Everyone Has Secrets

by Edward Kendrick

  “One of you is in back, ready to record, and keeping an eye on the back door. The other one is watching the side door, which is an emergency exit from the downstairs hallway. You see them dragging me out of there, you follow. If they do, I doubt it’ll be through the main entrance.”

  “What if they take you down to the basement?” Lorne asked with a worried frown.

  “There’s nowhere down there where they could interrogate me without chancing a nosy guest deciding to see if there’s anything interesting that they’ve missed, like a workout room, or whatever. People can be real inquisitive when they don’t have anything better to do—especially little kids.”

  “That’s logical, I suppose. I still don’t like it.”

  “Do you have a better suggestion?” I asked harshly.

  Lorne scrubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes, shaking his head.

  “Then stop bitching.”

  “Brant,” Gavin said, reaching across the table to lay one hand on my arm. “Ease up on him. Okay? He’s new at this, to start with.”

  “I’m no pro at it myself,” I told him. Gavin knew it was a lie, but thankfully he didn’t disagree with what I said.

  “I’m freezing,” Gavin said. “Let’s get back to the motel and go over everything with a fine-toothed comb. We need to plan this down to the last second.” He stood, waiting for us.

  Lorne hesitated. I have the feeling if he had his choice we’d all head home, despite the fact he wanted to find Kyler’s killer even more than Gavin and I did.

  “It’s going to work,” I told him, coming around to where he was sitting. When he got up, I put my arm around his shoulders. Stupid, maybe, considering how I was starting to feel about him, but I wanted him to believe me.

  “If it doesn’t…” Lorne stepped away, turning to look at me. “Yeah, it will. I have to believe it or I’ll blow my part in this and then maybe you will die. I couldn’t live with that on my conscience.”

  * * * *

  Gavin went back to the Rotunda again Sunday evening. He said, later, he’d asked for the same kid he’d been with last night. The boy had been relieved to see him and, according to Gavin, while he didn’t understand why Gavin wanted to plug the drain in the bathroom sink, he was more than willing to help. “To get back at the bastards,” were his words, Gavin told us.

  When I arrived at work Monday morning, Mr. Thorne stopped me to tell me there was a problem with a sink in one of the executive suites.

  “The woman at the front desk will give you the keycards you need. Return them as soon as you’ve fixed the problem,” he told me in no uncertain terms.

  I did. Of course the keycard to the hallway door that I returned wasn’t the same one she’d given me. As planned, Gavin had sent me photos of the card he’d used the previous night. I made a facsimile of it, which I had with me this morning.

  The poor kid who used—well lived in—the room cowered on the bed the entire time I was working on the sink. It made me realize, as if I hadn’t already known, how terrified he was of the people who worked at Rotunda. I mean, I was only the maintenance guy and he still acted as if I were the devil in human form. With luck, if our plan worked, he and the other kids would gain their freedom soon.

  The rest of my day consisted of the normal work I’d been hired to do. If nothing else, I was finding out how much damage some motel guests could do, even without meaning to.

  As soon as I got back to our motel, I called Gavin to tell him I had the keycard. He and Lorne arrived at my room minutes later.

  “I had a thought,” Gavin said, once he’d put the card in his wallet, so he’d have it when they needed to rescue me. “Rather than just calling the Rotunda tomorrow to drop the dime on you, so to speak, we should send Mr. Durant an email tonight. Then follow it up with a call to your boss tomorrow. That should really push all their buttons.”

  “Good idea. Something short and sweet.” I got out my laptop and went to work setting up a blind email account that couldn’t be traced back to me. When it was ready, we came up with the right wording to let Durant know his operation had been infiltrated by someone—me, to be exact—who wanted to bring it down. We left it nebulous as to who I was working for. That was Lorne’s idea.

  “If we’re right, they must have known Kyler was doing an exposé about Durant’s sex ring,” Lorne said. “By not saying who hired you, they’ll want to find out if you’re working to the same news organization or if you’re a cop or a Fed.” His didn’t look happy as he added, “It will definitely give them a reason to interrogate you before they kill you.”

  “Something I hope doesn’t happen,” I replied dryly. “The killing part, that is.”

  “It won’t,” Gavin replied firmly. “Lorne and I will make sure of that.”

  With the email composed and sent, we headed out to dinner at an upscale restaurant downtown.

  After the waitress left, I kidded about it being my last meal, which was why I’d ordered prime rib with all the trimmings. It didn’t sit well with Lorne.

  “That wasn’t funny, Brant,” he said, his expression grim. “You’re tempting fate.”

  I nodded. “I suppose I was, but I need to joke about it. Otherwise I’ll start wondering about my mortality. Not a good thing, given what I might be facing tomorrow, if they bite.”

  “Gavin was right, we won’t let it happen. You’re going to come out of this alive. Damn it, you’d better!”

  “Because you don’t want my death on your conscience,” I replied caustically, repeating what he’d said yesterday.

  “Yes. No! Because if something happens to you…” His expression shut down as he looked past me at something I thought only he could see. My imminent demise and how it would affect him on a very personal level? I sure hoped not. I might, no, I did like him—much more than I should. I didn’t want or need him to feel the same way about me. I wasn’t the man he deserved in his life, whether he believed it or not.

  “How about we change the subject,” Gavin said. “If you could live anywhere in the world, Brant, where would it be?”

  I almost laughed. When he changed the subject, he went to extremes. Still…“I don’t know,” I replied. “A large city for sure. Somewhere very different from the ones where I’ve lived in the States, like maybe London or Sydney, even Rome, if I learn Italian. Places I’ve wanted to visit and haven’t, so far.” I turned his question back on him, saying, “What about you?”

  “I’m happy where I am.” He smiled. “Both places. I have two homes, the one you’ve seen and another one in Virginia.”

  “That must be nice,” Lorne said. “I have an apartment. If I were going to choose somewhere else, I think it would be a small town, away from all the hustle and bustle. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to live in Ireland. I’ve seen pictures of the countryside there. It looks beautiful, and calm.”

  “Tired of big city life?” I asked him.

  He shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m not complaining about it, but I wouldn’t mind trying somewhere smaller.” He chuckled. “I might find out I’m bored out of my mind after a couple of months, but then again I might not.”

  “So give it a shot,” I said. “It’s not like you’ve got anything tying you to where you are now.”

  “I wish I did.” Lorne looked at me then dropped his gaze, taking a drink of his coffee. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m footloose and fancy free, as they say, so maybe I will.”

  Our meals arrived at that moment and we dug in rather than continuing our conversation, which was fine with me. I had the distinct feeling Lorne was interested in me, after all he’d said—and I didn’t know how to handle it. Casual flings with men who understood I didn’t do ‘personal’ were one thing. My getting involved with a man eight years younger than me, who would undoubtedly want more than just quick, down and dirty sex, was quite something else. Something that wasn’t going to happen, not matter how appealing it seemed on several levels.

  When we finished eating, Gav
in suggested we take in a movie since it was still relatively early. “It’ll help take our minds off tomorrow,” was his reasoning. I said it was fine with me, as long as we avoided action-adventure ones.

  “Leaving us with what? Chick flicks?” Lorne asked, shaking his head.

  “Or a comedy. There have to be some out there,” Gavin replied.

  There were, and we found one. It was good, and did help me relax. I guess it worked for them, too, because things were less tense as we drove back to the motel. It might have stayed that way if Gavin hadn’t said, “We need to go over our plan for tomorrow one more time.”

  “And that killed the mood,” I grumbled, even though I knew he was right. Too much hung on our making certain every contingency was covered. That took half an hour, but when we finished I knew I would, God willing, come out of this alive. Of course, given my life style, God might have a different view on it, but I hoped not. I liked living, no matter how I went about it.

  They left my room with Gavin’s parting words ringing in my ears. “Remember, no matter what they do, we’ll be there, listening and stepping in when the time is right. Hang tight, Brant, and believe me when I say, you will come out of this alive.”

  I sure as fuck hoped he was right.

  Chapter 10

  I’d been at work for an hour Tuesday morning when Thorne told me there was a problem with an electrical fixture in one of the executive suites.

  From there, everything went as planned—as far as I recall. Of course by the time the cops showed up, I was lucky I remembered my name.

  Gavin told me later, after I’d begun to recover from what the bastards did to me, that Lorne had called the police. At least, in the process of cutting and beating me, and breaking a few fingers in an attempt to make me talk, they had bragged about what they’d done to Kyler, and a couple of other guys Durant wanted eliminated. Gavin had heard and recorded every word they said before deciding it was time to get me out of there. He grabbed Lorne from where he was watching the side door of the Rotunda, and they stormed the citadel, so to speak. Gavin’s words, not mine. Lorne had made it his business to call the police, even though that wasn’t part of our plan. I found out I owed him for that. A few more minutes with Durant’s men and I wouldn’t have been here to tell the story.

  I ended up in intensive care after the doctors sewed me up, dealt with two fractured ribs, and did their best to repair the broken fingers on my left hand. They determined I only had a concussion, without any traumatic brain injury. I wasn’t sure what I’d been hit with for that to occur, but it went a long way toward explaining why I didn’t remember what the bastards put me through. I think, no I know I’m just as happy I couldn’t.

  When I finally came to in, as I said, a room in the ICU, I realized I was alive, much to my relief. Not in good shape, and hooked up to a myriad of machines, but still alive. The nurse assured me of that when I asked if she was an angel and if I’d ended up in heaven, not hell.

  “Do you expect to go to hell?” she asked with a laugh as she checked my vitals.

  “Hey, I’m no saint,” I managed to reply.

  “Who is? But according to the police, you’ve taken a couple of steps toward earning your halo when the time comes.”

  “Are they out there, waiting to interrogate me?” I asked, certain they were.

  “No. Your doctor told them in no uncertain terms they wouldn’t be allowed to talk with you until you were moved out of the ICU to a private room.”

  “Which will happen when?”

  “Probably tomorrow, once we’re certain you’re ready. You sustained a mild concussion, so we need to keep an eye on you in here for a while longer.”

  It was then that I realized my hand; well, my fingers, were in splints and taped together. “How bad?” I asked her.

  “They think the splints will do the trick.”

  “The trick?” I frowned.

  “Okay, not the best way to put it,” she admitted. “Your fingers should be all right once the splints come off. If there are any problems with the alignment of a bone, or bones, they will pin, screw, or wire them.”

  “Something to look forward to,” I replied dourly.

  “But better than losing the use of them,” a man wearing doctor’s scrubs said as he came into the room. “I’m Dr. Jensen, Mr. Colton. I thought you might like an update on where you stand.”

  “Nurse…” I looked at her nametag. “Nurse Quinn has been filling me in.”

  “Then she told you that you sustained some deep cuts and a lot of bad bruising, and two fractured ribs as a result of what was done to you?”

  “She hasn’t gotten that far.”

  Dr. Jensen came over to the bed. “I want to check your wounds to make certain there isn’t any infection.”

  I was feeling snarky by then, so I replied, “This is a hospital. I hope you people know enough to keep that from happening.”

  “And you’re human, so it could happen despite our best efforts,” he replied tightly as he began removing the bandages.

  Against my better judgment I watched and wished I hadn’t. One of Durant’s punks had used his knife with reckless abandon from the number of stitched up cuts I saw on my chest. The bruises were lovely—if you’re into black and blue as a color scheme. I touched my face with my good hand and winced.

  “Yes,” the doctor said, finally sounding a bit compassionate. “You took a few hits there, too. You’re lucky your friends and the police arrived when they did.”

  “How long ago was that,” I asked, since I had no idea what day or time it was.

  “A day and a half,” he replied. “The paramedics brought you into the ER just before noon, yesterday. It’s now close to eight P.M. Wednesday night.”

  “I’ve been out of it for that long?”

  He nodded. “Consider yourself lucky it hasn’t been longer. Among other things, you lost a lot of blood.”

  “That should make the motel management happy, if it was all in the suite where the bastards were playing with me.”

  “From what I understand, several of the main people who work there are in jail, so I think they have more to worry about than a few bloodstains on the carpet.” He actually smiled when he said that. “I’ll let the police and your friends fill you in on the details.”

  “Are they here? I mean my friends.”

  “Yes. They haven’t left since you were brought in.”

  “Can I see them?”

  “Yes, but only for ten minutes.” He left, returning a moment later with Gavin and Lorne right behind him. They looked as if they hadn’t slept in a week, or if they had, it was probably on the benches in the waiting room.

  The doctor and nurse left, with her promising to be back to give me my meds when Gavin and Lorne were gone.

  “Pardon my bluntness, but you look like hell,” Gavin said, pulling up the one chair in the room.

  “I’d probably feel like it, too, if I wasn’t medicated,” I replied, avoiding Lorne’s deeply worried gaze by focusing on Gavin. “As it is, it only hurts if I laugh.”

  “Not funny. You are going to be all right, aren’t you?” Lorne asked, coming to stand behind Gavin. “I mean, the doctor said you were, but I want to hear it from you.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine once everything’s healed.” I didn’t tell him what nurse Quinn had said about my hand. While she’d sounded hopeful, I’d believe I could regain full use of it when it happened and not before. Returning my attention to Gavin, I asked, “Did you get everything that was said?”

  “You bet. Enough to convict them and Mr. Durant.”

  “What did they get out of me?” I needed to know if I’d said anything I didn’t want the whole world, and Lorne, to know.

  “Not a damned thing as far as who you work for. You were a good soldier, giving them your name, rank, and—” he chuckled, “—phone number, since you don’t have a serial number.”

  “You have to be kidding.”

  “Sort of. You did keep
your story straight as far as your alias and why you applied to work for the motel—meaning because you needed the job. They didn’t break you on that, although from the sound of it they did their best. You did mention my name, the one on their list, when they asked how you knew about what went on in the executive suites. It seems you and I had a past relationship and I hinted I knew where to find underage kids, if you were interested. That came out when they made it very clear they didn’t believe you just happened to get the job as their maintenance man.”

  “Who is ‘they’?”

  “The two SOBs who killed Kyler,” Lorne said angrily. “And your Mr. Thorne.”

  “He’s not mine, thank God.”

  “You know what I meant.”

  “I do. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Lorne stepped around Gavin and, much to my surprise, laid his hand gently on my shoulder. “I was so frightened when Gavin came racing around the corner to get me, telling me we had to get up there or we’d be too late. I think I’m still reacting to that, to seeing you…” He turned away, shuddering as he bowed his head.

  “What I don’t get is why the cops showed up,” I said. “This was supposed to be the three of us, until we had the evidence to turn over to your people, Gavin.”

  “Blame it on Lorne, and it’s a good thing he called them. Two on three isn’t really good odds when one of the two hasn’t been trained to deal with people like Durant’s punks. We did get the drop on them, but one gun, and three men? Not happening without more help, as much as I hate to admit it.”

  “How much do the cops know about things?” Again a question I needed an answer to. If it came out about what I do, not the financial planning but the rest…Well, from the hospital I’d be making a trip to jail unless I could escape somehow. Not something I wanted to contemplate at the moment—or ever.

  “I gave them the basics, after letting them know who I am and that I’m a federal agent. Why Lorne was involved was a given. I told them you’d been a good friend of Lorne’s before his brother’s murder and wanted to help catch Kyler’s killers if you could. As far as they know I agreed to let you, with great reluctance, because of my personal involvement and my not wanting to let my superiors know what I had planned.”