I Know What I Saw

by S E Cunningham

Falling with a loud crash, tumble and thud down the steps, Lance got off the man and pulled him up by his collar.

  "You're not the police, get the hell off me!" the man yelled out, his arms flailing.

  I made it to the bottom of the steps, taking two at a time with the man trying to jerk his way out of Lance's hold. He looked like a helpless chicken that broke its wing with the way Lance was handling his arms. He didn't stand a chance.

  I marched right up to him using the little power I had. He didn't need to know the whole story of me being on leave. I pulled out my badge and flashed it quickly then put it back.

  "I am the police all the way from New York City. And if you don't answer my questions, I will make sure you get locked up today. Now tell me your name and what do you know about this boy in the picture? You have to know something because you took off running!" I growled in his face.

  The man took a deep sigh, defeated with his hands up. "Okay, okay. My name's Johnston. I own this place." He paused.

  "Go on," Lance demanded, not letting go of his grip on Johnston's arm behind his back.

  Johnston sighed deeply. He took a quick look at the picture then back at me. "Yes, I do. I know him."

  I felt my face flush with anger, but I maintained my composure.

  "How do you know him?" I ordered.

  "Because he comes out here whenever I have parties on some school evenings. He and this tall black kid. They came here to help me out with cleaning the place and then I let them stay here."

  Tall black kid sounded like Davion Harris. Geesh. No wonder he couldn't look me in the eye when I was at their house. So much for science study hours.

  And now that I think about it, Rodney always took an Uber home from Davion's house. Now it makes sense. He was really taking it from here, then Davion's house, then home.

  "Go on," I said, stepping closer, keeping the picture enclosed in my fist, holding it in the air.

  Lance tightened his grip on Johnston causing him to scream out. I nodded at Lance signifying for him to ease up. He didn't.

  Johnston started coughing then he rambled on. "Okay, yes I saw him about a week ago. He was here. Some girls did give him some drugs."

  "What?" I hollered.

  Johnston doubled over, with Lance still holding his grip on him. He stood back up. "Wait, wait. No not like that. It was just some pot. Nothing else. I swear."

  I took out my phone and pulled up the pictures Bly sent me. "You mean this makes kids do pot? Nod off? Wonder what's in this pot of yours?"

  "No, no, please! It's not mine. These kids bring it in here. I promise you. I could go to jail for having underage parties. I will lose everything including the new boat I just bought," Johnston said.

  Lance tightened his grip on Johnston causing him to scream again. Gritting my teeth, this time I didn't want Lance to stop.

  "So you mean to tell me that you know Rodney, but you didn't supply him or any of the teens with drugs?" Lance asked behind him.

  Johnston nodded. "Yes, that's right. I do know that one day this tall bald guy came to get Rodney and dragged him out of the club. Even with the music playing loudly, I heard the guy saying something about numbers and hacking. His friend didn't go with him though. He stayed behind to help me clean up."

  I stayed silent so Johnston continued. "That was about two weeks ago and I haven't seen this young man since. When I saw on the news that he was missing, I thought perhaps he was off somewhere doing drugs. I was scared to call it in for fear of being investigated. Please don't call the police on me. Please?" Johnston begged.

  I scowled at him angrily not thinking for a moment that I wasn't going to turn this guy in because I was.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The thick dark sky had fallen, signifying night was near. Rodney sat in his same position, not daring to look up at Po's body. It was hard to imagine that just hours before he was a smooth, fast-talking hustler trying to school Rodney about their common adversaries.

  And now Po was dead.

  Tears fell silently down Rodney's face again as he tried so hard not to think about it. He could feel the heavy presence of death in the room. Although the room was large, it felt small, enclosing in on Rodney.

  I am not going to make it out of here alive, Rodney thought to himself.

  He kept his head down, thinking of ways to manipulate both Brennan and Numbers to grant him access to a computer and let him do what he does best. Hacking.

  "If only," Rodney whispered.

  But he knew manipulating didn't work. Po tried that, and they killed him anyway. Slaughtered him like a pig. They didn't even care that he was a father.

  Rodney thought about his friend Davion who confided in him that his dad was on drugs. Davion was cool, trying to go straight, but he still enjoyed some excitement. That's why Rodney didn't mind taking him with him to the parties at Johnston's place. He knew Davion wanted in on the hacking scheme, but he had a lot to learn. The last time he saw Davion, he promised to teach him.

  "That day may never come for me," Rodney said out loud, sniffling. He shifted his backside a little, still keeping his head down. He refused to look at Po. He was a reminder of what was to come for him.

  After a few minutes of pondering scenarios, Rodney heard the door open. Heavy footsteps ascended down the staircase then stopped. Rodney took a peek up and saw that it was Brennan.

  "Hmph," Brennan said, looking down at Po. He glanced over at Rodney, rolling his eyes at him then back down at Po.

  Dropping a bag at his feet, he took out a roll of Duck tape and went to work quickly. He wrapped up his ankles with the tape first then grabbed his arms and put them across his shredded torso and taped them up, too.

  Humming some tune Rodney did not know, he squinted his one eye as Brennan had his back to him, taking out some tarp in the bag. Brennan stood, shook it out to expand and laid it out flat on the floor. Rodney looked all the way up to take a look at Po again. His eyes were still wide open, his face already discoloring. His face was still to the side, his eyes looked as if to beg to get inside of the pearly gates. Bending back down, he rolled Po into it like a burrito and taped the tarp multiple times.

  Rodney gagged out loud, whispering a prayer for Po. He might have been on drugs, but he didn't deserve to die like that.

  "I see you over there peeking at me. You don't tell us where those copies are, this is what you should expect to happen to you. And then some," Brennan said nonchalantly out loud.

  Rodney swallowed hard, his stomach doing flips as he spoke. "Brennan, I can help you. It doesn't have to be this way." He looked up just in time to see Brennan carelessly wrap the tape around his head, cutting it neatly at the edge with a sharp pair of shears. He dropped Po's head down with a thud making Rodney jump.

  "Well, well, well! Look at what we have here! A neatly wrapped dead body of Pueblo "Po" Rodriguez. Hey B, guess what? I already have a date with his lady," Numbers said laughing, coming down the stairs.

  Brennan chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "Oh yeah? Wow, you don't play man, that was fast."

  Numbers shrugged, coming to stand over next to Brennan. He looked down at Po's remains in the tarp. Rodney looked up and noticed the shovel in Numbers' hand. He held back a whimper that wanted to leap out of his throat.

  "May he rest in piss," Numbers said callously, kicking Po's corpse.

  Brennan swooped up the remains with a grunt, thrusting Po over his shoulder. He held out his hand for the shovel which Numbers handed to him.

  "Before I came down here, I checked the yard, dug you a hole about five-hundred feet away from the back entrance in the yard. It is filled with ice, bushes, and trees. No one will suspect anything."

  Brennan's brow was sweating, but he still carried Po and the shovel with ease. "Very well then, I'll be on my way." He started up the stairs.

  "No coat?" Numbers asked Brennan as if he were going to the store instead of to bury a body.

  "Nope, I'm good. This is actually good weather for me, inni
t?" Brennan said as he closed the door behind him.

  Numbers did a sweeping motion with his boot around on the floor where Po just laid. His hair was tied back in a man bun on top of his head. Chuckling loudly, he glanced over at Rodney.

  "Rodney boy, let me tell you. I know you're scared. I would be, too if I were you. So again, where are the copies?"

  Rodney licked his lips thinking carefully of what to say.

  "Numbers, can I ask you something. Why do you kill? Is it for fun? Because you like to torture? Because-"

  Numbers rushed over and slammed his fist into Rodney's jaw, his head snapping back against the concrete wall.

  "You don't get to ask me anything! Do you understand?" Numbers growled out loud, his fist landing on Rodney's jaw again. Rodney's arms flailed all over, trying to protect his face, the chains hitting him in his forehead.

  "Okay, I'm sorry, please! Don't hurt me!" Rodney hollered.

  Numbers stood back, hopping up from Rodney on the mattress. He turned around to Rodney.

  "You don't get to ask me anything. You're a captive. And soon to be a dead one where you can join your little friend over there. You could've had it all Rodney. But you chose to be a snitch. And I don't care about you making us any money. We just made over seven hundred thousand in a few hours. So trust me, I don't need you for that," Numbers said in a low voice. His eyes grew dark just staring at Rodney.

  "Then what do you need me for Numbers?" Rodney managed to say, rubbing his sore jaw.

  "You will find out eventually. For right now, I like to torture you. Mentally. I bet it's eating you up that you can't go visit your sweet little girlfriend out in Manhattan. What's her name again?" Numbers feigned like he was trying to remember, putting his index finger on his temple. Rodney's brow wrinkled in the middle of his forehead.

  "Oh yeah, that's right. Jessica Garcia. She is pretty. Don't know what she sees in you though," Numbers teased.

  Rodney turned red. He'd better not even think about hurting Jessica. He would kill Numbers himself.

  To shift the focus off of Jessica, Rodney spoke up with something else.

  "Numbers, I need to use the restroom. Can you please unshackle the chains so I can use it please?"

  Going over to the table that was at the end of the room, Numbers reached underneath it. He pulled out an old moldy paint bucket. Tossing it at Rodney's feet, sludge spilled out of it. Rodney covered his nose, picking up the bucket with a corner of the blanket he was using since he had gotten there. Looking up at Numbers who was now glaring at him, he decided to hold it once more.

  "Rodney, you were a good soldier. One that we could depend on. But you threw it all away. And now that I know what I know, I am going to hold off on killing you. At least for now. See, Brennan is like a vampire. He is always willing to go out for blood and cover up his misdeeds way after. In fact, it is me saving your life from Brennan. If I were you, I'd simmer down with Brennan."

  You mean simmer down with the both of you two crazed idiots, Rodney thought to himself. He glanced up at Numbers who was heading back up the stairs. He ignored the throbbing pain in his jaw.

  "One day it'll all make sense. Too bad you will be dead by then to figure it all out," Numbers stated as he went up the stairs.

  Numbers turned around to look at Rodney and laughed again.

  "Again, it's not about that and eventually you would find out why you're being held captive."

  He turned off the lights leaving Rodney to relieve himself in the smelly bucket. The dark didn't bother him. It was what Numbers just said that made Rodney figure out how he was going to live.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The capacity of the warehouse club which I found out was called, "Club Cherry" went from three to about fifty. Cops, forensics, state troopers and the like were swarming all over the place. The lead sergeant named Jan Rogers, a tall white man with a bald head and a fedora on was on edge. He was outside talking to Lance while I gave my statement to a couple of the detectives and sheriffs. They couldn't thank me enough for calling in Johnston's illegal parties.

  "We're shutting this shithole down," the one named Robeson said. She was a Black woman in her forties, who was tall and looked like she played in the WNBA. I couldn't help to notice that while we were standing, I had to look up at her. After my statement, she gave me her card and promised to help with the search for Rodney. I thanked her and went outside to speak to Lance.

  As I went out into the chill, I watched as they stuffed Johnston into the back of the police car. He held his head down at first and then looked up, meeting my glaring eyes. He turned away. That was his best bet.

  "So, you came all the way out here to look for your missing nephew and instead you were able to shut down a club holding illegal underage parties? Right under our noses. That son of a bitch. He was always fronting this place as if it were for adults only. We found out he was also running some organized crime in here," Sergeant Rogers explained. He blew smoke out of his mouth from his cigarette, then tossed it and smashed it with his foot.

  My ears perked up. "Really? What kind of organized crime?" I asked. Lance looked at me and back at Rogers. Just then Lance's phone rang. He looked down at it and frowned.

  "Excuse me, I have to take this call," he said, walking off.

  Rogers and I both nodded. "Okay, so about this organized crime?" I implied again.

  Rogers looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was listening. He stuffed his hands in his trenchcoat pockets.

  "Listen, I shouldn't be telling you this, but this Johnston guy is bad news. Not only is he having underage kids at his club, but he was complacent with distributing crack, cocaine, weed, and MDMA. I am pissed. No one ever snitched or suspected anything. He had his paperwork in order. Operating legally like a regular strip club, you know? This looks very bad on the city," Rogers said shamefully.

  I wondered what the deal was with reputation gloating instead of protecting citizens. Because my main interest was in finding Rodney, I didn't push it further.

  "Anything about hacking? Numbers running?" I prodded.

  Rogers' brow wrinkled. "Nah, at least not that we have as yet. But that could come out." He looked at me strangely. "Why, is this what your nephew is into?"

  "Well, no. I don't know. I know that when I questioned Johnston and showed him Rodney's picture, he told me the last time he saw him was a couple of weeks ago. A tall bald man came and dragged him out of the club and was talking about "numbers" and “hacking". Perhaps you can look into this to make sure it wasn't part of their organized crime ring?" I suggested.

  Rogers raised his eyebrows. "Tall bald guy, huh? That could be anyone. Including me," he said jokingly, taking off his hat. I frowned.

  "Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood because I'm so angry. Listen, I don't know how much help we can be out here, but I suggest you go back out to Oswego and see what's going on out there. We will run the same news reports from Lance and the news station," Rogers explained.

  I nodded my head, sighing deeply. "You know, I came out here to get away from trouble. Seems like it is finding me," I said, shaking my head.

  "Trust me, I know. Over twenty-five years of this and I feel like Johnston should've been caught months ago. Trouble is going to find me when my lieutenant gets in our asses." Rogers took out another cigarette and saw Robeson going to talk to some news reporters who pulled up in a van.

  He looked back at me. "Excuse me, young lady. I have to go play spokesperson about this bust now. If you have any questions or need to talk more about your missing nephew, do call me. I'll help as much as I can," he said, giving me his card.

  "Thanks, and it was nice meeting you," I said, shaking his hand. I watched him as he walked cooly over to the news crew. I walked a few feet over where Lance was near his car on the phone. He was barking something and then hung up.

  "Geesh, can you believe this?" he asked out loud, putting his phone in his pocket.

  "Well, what is it that I won't believe?"r />
  He adjusted his cap on his head, his jaw tightening. Sighing he said, "I told my supervisor that I wanted to run the story about the drug bust and how it could connect to missing teens. He told me to not run the story. What do you think?" he asked me.

  "I agree with your supervisor. While the story would bring awareness, it doesn't directly connect to Rodney. He was spotted one time. Bly never said anything about making a big deal of it, so I'm thinking this was one of those rebellious things my nephew did when he was supposed to be doing his homework," I stated flatly. I can't believe I let this kid play me.

  Lance blew out a breath and scoffed at the mention of Bly. How soon I forget he couldn't stand him. "I get what you're saying, but not for nothing, I think it could connect. Who was this guy? Perhaps there is footage of him taking Rodney out. Or we can ask Davion to give a description of the guy and put out a sketch of him. I don't know Nina, but my gut is telling me this guy could be a key to this." He took out his car keys to open the door.

  "True, I agree. But I already asked Robeson about the footage and so far, it's been all deleted from this morning. The only thing they see on the cameras are our chasing down Johnston in the club. Maybe I can reach out to her and ask if the security company can do more forensics on this. Or I can ask my friend in Brooklyn how this is done," I said.

  "Okay, so what now?" Lance asked.

  I was about to answer him when my phone rang. It was James.

  Listening to James explain that he was still stuck at Dulles airport but should be leaving soon gave me some hope. I was happy to hear from him and briefly ran down the news about the club and that guy spotted taking Rodney out about two weeks ago. He even agreed with us that it could mean something, but we needed more evidence. When I told him about Lance and the new story, he suggested to not run it since it could create more problems for Rodney all over again. I hadn't thought about that. They were already suspicious about the whole thing being a hoax anyway. We chatted for a bit and I told him I had one more lead and for him to please be safe. We hung up the phone.