Lance rolled his eyes, looking away from Bly then back at him, taking a step forward.
"Well good morning to you, too Sheriff Bly," Lance said sarcastically.
"Good morning? Yeah right. You ran that story trying to make her," he said jabbing his finger in my direction, "Look like an angel? I'm sorry, but who gave you that authority to write that story? Huh? She is under investigation with Internal Affairs. That has nothing to do with her nephew's disappearance. What kind of shit are you trying to pull Steele?" Bly said loudly.
I cleared my throat, stepping in to say something, but Lance held his hand up at me. I stood still where I was, waiting for his next move.
"First off Sheriff, that's Mr. Steele to you. Secondly, I am not trying to make anyone look like an angel. Truth is the truth. Mrs. Westbrook and her family simply need the public's help, any kind of assistance in locating a child. Yes, a child, who comes from a good family, has made some mistakes, but he is not a cold-stone criminal like you're making him out to be. So why are you so bolstered up over this Sheriff Bly?" Lance asked without raising his voice.
Bly scoffed, looked over in my direction and then back at Lance.
"This kid gave me lots of trouble when I picked him up several times. He might come from a good family, as you say, but believe me, he is no angel. And neither is she," he said condescendingly.
It was my turn to speak now. I was so tired of the disrespect from this man.
"What are you doing Bly? You come here on my property, throwing around accusations and what not and not even acknowledging the pain and anguish my family and I are experiencing?" I said defensively.
"Exactly Sheriff. If I didn't know any better, I would think that you're trying to smear the names of the Perkins family on purpose. What really gives?" Lance interrogated.
Bly chuckled. "Listen. I'm sorry. Let me back up. Mrs. Westbrook, did you ever think that Rodney could've run away because of the family issues he is having?"
"You asked me that already Bly, don't you remember?" I tossed back.
Before Bly could respond, Lance spoke up. "Listen, Sheriff Bly, you and I both know the city of Oswego wants this to go away as soon as possible. My writing the story was to seek the public's help. Someone leaked some information about Mrs. Westbrook's past that has nothing to do with the case. They're connecting it with Rodney's disappearance, or shall I say kidnapping, considering the evidence? At the end of the day, Rodney is still missing, Mrs. Westbrook is not really receiving a lot of cooperation from the police or the press, so she needs someone on her side. Now, do you have any other leads you can tell her? I am sure it will help the family," Lance concluded.
I nodded in agreement. "Sheriff Bly, this case is not about me, my reputation or the article. It's about Rodney and bringing him home safe and sound. It's about countless other kids like him who whether or not ran away or were kidnapped, can be brought home safely to their worried families. Please, don't let Rodney's recent run-ins with you deter you from wanting to find out where he truly is," I said to him.
Bly's hardened face softened a little, his nose and cheeks turning red. He looked away for a moment and then back at me.
"You're right Mrs. Westbrook. I apologize. I don't have any other leads except these," he said, pulling out his phone. He scrolled to some pics of Rodney sitting in a corner with his goth appearance, makeup and all. I examined the pictures, taking off my glove so I could swipe through them.
"He appears to be high at a party. Some females who were there had shot the photos with captions of "when the crow gets high". Red arrows were drawn upwards on Rodney's picture. That angered me.
"Where did you get these from?" I asked, not looking up at him. I wanted to know everything about the pictures.
"I sought out the Watertown police, asking them about kids with similar backgrounds to Rodney's."
I gave him a fierce look and he cleaned it up.
He held his hands up. "What I meant is that kids who have similar arrest records like his. There were also some video Snapchats of him. I'll have Stevens send them to you via email," he explained, holding his hand out for his phone back.
I gave it to him, watching Lance throwing daggers at him with his eyes.
"Sounds good then. Will you be meeting up with the search crew this afternoon Sheriff Bly?" I asked.
He put his phone in his pocket and looked at me with an expressionless stare. "Yes, I'll be there. We will have our men there, too. You should get the email shortly. I'll be in touch," he said curtly and walked off back to his car. Before driving off, he glared at Lance. Lance stood with his hands at his sides, not flinching. We waited until he drove off before speaking again.
"I've been wanting to fight Bly since junior high school but my older brother already did that," Lance said angrily.
I shook my head thinking that this beef has gone on for too long.
Ignoring the testosterone spat, I said to Lance, "Come with me to see about these clubs and raves Rodney was going to over in Watertown. I don't know how I missed that, but I sure as heck will be finding out."
Chapter Nineteen
Rodney woke up feeling as if boulders were being dropped on his head falling from a cliff. Holding his hands up on the sides of his head, he tried to drown out the humming coming from the other side of the room.
The humming was coming from a young man named Pueblo Rodriguez, but everyone called him Po. Po, who is around twenty, is a drug addict, but he also knows his stuff when it comes to the streets, hacking and unfortunately, drugs. He messed up with Numbers.
"Yeah, I fucked up lil homie," he shook his head solemnly. "Getting in this game had me making racks, you know? But, when the devil wants his due, he comes knocking. Sometimes he doesn't even knock. He just opens that door, reach in, grab you by the throat and that's it. Fade to black." His glassy eyes stared over at Rodney. "Do you want to know how I got in?"
Rodney looked up at Po, ignoring his pain. "Sure, go ahead."
"Aight, cool. Check it. See I come from a poor background. I mean when I say poor, I mean dirt poor. I'm talking about splitting a can of pork and beans with your siblings type of poor. For two days even. My mother is so sweet, she never sold herself for cash. She might have shoplifted, but never sold her body. That's my mother though."
Rodney kept staring at him, his swollen eye giving off a throbbing pain. He hoped it wasn't infected. He wiped at it, feeling the lump hadn't gone down as much.
"Yeah, so this is around that time I ran into that Bly dude. He is the epitome of pig, you know what I'm saying? I was running out the store with some cases of beer to sell so I could buy some groceries and ran right into his bacon grease ass," Po explained. He scoffed and looked over at Rodney. "Do you know Bly?"
Rodney shook his head yes. "Unfortunately, I do."
"Yup I know what you mean lil homie. So check it," Po said, standing up. He wasn't in chains like Rodney was and he wondered why. He had never seen or heard of Po before. He was interested in his story so he hung onto every word. Whether he was lying or not, he would be able to determine that later on.
Po began pacing back and forth, his gait falling in step with a lean-bop rhythm. "Bly is a real bitch. He could've let me go for that case. It's not like I had any weed, Molly or smack on me. He was supposed to let me go. Instead, his pigmeat ass booked me and my mother sold the car that she uses to get to work with, to bail me out. See, she needs me to keep an eye on the kids while she works," he said sadly, stopping his pacing. He glanced at Rodney holding his head.
"Man are you alright?" Po asked.
Rodney didn't answer him but shook his head instead.
"Shit, you're lucky that's all you got is a headache. The way those two clowns are? They're always out to kill. I know so," Po said.
Rodney sat up a little. "So why did you start working for them then?"
Po began pacing again. "Because I wanted to get my mother's car back. She pawned her title to get up the money for my bail. Bless mi Ma
dre," Po cried out.
Rodney didn't understand why Po sacrificed himself to help his mother. "Couldn't she have just purchased another car?" Rodney asked innocently.
Po's eyes went dark. "Man, were you listening at all? White privilege sure got your head on swole man. Listen, no she couldn't. If we had to share a can of beans for two days, what makes you think she could just go buy another car? How in the hell do you think we're living?"
Rodney shrunk up, drawing his knees closer to his chin. The chains around his ankles made a jingle sound signifying he was still shackled. "I'm sorry Po. Can I hear the rest please?" Rodney pleaded.
"Yeah, so like I was saying. I wanted to buy my mother's car back. Getting a j-o-b was out because see I have a daughter. She's only five-months-old. Her mother gets food stamps and whatnot, but she needs diapers and clothes, too. So I started asking around the hood who had the best hustle going on. I'm not into selling drugs especially with Dragon Bly breathing down my neck," Po said angrily.
"I hear you," Rodney said softly, agreeing with him.
"Yeah, so I met this kid who knew another kid who knew B. Y'all call him Brennan though. Brennan ain't even from here, you heard his good English he talks? Like he sounds like those kings and shit," Po said laughing.
Rodney smiled a bit, recalling when he first met Brennan. He wondered how he got to the states and why Oswego. He didn't dare ask though. His main interest was to hack, get money and leave this boxed in town.
"See, you know what I mean," Po said amusingly. "Anyway, I was told that I could make some easy money with a job using computers. I might not be all that smart, but I'm good at hacking computers. I learned that years ago on YouTube. Easy as pie, right?" Po asked, stopping in front of Rodney. Rodney looked up at him, his lips tight, but nodded.
"So one day, I messed up. I got a problem lil homie. I like to sniff, snort, shoot up, whatever. I should've just paid Numbers and B. I heard they were ruthless. How they go out for blood whenever someone screws them over. They're going to hurt me real bad, no doubt. Might even kill me."
"Not if we can get out of here," Rodney said, his eyes shifting over to the broken window piece he couldn't reach.
Po caught on and followed Rodney's gaze over at the window, walking toward it, bending down to examine. He hopped up, going over to Rodney.
"Aw shit lil homie, you're super smart! I can kick this out and get us the hell outta here, real talk!" he whispered excitedly.
"Yeah, but it's best if you don't kick it. They might hear us," Rodney warned, sitting up. He looked over at the window again wishing he could break it himself and run out into the cold air on his face as fast as he could, but he was still chained.
"Say no more lil homie, I got this," Po said bragging. He went back to the window, first examining the area. He felt all around the window for air, loose pieces and then back to the opening. Gently pushing on the wood, he broke off a piece of the board to reveal a window. Po pushed on it, staring through it.
"I see snow!" Po cried out. Rodney crawled over, holding his chains quietly so they wouldn't make too much noise. His heart was pumping with excitement as he thought about how he would get out of the chains. If he couldn't, at least Po could get out, run and get help for them both. He peered at Po working off another piece of wood on the bottom of the window. Finally breaking that off, Po sat down and pushed on the window with the heel of his foot.
The glass was too thick and the window was nailed shut. He sat up on his knees, pushing on the window with the bottom of his hand until it cracked, but it wouldn't break.
"Damn it!" Po hissed. He moved over to the other side of the window where there was more wood. Thinking he could tear that apart like he did the first piece, he grabbed at it, cutting his finger on one of the rusty nails holding it down. Po cursed under his breath, sucking his cut finger. Rodney tossed his chains around out of frustration, causing Po to turn around.
"Man, be quiet lil homie. We don't have time for that. We need to figure out how to escape another way since Numbers is too diabolical," he stood, looking around the room. "I'm sure he's got booby traps all up in here. He'll never let us leave alive so we need to get at them first." He stood up, biting down on his lower lip, sweat forming on the sides of his head and down his back.
Po walked from the window to go to the other side of the room. He noticed the lump of blankets in the corner.
"What's that?" he asked Rodney, pointing toward the corner.
Before Rodney could answer, Po walked over matter-of-factly, quickly pulling the blanket back from the corner. He leaped back, falling on his bottom. He scooted backward on his hands.
Rodney put his hand over his mouth crying out, "It's a dead body!"
"Yeah, we can see that! But be quiet yo, I'm telling you. Or else B or Numbers will hear us.
Po slowly went to toss the blanket on the body again to cover it up. At first, he missed it. The decomposed body stunk so bad it made Po gag. He covered his nose with his arm, crawled near the body and tossed the blanket over it completely this time. He scooted back again.
"I think I know who that was. Looks like Reagan with the shaggy hair. This white kid who was from around the way. He was in the game to get out the hood, too. I was wondering why I hadn't seen him in a while. He was good at what he did, so that lets me know one thing," Po said, his voice shaking.
"What's that?" Rodney asked.
"It means that Numbers will kill even if it means letting go of his best people. They are both ruthless sociopaths," Po said in a shaky low whisper.
"I know I stole that money from a sale but I planned to make it right," Po continued. He turned to look over at Rodney. "Say lil homie. You got to be in here for a reason more than what I did otherwise you'd be dead by now. That tells me one thing and that is he wants to torture you," Po lectured, pointing his finger at his temple. "Yeah, see that? He wants to mess with your mind. Don't let them get to you. If I don't make it out of here, you better. Because I need you to tell my mother and my baby girl that I'm sorry for being such a screw-up. And that I love them both."
Rodney swallowed hard wondering if he would make it out alive himself to keep that promise to Po.
Chapter Twenty
THEN
Coming of age in Oswego consisted of fresh air, summer camps, first kisses and swimming on the lake for most children. But not for Warren Squires. An only child, he was always a loner even after getting in trouble at school for cracking jokes in the middle of class almost daily.
No one wanted to really play or talk to the kid with the big glasses, pimples, and braces. The highwater jeans that his mother mended and made him wear with button-down dress shirts screamed nerd. Warren used comedy as an escape from being bullied. He even perfected a laugh similar to Bart Simpson's. Once he did that, the other kids teased him still, but they thought he was crazy and stayed away from him. Besides, he just looked, weird.
He wanted to be like his father who owned his own hunting gear business, but his father never had time for him. His mother always spoiled him, but as Warren got older, it became too much. The kids at school were starting to tease him and call him a sissy and Momma's boy. One night his father came home drunk from his office party that he did not take his own wife to. He announced he was leaving him and his mother. Warren remembers it as if it were yesterday.
"Earline, I'm leaving you and the boy. I've fallen in love with someone else. One that can cook, clean and screw. In fact, she is pregnant with my child. She is due any day now, and we're having a girl. Family life here is not for me. You're plain, that boy is strange and I can't be a man like this. I need a life. You do understand this, don't you?"
Warren was in his bedroom playing with his video game. He overheard his mother begging his worthless father not to do this.
"Why Warren? Why? What am I supposed to do since all I've ever done was be a housewife? I always asked you to show me the family business and you wouldn't. I don't even know how to drive to go buy gr
oceries," she cried out, whimpering as he the room fell silent.
"First of all, it's my family's business. You don't get a piece of this. Secondly, you'll figure it out Earline. I've already packed, leaving tonight actually. I have left an envelope on the table with some money in there. I'll send you money every week. The divorce should be quick. You will get to keep the house and the car. Get your license so you can drive it. And you won't be touching my businesses. All you have to do is sign it, agree to the amount I'm giving you and that's it. The boy is almost grown anyway. Few more years and he'll be going to college or whatever. Maybe even the military although I doubt he'll make it. He's too weak. Just like you," his father said callously with a wave of his hand.
Earline wept like a dog that just got hit by a car. She couldn't contain herself as her howling cries grew louder and louder. Her body shook, wracked with anger and sadness at the same time. She never saw this coming. What was she going to do? What about their son?
"But Warren, please, let's talk this out. You haven't even given me a chance to understand this. To process this. Why? Just tell me please," she begged, wringing her hands together. She looked him into his cold eyes, eyes she knew all too well, but this time it was different. They seemed eviler. Like he wanted to strangle her. Still, she stood, waiting for a response. He scoffed, waving his hand at her again.
"See that's why. You're too needy. 'Warren do this, Warren we need that'," he said mocking her in a whining woman's voice. He put his hands on his hips, standing with authority, chest sticking out, growing more frustrated by the minute.
Warren Jr. stepped out into the hallway and stood by his parents' bedroom door, watching the whole scene play out. His nostrils were flaring, his hands forming in big mitts on each side. Although Warren Jr. was nerdy, he was growing up and growing fast. He was not lanky like most boys at school. He was becoming thick around the torso and thigh area. Probably from all the carbs his mother fed him and lack of participation in sports.
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