Resolution: Evan Warner Book 1 (14 page)

21

He didn’t make a move. He was disoriented and in pain. Fear and uncertainty were weighing him down.

“You gonna kill us down there?” he asked.

“You need another slap?”

“I just wanna know, man.”

“You’re not in control anymore. That’s all you need to know. Now, you’ve got five seconds before I stuff your head up your ass and bowl you down those stairs. Then I’ll throw your brother down on top of you.”

That got him moving. He said nothing. Reached and turned on the light with his left hand and then proceeded down with Seth close behind him.

I closed the door behind us and followed, keeping my eyes on them as best as I could while I navigated the stairs. I wasn’t about to let my guard down for a second, though it was obvious to me by then that neither of them possessed the fortitude to fight. Jared was nothing more than a typical bully, and Seth probably needed help tying his shoes.

“Stand in the middle,” I ordered.

They did.

I reached the bottom of the stairs and said, “Back up to the far wall.”

They did.

I looked at the row of cages. Only two held dogs. One was a big pit. A muscular dog. Maybe a hundred pounds. He had the large cage all to himself. The second dog was much smaller, much younger. Only fifty pounds at most. The smaller one was cowering in the back of its small cage, but the larger one showed no sign of fear. His head and neck were covered in scars. He was obviously a veteran of many battles and had learned to survive by standing his ground. He growled low and deep as I neared his cage. A serious warning.

On top of one of the small cages I saw what looked like a long grilling fork with a plastic handle and brass tines. A cattle prod. I picked it up with my left hand while clicking the safety and slipping my .22 back into its holster under my coat. There was a power switch on the prod’s handle, and a little button set up near the top, designed to be pressed with a thumb.

“Been working on the farm?” I asked.

“No,” Jared said. He didn’t appreciate the sarcasm.

I pressed the button. Heard the faint static of current coursing through the brass tines. Saw the look on Jared’s face. Apparently he only liked electric prods when he was on the other end.

“I only use that when they get out of control,” he said. “It’s for self-defense.”

“Maybe I think you’re getting a little out of control. Maybe I need to defend myself.”

He said nothing.

I held out the prod and pushed the button. It was about a foot away from his family jewels.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “What do you want? Money?”

“Did I ask for money?”

“It was you, wasn’t it? You got into my safe last night and left the water on. Okay, fine. I got more money, man. You can have it all. Just leave us alone and you can have all my cash.”

“It’ll have to be a lot,” I said. “The man who hired me to find his daughter’s dog pays very, very well. You really picked the wrong person to steal from.”

It was total bullshit, but he took it as gospel.

“I got about three grand in my jeans upstairs,” he said. “And another five hidden in a coffee can under the workbench. It’s all yours, man. Just take it.”

I put one foot forward, suddenly, reached out and stuck the prod into Seth’s belly. He didn’t scream much. Just slumped back against the wall and slithered to the floor and sort of whimpered.

“C’mon, man,” Jared said. He was shaking all over, looking back and forth from his brother to me. “I got money. Work with me here.”

“I have no desire to work with a dipshit like you. I’d rather be kicked by a mule than ever see you again. And as I just told you, I’m already being generously paid by the very wealthy family who wants their dog returned. All I need from you is the boxer. The sooner I get him, the sooner I go away.”

“We don’t have him. I swear we don’t have him. It’s the truth.”

It sounded like the truth. He said
him
instead of
it
or
her
. Which made me think he knew exactly which dog I was talking about. But because he stopped shy of telling me the whole truth, I pressed the prod to his stomach and held it there. Watched him spaz and flail and heard him scream and then saw him slump down beside his brother.

I squatted down across from them, asked, “Did you steal the boxer?”

“Yes,” Jared panted. “I mean, Seth did. But yes, we had him. But we sold him last weekend. He’s gone. That’s the truth.”

“Where did you get him from?”

“From a car,” he said. “At this party in the woods. It was a red car. A Nissan, I think.”

“Red car,” Seth agreed. “I stole him. It was me. Honest.”

I stared at him, said, “You’re absolutely sure?”

He nodded, said, “His name was Simon. It was on his tag.”

I looked back to Jared. “What town were you in?”

“Saulsbury.”

It took a little effort to keep from showing my surprise. I didn’t like knowing that these two degenerates had been anywhere near my town.

“Where exactly in Saulsbury?” I asked Jared.

He hesitated as he sniffed.

I jabbed him again with the prod.

He screamed and then blurted, “Brady! Brady Construction. They’re way out in the woods. They have parties sometimes. That’s the truth.”

Brady. Very interesting
.

I asked. “And who did you sell the dog to last weekend?”

“Brady. The kid, not the old man who runs the construction. Tom Jr. is his name. He rides around in a nice truck with the construction logo on the door. That’s the truth, man. I swear it.”

So, Tommy Brady was using his father’s property to play host to lowlife dogfighters. It wasn’t terribly shocking. Actually, it almost made me feel good to hear. My burning hatred for him felt more grounded, more justified. It wasn’t only my opinion. He really was the worthless shit brick I’d always believed him to be. If anything, I felt vindicated.

I said, “You stole the dog from a random car at his party, then sold it to him a week later?”

Jared said, “Right. Worked out good for us.”

“So Brady isn’t exactly a friend.”

“Not really. He’s kind of an asshole actually. We just do business sometimes. Go to some of the same parties. That’s all.”

Brady truly is an asshole. Of monumental proportions. But I didn’t tell Jared that we shared that one sentiment in common. He didn’t need to know. He certainly didn’t need to know that I had any connections to the area or anyone therein.

“Okay,” I said. “Brady Construction. I believe you.”

Jared nodded, as if relieved.

I didn’t allow his sense of relief to last long.

“Now it’s time for the next stage in our little adventure,” I said. “Both of you are going into the big cage with your buddy.”

“What? Why?” Jared asked. His eyes were like golf balls.

“You want another shock?”

He shook his head fast, saying, “No, no.”

“Then get up. Now.”

Jared got up slowly and Seth followed his lead.

“Open the cage,” I said.

Jared removed the padlock, which was just hanging unlocked on the latch, and flipped the latch.

“You really gonna put us in there?” he asked.

I laughed, said, “You really are a big disappointment.”

“What do you mean? I did everything you said.”

“That’s my point. You’ve got a gun, wads of cash, an Escalade in the driveway, dog signs on the front porch, dogs caged in the basement. The whole player image going. But all I see is a pussy. You couldn’t fight your way out of a bake sale.”

He shook his head and smiled faintly. Trying to brush me off.

“Don’t laugh,” I said. “You could hang out with preschoolers, and you still wouldn’t be the toughest guy in the room. Seriously.”

He didn’t respond. He was angry for sure. He wanted to hit me back. But I knew he wasn’t going to do a thing. He was hurting too badly and was too scared. It looked like he wanted to cry. He probably would as soon as I left.

“I want to know about the dog fights.”

No answer.

I waved the prod in front of his face.

“Like what?” he said.

“How does it operate?”

“It’s nothing official.”

“No kidding. There’s no official league? Tell me how it works or I’ll break the other wrist clean off. You’ll be good practice for some young doctor learning to put busted idiots back together again.”

“It’s not organized by any one person,” he said. “Not that I know of.”

“What do you know?”

“I’ve only been in it a few years now. I got in because I went to this big party in this big garage over in Webster one night. It was more than a party. Guys were making serious money. I had a pit so I figured I’d give it a try. It was easier than just selling weed and Oxy. Kept my profile low. Plus it turned out good for Seth.”

“How so?”

“You don’t wanna know, man.”

“Don’t make me ask again.”

Jared gave a hint of a sneering laugh, said, “He ain’t right.”

I looked from one to the other, said, “Tell me.”

“He likes dead things.”

“You like to kill things?” I asked Seth.

His face didn’t change at all. I might as well have been speaking French.

“No,” Jared answered for him. “It ain’t the killing he’s into. He likes to cut ’em up and look at everything. Like in science class. He used to collect squirrels and cats and ferrets. All that sort of shit. He’d roam around and find them or set traps with food.”

“And rats,” Seth added.

“Yeah,” Jared resumed. “He’d bring ’em down here and cut ’em up. I’d have to bag ’em up and dump the bags at KFC. He’s fascinated by the insides. The guts. The organs. Seeing how they’re put together. So once we started keeping more dogs around, I didn’t have to worry about him getting the neighbors cats and having people asking around about the stupid things. The dogs kept him happy.”

I said, “Happy?”

“Yeah. The weak ones are no use to me except for bait. Once they’re torn to hell, they give up and die. Then Seth gets to have his fun.”

I looked hard at Seth. “You really are a total genetic misfire. Aren’t you?”

He said nothing. Kept the same blank expression.

I shocked him again and he pressed back hard against the wall and whined. A tear rolled down one cheek.

“What was that for?” Jared asked.

“Because I don’t like him. Why? You want another one?”

He shook his head fast. Held out his good hand.

“Tell me about the garage in Webster,” I said, although I was pretty sure I knew what he was talking about. Ray’s Garage was maybe eight or ten miles from my house, as the crow flies. Way out in the middle of nowhere. A perfect spot for shady activities.

“It’s in the middle of nowhere,” Jared said. “Ray’s Garage, on River Road. By the Black River. They had kegs sometimes and some guys from the bigger towns would come up to make contacts and move a little cocaine and some quality weed. The whole scene is like a weird blend of country boys and city boys. Guys that normally wouldn’t hang out. But they do because it’s a good way to move stuff. I don’t know how they got hooked up to start with. All I know is what I seen since I started. Lately it’s mostly about heroin. They’re moving lots of it. Everyone wants it these days. It’s quality and it’s cheap. They can’t get it into the state fast enough. Most of these same guys are all into the dog stuff. Just another way to keep the cash rolling in.”

“How many places do you meet?”

“It’s always different. Sometimes it’s Webster. Sometimes it’s behind the old airport in Concord. Sometimes in Saulsbury, where we got the boxer. Now and then we go up to Laconia. It’s all word of mouth from one week to the next. Keeps the heat off. Sometimes the bigshots from the bigger towns show up, sometimes they don’t. Hell, a few come up from Mass. But there’s always smaller operators, like me. Plenty of people want in on this action, even if it’s a smaller group and smaller bets. It’s still quick money and good action.”

I felt an overwhelming urge to punch him. Wanted to feel the satisfying crunch of his face caving in. He was a total shit bag. He sounded proud of himself. Like it was a legitimate business that he was honored to be a part of. But I figured if I kept beating him he might pass out from the pain. Or I might accidently kill him. He probably had brittle bones and would die way too easily.

Then I looked at the big one. Wondered what would happen if I punched him. Would my fist just sink into the marshmallow and bounce out again? He had thin skin. I wondered if he had thin bones, too, beneath all the dough.

“You said Saulsbury,” I said to Jared. “The same place you found the boxer?”

“Yeah, it’s way out in the woods. Brady Construction.”