.

“Maybe she won’t be home. Maybe she’s on vacation or works weird hours...” Gabriel debates worriedly, chewing at his lips and breaking out in a cold sweat. They round the corner, and pull down the street. There’s a big old house on the far end with a cluster of mailboxes out front.

“That’s it. She must live in one of those units. God, it’s so small. Our house used to be huge. Guess the divorce took its toll.”

Gabriel grabs the printout with the directions and folds it twice just to keep his hands busy. There’s a car parked halfway up the cracked and fading driveway that leads around back to a wider paved area for the tenants to park in. The trunk is opened. The house’s front door is ajar.

“That could be another tenant. It doesn’t mean it’s her car,” Gabriel rationalizes.

“I can park over here and you can just sit here a while,” Darrek suggests as he pulls over to the far side of the road diagonal from the house. “You don’t have to confront her if you aren’t ready. This is your decision.”

The screen door swings out and an older woman with dyed-blonde hair comes walking out. She heads over to the opened trunk, the handles of some plastic bags sticking out of it. Gabriel bites his nails and makes a small, thick, desperate sound. He lets his left hand rest on the door’s handle and leans on the door.

“That’s my mom.” The words are choked with emotion, and Gabriel’s face crumbles the longer he looks at her. “That’s her. It’s her. She looks so old. And tired.”

Darrek parks the car and shuts off the engine. The woman doesn’t turn around or give any sign she sees them. He squeezes Gabriel’s knee and rubs small circles there.

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” he breathes with wide eyes. Darrek can almost see the debate raging in Gabriel’s head. Does he let her think he’s gone for good? Do they drive away without saying anything? Would the pain from regret over inaction outweigh the difficulty of getting out of this car and going over there? Can he do this without dying a little inside?

“Dare, I need you to help.” Gabriel looks back at him, seeming young and scared, his eyes huge and cheeks tear-stained. “I can’t do this part on my own. It’s different than with Harry. He’s just a monster. She... she’s my
mom
. And she didn’t
protect me
from him....”

“Hey. All right. Hang on. I’m gonna get out, okay? I’ll come around to your side.”

Gabriel nods once. Darrek is out in a flash, and walks around to the passenger door. Gabriel’s mother has retreated back inside but the trunk is still open. She’ll be back out.

He opens Gabriel’s door and Gabriel swings his legs out, holding on to the car’s frame and staring at the darkened house. A fresh tear slides down over his cheekbone.

“Want me to talk to her first? You can just stay here, next to the car?” Darrek offers.

Gabriel cups his hands over his mouth and nose to mask the emotion spilling out.

He nods.

Helping Gabriel to his feet, Darrek shuts the door and turns to the house. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he walks slowly toward the driveway and the house beyond. Gabriel’s mother emerges and sees him coming.

“Howdy,” she says politely. “Help you with something?”

“Yeah, um... my name’s Darrek Grealey. You don’t know me, but I know your son, Gabriel.”

She flinches, shocked. The color starts to drain from her face and her hands go to her mouth as she gasps.

“
G-gabriel?!
”

“Yeah. He’s um... he’s here. He came to see you but it’s kind of hard for him.”

“Oh my god! Gabriel?! He’s
alive
?! Where is he? I need to see him! Where is he? Gabriel?! Oh my god.
Oh my god!
My baby. My son. I can’t believe it.” She’s scanning the road with her eyes, and sees the man across the way, hugging himself next to the parked green sedan.

“GABRIEL?!”

She breaks into a run, dashing toward him clumsily, nearly tripping over a bush in the yard. Darrek chases after her. He can hear Gabriel’s sob from almost forty feet away. Gabriel is a mess, thick cries wringing from him as he watches the mother who failed him so profoundly dash toward him.