by James Hunt
Donnie rubbed his left hand with his thumb. He had jet-black hair that was shaggy and covered most of his face that was speckled with red acne. Jim caught a flash of braces when Donnie finally lifted his head. He had the look of a rocker teenager but the energy of an emo kid.
“What do you want to know?” Donnie asked.
Jim decided to start off easy by lobbing some softballs to get the kid warmed up. “What can you tell me about that time at the afterschool program?” Jim asked.
Donnie provided an over-exaggerated shrug, the classic teenager reaction. “I don’t know. It was fun, I guess, for a little bit.”
“What do you remember about your interaction with Samuel Collins?” Jim asked.
It was only the briefest of details, but Jim noticed how Donnie flinched at the mention of Sam’s name. Anybody else probably wouldn’t have noticed, but Jim did.
“He was okay,” Donnie answered, sheepish and quiet.
“It’s not always easy to talk about things that happened in our past,” Jim said. “But if we don’t deal with those emotions from our past, they will distract from our future.”
“You steal that from a fortune cookie?” Donnie asked.
Jim knew the sarcasm was simply a defense mechanism. Samuel had worked his magic on the boy very well. Even after all these years, he was still afraid to talk about what happened.
“He’s done it again, you know,” Jim said.
Donnie looked up, meeting Jim’s gaze directly for the first time. “What?”
“I’m working a missing person case,” Jim answered. “A young boy, age nine, has gone missing. Like you, he attended an afterschool program run by Samuel.”
Donnie grew more agitated at the mention of both Samuel and the missing kid. “I don’t… I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I need proof, Donnie,” Jim answered. “If you can give me evidence that Samuel has acted inappropriately with children before, I would have enough probable cause to issue a search warrant for his house.”
“What kind of proof do you need?” Donnie asked.
Jim could tell that Donnie was considering telling him the truth. It was hanging off the tip of his tongue, just waiting to be spoken aloud. But Jim could understand how difficult it was to finally speak the truth that had been rattling around in his mind for years. After a while, you started to wonder if it was even true at all.
“I think that what your mother said happened to you all those years ago was true,” Jim said. “But I need to hear that truth from you now. It could save another kid’s life.”
Donnie was on the verge of tears now.
“He can’t hurt you anymore, Donnie,” Jim said. “I promise you.”
“You don’t know that,” Donnie said. “You can’t make any promises. No one can.”
Jim knew that in dealing with whatever traumas he suffered under Samuel, Donnie was also dealing with the trauma of a neglectful mother. All of the meaningful relationships he should have had with adults had been tainted.
“I can make that promise,” Jim said. “And I wouldn’t make it unless I could keep it. You help me, Donnie, and you’ll be making sure I find another lost boy. A boy who trusted Samuel, just like you did. And who had their trust betrayed by Samuel. Just like you did.”
The tears were streaming down Donnie’s face, and when the kid opened his mouth, he could barely get the words out as he spoke.
“He touched me,” Donnie said. “He would do it in the locker rooms when no one was around. It started slowly at first. He would just watch me shower by myself, and he would… touch himself.”
Alice gasped, and then Jim heard what sounded like a choking sound as she struggled to keep her composure.
“But then he started asking me to do things to him,” Donnie said, his voice quiet and trembling. “He told me that this was something special that he only did with me. He would tell me that it was because I was special and how important it was to keep it a secret or our friendship would be over. He was very good at that, establishing that relationship with me early on. He made me think that there was no one else that I could trust.” Donnie’s voice cracked on the last word just before he broke down. He uttered one more phrase, “Not even my own mother.”
Donnie collapsed forward and buried his face in his hands. Alice immediately rushed to her nephew’s side, and the pair held onto one another. Jim remained silent, allowing the two family members to share their moment. It wasn’t until Donnie had finished crying and collected himself that Jim started to speak again.
“Thank you for telling me this, Donnie,” Jim said. “I know how difficult that must’ve been for you. I went through some very troubling abuse myself at a young age. It’s something that never truly goes away, but you will learn to cope in healthier ways.”
“So, you’re going to stop him?” Donnie asked.
“I will,” Jim said, and then he rubbed his palms together. “But I’m going to need you to go on the record with the information you just told me.”
Donnie looked from Jim to his aunt, concerned. “I thought this was on the record. You mean I have to go through that again?”
“Isn’t what he already gave you enough?” Alice asked.
“I’m afraid it’s not,” Jim answered. “Until we have something on the record that we can submit to the district attorney’s office for court—"
Donnie immediately started to freak out. He shot up out of bed and scrambled past his aunt. “You mean that everyone will know what happened to me?”
“We will keep your name and other information private,” Jim answered, trying to calm the boy’s fears. “No one will know it was you who gave Samuel up.”
“Why should I believe you?” Donnie asked. “All this time, he’s been out there, probably hurting other kids. The cop who spoke to me before only questioned me for two minutes. He knew that my mom was having trouble. And they used that against her and me. What makes you any different, huh?”
Jim chose his next words carefully. Without the kid’s recorded testimony, the search warrant was toast.
“I don’t think there’s anything I could say that would make you trust me,” Jim said. “After what your family went through, after what you went through, I can understand your trepidation in trusting authority. But maybe you’ll trust a kid who lived in the foster system. Maybe you’ll trust someone who understands what it’s like to fear for your life. Someone who understands the helplessness you feel at the hands of the adults who are meant to protect you and take care of you but betray that trust and hurt you in ways that you didn’t think were possible. Hurt you in ways that you should have never experienced as a child. I was that kid, Donnie. It was the reason I became a cop. To help those who couldn’t help themselves. I wish I could’ve been there for you back then. I wish I could’ve been the responding officer that had taken your case. But I wasn’t. Nothing I do, or you do, will change what happened. All we can do is focus our efforts on making sure others don’t share our same fate. Help me, Donnie. Help me put someone very bad behind bars, so no one has to experience what he did to you, or any other child, ever again.”
It was the best plea Jim could offer. With all of his cards on the table, Jim waited anxiously for Donnie’s answer. Jim could tell that the boy was still afraid. And that was completely understandable. It took courage to face your demons and even more courage to confront the demons of someone else.
Donnie looked back to his aunt, who was still teary-eyed and gave an encouraging nod. The gesture seemed to give Donnie a bit of bravery, and he faced Jim with a level of determination he hadn’t shown before.
“I’ll do it,” Donnie said. “I will give you a recorded statement. I don’t care if my name goes on it.”
Jim could’ve told Donnie at that moment that his name wouldn’t be on any of the documents because he was a minor, but he knew the young man was having a moment, and he didn’t want to ruin it.
“Thank you,” Jim said.
W
ith Donnie’s commitment for a recorded statement against Samuel, Jim would then ask a judge for a search warrant. It was time for Samuel’s reign of abuse and manipulation to come to an end.
10
The images of the dead man were still very bright and vivid in Kerry’s mind when she returned to the precinct, and when she parked, she pulled down the visor to check her makeup. It was here she saw the specks of blood on her cheek.
Kerry stared at it for a moment and then quickly grabbed a napkin from the glove compartment and wiped off the blood. She checked the rest of her clothes, arms, and legs to make sure she was free from any other traces of the murder she had witnessed and then tried to drown out the screams she’d heard, muffled by the gag.
Even though Kerry’s adrenaline had run its course, she remained on edge as she tried to collect herself in the precinct’s parking lot. She drew in deep, slow breaths and exhaled to calm her nerves. It was more difficult than it should have been, but she finally managed to set aside the images she had seen less than an hour ago and prepare herself for what came next.
Kerry had the piece of paper with Cutters’ tip crushed in her hand. She had already memorized the date, location, and time, but she held it tight. All she had to do was tell the VICE detectives what to expect, and it would be done.
But she doubted this would be the end.
Kerry walked toward the precinct and entered through the front door. She no longer had a key to the side entrances since her leave of absence, and she didn’t want to cause a stir by breaking any rules.
The desk sergeant, Tony Hale, smiled at her and signed her in. Normally somebody would need to be escorted into the bullpen, but Kerry was allowed to enter by herself.
Without even realizing it, Kerry started walking toward her old desk in search of Jim. It was simply out of habit, and she had to stop herself before she reached it. She wasn’t sure she was ready to speak with Jim yet. He had taken her leave of absence very hard, and she wasn’t sure what she was going to say to him when they finally saw one another again.
But to Kerry’s relief, Jim wasn’t at his desk. But then her relief was quickly replaced with sadness. She missed her partner. And she desperately needed somebody she could talk to and trust about what was going on. However, she also knew that implicating Jim would only make things worse for him. She had gotten herself into this business by herself, and that’s exactly how she would get out of it.
“Well, look what we have here,” Detective Glenn Ruthers said. “I thought you were down for the count?”
Ruthers was a detective with the VICE unit. The tattoo sleeves that ran up and down his arms also made him look like an aging rock star, and the earring in his left ear wasn’t doing him any favors. But he sported a wide, friendly grin as he rocked back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head.
“If you’re looking for Jim, you just missed him,” Ruthers said.
“Actually, I’m here to speak with you,” Kerry said, trying to sound as natural as possible.
Ruthers raises eyebrows. “I’m intrigued.”
“I was visiting my father today, and he provided me a tip,” Kerry said. “Something I think would be helpful for you and your partner, Connie.”
Connie Loughlin was the other detective who worked VICE. She was one of the only other female detectives at the precinct.
“What kind of tip?” Ruthers asked.
“There’s going to be a shipment of heroin coming into the city,” Kerry answered. “I managed to secure a time and location. But I don’t know how much, and I don’t know what firepower they’re going to be packing.”
Ruthers cocked his jaw to the side and gave it some thought. “It is this from someone you trust?”
“It’s from my father,” Kerry answered. “And I trust him.”
It was odd hearing herself say that. For the longest time, Kerry had hated her father. If somebody would’ve told her only a year ago that she would be standing here doing what she was doing, she would call them a liar and a lunatic. But much had changed in twelve months.
“Well, if you think it’s legit, we’ll definitely check it out,” Ruthers said.
Kerry experienced no moment of relief in finally getting it over with, only a growing sense of dread at what came next.
After years of following the rules, after years of proving to herself and to everyone else that she was not the corrupt daughter of a corrupt father, she had suddenly become everything she had fought so hard to avoid.
A piece of Kerry had broken off, and she felt it in her bones. And she knew that more pieces were going to slip away from her.
“Hey,” Ruthers said. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”
Kerry recovered quickly and flashed a smile. “Fine. Let me know how that turns out.”
Ruthers flashed a thumbs up and then swiveled back to his computer screens.
The moment Kerry turned her back to Ruthers, her smile vanished, and she felt a queasy pit grow larger in her stomach. She thought she might throw up, and she spied the nearest trashcan in case she wouldn’t be able to make it outside. She had never been a good liar, at least, she didn’t think she was. But after the interaction with Ruthers, whom she was convinced suspected nothing, she wasn’t so sure about that initial assessment.
And why would he doubt her? Kerry had been exemplary in her performance as a police officer, and she had become a very good detective. People knew her father and knew that she had been speaking to him. All of it made perfect sense to anyone looking at the evidence from an outsider’s perspective.
“Kerry?”
Kerry turned and saw Lieutenant Mullocks approaching her. She managed a smile and hoped she didn’t look too suspicious. “Hey, Lieutenant.”
“If you’re looking for Jim, you just missed him,” Mullocks said.
Kerry shook her head. “I had a tip for VICE. I was speaking to my dad this morning, and he mentioned something that they might be able to use. I just wanted to pass it along.”
Mullocks always had a keen eye when it came to observing human behavior. It was what made her a great detective and an even better lieutenant. She was able to read the body language of her own staff, and she could sniff out a lie even better than Jim. Kerry could feel the Lieutenant studying her. She had a studious gaze, and Kerry was starting to sweat.
“How have you been holding up?” Mullocks asked. “It’s not easy for a detective to just step away from the job like you did. I remember I went crazy when I was on maternity leave. I couldn’t wait to get back to work.”
“It’s been a little challenging,” Kerry answered. “But I’ve tried to develop a routine. I’ve been doing a lot more work around the house for sure and have been finishing some projects that have needed to be done for quite some time.”
“I know that after the last case you worked with Jim, you were struggling with your identity as a cop,” Mullocks said. “What you went through and what you experienced is something every good cop struggles with—that balance between the job and her moral compass. Not everything we do seems like it’s right, even though it’s within the boundaries of the law. If there’s ever anything I can do to help, or if you just need to talk to someone, I’m always here.”
“I appreciate your help,” Kerry said. “But I’ll be able to figure this out on my own.”
Mullocks looked at Kerry in a way that suggested she didn’t believe that, but she only nodded.
After the conversation with the lieutenant, Kerry quickly stepped out of the precinct and hurried to her car. She started the vehicle and left the precinct.
In the quiet solitude of her car, Kerry gripped the steering wheel. A large piece of her had wanted to come clean with the lieutenant. But Kerry was determined that if she were to go down for any of this, then it would be alone. She wasn’t going to risk anyone else’s career or life for the mistake she had made.
Not her work colleagues and not her family.
But in order for Kerry to fix t
his, she needed to find leverage against Cutters. The man had been able to evade law enforcement and prosecution for almost three decades.
Kerry racked her brain as she tried to figure out her next move. She knew that if she sat on the sidelines and waited for Cutters to request another favor, then she would be playing right into his hands. She needed to be proactive in getting ahead of him on this. She needed to learn more about him.
Kerry returned home and started researching Cutters. She found everything she could about the man through what resources were available to her online. All of her accounts with the police department had been suspended, so she had to rely on Google for most of her searches.
The information Kerry found on Cutters told the story of a man who had a very legitimate business hold on the Seattle community. He also had several investments in large firms across the country, and it was through his legitimate business connections that authorities believed he funneled all of his illegal activity.
But Kerry knew that in business, you dealt with people, even in this day and age of incredible automation. Someone out there knew what was going on, some type of close confidant that Cutters trusted with his information. She simply needed to figure out who, and she determined that the fastest way to do that was to follow the money. And to follow the money, she needed to earn it.
Kerry had the cell phone Cutters had given her. She opened the contacts and saw a single number was saved inside. She flipped it open and then called it.
“What?” The voice that answered wasn’t Cutters, and it was harsh and irritating.
“I need to see him,” Kerry said.
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Is it done?”
“I need to see him,” Kerry repeated, not wanting to give any information until she had secured a meeting with Cutters.
“The Docks,” the voice said, and then the call ended.
Kerry already knew what the caller had meant when he said, “The Docks.” Cutters enjoyed frequenting a certain strip club on the west side of the city near the marinas. She had visited him there before, but this would be her first trip there alone.