Improvise

by Iyana Jenna

  “You know exactly what we want.”

  “No, I don’t. Who are you?”

  “You don’t have to know. Come on, Tim, just tell us where the necklace is and we’ll let you go. You won’t recognize us and we won’t need to kill you.”

  “Liar, Sean—”

  He should have felt someone coming behind him but he didn’t, and Tim gasps as his hair is wrenched back. A cold sharp point of a knife is pressed against his exposed throat.

  “Keep it up and you’ll get what you deserve.” The man makes his point. The knife grazes deeper and Tim feels his skin break. He whimpers involuntarily but doesn’t say anything. The man’s breath is warm in his ear. Tim fights an urge to jerk away. “Are you going to talk?” the man hisses. “We got plenty of time and believe me, we will get our answer one way or another.”

  Tim’s thoughts wander to his play and the theater. How will the show go on now that Sean is gone? How are his fans going to accept this news? Who can ever replace him?

  He thinks of Brent, too. Will the detectives be able to find him? Tim has no clue where the kidnappers took him, and he can’t tell whether or not they’re going to kill him. The likelihood is, whether he tells them or not, they’ll kill him in the end. Tim has made up his mind. He shuts up.

  “Oh, that’s it, huh, you’re not talking?” the man at Tim’s side says, seeming to be able to read his mind. His fingers tighten on Tim’s hair and Tim flinches at the pain, but he makes no sound. They can do whatever they want to him; Tim won’t give in to them. Finally, the guy releases him.

  Someone else strides back and forth in front of Tim. “Why are you so stubborn? The necklace is not yours. Are you willing to give your life for it? Don’t be stupid, son. Just tell us and we’ll let you go.”

  Tim keeps quiet. He doesn’t even turn away, staring straight ahead with his chin tilting up. He tries to feel brave though he can’t help but feel vulnerable with his legs spread apart and tied up to the front legs of the chair.

  “No? You’re going to regret it, boy.”

  Tim grinds his jaw. He hates those patronizing sons and boys and he wants to tell the guy to cut it out. Tim knows though that he will be lost the moment he opens his mouth.

  No one speaks for a moment and time drags until Tim finally begins to drift off. He feels exhausted and sore all over. Suddenly the men begin to beat his face up, punching and backhanding him. Tim feels his lips split in both corners and his head pounds like it is going to explode. He tries to evade but with him blindfolded, he never stands a chance. His breathing becomes heavy and labored as he fights to get a word out.

  “S-stop it. That’s enough.”

  The thugs don’t seem to hear him. Their steel-hard fists keep damaging Tim’s face and at one time there is a loud crack and Tim cries out. They broke his nose.

  “No—please.” Tim wheezes amidst the beating. He can no longer differentiate between the coming and going of the punches. His face feels aflame with pain and slick with blood. Then a tight-fisted punch connects with one eye and stars burst beneath the lid. Tim is not aware if he screams or whimpers. Darkness engulfs him and he embraces it with gratitude.

  When he comes to, he is no longer in the chair. His blindfold is gone but so is his shirt. All he is left with is his jeans. His hands are tied up behind his back and his legs are bound together. He has been carelessly thrown to a corner of a shabby room—perhaps a motel room—on a moth-eaten rug. Tim stretches his body as much as he can and groans. His head aches like a bitch and he shuts his eyes miserably. He can’t think of anything right now. He lays his head down and passes out again.

  * * * *

  Brent feels grateful when Dan agrees to check Sean’s house, but the relief doesn’t last long. Brent immediately catches the sight of a body leaning at a weird angle inside a car in front of the house. His car tires squeal as he makes a reckless, sudden stop. Brent jumps out of the car before Dan has the chance to say anything.

  “Sean!” His heart sinks at the sight of the dead young man and he begins to get scared. The house is too quiet. There is no sign of Tim anywhere.

  “Go check the house. I’ll get back up,” Dan’s gruff voice turns up from behind. Saying nothing, Brent dashes toward the house.

  The unlocked door confirms Brent’s fears. The house is eerily quiet but there’s no sign of a struggle in here. Brent runs back out.

  “Tim’s gone,” he shouts out, panting. He gapes at Dan, totally lost. “What are we going to do?”

  “We wait for forensics and we stick with our plan. Gregory must change his mind about talking to us once he finds out his boy’s missing. And if those prison wardens we fingerprinted are not there today, we will be certain that they’re involved in Tim’s abduction. Pull yourself together, kid.”

  Brent huffs, wiping his face, nodding thankfully. “I’ll be fine. Thanks, Jacob.”

  Dan’s frown stops Brent. “What is it?” Brent asks.

  “Do you have feelings for this guy?”

  Brent looks away. “Can we not talk about that?” He is almost lost with worry for Tim. He doesn’t feel like discussing his feelings with his partner and is relieved when Dan respects his request to drop it for now.

  The Forensic and Investigation Unit arrive not long after. Brent and Dan stay for some time relating what they think has been going on. Fellow detectives come to take over Sean’s case and they can finally leave to meet Paul Gregory and take the prison wardens into custody.

  Brent correctly guessed that the news of his son’s kidnapping wouldn’t sit well with Gregory Senior. He sits quietly with Dan in the special meeting room with Paul sitting across the table, his face buried in both hands.

  “They promised,” he murmurs to himself, chanting the words over and over.

  “Mr. Gregory, you need to tell us right now who your associates were, and where they might have taken your son,” Dan begins with a no-nonsense attitude but Brent cuts in.

  “What do you mean, they promised? What did they promise you?”

  Paul stares at him with an intensity only Tim can beat. Brent holds back a shiver.

  “Why do you think I’m the only one rotting here?” he snaps. Brent and Dan exchange glances, wondering where this new information takes them. “They told me to keep my mouth shut or they’d get Tim. I’m not a good father but I won’t hand my own son over to those people. They can do things you can’t even dream of.”

  Brent leans forward. “You mean they’re not mere robbers? Have they committed murders or—or something worse?” Brent’s afraid of his own thoughts.

  “I think so,” Paul says quietly.

  Dan shoves a piece of paper to the man. “Names and addresses. Now. Any means to contact them,” he says coldly. He reads through the list as Paul finishes and shows it to Brent. “Let’s go.”

  “You’ve got to find Tim soon,” Paul pleads, meeting Brent’s eyes. Brent doesn’t reply and trails behind Dan out of the room.

  They continue to the office of the Center’s Chief Officer and ask to meet the owners of fingerprints found in Tim’s house. Dan talks to the prison chief and tells him another team of detectives will stop by soon to talk to his staff. The stocky man, in his late fifties, finds it hard to accept that his men are capable of doing such things.

  “How did they get into this business?”

  “We suspect that one of them was in the room with the Gregory’s when the father and son met here the other day and overheard their conversation. They probably asked around to find out more,” Dan says.

  “I can’t believe it.” The chief shakes his head.

  “Well, believe it. Thanks to them we got distracted from the really bad guys.”

  Whether that is true or not, Brent is too upset to think straight. Dan takes him by the shoulder.

  “That’s enough, Brent. I think we should get going now.” They shake hands with the chief, something Brent does halfheartedly.

  Brent studies the strings of names, telephone nu
mbers, and addresses. Already he has memorized them all. It’s not that many, only six names with their numbers and addresses. He and Dan split the numbers they will contact, and, just as they have expected, no one is home. That means they might not have taken Tim to any of those houses. The big question now is where they have taken Tim. Brent doesn’t feel like going to check those addresses but Dan reminds him that at least they have something to start with.

  * * * *

  Tim’s head lolls forward, his chin pressed into his bare chest, as he is dragged up toward the middle of the room. He has no idea how many hours he has been held captive, or is it one day already? The blindfold is back and they tie him up again to a hard chair. Tim shivers both from cold and from anticipation of what is to come. He’s prepared to spill everything he knows now; only he’s not sure if what he’s going to say will be enough to save him from further torture.

  Tim flinches when he hears a movement by his side, and sucks in air when a hand caresses his cheek mockingly, followed by a derogatory chuckle. He tries to move away from the touch but this time another hand clamps the back of his head, holding it in place. Tim’s heart begins to thump. He doesn’t want to think of the worse things that can happen to him. This is not worth it. But what should he say when there’s nothing he can tell these men? He opens his mouth.

  “I—” The man quiets him with a hush and begins to run a thumb along Tim’s jaw.

  “I’m not going to hurt you again. This still hurts?” Tim feels a quiet breeze of the wind as the guy’s hand hovers over his split lips and bruises and he can’t hold back a small whimper. Those fingers stroke his parted lips and Tim freezes.

  “No—”

  “Yes.” The man presses on. “I can see now why your dad made you leverage for his not turning us in to the cops.”

  Your dad.

  His captor seems to know what Tim is thinking about. He laughs, patting Tim’s cheek.

  “Yeah, he promised not to talk about us as long as we kept our hands off you.”

  Tim never thought his dad still had it in him to protect Tim. He wishes his father knew what was happening to him. Tim grits his teeth, trying to turn away again.

  “They are going to find me and you’re all going to die,” he whispers. There is no response and Tim goes tense.

  “So we shouldn’t waste our time, should we?” The man’s voice is as sharp as cold wind and suddenly his tongue plunges into Tim’s mouth, swallowing Tim’s shocked shriek, trapping Tim’s head tightly with his hand.

  Tim squirms hard while choking and gagging at the invading tongue in his mouth. The man seems to go on forever and Tim is fighting for air. He gurgles and pleads but his pleading is stuck in his throat. He begins to feel lightheaded but just as Tim is about to lose consciousness, the man lets go.

  A rush of oxygen charges into his system. Tim gasps and wheezes and pain spikes in his chest and in his brain. He begins to hyperventilate.

  Tim fades in and out after that. Once he feels as if hands are all over him and they get him off the chair. He loses his jeans and gets them back again. Someone tells him how beautiful he is and someone is kissing him again. The questions never cease. Where is the necklace? Where did you hide it? He tells them nothing. His mind is foggy at best. He feels a pinprick on his arm and is lost again. He doesn’t know how long he stays under, until at one point he feels someone untying him, releasing him of the ropes and covering him with a blanket.

  “Tim,” the voice calls urgently. “Open your eyes now.” Some taps on his cheeks. “Come on, Tim. Open your eyes.”

  Tim wants to comply, but his eyelids feel heavy and sluggish. He feels as if he is underwater.

  “Tim, it’s me, Brent. We found you. You’re safe now.”

  Brent? But how?

  Something jerks up. No. He is jerked up. He realizes he is sitting up now.

  “B—Brent?” he says with a croaky voice.

  “Yeah.” Tim hears the man laugh in relief. “Now can you open your eyes?”

  “M’tryin—”

  Slowly the heavy lead on his lids seems to lift and Tim blinks his eyes.

  “What happened? How’d you find me?” Tim asks weakly.

  “Later, okay? Are you in pain?” Brent moves as if to touch Tim’s face but he holds back. Tim can’t imagine how bad it looks and he turns away.

  “Just throbbing a little,” he murmurs. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

  “Bruised and swollen but it will heal, I’m sure. Are you hurt anywhere else?” Brent checks all over and Tim tenses at the memory of those men groping him. “Hey, you okay?”

  Tim heaves. “Yeah. No. I wasn’t hurt anywhere else.” Nothing that others can see. Tim can still taste the mouths and tongues violating him and he shivers.

  That apparently doesn’t escape Brent’s eyes. He turns grave. “Are you—okay?”

  Knowing what Brent must be thinking, Tim nods frantically. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”

  “We can check you out with the kit—”

  “No!” He calms down. “I mean, that’s not necessary. They didn’t—rape me.” He chokes and won’t look at Brent’s eyes. The awkward silence is finally broken by some paramedics carrying in a stretcher and Dan who follows them. The detective walks toward Tim as he is strapped on the gurney.

  “How are you, kid?” Dan asks with a gentleness Tim has never thought the older man capable of.

  Tim swallows, feeling suddenly young and vulnerable. Tears threaten to break out from his eyes.

  “I’m okay now.”

  Dan nods. “Glad to hear that.” A sliver of a smile forms on his face. Tim takes a stuttering breath. Yes, he is really okay now. He looks down and finds his hand clasped tight in Brent’s hand. He smiles a little and squeezes back.

  * * * *

  Tim stays for a couple of days in the hospital, permitted to leave only to attend Sean’s funeral. None of his colleagues in the theater, including him, manages to hold back tears. Sean had been loved by everybody, and Tim can’t stop feeling guilty—Sean had loved him but he’d never returned the feeling.

  Tim lets his house be used for the gathering after the funeral. All his friends and their families are present. Brent and Dan come, too. His manager finds him and hugs him long and tight.

  “We will never forget him, son. That kid, he was always so quirky and fun.”

  That is true about Sean. He had always made his presence felt.

  “And you, you come back to the theater anytime you’re ready. Just so you know, we and the audience miss you.”

  Tim nods, sighing quietly. He has wanted to return to perform right away but being on stage without Sean will only remind him of the man he’s lost.

  Most guests leave when it is starting to get dark. Only a few stay on after that, and then finally only Brent is left.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know,” Tim says when Brent takes the dirty dishes and glasses into the kitchen. Brent shakes his head.

  “I want to. I don’t think you should be alone tonight.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Tim has the feeling that Brent is there more for the necklace than for him, but it feels wrong to ask him. Brent has supported him more than he should. He stayed with Tim almost the whole time he was at the hospital.

  Tim goes quiet and continues clearing up the sitting and dining room and helps Brent dry up the plates. Finally, he can’t stand the silence any more.

  “I didn’t tell you about the necklace not because I didn’t want to, you know, but because I just don’t remember.”

  Brent freezes; his hands stop mid-air.

  “I would’ve told them, too, if I’d remembered. It would’ve stopped them from doing that disgusting thing to me.”

  Slowly Brent turns to face him.

  “You said they didn’t rape you.”

  “No, they didn’t. They just sucked the life out of me. Literally. There was nothing I could do. It was so humiliating.”

  “Hey.” Brent touches Tim’s arm. �
��You were restrained and you hadn’t eaten for a while. You were badly weakened and you’d been beaten up. They even drugged you. I’m just so relieved you’re alive, Tim.”

  “Me too.” Tim looks down. “But I really can’t help you with the necklace.”

  “Tim—”

  Tim carries on. “That day after the trial, I went to Sean’s house with the backpack my dad’s lawyer had slipped the necklace into.” Brent’s jaw drops with surprise. “Yeah, Dad told me when I visited him the other day. He said that was where the necklace had gone. Sean and I had been a bit drunk that night. The next morning Sean emptied my bag because he wanted to borrow it and left. I was still hungover and passed out again. When I woke up, all my stuff that had been scattered on the bed had been cleared up. Sean did it and he didn’t tell me anything about it.”

  “He didn’t tell you anything? Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive. I was totally awake after that, so I guess I’d remember if he said something.”

  “The necklace most probably is still in the house, right? We just have to search for it.”

  Tim shakes his head in despair. “I tried looking right after I returned from visiting my dad. I couldn’t find it anywhere.”

  “We just have to try again. I’ll get a warrant to search the house,” says Brent. “You could have told me this earlier, you know.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s not like I want to hamper your investigation. I completely forgot. And my father—”

  Guilt returns to Tim in full force. Brent is right. None of this would have happened if he did. The cops would have searched the house, and even if they had failed to find the necklace, it might have changed those museum robbers’ minds and they would not have carried on with their plan to take Tim. Sean wouldn’t have had to die.

  Long fingers take his chin and tilt it up. Tim can’t avoid looking into Brent’s eyes that are full of regret now.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Shouldn’t have. Wouldn’t have. Mightn’t have. Everything is about regret.

  “No. I’m sorry.” Tim’s eyes are warm with tears. Things have gone from bad to worse. Tim feels angry with his dad, with his dad’s accomplices, with himself. He can’t help it anymore. He has been trying to restrain himself all day but now that everyone’s gone—almost everyone—Tim feels his chest is about to burst.