by Jon Athan
Wayne scratched his eyebrow as he examined Tiffany's demeanor. The young woman was still in love with the suspected predator. Head over heels, she would love him until the end of time. The passion glistered in her brown eyes. The detective bit his bottom lip and nodded, planning his next question – a methodical investigator.
Nathan felt the urge to question the young woman, too. He wanted to know more about Bruce and his mannerisms. Although he wouldn't admit it, he wondered if the captive was truly a malicious predator. Did he intend on hurting the girls?–he thought. He quietly struggled with his doubt, biting his tongue and withdrawing from the conversation.
Wayne said, “You loved him. I understand that. That doesn't explain why he was charged with statutory rape, though. How did that happen?”
Tiffany shrugged, then she said, “We had sex and the 'law' says it's illegal. My mom didn't like him, so she used the laws to her advantage. My mom, that bitch, was jealous that her old man left her, so she wouldn't let me be with Bruce. Since I was technically a minor, she reported him. It's as simple as that. If it were up to me, I would have never gone to court like that. I wanted him as much as he wanted me. It was a bullshit case. That's all there is to it.”
Nathan leaned forward and said, “I... I don't think your mom was jealous. I think she was just worried about you. It's what parents do. We... we worry about our kids. We get scared about the smallest things. I don't think it was jealousy, though.”
“She was jealous. Before the whole case happened, my mom tried to seduce Bruce. When Bruce came to my house while I was gone, she came out in a bathrobe. She did her whole 'cougar routine,' dropping the robe and swinging her tits, but it didn't work. Bruce rejected her. So, she became very bitter and jealous. But, it doesn't matter anymore, does it? She got it her way and that's that.”
Nathan leaned back in his seat, staring at his lap with downcast eyes. Tiffany's confession bothered him profusely, stabbing the back of his mind. He opted to bite his tongue more often, allowing Wayne to lead the investigation. He wasn't searching for Tiffany's life story anyway. He only sought to rescue Katherine.
As he slowly shook his head, disappointed in Nathan's unnecessary statement, Wayne asked, “Anyway, did Bruce ever mention anything about your age? Anything at all? Did he... Well, did he prefer you because you were young?”
Tiffany nonchalantly drummed her fingers and said, “I really don't know. Who wouldn't want a hot, young girl, right, detective? I mean, it's not like I was a baby or anything like that. I'm no different now than I was a few months ago. So, I don't know.”
Wayne nodded, then he asked, “He ever ask about your friends? You know, did he ever try to hook up with some other high school girls on the side?”
“Nope. It was a monogamous relationship. He loved me and I loved him.”
Wayne leaned back in his seat and said, “I doubt it. It's difficult to believe, don't you think? I mean, if he really loved you, why aren't you together now? Hmm? You're an adult now, right? You're no different than before, right? So, where is he?” Like if each question stabbed her tender heart, Tiffany's eyes swelled with tears due to the emotional pain. Wayne said, “Stop trying to protect the man. We're not looking to cause any trouble with you or him. If he said or did anything inappropriate, tell us. Tell us the truth.”
Fighting off her tears, Tiffany gazed into Wayne's eyes. She could see his investigative tactics, she recognized the game. She wasn't buying the product he was selling, though. She scoffed and rolled her eyes, then she stood from her seat. Before she could depart, Nathan grabbed her wrist and stared at her with glimmering eyes.
Tiffany huffed, then she asked, “What is this? Good cop, bad cop?”
Nathan said, “Please, you don't understand. We need your help. We're–” He glanced at Wayne for reassurance, but to no avail – the detective shook his head. Nathan sniffled, then he said, “We're afraid he might have kidnapped a young girl. Not seventeen-and-a-half, not sixteen, not fifteen... We're talking eleven years old. An innocent little girl. She wouldn't know any better.”
Tiffany frowned and held her hand to her chest. The mere accusation was horrifying. Although she felt sympathy for the child, she couldn't help but feel stronger emotions for Bruce. Revulsion was the strongest sensation, quickly followed by a pinch of doubt. The men painted a horrifying portrait, but she wasn't certain if Bruce was still in the image.
Tiffany flumped onto her seat. She asked, “Are you sure? Are you sure it was... it was my Bruce?”
Wayne responded, “We're almost certain. If you can tell us something, anything we might have missed, then we'll either clear Bruce of the charges or we'll rescue a child. You tell us something and you can save the love of your life or a young girl. It's a win-win for you.”
Tiffany inhaled deeply, then she said, “Okay, okay. I... I know somewhere you can check, I guess. Sometimes, Bruce and I would head off to this little cabin in the woods. I guess it was more like a shed, but it was private. I liked it. It was like our own little home. We would, um... We would 'do it' there when my mom and step-dad were home. I didn't see anything like that kidnapping stuff you're talking about. Ever. I would never expect him to do something like that, either.”
Wayne retrieved a notepad and pen from his coat pocket. He slid the writing tools across the table and asked, “Would you mind writing down the directions to this shed? Please?”
Tiffany sighed and nodded, reluctantly agreeing to expose her ex-boyfriend's secret home. She jotted a few notes, then she drew a crude map. It wasn't an accurate representation of the city or neighboring woodland, but it was more than enough to work with.
Tiffany said, “I think I've had a long enough break. Please, make sure you take care of Bruce. Don't do anything rash to him. He was a nice guy back then and I bet he's a nice guy now. Good luck with your little investigation.”
Tiffany sucked her lips, then she departed from the booth. Wayne and Nathan watched as she returned to her work. Her bold attitude dwindled as she sulked. She was visibly rattled by the revelation. Wayne shook his head as he examined the note.
Nathan asked, “What's wrong? You think she's lying?”
Wayne responded, “No. I'm just thinking, Nathan. I'm thinking: you probably shouldn't have told her about Bruce – about everything.”
“Your way wasn't working. We were going to lose her. At least she gave us something to work with.”
Wayne huffed, then he explained, “Lips flap, Nathan, lips flap. She'll be all over social media telling everyone about this. If anyone finds out Bruce is a suspect before it's even announced, then they'll think something is afoot. They'll scramble to find Bruce and when they find out he's missing, they'll eventually track it back to me, which will lead them to Frank. It'll cause an avalanche. You understand? Don't run your mouth again.”
Nathan was caught off guard by Wayne's passive hostility. He said, “Okay... I'm sorry. I hear you loud and clear, though. I'll let you handle the interviews from now on.” He pulled out his cell phone and said, “I'll let Frank know about Tiffany and the shed.”
Chapter Four
Bruce & Robin
Robin Morris sat in the first booth of Alfonso's Diner, absently gazing at her scorching coffee. She was lost in a maze of thoughts, helplessly searching for an exit. Pessimism lurked around every corner, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Her dreadful contemplation was shattered as two men departed the neighboring booth – Wayne and Nathan.
Robin smiled and nodded at the pair – a cordial reaction. As the couple departed, she removed her headphones, then she tossed her cellphone on the table. The loud music couldn't drown out her thoughts anyway. She preferred answers over distractions. The young woman sighed as she stared down at herself, dejected.
She stood five-one, five-two on a good day. Her striking black hair reached down to her narrow shoulders. She wore a black jacket over a white tank top, black jeans, and black boots. Her milky skin was unblemished – no marks, no t
attoos, no piercings. On the surface, she was a fairly simple woman. At heart, she was a perpetually pensive person.
Moping, Tiffany approached the table and said, “Hey, you've been here a while. Are you ready to order yet?”
Robin glanced at Tiffany. She raised her brow as she stared into her unusually devoid eyes – a reflection of her wistful soul. Robin wasn't the type of person to offer a helping hand, though. The waitress' maladjusted demeanor simply caught her attention in the often jovial diner. Her attitude was an inconvenience – nothing more, nothing less.
Robin shook her head and said, “No.”
Agitated, Tiffany bit her bottom lip and inhaled deeply, then she said, “You can't sit around here forever. You got your coffee, but you'll have to order something to eat before the lunch rush if you want to stick around. This isn't a homeless shelter.”
Robin smiled and said, “I get it. You can leave now.”
Tiffany shook her head as she marched away from the booth, vexed by the young woman's insolence. The most insignificant irritant could cause her to erupt. Robin didn't care for her attitude. She scrolled through her contacts in her cellphone. She stopped as she spotted the name she sought: Bruce Watson.
Robin whispered, “Where the hell are you, Bruce?”
She scrolled through her call log, casually browsing through her history. She had already called Bruce six times throughout the morning. He didn't answer a single call. She figured a seventh call wouldn't hurt – seven was a lucky number, after all. Sure, she would appear clingy, but she needed absolute certainty in order to move forward.
Robin smiled as she held the phone to her ear. With each clangor, she pondered her potential responses. She didn't want to be the suspicious girlfriend in the relationship, but she didn't want to show leniency, either. She wanted to balance her personality – she kept a leash, but it was long and pliable. To her utter dismay, Bruce did not answer.
Robin muttered, “Damn it...”
The young woman tossed her black bag over her shoulder and stood from her seat. She tossed a ten-dollar bill on the tabletop – more than enough to cover the coffee and the booth's 'rental' fees. Like a model on a catwalk, she strutted out of the diner. Fortunately, her destination wasn't far from the diner's entrance. She wasn't homeless as Tiffany so rudely implied.
Her black four-door sedan was parked only a few meters away. The filthy vehicle had filmy windows and scraped bumpers. The car wasn't luxurious, but it functioned properly and it had plenty of trunk space. For the lax young woman, the sedan was good enough.
Robin flumped onto the driver's seat, dispirited by the crippling loneliness. Stood up, she thought, he actually stood me up. The fact stung like alcohol poured on a fresh wound, but she was more curious about the reason behind his actions than the consequences. She couldn't blame herself. She was a punctual person.
Robin whispered, “Where did you go, Bruce? Where are you, sweetie? Where are you?”
She tightly gripped her phone as she stared at her call log. She resisted the urge to call again. She scrolled into her text messages and read the last text message she received from her boyfriend. She had read the message countless times since the timer passed for their scheduled date. She read it once more: Getting drinks with a friend. See you tomorrow morning!
Robin cruised down Main Street, her black hair undulating with the wind. Drivers meandered from stop-to-stop – some raced against the yellow lights, others cruised without a care for the world. Squealing wheels and blaring horns occasionally echoed from beyond the horizon, but regularity reigned supreme. A child and a young man vanished, but traffic continued at its regularly-scheduled pace.
Robin whispered, “What a world, what a world...”
Wide-eyed, Robin stomped on her breaks – putting the pedal to the metal. The cherry-red truck behind her swerved and honked, barely evading the begrimed sedan. The driver indistinctly muttered and shook his fist. Robin couldn't hear his words, but she could read his lips – get off the road or learn to drive, bitch. She was not offended by his anger or vulgarity; she would react in the same manner.
Regardless, the young woman was more concerned with the black vehicle sitting in the neighboring parking lot – a four-door car with a sleek retractable hardtop. The adjacent building linked perfectly to her theory.
As she stared at the sign on the building, Robin whispered, “The Pub Club...”
***
Robin parked beside the car, analyzing every nook and cranny on the neighboring vehicle. She held her hands around her face as she peered into the interior of the vacant car. She strolled around the vehicle, then she glanced at the license plate. She was content with the simple inspection. The vehicle belonged to Bruce.
Robin whispered, “You're car is here, so where are you?” She glanced at the bar over her shoulder. With more spunk than an edgy teenager in an indie movie, Robin said, “Bingo.”
The hinges grated as the heavy wooden door slowly swung open. The shrill squeak, like a wolf howling to the moon, reverberated through the nearly desolate bar, obnoxiously announcing her arrival to everyone. She glared at the door hinges with a sneer of annoyance. This heavy thing needs oil, she thought. From the doorway, she quickly examined the bar. To her dismay, Bruce was nowhere in sight.
Robin strolled through the tavern, nervously smiling at the lingering patrons. She didn't judge them for their early morning lust for alcohol. Frankly, she would sit and have a sip if she weren't concerned for her boyfriend's well-being. She stopped at the first stool, then she knocked on the bar. The hinges were obnoxious enough, her persistent knocking couldn't be any worse.
Robin said, “Hello. Sorry for all of the noise. I know it's early. I'm not here to drink, though. I just have a few questions.”
The bartender sniffled as he glanced at Robin and scrubbed a mug. The flamboyant man had resplendent black hair, purposely tousled to create a voguish look. He wore a black short sleeve button-up shirt, black pants, and black jeans. He appeared a bit buzz, but he seemed competent enough.
The bartender asked, “What can I help you with, miss?”
Robin inquired, “You wouldn't happen to know if a man named 'Bruce Watson' was in here last night, would you? He's a little taller than you. Brown hair, blue eyes, some stubble... Have you seen him around?”
The bartender smiled from ear-to-ear. He said, “Of course. I've known Bruce for a long, long time. We're great friends. And, any friend of Bruce is a friend of mine. My name is Brian. It's nice to meet you.”
As she shook Brian's hand, Robin said, “Great. My name is Robin. So, did you see him here last night?”
“Yeah, yeah. He comes here often. He gets a few free drinks and helps out a bit. He was here last night for a few hours. He was flirting with this... this babe. She was something else, really. But, that's Bruce. He's got game, right?”
Robin smirked and nodded, then she asked, “You wouldn't happen to know this 'babe' he was flirting with, would you?”
“Yeah, hmm... Her name is Sylvia Jones. She's part of the college crowd. She usually doesn't come around here often, but she was here last night. They probably hooked up. I don't know. If I had to bet, he's probably still with her doing... doing something.”
Robin bit her bottom lip, vexed by the bartender's confession. She said, “Well, she was flirting with my boyfriend. I wonder what they could be doing.”
Wide-eyed, Brian stepped in reverse. His childish chuckle stopped and the grin was wiped from his face. Keen-eyed and mystified, he inspected every inch of Robin's body, like a confused pervert. The visiting woman certainly did not seem like Bruce's type. She was different from Bruce's usual bar-hopping student.
Anxious, Brian smiled and said, “Oh, I see... You're Bruce's girlfriend? I... I didn't know the man knew the meaning of 'relationship.' I'm sorry for running my mouth. I really don't want to get involved in your drama.”
Robin leaned on the bar and said, “You've worked here for a while, right? I can tell
by your attitude. You're a little buzzed and, like you said, you like to run your mouth on the job. So, let me ask you something. You wouldn't happen to know where this 'Sylvia' lives, would you?”
“No, no. I... I'm sorry. You're out of luck.”
“Come on. Don't play stupid with me, Brian. This isn't a very big town. You've seen her often. You've even seen her ID. Hell, just give me a vague idea and I bet I can find her on my own.”
“I don't think so. I don't want to get involved in your drama, miss. I know how this shit ends. These stupid love-triangles always end with someone dying. If you want that, go read a romance book or watch a movie. I don't want any part of it, though.”
Robin leaned closer, then she whispered, “Listen, my boyfriend is missing. Bruce is missing. I've been with him long enough to know he fools around. I'm not some blind bimbo. But, this is not normal. He could be in danger. If you're really his friend, you'll tell me where he is. You'll tell me Sylvia's address or neighborhood or something.”
Brian tilted his head in utter confusion as he gazed into Robin's eyes. Her sharp eyes were indecipherable. He couldn't tell the truth from fiction. His friend could be in danger, but the wrong answer could send the young college student down a hazardous path. Of course, he knew the possibilities were endless. He could stand there and ponder a dozen horrendous outcomes to the same situation, but he preferred to remain optimistic.
Brian said, “Okay, okay. I have an idea of where she lives.”
Robin responded, “That's good. That's great. But, I want you to be positive, you understand? Don't just tell me what I want to hear. I'm tired, so don't send me on a wild goose chase. How do you know where she lives?”
Brian glanced down at his shoes and said, “Her ID–”
“Don't lie to me. Remember, Bruce could be in serious danger. I want to trust you, I want to help him, but I can't do that if you lie. You understand?”