by Jo Raven
***
We’re all quiet.
I suck in the clear, fresh night air and glance back at the house.
This was a bust. A fucking bust, and that was my last idea.
My head hurts. My mind echoes, blank. This whole charade, this whole stupid break in was for nothing. I can’t even bring myself to look at Zane and Dakota who’re walking slowly around the house, toward the street, their steps dragging.
See, I was right earlier. I’ve failed them. Spectacularly.
I kick at the dry leaves littering the yard and wish I were at the gym with a punching bag to let my frustration out. If we leave now, I doubt we’re ever coming back. This was it, the one chance to solve this mystery.
“Come over to our place,” Erin says. “We live closest. There we can talk.”
“About what?” Zane grinds out, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. He’s gazing somewhere off to the left, but I doubt he’s actually seeing anything. “Filed the report. Broke into his house. Didn’t find shit. We’re done.”
Though I agree with him, I nod at Erin. “Let’s go, man. We can sit there in quiet for a while before we go pick up the kids. We need a break after this shit.”
The stench of the house is clinging to my clothes, to my skin. It’s as if I can still smell it, and it almost makes me retch.
Dakota looks up at Zane. “Just for an hour. Drink some tea, warm up.” The hands she lifts to Zane’s shoulders are shaky, and he seems to notice, too.
“Okay,” he says finally, wrapping his arms around her. “Let’s go for a while.”
We walk together toward the street, a brooding, quiet group, our soles crunching on the accumulated litter.
Somewhere to my right, there’s a muffled thump, and I slow down. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Asher squints at me.
“There was a thud.” I glance at the house, a looming, malevolent presence and suppress a shiver.
The others stop, look around.
“There’s nothing here, man.” Zane kicks at some leaves. “Can we just get the hell outta here?”
So that’s what we do, walking quickly off the property and piling into our cars. We peel off fast, as if we can’t wait to get away from this place.
“There was something about that house,” Megan says softly as I step on the gas, shivers dancing up and down my spine. “Something sinister.”
I know what she means. Like it’s haunted or something. Maybe that’s what the neighbor saw and heard. A ghost. Like that phantom thud I heard as we left.
Jesus Christ. Would you listen to yourself, Rafe.
I’m not superstitious. Sure, my dad was Sicilian, and I remember he had a few quirks. For instance, he believed in malocchio—the evil eye—and used to wear a horn-shaped pendant on a chain around his neck to avert it.
Much good it did him.
Funny that I remember this now. Has to be because of what I know about Kenneth Shaw. He is no sorcerer or witch. He’s a flesh and blood criminal, a rapist of kids. In fact there aren’t any words strong enough, vile enough, to describe the son of a bitch.
And he’s walking free.
We file up to the apartment like prisoners on a death row. Silent. Shuffling our feet, lost in our thoughts. Tyler unlocks and helps Erin make fresh pots of coffee and tea, and after it’s served, we lounge on their sofas and armchairs, glum and worn out.
This sucks balls on an unprecedented level. It’s a major clusterfuck. A huge set-back.
And none of us know how to fix it.
“So…” Asher glances at us, his pale gray eyes troubled. “Any thoughts about today?”
“Fucker, you sound like a CEO at a merger meeting,” Zane drawls. He glares at Tyler who snickers. “Something funny?”
I’m fucking glad he seems okay. I expected a backslide after visiting the house. Possibly a flashback.
“Been to a lot of merger meetings lately?” Tyler’s grin is unrepentant.
Zane smirks, one side of his mouth tipping up. “Shut up.”
The tension in the room goes down a notch. It’s as if a collective sigh has gone up.
“Well,” Megan says after a bit. “I have a theory about the disappearance of Kenneth Shaw.”
“Let’s hear it.” Dylan waves a hand, the gesture tired.
“We assume the police haven’t reached him yet. But what if they left a message on his phone, asking him to call back or something? Then he’d know something is up, and he decides to lie low for a while, making sure they’re off his track.”
“That wouldn’t be very careful on the part of the police,” Tyler mutters.
“But they don’t believe there’s anything they can do,” I argue. “Even if they believe Zane’s testimony, they basically told us nothing will come out of it. The man won’t confess. That much is fucking clear. So they don’t have any reason to be careful.”
“Goddammit.” Asher rakes both hands through his spiky hair.
“Maybe… maybe this is a good thing,” Zane says.
We all stare at him.
What the what?
“As long as he isn’t fostering kids anymore,” he goes on as if he hasn’t noticed the heavy silence. I bet he hasn’t, too lost in his own thoughts. “Maybe I was the last one he abused. Maybe this is all over. I can live with that.” When Asher grunts, Zane shoots him a sharp look. “I should fucking learn to live with that, Ash. Let him go, and hope he never comes back.”
Who’s to say he’s not right? Not like there’s anything else we can do.
“Dammit, he was here a week ago,” Asher says. “And the trash in the house seems about a week old. As if he left right after Zane last saw him.”
“That would contradict Megan’s theory,” Dakota says.
I frown. Megan’s theory makes sense to me, whereas the other one… “Why would he skip town after seeing Zane? For all he knows, Zane never reported him. He wouldn’t know Zane went to the police until today. For all we know, he wouldn’t even recognize Zane today. It’s been twelve years.”
“But the trash…” Tessa starts.
“He’s a psycho. Who knows how his sick mind works? Maybe he likes to sit among rotting things.”
Zane makes a faint noise and pales. “It always stank of rot,” he whispers. “The attic. Rotten wood and rotten meat. Sour.”
Hell.
Dakota leans into him, wrapping her arms around him.
“So he likes rot.” I clear my throat, because there’s a knot there the size of a boulder. “What if he isn’t gone yet?”
“And where is he hiding?”
Yeah, I don’t have a fucking answer. He might be staying in a motel somewhere until he’s sure the police won’t come sniffing around anymore.
But then why hasn’t he answered the phone, denied the accusations and gone on with his life? Wouldn’t it be easier? What would be the logic behind ignoring the police?
Unless he doesn’t know what the police want, what they know about him, and he panicked.
Seems to me we’ve all been in a state of panic this past month, and I’m having a hard-ass time thinking clearly. There’s a dull ache behind my eyes, hammering my skull to the rhythm of my heartbeat. I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying in vain to get rid of the pain.
“So we give up?” Erin asks, her voice small. She glances at Zane and gathers herself together with obvious effort. “I think this isn’t up to us. Zane should make that call.”
“Yeah. We’re with you, whatever you decide, Zen-man,” Dylan says, and Asher makes an agreeing noise—or maybe he’s just growling with irritation.
We look at Zane, and I wonder if this is the right thing to do—putting more fucking pressure on him when he’s clearly about to snap.
Then again, Erin is right. This is his battle. We’re just his army. He’s the one in charge.
He doesn’t say anything for a long time. He stares at us with eyes that are a bit too bright, his hands clutching Dakota’s. His
Mohawk is straighter today, in spite of everything that has gone down, and I can see him in my mind’s eye fixing it with gel and hairspray before leaving home. Making it as tall and intimidating as possible.
Getting ready for war.
And now this… this defeat. He’s gonna say we should let this go, I just know it. He more or less said it earlier, and I can’t blame him for not wanting to keep smashing his head against this wall.
Dammit. Shooting to my feet, I stalk to the window and look outside. I can’t take it. Can’t fucking look at him.
“Look, guys.” Zane’s voice is so low I strain to hear him, low and raspy like he’s been chain-smoking for days. It wouldn’t surprise me. “I can’t fucking do this anymore. Can’t let you put yourselves in more danger because of me, so yeah. Calling this off.”
I glance up sharply. He’s thinking of us, when he’s the one being torn apart? I open my mouth to say something, a curse most probably, when my phone rings.
Makes me jump up a mile, and I curse, hunting for it in my pockets. “Hold that thought.” I connect the call. “Yeah?”
“Mr. Vestri?” The male voice is familiar. “Wesley Logan with the police department. I have tried contacting Mr. Madden, but his phone seems to be switched off.”
I glance at Zane who’s staring at me, mouthing, “Who’s that?”
“Probably,” I say. I should pass the phone to Zane but for some reason I don’t. “What’s up?”
“What’s…?” Wesley produces a sound like a strangled parrot. “You do know I am a police detective, Mr. Vestri?”
“Yeah, I remember. You also said there was nothing you could do for this case. See? I remember fucking everything.”
“This isn’t a joke Mr. Vestri. I wouldn’t call if this wasn’t serious. This boy you mentioned to me. Could his name have been Tyrese? Tyrese Weir?”
I frown and turn toward Zane. “Hey, Z-man. That boy who vanished from Kenneth’s house when you were a kid… Could his name have been Tyrese Weir?”
All blood drains from his face so fast I’m rushing toward him the moment the words leave my mouth, certain he’s about to pass out.
“Fuck!” Asher grabs him, pushes him forward until his face is between his knees. “What the hell?”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I mutter, my heart hammering. “What did you find out, Wesley?”
“It’s Detective Logan,” he says stiffly. “The records say that Tyrese Weir vanished from the house of Kenneth Shaw at about the time your friend Zane Madden was there. The time he claims the abuse took place.”
“Good.” A growl is rising in my throat and my hands are clenching. “Anything else?”
“You know that it’s common that kids take off from foster homes if they aren’t happy.”
“No, I don’t know. Where are you going with this?”
“Kenneth Shaw reported that this boy, this Tyrese, ran away and never came back. Social services waited to see where he’d turn up.”
“And?” I swear, I’m disconnecting if he doesn’t tell me something interesting in the next five seconds.
“He never turned up. Tyrese Weir vanished from the map. He may have left the state, or changed his name. We can’t know for sure. It’s a big country.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I mutter, but I feel chilled to the bone. “Wesley. Detective Logan. What aren’t you telling me?”
“We’re going to get a warrant to search the house in Wausau where Kenneth Shaw lived at the time. But meanwhile… Don’t go anywhere near him.”
I lick my dry lips, watching as Zane straightens, reassuring Asher that he’s okay. “And why?”
“We have your friend’s report. And a missing child from the same time. That’s enough for social services to push for an investigation. The man could be dangerous. Just keep away.”
I disconnect the call. “Well, fuck.”
Chapter Twenty Seven
Megan
Zane looks as if he’s seen a ghost, and Rafe looks like he’s about to murder someone, or maybe his phone.
He wanders back to us and perches on the armrest of the sofa next to me. He places a heavy hand on my shoulder and I lean into his solid strength and warmth.
“That was the police,” Rafe says and his tone tells me this is serious. “That boy, Tyrese Weir. He’s been missing since you last saw him, Zane. Since you filed your report and realizing that boy never appeared again, social services are now pushing for a search warrant for Kenneth Shaw’s house in Wausau.”
“Jesus, fucker, do you think…?” Zane chokes on the words. “Kenneth killed Tyrese?”
Oh God.
“It’s possible. Either that, or Tyrese died from the abuse. Hell, man, you…” Rafe swallows thickly. “You’re damn lucky to be here, aren’t you?”
The reality of what they’re saying is slowly sinking in, sharp claws digging into my mind. Zane could have died twelve years ago. Other kids may have died in that house.
My stomach hurts thinking about it. “And if…?” I draw a deep breath. “If he’s such a psycho, who knows if in his house here…?”
I don’t even have to finish. Everyone stiffens.
“What if he does have children at the house here in Madison?” Audrey whispers. “What if we missed some clue? By the time the police get the warrant for the house in Wausau and find anything…”
“Yeah, we need to act now. We have to check the house one more time,” Rafe says. “But we’ve looked everywhere. Where—?”
“That thud you heard,” Tessa says, her knee jumping nervously where her legs are crossed. “What if there’s a room we haven’t checked?”
“We checked all the rooms,” Asher mutters. “But what if—”
“A basement,” Zane says.
There’s a hush.
“We didn’t find a door to the basement.”
“Could be hidden. Walled up.”
“But the thud…?”
“May be an outside door.”
Holy shit. I feel as if someone is holding my heart in a tight grip. “You think there are kids trapped in there?”
Suddenly everyone is getting up and gathering their jackets.
Rafe slides his arm around me and hauls me toward the door. “Time to find out.”
***
Energy crackles in the air between us as we spill out of our cars and circle Kenneth Shaw’s house once more.
Something has changed. We have a specific purpose, a specific destination this time around, regardless of how flimsy the clues are.
We spread along the length of the house and start kicking at the heaps of fallen leaves, trying to see something. Anything. Erin and Tyler had a few flashlights at home, and we have brought them with us. Small cylinders of light cut through the dark as we check.
“Here!” We turn toward Asher who’s holding up the flashlight to illuminate something Audrey is clearing litter from. “It’s a trapdoor.”
A trapdoor with a huge padlock, flush with the ground.
“Jesus fuck.” Zane stalks up to it and drops to his knees. He raps a fist on it. Once. Twice.
There’s a distant thud from inside.
I can barely hear it over the sound of blood rushing in my ears.
There’s someone in there.
Good God. Someone is in there, and we have to open that door.
“Gonna get the tools from the car,” Asher says, and I sink down on my knees beside Zane, putting a hand on his arm.
“Can’t believe this,” I breathe.
“We still don’t know what we’ll find,” he mutters, but he has both hands splayed over the rusty metal as if he can feel something through it.
When Asher returns, everyone gathers around the trapdoor. He works his magic, pushing and twisting a thin metal rod into the padlock. Who knew Asher Devlin is a specialist in breaking and entering?
Not even his own brother, from the looks of it. Tyler is staring at Asher as if he’s grown two heads overnight.
“We’ll talk about this later,” he grumbles.
Asher doesn’t seem to hear him. The trapdoor is rusty, but the padlock looks brand new and heavy duty. The metal rod doesn’t do the trick, so Ash fishes out a thing with a small hook at the end and tries that.
“How did you know there was a basement?” I ask Zane as we watch this attempt fail as well. “Not all houses around here have basements.”
Zane sits back and when Dakota sits down next to him, he almost absently pulls her closer to him with an arm around her shoulders. “Nothing else made sense.”
Third time’s the charm, and the lock opens with a loud click. Asher pulls the padlock off and Tyler leans over to help him pull the flaps open.
They thump on the ground, raising a small cloud of dust that swirls in the narrow beams of the flashlights.
Quiet.
Faint sounds, like the thumping of my heart.
A rustle as Dylan and Tessa step closer.
A car honking in a street not far.
But mostly quiet.
“Hello!” Rafe leans over the opening. “Is anybody there?”
We wait.
Nothing.
“I’m going in first,” Rafe says.
“Then I’m going with you.” I look at him until he nods.
“But I go first,” he sets his conditions. “Hold the flashlight for me.”
I take it and shine light into the opening. It’s like a mouth in the Earth, an entrance to the underworld.
“I should be the one to go first,” Zane says, standing up.
“No fucking way,” Asher, Dylan and Erin say at the same time.
“Zane, no.” Dakota scrambles up and laces her arms around his hips. “Let them go first.”
“I can’t. I need to fucking see what’s down there.”
“Let us go first,” I say, “and then we’ll call out, and you can come right after.”
If there’s something bad down there, something shocking, I don’t want him to see. Not when he’s so shattered already.
And I know everyone is thinking the same, because as Rafe lowers his legs into the opening and I point the flashlight into the darkness below, I see our friends form a human net around Zane and Dakota, a web of protection. A wall, not letting him through until Rafe and I give the okay.