May in December (15 page)

Milton handed the bloodied items back to the third officer. “Get these down to the lab. I need to know what type of blood that is.”

“What happened?” demanded Bruce, anxiety hitting him like a semitruck. “I see fresh blood, glass, and no Jorry.”

Milton turned to Bruce. “The last transmission we got, Jorry was going through Pickworth’s tablet and got caught. He was hit, and we lost visual.”

“What about sound?” Bruce paced the room. “He must still have the glasses, because they aren’t here.”

“Our tech man in the van says it keeps cutting out. We get bits and pieces, but nothing makes sense.”

“So Jorry is alone on this?”

“Until we get a fix on him, yes.”

“Where would Bill take Jorry?” asked Bruce.

“I believe there’s a reasonable explanation for this departure,” said Warren.

“And what would that be?”

“They’ve gone to Bill’s bachelor party.”

“Bachelor party?” asked Kelley. “I already gave him one. If he was having a second, why wasn’t I invited? I’m the best man.”

Bruce was in no way convinced that Bill would take Jorry to such an event. “Bachelor party or not, what’s up with the broken glass and the blood?”

Warren scratched his chin. “Could be Jorry broke his glasses and he was trying to clean up the mess?”

“What is this about a bachelor party?” Milton demanded.

Warren shrugged. “All I knew is he was going to go… Something about gambling. He must be going to Victories Casino in Petoskey. It’s only twenty miles away.”

“Wait a minute.” Kelley thumped his head a couple of times. “If I remember right, he mentioned going to something called ‘The Pit.’ Something about it being on state land?”

“The casino is built on an Indian reservation,” one of the officers volunteered.

“I don’t think it’s the casino,” said Milton.

“What are we going to do?” Bruce asked Milton. “You just can’t let Jorry be alone with him. You know their past.”

“Past? Bill and Jorry had a past?” Kelley asked. “What were they, lovers?”

Bruce didn’t answer his son.

Lieutenant Milton pushed past Bruce, Kelley, and Warren and directed his comment to his men. “We will regroup at the police station and decide where to go from here.”

Bruce couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his bowels.

* * * *

Jorry sat in the front seat of the car, his stomach in knots, watching the white dividing road lines blur. Things had been nerve-racking at best, until Pickworth had pulled a gun on him, forcing him into the car. That action had never registered in Jorry’s mind when he’d played out the multiple possible scenarios he could find himself in, and he felt every bit the fool. A very scared fool at that. “Where are you taking me?”

“I told you. To my bachelor party.”

“And it’s where?” Jorry dropped his head, hoping the microphone could pick up his voice from his shirt pocket.

“You’ll see.”

“All I can tell is that we are on Highway M-32, going toward Lewiston.” When Pickworth didn’t answer, Jorry tried again. “Seems like a funny place to have a bachelor party. Nothing goes on in Lewiston. They roll up the sidewalks at six p.m.”

Pickworth turned down one dirt road that was barely plowed, then another. “Almost there. And then the fun begins.”

Jorry decided he didn’t like the coldness in Pickworth’s tone, but being out in the middle of nowhere at gunpoint, he really didn’t have a choice in the matter. His nose hurt where Pickworth had hit him, and his nerves were starting to eat at his stomach.

When they stopped, the car lights shone on a clearing where a natural gas pump was fracking near a fenced-in meter station. Even with his hurt, stuffy nose, Jorry could smell the stench of rotten eggs that the fumes of the natural gas gave off. With over a dozen other vehicles parked in the same place, it made Jorry feel less intimidated. After all, it wasn’t like he was going to be taken out into the woods and shot or drowned in the wastewater ponds, right?

Pickworth stepped out of the car and drew his coat about him. He walked over to the passenger side of the car, opened the door, and waited for Jorry to exit.

Jorry rubbed his hands, then his cold arms. “Where are we?” he asked as little breath-puffs of air formed in the frigid night sky. “Other than a natural gas meter station out in gods knows where.”

Pickworth didn’t answer. He nudged Jorry with the gun in front of him to a well-trodden trail. Ahead, Jorry saw a man with a flashlight and a rifle. Pickworth and Jorry stopped in front of him.

“Hello, Wayne. Having a good night?” asked Pickworth.

“Hey, Mr. P.J. We have a great turnout. The fights are such a profit maker.”

“Wonderful.” Pickworth turned to Jorry. “My friend here will be providing special entertainment for the crowd.”

Wayne smiled, his crooked teeth nasty with decay. “I’m looking forward to hearing about it.”

If Jorry wasn’t already chilled from having no coat on, the grin on Wayne’s face would have done it in a heartbeat. The fights? Special entertainment? Was he being taken out in the boondocks to be gang raped? Jorry shuddered.

Pickworth led Jorry by the elbow and walked him down a darkened path. The bare trees closed in, and the cloud cover muted the stars and moon. Before long, Jorry could hear loud voices, dogs barking, and he could see what looked like the outline of a huge tent.

As they grew closer, Jorry could definitely tell it was a tent, sort of like the ones they used in church revivals. Off to the side, some men were taking a piss; on the other side human-sized cages were lined up.

Pickworth and Jorry entered the tent. It was filled with men, women, and some children. Some sat on makeshift benches of logs and two-by-fours, while others either stood or sat in the comfort of their lawn chairs.

In front of him was a muddy dirt floor surrounded by an octagonal-shaped chain-link fence. The pit seemed about fifteen feet wide and the fence maybe seven feet high. On opposite sides of the octagon were two heavy chain-link gate exits, and men holding snarling dogs guarded them both.

A man in a hunter-orange snowsuit sauntered up to Pickworth. “Glad to see you here, Mr. P.J.”

“Hi, Howard. You refereeing tonight?”

“Yep. Stakes are high. Got some strong men and pretty women up for grabs. The money is flowing like the beer, people wanting to double their cash so they have a better Christmas.”

“Good to hear it.” Pickworth turned to Jorry. “This will be a night you’ll never forget.”

Howard the Referee stepped up to the pit, his voice booming. “Is everyone ready for our first warm-up match?”

The cheers, whoops, and whistles were deafening.

Two half-naked men appeared and met in the middle of the ring. Both sported shorn heads and no shoes. Before Jorry could witness more, Pickworth dragged him to the back of the tent, where there were men and some women in cages. He opened a large, rectangular kennel cage, and with the gun against the Jorry’s back, pushed him down and in. “I’ll keep you in here until it’s your time to entertain the crowds.” Pickworth locked the cage and then walked away.

On his knees, Jorry grabbed the sides of the cage and screamed after him. “You can’t do this! It’s inhumane!” Pickworth never answered.

Exhausted, Jorry slumped down in the cage. Hearing a muffled sound, he quickly glanced behind him and cried out loud. “Gingersnap! Snickerdoodle!”

The two spoiled corgis were in the cage with him, their mouths duct-taped shut. Snickerdoodle had a torn ear with frozen blood clinging to it.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. This is gonna hurt, but I’ve got to get this off you.” Jorry grabbed ahold of an end of the duct tape around Gingersnap’s snout and pulled. Jorry winced at the yelp, but Gingersnap held no grudge. She licked him up and down and then started to lick the blood off her brother’s ear. Jorry pulled the duct tape off Snickerdoodle. He cried a little more.

Looking about in the dim light, Jorry took in the humans in cages. Men, bare-chested and solemn, paced in what little room they had, and women, with collars around their necks and their hands bound behind them, quietly held back their sobs.

“Pssst! Hey, why are we here?” Jorry whispered to the other captives closest to him.

One of the men glanced in Jorry’s general direction. “Are you for real? Like you really don’t know what’s going on?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Shut up back here.” A man walked through and hit the cages. “No need to say your prayers out loud.” He left.

After a minute, a caged man on Jorry’s right spoke low. “We are here to fight for our lives or our women. If we win against the house favorites, our debt has been paid by blood and we are set free. If we lose, our women are auctioned off or we forfeit our lives.”

Jorry’s disbelief rippled through his thin frame. “You’re kidding!”

The man shrugged and said no more.

Since nobody of consequence was watching him in the cage, Jorry pulled the broken eyeglasses out of his pocket. “Please work.” He prayed and started talking. “I don’t know if anyone can hear me, but I am somewhere in the woods out past Lewiston. I’m sitting in a cage; there is a tent out in the middle of nowhere, next to a natural gas pumping station. This is a dog and human fighting pit, and I believe I will have to fight. Please come find us.”

Jorry slipped the glasses back into his shirt pocket. Gingersnap and Snickerdoodle climbed into his lap and shivered.

Will all three of us see the light of day again?

Chapter Fifteen

Slap!

Bruce bit the inside of his tongue. The angry power of his daughter’s hand connecting with his right cheek was enough to whip his head sideways. He’d known Kerri wouldn’t take the news well, but Gail and Kelley had agreed the sooner Kerri was told, the better. So they all concurred to meet at Gail’s house, where Kerri was staying.

“You get the hell out of my bedroom,” Kerri screamed. “I never want to see you again.”

Kelley stepped up and grabbed his sister’s hand before it had a chance to strike again. “I know it’s a shock. Hell, I’m as blown away as you, but don’t blame Dad.”

“What the hell do you know about it?”

“I was there when the police—”

Kerri wrestled her hand from her brother’s hold. “Fuck the police. Fuck you for believing Jorry over my Bill, who has been nothing but wonderful to you all. I mean, this is the man who donates to all sorts of charities. How dare Daddy accuse him of selling drugs, trafficking prostitutes, and supporting fighting rings.”

It was Gail’s turn to try to calm Kerri down. “Honey, I know you’re mad at your dad—”

“No, really?” Kerri shot her mother a nasty stare. “I guess you think I should jump in his arms and thank him over and over for trying to ruin my life?”

Kelley sighed. “Your life would have been ruined if you married the creep and found out later.”

Bruce hurt. Not from the slap on his face, but he ached in his heart for his little girl. Never would he wish this kind of agony for her, especially before her wedding day. “Kerri,” began Bruce, “try to understand—”

“Understand what? That you are a lying sack of shit who wants to see me give up the only thing that makes me happy?”

Bruce’s heart crumbled to hear those words from his daughter’s lips. But he straightened his shoulders and stood strong. If Kerri needed a punching bag, he would help her through this.

Gail shook her finger under Kerri’s nose. “Don’t talk to your father that way.”

“I’m twenty-four years old. I can talk to him any way I want. Besides, did you hear what he said about Bill?”

“Yes.” Gail’s eyes filled with compassion. “I know. He told me before coming to tell you.”

“But Mom, Bill is none of those things. He has a shitload of money, yes. But he was born into it. He doesn’t need to sell drugs or people or anything else illegal.” Kerri rubbed the tears from her eyes. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

Bruce held out his arms to his daughter. “I know; he had us all fooled. But Jorry—”

“But Jorry nothing. I don’t believe him or you, Daddy, and as far as I’m concerned, the wedding is still on.”

Kelley threaded his fingers through his hair and pulled hard. “You can’t be serious. Jesus, Sis, use your head. The police are involved. Jorry is missing.”

“I don’t care,” cried Kerri, her beautiful face splotchy with trails of wetness. “All I want is Bill.”

The argument continued. Back and forth, yelling and tears. Bruce sat down with his head in his hands. He had been worried before about not being as close to his children, but now, this would cement it. Kerri would never forgive him for telling her the truth, or forgive him for being with Jorry, who set the truth free.

B-b-b-b-ring…

From deep in Bruce’s dress pants, his phone rang. With clumsy fingers, he dug it out and answered.

“Bruce? It’s Milton. We got a rush on those tests.”

“Okay.”

“The dried blood with the fur is canine blood. The fur on Bill’s shirt is a match from the fur off Snickerdoodle’s collar.”

“Understood.”

Milton cleared his throat. “ The washcloth has A-negative blood.”

Bruce’s world spun. “That’s Jorry’s blood type.”

“That’s all I have, but we’re on top of things, buddy.”

“Thanks.” Bruce shut his phone off and stared at the floor, trying desperately to think positive thoughts that Jorry was all right.

“What is it, dear?” asked Gail.

Kerri flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I bet it’s a call stating my Bill is totally innocent.”

Kelley swore. “Get over it. Bill is a crook, and it’s about time you face that fact.”

Before Kerri could reply, Bruce raised his eyes and in turn, looked at each one of his family members. “The blood on the washcloth is Jorry’s blood type. The dried blood with the fur is canine blood. And the fur on Bill’s shirt is a match from the fur off Snickerdoodle’s collar.”

“My babies!” Gail ran toward the door. “I’ll kill him.”

Kelley caught up to his mother and held her back, which wasn’t an easy feat seeing as she outweighed him by at least one hundred and fifty pounds. “Wait, you don’t even know where he is.”

“I’ll find the son of a bitch and make sure he feels my wrath.”