"Rodney honey? Are you up here? Come on out, it's time for breakfast," I called out to no one in the attic.
"Okay, I think you should call the police Nina. He obviously hung out with some friends and didn't come home last night," my mother said. I could hear her rumbling some objects in the background.
"Nah, he only has one cool friend and that kid doesn't drink or give any trouble. Ironically his grandmother works in a bar though," I explained.
"Yeah, but he knows where to cop from already, doesn't he? Geez, it's only been about four months since he's been there," Mom said in an exasperated voice.
Ignoring her, I made my way back down the ladder, not even bothering to pull it back up in its spot. Confused, I shook my head, fumbling against the banister as I tried to rush downstairs. I needed to slow down because I was feeling pain again in my shoulder already but didn't care. I needed to know where Rodney was at. I had already caught him smoking weed again, but didn't want to worry my mother about it, so I kept quiet. She already knew the answers anyway.
My cabin house was not that big, so I went throughout the entire house starting with the living room which was quiet and void of Rodney. I went to the garage, thinking maybe he was practicing on his guitar. But no he wasn't in there, but his guitar was leaning against a stool. Just my car, motorcycle and Rodney's musical instruments. They were left in the same position they were a few days ago when I'd last seen him in there. I ran out front, but it was so serene and beautiful out with the sun's reflection glistening on the lake. I turned to the bonfire pit, but he wasn't sitting near there, either. In fact, he only did when I went out there so I knew he wouldn't be there by himself.
I ran to the kitchen and I'm sure the color must have drained from my face. Moxy was in there barking as she galloped toward me.
"What could be wrong, Nina? Did you check out front for him?" My mother asked, worry starting to sink into her voice.
My eyes scanned the kitchen as I pet Moxy, trying to calm her down. That's when I saw it. Why my dog was in such a commotion. Frozen in my tracks, I let out a yelp.
"Mom, my back door is opened. I never leave the door open at all. Besides, someone broke in here because the doorknob is missing. And so is Rodney."
Chapter Three
"Ma'am when was the last time you saw your nephew?" The man who introduced himself as Sheriff Bly asked me as if he had better things to do. He wore a large wide-brimmed uniform hat. His breath smelled like donuts and coffee. That was how close he was standing near me as we both stood in my living room. I held a tablet in my hands which had my mother's worried face on there as I FaceTimed her. She already booked her flight to come here, but I told her to wait.
Sharp pains crept up my shoulder blade as a wave of dizziness overcame me. Sheriff Bly seemed impatient by the disgruntled look on his face. I didn't need his attitude right now.
"The last time I saw Rodney was when he went to his room after dinner," I said, looking him straight in his eyes.
He nodded at his colleague, Officer Stevens, a younger cop who looked just as clueless as Bly. Stephens flipped some pages on his notepad I assume to write down what I had just said. I sighed deeply trying not to get upset.
"Okay and the last time you saw him, did he seem to be troubled?" he asked, not looking up.
I looked up at him and that hideous hat. He showed no respect by even removing it when he entered my house. I clenched my jaw, trying to remain cordial. I had to remind myself that this wasn't about me, it was about Rodney. He was still a child regardless.
"No, he was fine last night and all the days before that. He helped me wash the dishes after dinner-" I trailed because Bly cut me off.
"What did you have for dinner?" he abruptly asked.
I shifted the tablet to my right hand and cocked my head to the side at Bly. I could feel my mother thinking of what I was thinking. Bly was a straight-up asshole.
"Let's see, well I made spaghetti with turkey meatballs, garlic bread, salad and brownies for dessert. Rodney ate two plates of food," I boasted.
Bly nodded. "Okay, what about beverages? Any chance he had something to drink with this wonderful dinner and dessert?" His face held a sarcastic deadpan.
I scoffed. I see what he was getting at. Word got around fast in this town. A few weeks ago, Rodney was busted in school for having some beer. He got caught smoking and drinking outside behind the back of the school before that. I didn't mention this to my mother or his father. Didn't want them to worry. The school sent Rodney home with me that day and for the rest of the week. He returned that following Monday. Bly must've dug up some information on Rodney before taking his sweet old time getting here to my house. This was not going to go well, I could already feel it.
I pursed my lips together before replying. "He had water Sheriff Bly. Just water." I tried to sound as calm as possible.
"Very good, and yourself? Any alcohol in here?" he asked me.
I shook my head. "Nope. I don't drink," I lied. Actually, I did drink, but since being on medication, I took a step back from my famous E&J brandy and occasional red wine. And Whiskey Sours. I loved those.
He smirked as if he saw straight through the half-truth. "Good, good. Okay so tell me how long has Rodney lived here? Does he like it here? Has he ever run away before? Any history of mental illness?" He stood with his back straight, crossing his arms across his chest.
Sensing my frustration with Bly, my mother chimed in as sweet as she could be.
"Hello, my name is Agnes Perkins, I am Rodney's grandmother. I can answer that for you since Rodney is my eldest son's child. Rodney has been living with Nina since-," she said, before getting cut off by Bly.
"Are you Rodney's legal guardian then ma'am?" Bly asked, shifting his eyes from mine to the tablet I was holding up in my good arm since he arrived.
"Well, no, but he is my family, and I am equally concerned," my mother answered, trying to maintain her composure.
"I see. Well, it would be best if you came to talk with me and your daughter personally then instead of through an electronic device. We might need a written statement from you," Bly explained plainly.
Mom shook her head. "That won't work since I am not in the area. I live in Florida," she said with a tight voice.
I jumped in feeling this Bly person was only making things worse by allowing time to tick-tock away. "I'm sorry, but my mother lives out of town, she was on the phone with me when I discovered Rodney was not at my house. She is here for support," I said, trying not to glare at Bly.
"I normally don't do this, but she can stay on, he said jabbing his slim finger at my tablet, referring to my mother.
Mom's eyes narrowed. I knew she didn't like that as I didn't either, but right now was not the time to politely tell this guy off. We needed to know Rodney's whereabouts.
"Okay thank you ma'am, but the questions are going to be directed at Mrs. Westbrook," he said gruffly, turning his attention to me.
"And what time did you go to bed?" Bly asked me.
Sometimes the medicine I take could make my mind so groggy that I forgot some things. This was one of those moments.
"Well, I think it was around ten. Yeah, it was ten," I answered him, not taking my eyes off of him. One of the benefits of being a cop was I knew how to answer people directly without so much as a flinch.
"Actually it was a little after eleven because we had just hung up after watching the latest episode of Designated Survivor, remember?" my mother answered him. I knew she did that so there wouldn't be any mixups with the timing. She was only looking out for me.
I squinted my eyes, and then recollection came back to me. "Oh yeah, that's right. It was after eleven." I shifted the tablet in my other hand, watching for Bly's reaction. His face held that same blank stare. I looked behind him at Stevens who wasn't saying much and held his gaze down. At least he had taken his hat off when he came in. I looked back at Bly.
Bly cleared his throat to speak up. "Mrs. Westbrook, this i
s very critical I understand, but since being in this town, your nephew has had a history of getting caught with booze and some drugs in school. You are aware of this, right?"
I clenched my teeth together. My mother was about to say something, but I spoke over her.
"Listen, Sheriff Bly, my nephew is a good kid. He has gone through a lot. He doesn't have any mental illness and he would never walk off or harm himself. I am all he has here in the area until his father returns from his busy military schedule and deployment. So yes he has had a little bit of trouble adjusting, but he's working on it," I explained in a tight voice.
Sheriff Bly nodded again. "Okay since we already contacted his only friend that you know of, Davion Harris, school is out and you have no recollection of him being agitated the night before, I will file a report of him and submit it to the New York State Police with his description. More than likely, the alert will go on their website and issued to several law enforcement departments including the FBI. In the meantime, I will need to know a description of what he looks like, his height, weight, last clothing you recall him wearing and last place he was at so it can be added to the alert."
"I really didn't need to let everyone know that I'm a cop, do I?" I asked him. I wanted to find my nephew, but I didn't want it to get out that a cop's relative was possibly stolen from her house.
He shrugged nonchalantly. "Yes, pretty much. There isn't much I can do here unless you come up with some more details about your nephew. Please try to take it easy, stay by the phone and let us know if he does come back here," Bly said plainly. He turned to walk away toward my door.
"Wait, what? You're just going to leave like this? Where's your crime scene forensics team? To dust for fingerprints? I have a broken-in door and a missing nephew who's only fifteen. What about a dog search? Something!" I yelled out at Bly.
He spun back around stepping forward to stand toe to toe with me. "Listen, Mrs. Westbrook. I know all about your hotshot cop record and what brought you out here in the first place. You don't think we don't know what we're doing? Fine, you can go out there and do it on your own then. But you need to stay out of our way. And for the record, this is Oswego, not Manhattan. So no, we don't have a big-time CSI team as you have with those big wigs flossing your money around. We will work with what we have to find your nephew. I suggest you stand down and let us do our jobs."
Bly gave me a longing stare after delivering his scolding to me. I wanted to knock the mess out of him, but I forgot my mother was still live on the app. There was no time for me to get arrested when my nephew needed me the most. And again, I was the only one he had in the area.
But I wasn't going to sit back and let this man insult me or my intelligence either. Nor would I sit idle. I needed to know where to start.
Bly and Stevens saw themselves out of my house. Stevens, with his boyish face and haircut to match, took a look back at me, mouthing the word "sorry". I gave him a slight nod, but I was steaming. Fuming. Shoulders slumped, he left out with Bly, placing his notepad in his coat pocket.
Chapter Four
It was late morning by the time Numbers came downstairs to check on Rodney where Brennan dumped him like a sack of spoiled potatoes. He stood over him, cocked his head to the side and smirked. The adrenaline was pumping through his ice-cold veins. Rodney was still asleep, oblivious to what was going on or that he had been taken. Numbers aimed to fix that quickly.
Taking a bucket of ice-cold water filled with ice cubes, Numbers tossed it onto Rodney in one quick motion. Rodney jumped up, his chained arms swinging and clanging, trying to breathe from the coldness blocking his airwaves. He sucked and heaved in deep breaths of air. Coughing up the air, he shook his head quickly. Blinking rapidly and opening up his eyes, he looked around frantically and confused. His focus finally zeroed in on Numbers' face and then at Brennan on the other side of the room glowering at him. Drops of water blurred his vision, but he could tell by the looks on their faces, this was not going to go well.
"Oh, what a day this is Rodney Perkins," Numbers started.
Shaking, Rodney grabbed at the rough wool blanket to wipe the water from his eyes. He wrapped himself in it.
"Wh-what do you want with me Numbers?" Rodney asked, stammering. His eyes quickly shifted toward Brennan who held that same blank expression as usual. This time the deadpan was eviler. Rodney swallowed hard and began coughing again. He took a look at his arms and ankles in the chains and tried to take them off.
"Don't even think about getting those off you boy," Numbers seethed through his teeth. "Ain't happening."
Brennan grunted. "Numbers, this kid could get us locked up. What do you want me to do with him?"
Numbers was silent at first. He walked towards Rodney like he was an animal in a zoo, curious to see what he would do. Rodney flinched, holding his arms up to shield his face.
Numbers howled laughing out loud. Out of nowhere, he struck Rodney on his head with his fist, making Rodney cry out like a wounded dog.
Numbers plummeted more hits on a defenseless Rodney, not caring if his knuckles started to bleed. He saw blood ooze from Rodney's lips. Rodney hollered out in shrill yelps, trying to protect his face and head, but the chains kept getting in his way. Brennan stayed in his position, not moving a muscle.
Numbers finally let up, but before he did, he gave Rodney a quick swift in his side. Rodney screamed, doubling over onto his other side.
Grabbing him by his long hair and wrapping it around in his hand, Numbers held Rodney's head back. Rodney's lips trembled as tears fell down his face.
"Oh, so you're crying now? You weren't crying when you stole my video clips. So you're a snitch now? Huh?" Numbers growled in Rodney's face.
Rodney shook his head back and forth and tried to talk, but his throat was parched from all the screaming. Finally, he swallowed hard and answered Numbers.
"Numbers man, I wasn't going to do anything with those clips. I promise. Now if you let me go, I know I can get you a lot of money made. I can get you millions of Bitcoin-"Rodney trailed.
Numbers hauled off and slapped Rodney across the face with his free hand. He repeated the horrid gesture, full of rage and was about to strike him again until Brennan came over. He didn't stop him though.
"Numbers, let's hear the lad out, innit? I mean, what if he can really make some money? He's better off alive than dead," Brennan said suggestively.
There wasn't a sound in the cold damp dim-lit room. Numbers finally came to his senses and released Rodney's hair, snapping his head forward. Rodney's face held red bruises and welts across his face and his right eye was beginning to swell. He coughed out loud before speaking at the two men.
"I'm serious man, there's a tournament in New York City. I know I can win. The first prize is for a mil. I got this. I have a team and-"
"Man screw a team!" Numbers hollered. "I want it all! You got that? And I will get mine. This what I just did to you? Was just a taste of what is really to come. You're not going anywhere. Now the key thing is, did you make any copies Rodney?" Numbers asked, his eyes dancing like two lit flames from matches.
Rodney shook his head no. "I swear man, I just had that one copy. The one on my email. You have it, right?" He tried not to look at Numbers for fear that he would strike him back.
Numbers stepped back and started walking in a circle before he spoke again.
"You see Rodney Perkins. That's not what I think. I know you're lying. With heat like this, we could go away for life."
Rodney's eyes widened at the word, "we".
"Oh, that's right. We. See it goes like this. You take the file to the police and they will clearly see you in the clips as a witness to a murder. Who's to say they won't ask if you participated in it? Even stood by and let it happen? Huh? Did you think about that before you went off trying to play Inspector Gadget? I'll even lie and say you helped me to hide the body. How do you feel about that now?"
Rodney held his head down, not answering. He knew, either way, he was
screwed.
"But luckily for you, I plan to keep you for a little fun myself. See, I know who you are and you don't know what I know. About you, that is. So for now, sit back and enjoy the horror show. Starring me and you," Numbers said with a glee in his voice, pointing at himself then back at Rodney.
Brennan was a little confused. He thought that Numbers wanted him to kidnap Rodney, bring him home, they beat it out of him of where were the extra copies of the file and then kill him. They've done this before so this time shouldn't be any different.
So why was it different this time, Brennan thought to himself. He kept his mouth shut because he could tell that Numbers was on a rampage. When he turned like this, it was best to leave him be. He knew Numbers better than anyone else. And they weren't around many except the youngsters hired to hack into companies and whatnot.
Numbers must've been reading Brennan's mind. He turned to him and said, "Don't worry my man, you'll get your turn to do the bigger deed soon enough. Just for now, we need to keep Rodney where he is. Give him those snacks you bought him and turn off the lights. I'll let you know what the next move is with him."
Numbers tossed his head back, his long hair swaying behind him. Rodney looked up at him thinking that he resembled Medusa when he did that. He squinted out of his good eye to see Brennan toss him a soda and some candy bars. Rodney couldn't eat, but he picked up the food with shaking fingers, holding it close to his chest. His shirt was soaking wet and he wanted to change so bad, but he didn't dare ask for a clean shirt either.
"So are we going to kill him like the others?" Brennan asked as they walked towards the stairs.
"Yes, that's the bigger deed. That and something else. I'll tell you soon though," Numbers explained. He turned back to Rodney, then walked closer to him.
Standing in front of him, he held that same wicked smile.
Before Rodney could look up at him with his fingers still trembling, Numbers hauled off and punched Rodney in his face, causing a tooth to come out on the bottom. Blood spit out of Rodney's mouth as he coughed up blood and spittle onto the mattress.
I Know What I Saw Page 2