Before I let him in, I could hear the same heavy-set guy who got in my way blabbering his big mouth. "I don't believe her. She is a cop and knows how to con her way through, just like the criminals she catches. For all we know, her nephew could be chilling in a hotel in Canada somewhere," he said snickering.
I pushed my door open wider, brushing past Lance to get in the guy's face. Caught off guard, the guy fumbled with his phone, dropping it in the snow. Good.
"Didn't I tell you this was private property? Now get the hell out of here before I call the police and they can escort you out of here!"I shouted at them looking at each one of them in the eye.
"And for the record, I did not kidnap my own nephew. If you can't believe that and won't help spread the endangerment of a missing boy, fine. I will get another channel to do so. You guys aren't doing your jobs and I am suing every one of you for slander!" I yelled out.
I stepped aside as each reporter started to pack up their equipment to leave. Did they just drive all the way up here on my driveway in all this snow? Accuse me of something I know I didn't do? I don't think so!
Gathering all of their names so I could pass this on to my attorney, I waited until they all left out. I didn't see him, but I could feel Lance's eyes on my back as he stood by the door watching as each of the reporters started to leave. He didn't move until the last one was gone. Finally, I came back inside the house, closing the door behind me.
I made my way to the kitchen, trying not to look back at Lance. He stood quietly, waiting for me to offer him a seat.
"In here Mr. Steele, I will be in the kitchen," I called out to him.
He came in behind me, watching as I grabbed two mugs from the cabinet to make some coffee.
"Coffee? Tea? Bourbon?" I asked him as I went about in the kitchen to busy myself.
He chuckled. "Bourbon sounds nice, but I'll settle for coffee. Two creams and no sugar." He folded his arms across his chest.
"Cool, have a seat. I have some scones I can warm up, would you like one?" I asked him. I needed a sugar rush to cure my headache.
"Sure I'll take one. May I?" he asked, pointing to the kitchen chair at the table in the corner.
I hit my forehead. "My apologies Mr. Steele, I am so upset right now that I forgot to offer you a seat. Yes, please sit and tell me why'd you think you can fix that fiasco that just took place?" I asked, turning on the Kuerig for our coffee. I faced him as he sat down.
He took off his coat and folded it up, placing it in his lap. He took a deep breath.
"Well for starters, you can call me Lance. Mr. Steele is too formal. And I know you wouldn't have staged anything since I got a call from your lieutenant. Well, that was after I had emailed him. I wanted to know what I could do to help you out, that's all," he explained.
I nodded my head making a note to ask Lieutenant Ben what the story was with Lance Steele. For all I knew, he could be just as crazy as those vultures who I just shooed away from my door.
"Okay, that sounds good. But still why though? Is this another way to chase a story? Somehow tell the world how evil I am for mistakingly shooting two people and that I temporarily moved out here, staged my nephew's disappearance all to redeem myself?" I asked out loud, trying not to choke up.
Lance exhaled. "I understand your frustration and your distrust of me. But I know you do need someone on your side. I take it Bly has been by here already?" he asked.
I nodded my head, taking his coffee over to him and returning to grab a spoon, fork, cream and sugar for him. I placed a scone on a dish in front of him. Smiling lightly, he thanked me.
"Unfortunately he has. He hasn't returned my calls either. What, do you know him?" I asked as I went to make my own coffee.
He scoffed. "Do I? Bly is one of those guys who should not have become a cop. I mean he's been on the force for as long as I've been a reporter. I think he could just be jealous of your record and thinks that Rodney is a runaway teen."
I looked at him wide-eyed. "So wait, you spoke to Bly? When?"
"About two hours ago. I saw the alert for Rodney being missing and called him to ask about it. He said he didn't have much information but that he was a kid that he busted a few weeks ago for some booze at school. He sounded dry as always. That's when I decided to find your unit, talk to your boss and drive here to talk to you myself. I mean listening to your lieutenant talk about how you're one of his top detectives let me know that you wouldn't have staged this," he said, taking a sip of his coffee and taking a bite of his scone. He didn't use his fork.
I grabbed my coffee and took a seat across from him. Passing him a napkin, he thanked me and wiped his mouth.
"These are really good, did you make them?" he asked, referencing the scone, taking another bite.
I nodded. "Yes I did, glad you like them. So going back to Bly, should I not expect him to help me find Rodney then?"
"No, I'm not saying that because I'm not sure. But what I will tell you is that you're going to have to do a lot of legwork yourself since Bly thinks that Rodney is a runaway who'll resurface in a few days. At the end of the day, he is wrong for even thinking that way. That's why I'm here. To help you find Rodney by sharing your story, getting the public's attention and clearing up those crazy accusations."
"Even when I do run my story about you, don't think those other crazies won't run their gossipy type of story on you. They're looking for ratings. I'm with the Oswego Local Post and on our local channel news as an ABC affiliate by the way. Sorry, I should've said that. We hold the larger of the market and those other ones out there were either our competition, bloggers and smaller presses. People claim the press is dead, but believe me, if one tells a lie enough, it starts to become the truth," Lance said tightly.
"I agree, so what do you need from me? I want to get this cleared up so I can go back to focusing on finding Rodney. I think it's safe to say he's not a runaway and he was definitely kidnapped. And me being both his aunt and a cop? That has me fuming mad."
***
After an hour, Lance discussed the possibility of someone leaking anonymous information on my history of the shooting in the city. He told me that there were pics and videos perhaps from someone leaking them or simply digging them up. I couldn't think of anyone who might want to do this to me because I locked so many people up.
He finally took some notes down and said he would run the story tonight and that I should wait it out before coming public again. I told him that I wanted his father to do that since he is his parent. Lance agreed and promised to send me the draft of the story before he got it approved and submitted it. He said it would be on his local reporter's social media page as well as the Local Post's pages. I was feeling a little better. When he got up to leave, I couldn't help but size him up a little as he washed out his dishes. He seemed sincere, but I still needed to check him out. He was definitely a former athlete or one that really worked out since his muscles bulged through his sweater.
As Lance was cleaning up our dishes, which felt kind of strange considering I had just met him, I called James but got his voicemail. I explained in a short way about what took place and asked for him to call me back so we could discuss him going public about Rodney's disappearance. I sent him a text, too. He texted me back telling me he felt confident Rodney would be home and that as soon as he got out of his meeting he would call me. He told me to relax, get some rest and that he loved me.
Smiling, I told my big bro I loved him back.
Chapter Ten
THEN
In the cold dark rat-infested flat in East London, he was woken up by his drunken father at one in the morning to mop the floors.
"Boy, get up and clean this kitchen now!" his father barked in his ear.
The boy jumped up off his thinly worn mattress positioned in the small living room. He wiped his eyes, holding his breath so he wouldn't have to smell his father's. It was a mixture of booze, crack and lack of brushing.
"Get up!" His father yelled again, snatch
ing him up from the bed. The boy trembled beneath his windbreaker jacket he slept in due to lack of heat. His jeans were worn, but they were the only pair he had.
He wiped the cold out of his eyes before answering his bully of a father.
"Yes Dad, I'll do that right now," he answered wearily.
The father shoved him to the side. "Good. And when you're done, I need you to go ask Pete down the hall and ask him for some bread. I know he's got it. I'm hungry you know?" his father demanded while walking off.
Yeah, so am I, the boy said to himself. He wouldn't dare talk to his brute father out loud although he was growing tall just like him. As of now, he reached his father's chin standing toe to toe.
The boy went to the kitchen, lifted up the window, sending a slight winter breeze through the tiny kitchen. The air actually helped to lighten up the stale smell of cigarettes. He hated the smell of cigarettes and both his mother and father were chain smokers.
Funny they could purchase cigarettes every day, but no food for him or his sister. They had to resort to stealing food from the local outside markets praying they wouldn't get caught by the patrolling feds.
The boy went out of the front door to go turn on the water hose from the outside. The water would be freezing, but it was the only source of water they had since theirs was cut off. Luckily Mr. Pete would let them use his. He didn't mind and felt sorry for the kids, but he really couldn't help but so much since he was blind.
Before leaving out, he heard a whimper coming from the other side of the living room. Turning around to see if his father was still in the bedroom, he walked over to his sister. She was sitting up, leaning against the wall. A small mouse ran across her feet. She didn't even move. The children had become accustomed to the rodent takeover in their one-bedroom flat.
"What's wrong little sister?" her brother asked.
She sniffled, looking up at him in the dark. The moonlight shining through the living room window was the only source of light they had until the morning. And considering London's gloomy weather during the winter, it would be just as dark inside during the daytime.
"I'm hungry. My stomach won't stop growling. Mom took my meal when you went out to the market. She said if I didn't give it to her she would chop off all my hair and slap me so I gave it to her. Why can't we go stay with Uncle? He's so rich and he has a bright house with a yard," his sister said barely above a whisper.
Her brother nodded then sighed. "Because Dad and Uncle had a fight and he is too stubborn to make up with him. I know he would help us. If I could get to his house to ask him for some money for food and clothes he would give it to us!" He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a half piece of a croissant.
"Here, take this. Eat it slowly okay? Don't worry, I'm going to look out for you as best as I can. I'm your big brother," he said putting the food in her hands.
Wiping away her tears, she smiled at him. "Thank you. I love you, too, Brother."
Their moment was short-lived when he returned, stomping into the living room.
"What is this? Didn't I tell you to mop the floors?" he yelled at the boy.
"I, I, was about to sir, but I was trying to-" he stammered.
His father hauled off and slapped him across his face. The boy's head swiveled to the left from the harsh blow. His shoulders shrank as he watched his father marching over to his sister.
"And you, you little bitch! Eating food? Where'd you get that from? Huh? Give it here!" her father hollered, snatching the bread from her tiny hands. She began to bawl out loud.
"Oh, you want to cry? Get dressed. Now! I have someone for you to see. Somewhere for you to go. This will put money in our pockets and food in that raggedy dirty refrigerator. C'mon let's go now!" he screamed out loud, grabbing her up by her worn petticoat she's been wearing since she was seven. She squealed at the pain he gave with his thick hand wrapped around her arm.
"Daddy you're hurting me! Please!" she cried out. She looked to her brother who walked off to the kitchen.
"What did you say? Little girl, are you talking smart? Get up! Get dressed now so we won't keep the client waiting!" he bellowed with anger. His wolfish glare was illuminated by the moonlight shining through making the little girl cry out even more.
Her brother quietly reentered the living room with a mop in his hand. Standing directly behind his father, he held it up above his head. His sister's eyes grew wide as saucers, knowing what would happen next.
"No Brother! No!" she shouted. But it was too late. Her brother struck their father in the back with the mop with all his might.
"Argh!" their father yelled out, landing on one knee.
The boy continued to whip their father with the mop, their father using his hands to cover the attacks. Finally, he found the strength to get back up and wrestle the mop away from the boy.
He beat the boy with it, across his back, his head, his legs and arms until the boy ran to the corner near his mattress. He lifted it up for cover, but his father was much stronger. Snatching it out of his hands, he flung it to the side and was about to strike his own son in the face with the mop. His son looked up at his demonic father with terror in his wide brown eyes, tears and blood streaming down his face.
"Enough Adney! That's enough! You'll kill your own boy?" his wife shouted at her husband.
Adney turned to face her. "You scrawny stupid bitch! You didn't see your precious son tried to kill me with this mop? I told him to mop the floors. He didn't do it the other day. This flat is stinking and dirty!" he yelled out.
She forced a small smile. "Baby please. Give me the mop. I will clean the floors. We will clean tomorrow. Let's get some rest, okay? Please. Don't kill the boy. He is good for stealing our meals while we get our hits. Please, we need him," she begged him, her dark sunken eyes shifting from him to her son and daughter then back to him.
Breathing heavy, he turned and looked back at his son. He tossed the mop down at his son's feet and stood closer over him.
"I don't care if you're bleeding or hurt. I want these floors cleaned now. One day I will get you back for disrespecting me. Me? The man who brought you into this world? My own seed? No, boy. You will have to pay for disrespecting your father. But because your mother saved you, it won't be today. It'll be when you least expect it," his father seethed through his rotten teeth. He gave his son a swift kick to his side, causing him to let out a yelp and fall over on his face.
His parents left and went into the bedroom, leaving the children to heal their own wounds.
Hearing the door close, his sister ran over to her brother and tried to wipe away the blood.
"I'm so sorry Brother. I hate him!" she whispered, wiping at his hair.
His breathing labored, he heard her but didn't answer at first.
Sitting up, he held onto his side which was throbbing from the kick. He held her hands.
"It's okay. Does he think one day he'll get me back? Not if I don't get him back first. Believe that."
Chapter Eleven
I was still confused as to where Rodney could be. As Lance excused himself to use the restroom, I went over some details that I knew.
I knew for sure that Rodney was not a criminal. A lot of things he did like smoke pot and drank booze once since being here. Okay, as teens, we've all done stupid things. He shouldn't be doing these things at all though.
I thought back to myself at Rodney's age. I was so eager to please Mom and Dad. So was James. We were both street smart but also did things by the book. Now my younger brother Matthew? Nope. He was hell on wheels even coming from a good home. I loved him, but he had this sense of entitlement about him which was weird considering both my parents were hard working-class people. We always lived in a modest home in Brooklyn after being in an apartment for the first ten years of my life.
Thinking back on Rodney, I wrung my hands together, trying to stay focused. As a detective, I knew for certain that the longer a child or an adult went missing, the smaller the odds were of them
being found safe and sound.
I really had to fix this.
"Are you okay Nina?" Lance asked me, coming out of the restroom. He stood behind me.
I turned to face him and took a deep sigh. "Yeah, I'm okay, but I am just trying to figure this whole thing out. Did I do something wrong? Who would want to kidnap Rodney? He's just a kid, new in town, trying to get back on track after his parents' bitter divorce. Yes, he had a run-in with the police, but he's not a thug. He likes rock music, he loves his parents and he loves computers." I felt a tear forming in my eye.
Lance stepped closer to me.
"He wouldn't run away. And it's obvious someone took him because my door was broken. And the dog was drugged."
"Hmm," Lance started, "What if he owed someone some money? Would he go out there somewhere to try to get it?" Lance asked sincerely.
I shook my head. "No. His father is an officer in the Navy. Not wealthy, but not dirt poor either. He would've told us he owed money. Or would he?" I put my hand to my forehead, feeling tired. I sat down at the kitchen table, staring out at the window. The snow had let up, but the meteorologist said it would start back up again.
Lance took a seat adjacent to mine. "Look, I know you're out here by yourself. You will need all the help you can get. Your friends in the city can help, but only so much since we don't know if Rodney is out that way. The weather is not the greatest either."
I looked at him and shrugged. "Okay and your point is?" I asked him. I didn't mean to sound too snappy, but I was getting frustrated.
"My point is to let those who came to help find Rodney do their part. Meanwhile, I'll do mine which is to write your story and then-"
"And then what? You get a shiny medal? A promotion? Will you be the star golden kid on the block at your office?" I asked him, almost shouting. I felt my face go hot.
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. Taking a deep breath before he spoke he stared into my eyes. "Nina listen. I know you're upset and probably agitated even. But you don't need to worry. As I said, I'm going to do my part and people out there who do care will do theirs. Not everyone in Oswego are horrible people Nina. And no I'm not an opportunist. I just saw how unfair you were being treated and decided to help out. If you don't want me to run your story, I will back off."
I Know What I Saw Page 5