He unlocked the door, half expecting to find more surprises inside, but it looked the same as he remembered. All evidence of the break-in was gone. Kevin dropped the package and the mail on the counter and picked up the phone. He dialed for the messages.
"You have twelve new messages...” came the automated voice. He hung up, put the phone back in its base and dialed again, this time with the speaker on.
He gave Dave a sad smile. “You can listen with me.” The first couple were hang-ups.
Dave shrugged. “That's normal enough.” The next was the police station doing a follow-up call. “That one, too."
The next made Kevin's blood run cold. Heavy breathing and rhythmic grunts, followed by a, “Fuck me harder, Sir.” He skipped to the next one.
"I've never heard anything like that. The hang-ups sure, but..."
"He did it one other time."
"Did you ever listen to all of it?"
"No.” The next ones were more hang-ups.
The next left Kevin shaking. “Kevin? Well, this is the number you gave me. The least you could do is pick up the phone. I hate talking to these machines. I would appreciate if you would tell your friend to leave me alone. He says you owe him money. I don't know what sort of trouble you've gotten yourself into, and I don't really care. I don't want your sort around my house. Gina was here when he came. I gave him your phone number and address and told him to leave. I would appreciate you doing the same."
He didn't know that he was crying until Dave touched his arm. “My mom,” he whispered.
"You okay, chico?"
He nodded. “At least I know how Josh knew where I lived and got my phone number. I sent them to her, hoping."
The intercom buzzed.
"Let Karen in, but make sure it's her first.” He hung up without listening to the rest. He sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands. The knock on the door startled him. Dave answered it, and Kevin relaxed when Karen Babcock stepped inside.
"I saw the car. I'll see if anyone saw anything, but I doubt it. He probably waited until late to do that."
"I have presents.” He pointed to the counter.
Karen sat down. “Let's see what he sent."
He opened the box and sighed when he pulled out the shattered remains of his cell phone. “Got my phone back.” He studied it for a moment. “The SIM card might still be good.” A closer inspection showed that it had been wet. “Probably not."
Dave took it from him and turned it around in his hands. “What was the point of taking it then?"
"To get Kevin's phone number and any numbers stored in the phone."
His wallet, completely empty, was also in the box. Kevin sighed and shook his head. “Guess I'll be calling my credit card companies and getting a new driver's license. He took my money and my bank card."
Dave's mouth hung open.
"I don't think I'm going to get to work today. You might as well go. Tell Cheryl..."
"No way. How are you going to get around?"
"You can drop me off at the rental place."
"You need a license and a credit card for a rental,” Karen said. “And you don't have those."
Dave's concern was touching, but he saw no reason to make him miserable, too.
"How are you going to explain this, Dave? I couldn't."
"Watch me.” He dialed work again. “Cheryl. We aren't going to make it after all. No, but Kevin didn't have his wallet, and when we got back here, we discovered more vandalism. We're fine. We'll be there tomorrow.” He hung up. “See, that was easy."
Kevin managed to smile. “Thanks.” He pulled the last item out of the box. A photo of him asleep in his bed. The caption read: Dogs like you sleep in cages. Kevin grimaced and passed the photo to Karen.
"What's in the envelope?” She pointed to the white envelope lying on the table.
His hands were shaking when he opened it. There was only a letter, which he read out loud. “You called the fucking cops. I'm almost impressed, but you have no proof that I did a thing to you. I wasn't in your apartment. I have more class than that, and if I had been there, I would have...” He dropped the letter, bile rushing to his throat. “I can't read the rest of that,” he whispered, his earlier calm slowly falling away.
Karen picked up the letter and scanned it, then folded it and put it back in its envelope. “Doug went to visit Harding yesterday. He denied any involvement with you beyond your relationship, but he was warned to stay away from you. I'm waiting on the warrants. I can't do anything until they go through, unless he openly threatens you."
"I knew that wouldn't do any good. He's too clever for that to work. I know how he got my phone number and address.” He pointed to the phone. “Play the messages for Karen."
Dave got up and dialed the number, forwarding through the messages until he got to the one from Kevin's mom. Hearing it the second time didn't make it hurt any less.
"Play the rest,” Karen said. There were a few more hang-ups, and then another one from his mom.
"Kevin, I told you to tell this man to go away. He was here again today. I'm going to call the cops on both of you if this doesn't stop.” Another hang-up, and then ... “Kevin, I'm starting to get scared. Why aren't you answering your phone? He was here again, but I didn't answer the door this time. At least have the courtesy to tell me why I'm being harassed because of your debts."
Karen nodded a little and tucked the letter into her purse. “Her mask cracked a little there at the end. She's worried about you."
Kevin buried his face in his hands. “That doesn't make the words hurt any less."
"No, but it's something."
"I think I'd like to go see her.” He went to the closet and reached in the back, behind the shelf he'd installed, and pulled out a tin. “Dave, can you do me a favor?"
"Sure, chico. What do you need?"
He opened the tin and pulled out a roll of bills.
Dave's eyes widened. “How much money do you have there, and how long has that been in there?"
"A long time. I add to it weekly. It's my emergency money. I'd hoped I'd never need it.” He counted out two hundred dollars and handed it him. “Can you go to a phone place and get one of those prepaid phones? Put it in your name if you have to, and make sure the number is different than my old one. I'll pay you back if I need to.” He shoved the rest of the money into the tin and stuck it in his pocket.
"Sure, but what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to see my mom.” He met Karen's easy gaze. “You're probably busy, but—"
"I'll go with you. I'd like to ask her some questions. I can take you back to Connor's afterwards."
Kevin nodded. “I'm sorry, Dave."
"We're going to stop the little bastard, Kevin, so you can be happy."
Kevin looked to Karen for confirmation.
"I'm doing my best. Do you have a picture of him that we could show your mom?"
Dave shook his head. “All of his pictures—"
He walked back to his bedroom and pulled a box from under the bed. It was crunched around the corners, and he'd never unpacked it. He'd just carried it from place to place, not really sure what was inside. He opened it and stared at the contents. On top was a flogger he'd bought for himself years earlier. It had cost him a small fortune at the time, and back then he didn't really have the money to buy something quite so frivolous. Trust Nicki to make certain to get that when she and Mark had gotten his things.
He tossed the flogger on the bed and dug through the box until he came up with framed pictures. He finally found one of Josh, looking suave and sleek in a suit. The picture had been taken the day of a wedding for a mutual friend. He noticed other things in the box, including a leather vest that he pulled out and tossed on the bed with the flogger. There were books, a few CD's. Maybe he'd go through the box one day. He worked the frame open and pulled out the picture, barely glancing at the inscription written on the back. Seeing Josh's face made his stomach clench tight.
"You have pictures of him?” Dave looked horrified.
"Not really. I have a box of things I've never unpacked, one of the two boxes Nicki and Mark got. I remembered seeing some pictures in there. I might look in the box after all.” He shrugged. “I don't really know what's in it."
"This is better than nothing.” She put that in her purse. “Are you ready, Kevin?"
"No, but I'm never going to be."
He gave Karen the address and sat in the front of her car, watching the scenery go past, unable to shake the feeling that he was going back in time. This neighborhood, the one he'd grown up in, hadn't changed all that much. The cars were newer. Some of the businesses were different, but the houses looked much the same. The confidence he'd found that morning eroded until he felt like a naughty boy being escorted home for punishment. He was certain he was wearing some badge of his shame. Even worse, he felt dirty and violated, and he wished he could go back to Connor's apartment and crawl into the bed where he felt safe and loved.
Karen respected his silence until they got to his mother's street. The houses here were all quaint, rock and brick homes, mostly built in the forties and fifties. The neighborhood was still nice, popular with young couples just starting a family. “What kind of reception are you likely to get?"
"Nothing good. The last time I spoke to her, she gave me a tongue lashing before she slammed the door in my face. She wouldn't even let me go in the house to get my things."
Karen laid a sympathetic hand on his arm. “Wait in the car for a few minutes.” She parked on the street and got out. Kevin watched her go to the door. His mom poked her head outside and opened the door when Karen showed her badge. He laid his head against the seat's headrest and closed his eyes, trying desperately to find his calm. The tap on the window startled him so much that his heart raced, and his breath came a little faster until he realized it was Karen who stood outside.
She opened the door. “She isn't happy, but she's agreed to talk to you. Evidently, she filed a report, but since she couldn't give a name, it'll get lost in paperwork."
Kevin got out of the car and swallowed hard, wishing he could do something to ease the churning in his stomach. “I'm not ready for this,” he admitted. “And this wasn't how I wanted to open lines of communication again."
She smiled, but the smile didn't warm her eyes. “This might be for the best."
He followed her to the door and hesitated a moment before he stepped inside. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, still trying to shake the feeling of being a troublesome schoolboy. The house itself hadn't changed much, but the furniture was different. The worn, comfortable furnishings he remembered had been replaced with a couch and two chairs all upholstered in cream. Pretty throw pillows added a bit of color to the stark fabric. The mahogany end tables were bare of decoration, except for a pair of crystal lamps, and the coffee table's only adornment was a couple of art books. Hideous art, Kevin noted. Pastel landscapes with cutesy cottages. Nothing with soul.
The furniture was spotless. The hardwood floor had been covered with an oriental rug that looked expensive. There was no TV, no magazines, and no sign of real life, except on the wall leading back to the bedrooms. It was covered with photographs, mostly of him. He moved toward the pictures, noticing some were recent. Photos he'd sent with his cards. One was a framed playbill of a musical he'd choreographed just before he met Josh. There was a small bookcase tucked in a nook meant for a telephone stand, and on top of it was a basket filled with the cards he'd faithfully sent, lovingly displayed for anyone to look through. He thumbed through them, and tears burned his eyes when he turned away, moving back to the living room and its cold formality.
"You keep all of the cards I send, frame the photos, and you couldn't send one letter or make one phone call?” The words were bitter, but it hurt. He'd been able to survive having no family as long as he thought his mother hated him, but this was worse. Knowing that she cared enough to keep the things he sent, but not enough to speak to him, hurt far more.
His stomach clenched and knotted. He'd avoided looking at her until now. She was still thin, the sort of thin that came from watching each bite carefully. Her dark hair had liberal streaks of gray through it, and it was still long and neatly pinned into a bun. Her face had more wrinkles now, but she was still a handsome woman with high cheekbones and narrow, pointed features. Her makeup had been perfectly applied, and she sat ramrod straight, dressed in a nice pair of black slacks and a ruffled white blouse. Only her eyes gave any indication of her mood. Kevin had inherited those eyes that changed color with every emotion. They were dark and stormy right now.
"You're here.” Her voice sounded as cold as the living room felt. “Sit down and explain yourself. The detective said you would explain.” He sat in one of the chairs, half afraid he would scuff or mar the pale fabric.
He swallowed again, trying to get some sort of moisture in his mouth. “Did you explain anything?” he asked Karen.
"I'll leave that to you."
"Well?” His mother snapped the question, the same way she'd once snapped orders at him. “Explain. I'm waiting. You didn't answer my phone calls."
He couldn't keep the panic out of his voice. “I don't answer the phone. I never answer the phone.” She seemed a bit startled, and he buried his face in his hands, not sure what to say. He still felt as if he'd been transported back in time, and he was once again a teenager facing his mother's disapproval. “Show her the picture."
Karen pulled the picture from her purse and held it up. “Is this the man that's been bothering you, Mrs. Stohler?"
"Raymond. It's Raymond. I used my maiden name after Carl and I divorced.” She took the picture and lifted the glasses around her neck up to her eyes. She held the photo at arm's length and stared at it. “Yes, that's him.” She handed the picture back. The glasses lowered, and she fixed Kevin with the same stare she used to give him when he sneaked into the house after curfew. “He says you owe him money."
Panicked laughter forced its way out. If he didn't laugh, he would cry, and he was determined to save the tears for when he was with Connor. “If anyone owes money, he owes me."
Her face hardened, and her eyes turned menacingly dark. He quelled the laughter, but the panic remained, barely contained.
"Mom, you gave my phone number and address to a man who put me in the hospital four times, nearly killed me, and used that information to break into my apartment. I was asleep. I didn't wake up. He's controlled my life for five years. I've had to move twice. I've changed my phone number three times, and now I'm going to have to move again. Right now, I have no driver's license, no credit cards, no bank card. I'm staying with a friend. That's why I didn't return your calls.” The panic eased off, and he found a bit of calm.
To her credit, his mother didn't blink or show any sign of shock, at least outwardly. Her eyes told another story. The color changed, lightening a little.
"How was I to know that?” The hard edge in her voice made him cringe. “You didn't tell me."
"That's hardly something to put in a card. Would you rather I wrote: Dear Mom, things are great. My lover beats me senseless when I make him mad, which is most of the time, but I couldn't be happier."
She did flinch then.
He regretted his flippant tone, but he couldn't resist a glance toward the back wall. Knowing she still cared rankled and hurt more than he ever could have imagined. “I don't want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I can't change who and what I am, but this has to stop. I can't live in constant fear anymore. I'm afraid to be alone, afraid to answer the phone. I'm always ready to run when he gets to close. He trashed my car. I lost one job because he kept calling me there, and I'm lucky enough to have an understanding boss at my current job. Josh.” He pointed to the pic
ture Karen still held. “That's his name. Josh Harding. He did nothing but call and send letters after I left. Or rather, after I was rescued. I can only call what happened a rescue, because I would have bled to death in the house we shared if I hadn't found the strength to crawl to the phone. He didn't let me use the phone, but he left me alone after he brutalized me. I called a friend and when she got to the house, I was unconscious. My friends wouldn't let me go back, and I'm very grateful for that."
His mom was visibly shaken now, and she took the photo from Karen again, staring at it without her glasses “I thought there was something off about him.” It was as close to a word of support as he was likely to get from her. He tamped the hurt down. “He said you have AIDS."
"I don't have AIDS.” Of course, she would think that. She'd told him he would end up with AIDS when he came out. She didn't believe him either. “I've been tested eleven times since I left him. They were all negative. I'll go get another one if that's what it takes to convince you. He's said a lot of things about me. He called my last job and told my boss that I was sleeping with my supervisor, but I wasn't. He outed me at my current job, and I was very lucky. My boss likes me and was sympathetic because she has a lesbian daughter, otherwise I would have lost that job, too."
"If this story is true, then why would he come to me?” She passed the picture back to Karen and primly crossed her legs.
Karen cleared her throat. “Most likely to find out information. I assume he knows that Kevin sends you cards and pictures and updates about his life. He was probably fishing for—"
"To hurt me,” Kevin said simply. “He wants to hurt me. He's angry because I found someone else. I met someone who's decent and respects me. He doesn't scream at me or hit me or force me to do things I don't want to.” He met his mother's gaze, hoping she would ask what he meant, but he still saw that hardness, the denial that he could have a meaningful relationship with another man. He bowed his head. “He's jealous. He thinks he owns me because I said I'd love him forever.” He couldn't tell her more than that, and he didn't want to. “He's threatened to kill me."
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