by Wes Markin
She gripped his wrist to try to pry herself from the headlock, but the attempt was weak.
Gabriel squeezed tightly and listened to her gag.
As Jake and Peter approached the building, the whooping and cheering intensified. Just enough light shone for Jake to tell that Peter was pale and his teeth were gritted.
For the third time, he asked his friend if he was okay, and he received the same monosyllabic response. “Yes.”
“Remember,” Jake said as they neared the front of a building, “we go easy. This is about the kid.”
Peter nodded.
A doorman wearing a beanie hat and gloves stepped through a corrugated metal door. At several inches over six foot, he would appear large to most people, not to Jake.
He’d already advised Peter to do the talking. The British accent might arouse curiosity.
“Don’t recognize either of you,” the doorman said.
“We know Jotham,” Peter said.
“He never mentioned special guests.”
“Go and ask him.”
“He isn’t here.”
“A phone call?”
“He doesn’t appreciate them.”
“Our money is as good as anyone’s. We’d like to go in and spend it.”
The doorman scrutinized them. His gaze stopped on Jake’s face. “Do you speak?”
“Not much,” Jake said, trying his best to mimic the accent.
“Shouldn’t really let in new faces without warning, but we’re short tonight. Plus, it’ll make it easier for us to keep an eye on you.” He stepped aside and let them in.
They passed through a disused reception area with a smashed-up vending machine, some flipped sofas, and a counter piled high with old folders and cups.
“It was a probably a car showroom or something once upon a time,” Peter said.
They heard a loud cheer from deeper inside the building.
“I hadn’t expected to get in,” Jake said.
“So why try?”
“Because it sends a message.”
“You really think Jotham is bothered about who comes in? What are they going to do? Contact the police? They’re in his goddamned pocket! They won’t come and break this up. Do you think the old bastard will care about your statement of intent?”
“I hope so”—Jake opened the reception door for Peter—“because, in order to deliver it, I think we’re about to see something rather grim.”
Dim red strip lights lit the large room. The view was obscured, because about two dozen men congregated around the ring. With no heating in the disused property, most wore heavy clothing.
Peter and Jake shuffled into the baying crowd.
The dogfighting pit was about fifteen-feet square and walled off with two-foot-high plywood and bales of hay. A bloodstained carpet covered the pit floor. Jake assumed this was so the dogs could get traction when in combat. Two men stood on either side of the pit, holding tickets in the air and calling out for bets. It seemed most of this crowd had already been served.
Jake approached the man on the left side and placed a fifty-dollar bet on Whiplash. He didn’t bother checking the odds. Even if he won, he wouldn’t claim it. He rejoined Peter, who was staring at his feet. Jake felt guilty. He was exposing this decent man to his worst nightmare. He placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder and whispered into his ear, “I appreciate this. You helping me understand this and understanding Jotham will help us find Maddie.”
Peter looked up. “Here they come. See the diagonal scratch marks on each corner of the pit? The dogs are set down behind them and released.”
A man introduced the two male catchweight dogs, Nickel and Whiplash, whose owners brought them in on leashes.
“Catchweight means heavyweight,” Peter said. “Over fifty-two pounds.”
Everyone cheered loudest for Whiplash, who was introduced as a champion.
“Grand champion soon enough!” a man in the crowd shouted.
“They need to win five consecutive matches to be grand champion,” Peter said.
The crowd whooped and hollered again as the owners leaned over the plywood and placed their two barking dogs behind the diagonal scratch marks.
Whiplash, on the right, did look the more aggressive of the two. He strained against his owner’s hands, who was struggling to keep hold of the canine. “Easy boy!”
The crowd laughed.
Jake eyed Peter, who had curled his lip in disgust.
The dogs were released. They met head on and rolled, desperately trying to lock their teeth onto each other. Most of the crowd shouted for Whiplash, so when he eventually took control of the fight and managed to savage one of Nickel’s front legs, the place went wild.
Jake felt Peter’s tight grip on his arm and looked at the older man. He’d lowered his head but still occasionally looked up, probably hoping the fight would end before any more damage was caused.
Nickel was on his back while Whiplash chewed his leg. There was a snapping sound.
“Down dog! Down dog!” the crowd chanted.
Peter’s grip on Jake’s arm tightened.
“Down dog! Down dog!”
Jake watched Whiplash tear a big chunk of skin from Nickel’s head.
“Down dog! Down dog!”
It was enough. He patted Peter’s hand. “Come on.”
As they neared the door into the reception area, they heard someone in the crowd shout, “Fanged!”
“Monsters,” Peter said, looking like he was about to burst into tears. “Fucking monsters.”
When they entered the reception area, Jake stopped and turned to Peter. “What does fanged mean?”
“When a dog accidentally pierces its lip with its canine tooth.”
“Christ.”
A lanky, young man with short blond hair came through the corrugated metal door.
Jake pulled the disorientated Peter to one side to allow the customer past.
He didn’t accept the offer and stood where he was, surveying them both.
“Can I help you?” Jake said.
“I’m Ayden MacLeoid.”
Jake regarded Peter for confirmation, which came in the form of a swift nod. It’d worked; Jake had Jotham’s attention—quicker than he’d expected too.
“I’m here to ask if I can help you,” Ayden said.
“Just here to place a few bets,” Jake said.
“And you’re leaving already?”
“It wasn’t really to our taste,” Peter said. His eyes were wide, and spit bubbled at one side of his mouth.
Jake felt his heart up tempo. His companion was on the edge. Swinging for anyone in this location was a one-way ticket to the hospital, or worse.
“I’m sorry to hear―”
“You’re animals.” Peter pointed at Ayden. “You, your father, anyone here. Fucking animals.”
Ayden edged backward toward the door.
Jake gripped Peter’s arm in much the same way Peter had gripped his arm in the arena. He searched for Peter’s eyes until he was staring back at him. “Not now,” he said softly. “Not now.”
Peter closed his eyes, took a deep breath, sighed then nodded.
A loud cheer rose from inside. The fight was over.
Jake moved toward Ayden. He noticed the young man looked quite edgy. He certainly cut a very different demeanor to his father—the king sitting on his castle walls. “Did your father send you?”
“Yes. He wants to know what you want.”
“I think he knows that already.”
“He didn’t indicate that to me.”
“Maddie Thompson?”
Ayden’s edginess quickly became nervousness. His eyes darted left and right, and he grew pale.
“You know something?” Jake asked.
“No.”
“Could have fooled me! It looks as if someone has just walked over your grave.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know anyone who helps out no
w is likely to come out of this whole sorry situation in a more positive―”
The corrugated door opened again. The tall doorman entered. “Is everything all right, sir? Are they staying or going?”
Jake kept his eyes fixed on Ayden’s until he looked away.
“Going,” Ayden said.
“Okay, come on then,” the doorman said.
With Peter alongside him, Jake approached the exit. There, he stopped and glared at Ayden again. “Remember what I said. It can all end okay for you. You can also tell your father it can end well for him too. He can keep his dogfighting ring. I’m just interested in getting Maddie Thompson back. Nothing else.”
Ayden didn’t respond.
Jake looked at the doorman and raised an eyebrow then pushed the ticket indicating the bet he’d placed on Whiplash in the doorman’s pocket. “It’s a winner.”
The doorman stepped aside and made way for the two intruders.
11
“I DON’T WANT to hurt you, Kayla. I just want to keep you safe. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Her reply was muffled, but he released her from the neck hold. She gasped for air and steadied herself against the wall.
“Now, let’s take a look at your new room.” He directed her toward the cellar.
She watched as he thrust aside the heavy bolts and opened the door. The cold air rushed out and over her, and she couldn’t stop the tears from returning. She felt him lean over her to grab the light cord and shuddered. Her neck still burned from where he’d gripped her so strongly.
Dust swam in the bulb’s glow.
“Down please, Kayla.”
Her footsteps echoed as she descended. She sensed his looming presence behind her and wiped tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. At the bottom of the stairs, she turned. “Please.”
“Continue. There’s no need to worry, Kayla.”
She brushed past an old mop and bucket and smelled the disinfectant. It reminded her of the dog cages back home that she had to sterilize regularly. Daddy, what a silly girl I have been …
They reached another door. Gabriel leaned over her to some broken shelves, rustled around in an old vase and pressed something into her hand. “For the padlock.”
She pushed the key into the padlock and tried to turn it. “It’s stuck.”
“Try harder.”
It wouldn’t budge. “I really can’t.”
“Harder.”
She turned with all her might, and it clicked open. She looked inside; it was much smaller than the room upstairs.
“I’m sorry, Kayla. You didn’t give me enough time to get it as comfortable as I would have liked.”
The room had no windows, and she felt a cold stone of dread in her stomach. “Please don’t put me in there.”
“Do not make this harder than it has to be. I like you. A lot. More than you could ever know.”
At his words, the dread in her stomach swelled and invaded her chest. She walked inside. The floor was concrete but looked as if it’d been swept clean. Spiderwebs filled every corner of the room. She gulped.
“Sit on the bed.”
She sat on the edge of a low bed outfitted with a bedsheet of Disney princesses. It completely contrasted with the damp, grey cell around her. She noticed the bedside table with a small wireless dome light—it must have been battery operated—a bottle of water, and a small pile of books.
“Look at me, Kayla.”
She looked up at Gabriel. He was massive and blocked the entire doorway. I should have shot you upstairs.
“There’s water and some books. The Famous Five. Have you read them?”
She shook her head.
“They’re good.”
She swallowed. Her throat was dry.
His left hand lingered around his groin next to an uneven lump in his trousers.
She tasted bile in her throat and looked away.
“I’ll get you more books. You’ll probably get through them in no time.”
“How long do I have to stay here?”
“This is your home now.”
She noticed him rub that lump through his trousers. “Please … no.” She looked away. The tears came harder now.
“I understand you feel like that now, but it will change. You’re safe here with me. A girl of your age needs to be protected. That’s what I’m offering.”
She buried her head in her hands. She didn’t want to acknowledge his presence anymore, acknowledge what he may or may not be doing, wanting only to be lost in her tears. She slumped back on the bed and turned away from her kidnapper, listening to his quick movements and disgusting moaning. Please—she stared at the concrete wall—someone please help me …
Eventually, it fell silent, and Kayla hoped he’d left. She considered turning but was glad she had waited when he spoke again. “Behind the bedside table is a bucket. If you put it by the door at the end of every day, I will come and empty it while you sleep. Now, I must go. If you’re a good girl, I’ll see about getting you a television.”
She listened to the door close and curled into a ball. Once she calmed, she considered using the toilet, but after reaching down on the bed and feeling the damp sheets, she realized it was too late.
On the journey back to Blue Falls, Peter welled up. “I’m sorry.”
“You’ve nothing to apologize for. I’m anything but a dog lover, but what I saw back there will haunt me for the rest of my days.” Jake held back on the conversation, and when they reached the bridge, he chanced a look at the war vet.
He was gazing across the River Skweda, probably seeking guidance like many of his ancestors had done before him.
Jake pulled up to where he had picked up Peter, and Peter turned to him. “You don’t have to be a dog lover. Not at all.” He put a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “You just got to be human.” Peter left the car, merely grunting when Jake expressed gratitude.
Eager to talk to Piper, Jake tried her phone while driving to the motel. He connected to her voicemail and asked her to call him back. As he locked the rental car’s door, he ran his finger down the scratch mark then glanced over his shoulder just in case Justin Stone and his cronies were lying in wait.
Unfortunately, not, he thought with a smile.
A Honda SUV parked several spaces down from him suggested a new neighbor. He tried to work out which room the new guest had been placed in, but all the windows were dark. They’d probably journeyed into town to visit the Taps. There wasn’t really much else to do around here.
He entered his motel room, closed the door behind him and switched on the light―
Jotham was sitting on the stool opposite his bed with a rifle across his lap.
Jake almost jumped out of his skin. “Jesus.”
“Not the first time I’ve been called that.”
“How did you get in my room?”
“Leland, the owner, was good enough to let me in.”
“Did you threaten him with that?” Jake pointed at Jotham’s rifle.
Jotham laughed. “Don’t be silly. Me and him go way back.”
“Obviously far enough for him to risk his reputation and business.”
“Such attitude. You all like this back where you come from? Truth be told, if that’s the case, I’d like to visit one day.”
“Why’re you in my room?”
“Same reason you were probably at my pit, son. Curiosity. It gets the better of all of us.” He lifted a hand in the air and waved his fingers. “The secrets in the dark.”
“I’ve seen what you hide in the dark at Sharon’s Edge. There’s no mystery there. You’re just a sadist.”
“There’s no cruelty in what I do. I prepare all my bitches well; I’ve never lost a single one.”
“Do you not care about the dogs that do die? Biting through their own lips? It’s a fucking disgrace.”
“If the owner is weak, the animal is weak. The animal does not suffer because of me.”
“Sounds spineless
to me.”
“Would a spineless person be sitting here? An open book for you to read? Although, I’m sure you’ve gone to great pains to find out everything about me already.”
“I never found out what gives you the right to come into my room and threaten me.”
“Threaten you? Come on!” Jotham held up the rifle. “This?”
Jake lifted his eyebrows.
He leaned over and placed the rifle on the floor at his feet. “I’m a reasonable man. Ask everyone in this town, and the next for that matter. You’ll find it to be the consensus.”
“They will be speaking from fear, not honesty.”
“You hear about my legacy, and like any other outsider, you just assume the worst. Yet, you avoid the only fact that really matters. That Blue Falls likely wouldn’t exist anymore if not for the choices and sacrifices I have made. Many people in this town now have food on their table where none was before. While large parts of America wallow in unemployment, most people in this town have security.”
“The drug trade offers no security.”
“Things work differently here, son, than what you’re used to. For as long as people can remember, there’s been contentment. And it’s in no one’s interest for it to change.”
Jake rolled his eyes.
“No one’s. Including yours, son.”
Jake smirked. “I thought you weren’t here to threaten me?”
“Just a statement of fact.”
Jake’s phone rang.
“Would that be the beautiful Piper Goodwin?”
Jake narrowed his eyes. “It’s best if you leave now.”
“Answer your cell, son. She could be on her way over here.”
Jake’s hand lingered near his jacket pocket, but he didn’t reach for his cell.
“She could be pulling up in the parking lot.” Jotham pointed at the door. “In less than a minute, she could be standing right there.” He reached for his rifle.
Jake answered the call, maintaining eye contact with Jotham. “Hi, Piper. Where’re you?”
“Home. Doris has come down with a fever, so I’m taking her shift at the Taps.”