by Hank Edwards
"I take it you're both coming inside to fire off questions at me?" Manny said as he struggled with the bags, skateboard, and his keys.
Pearce held out his hands. "May I?"
Manny rolled his eyes but handed over the items. He found the correct key, unlocked the door, and walked inside without another word. With Mark right behind him, Pearce followed Manny. He dropped the skateboard just inside the door, then set the grocery bags on the cluttered coffee table and looked around. Dirty clothes lay in a variety of places, and video game cartridges were scattered around every surface. A hallway branched off to his right, all three doors along its length closed.
"What brings the feebs back to my door?" Manny asked, then looked at Mark. "Sorry, as a consultant are you still considered a feeb?"
"He's here to observe," Pearce replied. "I'm on my own."
"I see that. Your partner finally get sick of you and request a transfer?"
"Nah, I killed him." Pearce was glad to see Manny looked at least a little surprised by his response.
"So why the observer?" Manny asked. "Internal affairs finally looking into your way with people?"
"As I said, he's a consultant," Pearce replied. "I'd like to talk about your cousin a bit more."
"I told you everything I could before," Manny said, dropping onto the sofa and picking up a video game controller.
"How about you leave the game off for just a few minutes?"
Manny sighed heavily and tossed the controller on top of the mess already covering the coffee table. "Fine."
Pearce looked at the pile of laundry on the only chair in the room, then moved to stand across the coffee table from Manny. Mark hovered in the short entranceway as Pearce leafed through his notebook for the notes he'd made during the last time Manny had been questioned.
"Need some help with that?" Manny asked.
"You in a hurry to get somewhere?" Pearce asked.
"Just on with the rest of my life."
"I'll try to make this quick."
"Blessings surround me every day," Manny said, and flashed an overly bright, sarcastic smile.
"Let's talk about Erik," Pearce said.
"Sounds like the title of an especially bad after-school special."
"But it's not. He was your cousin, and he's dead. Does that bother you at all?"
Manny gave him a steady look. "Are you going to try to pin his murder on me now? Are the feebs that desperate to close the case?"
"Did you kill him?"
"Nope."
"Know who did?"
"Have you asked the guy who killed the other four gay guys in this area?" Manny sat upright, holding up an index finger. "Oh, that's right, you can't, because you haven't caught him yet." He slouched back into the sofa. "Next question."
"Who was Erik seeing?"
"No one. He spent all of his time either playing video games or talking about them at that lame Gaymers group." Manny rolled his eyes. "Bunch of nerds."
"Says the guy who has about ten thousand dollars worth of gaming equipment in his apartment."
"You should see my bedroom."
"Pass." Pearce looked at his notes. "I don't remember you saying much about the Gaymers group before. Did you attend any of the meetings?"
Manny lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "I went to a few of them years ago when Erik first formed the group, but it wasn't what I expected, so I stayed away."
"What did you expect?"
"Something different than it was."
Pearce found an extra ounce of much-needed patience. "Which was?"
"It turned into more like some kind of fucking therapy group," Manny replied. "It stopped being about the games and became a shit storm of mental anguish vomit."
"Can you be more specific?"
"It turned into one huge fucking pity party," Manny replied. "They were all like 'poor me, I'm bullied at school,' or, 'my parents don't understand me,' or, 'my girlfriend wants me to eat her pussy, and I don't know if I'm ready for it.'" Manny made a face. "I didn't join that group to listen to shit like that."
"How did Erik feel about the group turning into that?" Pearce asked. His investigative instincts had sharpened, and he sensed there was something important to this, if only he could get Manny to work his way around to the important part.
"Oh he fucking loved it, are you kidding me? Erik the goody-goody do-gooder of the family? He came home with a big ol' mental boner after those meetings, all high on feeling needed. The more they confided in him, the harder he got. And when that one kid started hanging around after the meetings, I thought he was going to spontaneously spooge all over himself."
"Which kid was that?"
Manny shrugged again and rolled his eyes. "I dunno, man. They were all kids, and to me, they all kind of blended together, you know? Like goldfish."
Pearce exchanged a look with Mark, then said, "Manny, this could be really important." He turned to the page in his notebook where he'd written the names and addresses of each of the kids in the Gaymer group.
"Isn't everything you do, like, really important?"
Pearce's patience vanished in a flash. He cleared the clutter and grocery bags off the coffee table with a single swipe of his arm. Before Manny could stand, Pearce sat on the coffee table and planted his feet to either side of Manny's. He leaned forward to point a finger in the kid's face as he lowered his voice to a growl. Mark remained rooted in place, either scared out of his wits or realizing this was the only way to get Manny to talk.
"Look, you need to cut this bullshit tough-guy attitude right now, got it? Your cousin is dead. He was murdered, choked to death, which is a pretty horrible way to die. And whoever murdered Erik now has a friend of mine who will suffer the same fate if I don't figure out his identity. Do you understand that?"
Manny stared at him, lips pressed into a thin line. He nodded as he pressed himself into the couch. To Manny's credit, Pearce noticed the kid didn't even look around at the junk that had been pushed to the floor. Maybe he'd finally gotten through to him.
"It was the cute kid, the older brother," Manny said.
A chill skittered up Pearce's spine. "Kent Grady?"
Manny nodded. "Yeah, that's the one. He'd been acting like a real shit for a while, verbally lashing out at everyone in the group, picking on his brother, and being an all around asshole. Erik said he'd called him on it and apparently got Kent's respect or something. I guess Erik even saw him out at the bars and made sure the bartenders knew he was underage and couldn't legally drink."
"I thought Erik didn't like the bars?" Pearce asked.
"Man, nobody likes the bars," Manny replied. "But where else are you going to meet someone?"
"Maybe a gay gamer group?" Pearce suggested.
Manny sneered. "I meant somebody fuckworthy."
Pearce shook his head as he flipped through pages in his notebook. He'd lost his place when he'd cleared the coffee table, and he wanted to find his notes about the Grady brothers. Was Kent the one who was working with Morgan? Was that why he'd accompanied his brother to the questioning? Had he wanted to make sure Hunter didn't say something that would expose him? Had what he'd done with Morgan gotten to be too much for him and he'd said too much to Erik during one of their chats and then Erik needed to be silenced?
He could no longer sit still and got to his feet. As he flipped faster through his notebook, he paced the room. Blood pounded in his ears, and his thoughts seemed scattered. Why couldn't he find his goddamn notes?
"Jesus, man, you've gone white as a ghost," Manny said. "Holy fuck, you think it's him, don't you? You think it's Kent Grady!"
Pearce stopped in his tracks and pointed at him again. "If you tell anyone about this, anyone at all, I will have you arrested for obstruction of justice, do you understand?"
Manny held his hands up in mock surrender, eyes wide as he nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. I won't say a fucking word. I just… Man, I just can't believe it. That kid's so young. And yet, there was always somethi
ng off about him, you know? He had this edge to him that I never liked."
"Yeah, yeah, you're a great judge of character, I'm sure," Pearce said, turning his attention back to his notebook. Why couldn't he find the notes he'd made?
"Aaron?"
Mark's voice startled him. He'd been so far down the rabbit hole of the investigation he'd forgotten Mark was with him. He looked over and held Mark's gaze a long moment, and the reconnection helped him calm down. With a nod, he returned to his search for the page of notes he'd taken during the questioning of the Grady brothers and located it in moments. He had both Kent and Hunter's mobile numbers as well as their home address.
He pulled his phone from his pocket as he turned toward Mark and the apartment door, saying over his shoulder, "Not one fucking word, Manny. This is life and death serious. I mean it."
"I get it!" Manny said to Pearce's back just before Pearce followed Mark out of the apartment and they hurried toward the elevator.
"Do you really think it could be the older brother?" Mark asked.
"I don't know," Pearce replied and jabbed at the elevator call button repeatedly. "That's our next stop."
The elevator was too slow, and Pearce headed for the stairway door. He ran down all three flights, Mark right behind him, almost falling as he tried to navigate his phone at the same time. Could it have been Kent Grady this whole time? Would that mean Jake was not involved with Morgan? Maybe Jake had just made mistakes in the case, not deliberate missteps to lead them off track. Now Pearce wanted Jake with him, to see how he reacted to this new piece of information. He would call on his way to the Grady house and ask Jake to meet them there. And if Kent wasn't at the house, he'd need Jake to get a warrant so they could try to track his mobile phone, find his location and—he had to believe it would happen—save Calvin.
And then find Morgan and end this once and for all.
They burst out of the stairway door on the first floor, startling a scream out of a woman who had been reaching for the handle. Her scream surprised Pearce and pumped his adrenaline up even higher. He heard Mark call an apology to the woman as he left the building, and they dashed to the car where he got in behind the wheel. He spent a few precious moments searching for Jake's number in his phone as Mark sat in the passenger seat catching his breath. Pearce's thoughts were so scattered, for a terrifying moment he couldn't recall Jake's last name until it finally popped up.
Perrin.
He found the listing in his phone and placed the call, listening to the buzz of the connection at the other end as he jammed the key in the ignition and started his car.
Jake answered, sounding tired. "Hey, I thought you were going to try to get some sleep?"
"I've got him," Pearce said. "I think I know who's working with Morgan."
31
Mark held on tight as Pearce drove fast, much faster than was safe. On the way, Mark held onto Pearce's phone and talked to Jake, telling him the address he'd found in Pearce's notes and typed into his maps app for directions. Jake told him he'd meet them there, and disconnected the call.
They didn't talk other than for Mark telling Pearce where to turn. When Pearce finally pulled up in front of the house, Mark looked it over. It just another suburban tri-level house, and Mark wondered if it harbored a serial killer under its roof.
He followed Pearce up the walk. When they reached the porch, Pearce looked at him and said in a low voice, "If anything happens, drop to the floor and lay flat. Got it?"
Mark's eyes went wide. "You think he may have a gun?"
"I don't know, but just in case anything happens, that's what I want you to do."
A momentary wish that he'd brought the gun Pearce had locked away in the safe flashed through Mark. He pressed his lips together and nodded. "Okay."
Pearce knocked on the frame of the screen door, and they waited a long moment before a man opened the interior door. He was tall with a shaved head and bright blue eyes.
"Yeah?" the man asked.
"Mr. Grady?" Pearce asked.
"Who are you?" Grady asked in reply.
Pearce held up his badge. "FBI. My name's Aaron Pearce, this is my consultant Mark Beecher. May we ask you some questions?"
Grady frowned. "Didn't you talk to my kids a couple of days ago?"
"Yes, we did," Pearce replied. "And now we'd like to talk with you, if you have some time."
"I've got nothing but time," Grady said in a tired voice, and pushed the screen door open. "Come on in."
Mark followed Pearce into a small living room. A faded blue love seat sat beneath a watercolor painting of trees heavy with autumn-colored leaves, and a black leather recliner was angled toward a large-screen television mounted on the wall.
"Have a seat," Grady said, and waved toward the love seat as he dropped into the recliner.
"My partner will be arriving in a few minutes," Pearce said. "But until he shows up, do you mind telling me if either of your sons are home?"
"Why? Are they in trouble?" Grady sat forward on the edge of the recliner. "They're not hurt or… They're okay, aren't they?"
Pearce nodded. "I'm not here to tell you they're injured or anything worse. I'd just like to know if they're home."
Grady looked relieved, and Mark felt a little sorry for the man.
"Thank God. With everything that's going on, I was scared that they… Well, that something bad had happened."
"Not that I'm aware of," Pearce assured him. "Now, do you know where they are?"
At that moment, a knock sounded on the front door. Grady called over his shoulder, "Come on in. Why not?"
Jake opened the door and stepped into the living room. He looked from Pearce and Mark sitting on the love seat to where Grady sat in the recliner.
"You must be the partner," Grady said.
Jake introduced himself and sat on the edge of an armchair that matched the love seat and was positioned in the corner.
"Mr. Grady and I were just discussing the whereabouts of his sons," Pearce said.
"Oh right," Grady said. "Hunter is at school, and Kent is out looking for work."
"Do you work, Mr. Grady?" Jake asked.
Grady shifted position in the recliner and looked away a moment. "Let's just say I'm between careers."
"Happens to the best of us," Jake said with a smile. "So you're able to be home with the boys quite a bit?"
"I am, which is one of the highlights of being unemployed."
"Where's Kent looking for work?" Pearce asked.
"All over," Grady replied. "Anywhere that's hiring."
"And you yourself?" Jake asked.
Grady gave him a tight smile. "Anywhere that's hiring."
"How have you and Kent been getting along lately?" Pearce asked. "Any arguments?"
"He's twenty, so he knows everything," Grady replied. "So, yeah, there have been some arguments."
"Has it been worse lately?" Pearce asked.
Grady shrugged. "I don't know, I guess so. But I've been home more the last few months, too, so it could just be proximity and availability. At least that's what I figured."
"How's Hunter been?" Mark asked, and all three men turned to look at him in surprise.
"Hunter?" Grady repeated. "Um, he's fine, I guess. Why?"
"When he was at the community center for questioning, he looked a bit nervous," Mark replied. "And like he hadn't been sleeping well."
"He's been quiet lately, but things have been tough around here, what with his brother and me fighting more and his mother… Well, his mother acting like a divorced woman who has to share custody."
"My apologies," Mark said. "Has he been missing school?"
Grady frowned. "What is this about?" He looked to Pearce. "This sounds like you're building a case or something."
Pearce got to his feet. "Mr. Grady, we just want to talk with Kent one more time. Do you know where he is?"
"No, I don't. And, actually, I'd like you to leave." Grady stood, moved to the door, and pulled it open.
"Next time you show up here, have a warrant."
"Mr. Grady, another man has gone missing," Pearce said. "This is a man your sons know. And he's someone we know, someone close to us."
Mark stood up as well but looked at the floor as tears flooded his eyes. So far he'd been able to push his personal attachment aside and try to focus on the details of the case. But he'd had very little sleep in the last twenty-four hours, and just hearing Pearce's words stated here in this stranger's living room had brought the chilling revelation home like nothing else.
His phone buzzed in the back pocket of his pants, making him jump. He ignored it as he listened to Pearce explain to Grady that his sons might be able to provide information that could save Calvin's life. When he had his tears in check, Mark lifted his gaze and watched Grady's expression soften, his face sagging into exhaustion.
"Kent's a good kid." Grady's voice was quiet as he stood with one hand gripping the knob of the open front door. Mark could hear birds through the screen door, and somewhere nearby a dog barked.
"I'm sure he is," Jake said. "Tell us where he is so we can talk to him and see if he can help us out."
Mark's phone buzzed again, either another new text or a reminder that he had one waiting to be read. He frowned as he realized that he only really texted Pearce and Calvin. He pulled the phone from his pocket and entered the unlock code. With a tap, he opened the text messaging app and stood staring for a moment, unable to believe what he was seeing.
Realization struck and brought with it an ice cold terror that swept through him like a high tide. The text had come from Calvin's phone, and it included a picture of Calvin tied to a chair in a dark and dusty place. He was gagged and a red silk scarf lay draped around his neck. Calvin's eyes were wide with fear, and the flash from the phone gleamed in the tears on his cheeks.
Mark heard himself say, "No," in a choked voice as a shivery web of tingles spread across the top of his skull.
"Mark?" Pearce's voice seemed to be coming from far away. "What is it?"
Tears blurred Pearce's face as Mark looked up at him. He didn't trust himself to speak, so he simply held out the phone. Pearce's expression changed quickly from shock to anger as he looked at the picture.