by J. E. Taylor
Stunned silence settled on the adjoining cells and Tom kept his focus on the man with the sharp blade. He didn’t need to be a mind reader like CJ to understand what this bastard wanted to do to him. He’d had enough of being the victim and was damned if he’d let this thug get the best of him.
“I see you want to dance a little before we get down to business,” the man said, getting to his feet. He approached Tom more cautiously this time, switching the knife from hand to hand. The men in the adjoining cells were at the bars now, cheering their fighter on.
Tom kept his eyes on the knife as the man circled him in the small space. Every time the man sliced toward him, Tom sidestepped out of reach. He didn’t follow through with a defensive blow, instead, he danced away, enjoying the anger and frustration in his attacker’s face. It wasn’t until he brushed up against the bars of the adjoining cell that he understood his mistake.
Hands grabbed him, pulling him against the bars and a voice whispered in his ear, “We’ve got you now, boy.” A hand tugged his head back and feet collided with the back of his knees, dropping him to the concrete floor.
Tom struggled to free his arms, but the men in the adjoining cell held fast, pulling them through the bars to his elbows and a hand gripped a healthy handful of his hair, yanking his head back against the metal hard enough to daze him.
When his vision cleared, the point of the knife hovered less than an inch from his eye. Fear tightened his throat and he turned his gaze up to the man’s grinning face. The sound of a zipper sent shockwaves through Tom and panic overrode his senses dulling the pain in his hyper-extended shoulders.
He closed his eyes and silently shouted Steve’s name, the thought barreling like a freight train in his head just like Steve taught him.
Chapter 10
Steve sat at the dinner table, going over the appointment calendar that usually graced the kitchen wall, cross-referencing dates with those of the killings. Not one offered a concrete alibi and he clenched his jaw, running his hand through his hair in frustration.
“Damn it all,” he cursed and traded a worried look with Jennifer. Not only had the police taken the pictures and the knife, they also found a stash of unmarked DVDs hidden in a secret hideaway in the attic floor. “What else could go wrong?”
Tom’s panicked call reverberated in his brain, answering his question and he closed his eyes, grabbing hold of the telepathic signature and transported his consciousness into Tom’s cell. One glance sent hot irons of fury through his fingers and his hands balled into fists, controlling the fiery rage from escaping. Instead, he threw a punch into the side of the bastard’s head, knocking him out cold before he could pull his dick out of his pants.
“I suggest you let go of my son,” he said, shaking the sting from his knuckles. His voice wavered with building fury. Hands released Tom and the men scuttled away like he was a demon incarnate.
He turned his attention to Tom, helping him up before turning to the beastly pig on the floor. “How did he get in here?”
One of the officers let him in. Tom signed in answer.
“Damn it,” Steve said and reached into his back pocket. The handcuffs from this morning were still in his jeans and he yanked them out, kneeling over the man and securing his wrists behind his back before turning back to Tom. “Stay put, I’ll be back in a few.”
The transition started and Steve opened his eyes, back in his kitchen and met Jennifer’s worried gaze before getting up from the table. “Those assholes put him in the adult section of the jail,” he said.
“What?”
“I don’t have time to explain right now.” He turned and headed for the garage. “You need to stay and deal with CJ,” he shot over his shoulder and closed the door on her imploring gaze.
A few minutes later, he stormed into the York police department holding area, his gaze landing on one of the more cocky officers that continually rubbed him wrong. He crossed and towered over the desk, scanning his mind and confirming this was the dirt bag that let that monster into Tom’s cell.
“Hathaway, why did you put that jerk off in the cell with my son?” he said, loud enough to call the attention of the entire room, O’Keefe included.
“The drunk tank was full and there was an extra bed in that cell,” Hathaway said and sat back in his seat with his arms crossed.
“Bullshit,” Steve balled his hands into fists and shot a glare in O’Keefe’s direction. “You were supposed to segregate him from the adults. He’s a minor for god’s sake.”
“He’s being charged as an adult,” O’Keefe stepped closer verbally defending Hathaway’s actions but Steve saw into his thoughts and the man was pissed too.
Steve stared at O’Keefe. “Do you have any idea what they were trying to do to Tom a few minutes ago?”
Hathaway started typing and Steve glanced at his hands, willing them to freeze over the keyboard. Steve reached out, turning the monitor in O’Keefe’s direction. “Too bad Hathaway isn’t as accomplished at erasing videos as he thinks he is.” He glanced at Hathaway. “Rewind the video.”
Hathaway’s wide horrified gaze watched as he typed the proper commands and the screen went blank for a moment before coming back at the point he opened Tom’s cell and pushed the large man into it. The audio captured his mocking words as the cell door latched closed.
O’Keefe’s jaw clenched at the following scene and when Steve stepped into the frame and cold cocked the man, he turned his gaze to Steve. “How did you get in there?”
Steve held up a set of keys to the lock up area that he’d had for years now. “I came to make sure you were true to your word. Guess it was a good thing I showed up when I did otherwise that animal would have made Tom his bitch.”
The comment settled on the room and Steve released control of Hathaway’s hands. Hathaway pushed back from the desk, his features filled with trepidation and Steve sent a warning glare in his direction.
“I am taking Tom home. Now.”
“His arraignment…” O’Keefe started and trailed off at the silencing glare Steve sent in his direction.
“I’ll keep him under house arrest in a safe environment,” Steve said. “And once he’s in my custody, I’ll give you the keys to un-cuff the unconscious pig in his cell.”
“I suggest you do what Special Agent Williams is requesting,” A baritone voice came from the doorway.
Steve turned to see Director Ron Cleary standing in the entry with a slip of paper in his hand. He crossed, dropping it on the desk, giving Steve a sideways glance.
“I went over your head,” he said to Detective O’Keefe. “Tom’s not a flight risk and the terms of his house arrest include school and home until such time as a court date can be worked out. In other words, Special Agent Williams has custody until a verdict is returned.”
As soon as O’Keefe left the room, Steve turned to Cleary. “Thanks,” he said and stuck out his hand.
He returned the handshake and pulled out another paper from his coat. “You’ve got bail to settle up,” he said and handed the bill to Steve.
Steve glanced at the slip of paper and raised an eyebrow. “They set bail at a million?” Cleary nodded and Steve understood the hoops he jumped through to get this deal and the seriousness of the prosecutor in trying this case. “He didn’t do it, Ron,” he said.
“Are you sure?”
Steve nodded. “Yes. I’d stake my reputation on it.”
“You’ve been fooled before,” Cleary said.
“Once and that’s because I didn’t know the signs. Tom’s an open book. He doesn’t know how to hide a secret from me, not something like this.”
Cleary nodded toward the holding cell entrance and Steve turned to see Detective O’Keefe escorting him across the station.
“Sit here,” Detective O’Keefe pointed at a chair next to his desk. Tom sat, rubbing his wrists and Detective O’Keefe sent a glare in Steve’s direction before he disappeared.
Steve turned back to Cleary. “Co
uld you stay with him while I settle this up?”
Cleary nodded and Steve headed off to the bail bond office. When he came back, Tom was sitting with his arms crossed and a decidedly sour expression on his face and Detective O’Keefe was squatting, fitting the tracking device around Tom’s ankle.
Steve met his gaze and crossed the station just as Detective O’Keefe stood.
What the hell is this? Tom signed and pointed at his ankle.
“It’s part of the stipulation of your home arrest. You can go to and from school and that’s it. If you violate those terms, they’ll put you back in jail.”
What about my job? he signed.
“You’ll have to take a leave of absence,” Steve said.
“Why?” Tom asked.
“Because it’s across state lines,” he said. “Home and school. That’s it until we can clear you of all charges.”
Tom lowered his gaze to the ankle bracelet and nodded but Steve knew he was not happy with the current situation.
“Are we good?” Steve asked Detective O’Keefe.
Detective O’Keefe entered a few commands on his computer and a red light on his ankle bracelet went on. The printer whirled into action and he turned, grabbing the piece of paper that spit out. “I’ve mapped out the route to school for you,” he said and handed Tom the paper. “If you deviate from this route, your ankle bracelet will blink red. That means you’ve violated the terms of your house arrest. Tonight, when you get home, that will turn green. I’ve given you twenty minutes to get home before the alarm goes off. If he isn’t home within twenty minutes, he is in violation of his house arrest. Understand?”
Tom stared at the paper and then handed it to Steve. He met Detective O’Keefe’s gaze and gave a nod. “Ye,” he said and signed yes.
Steve gave a nod as well and grabbed Tom’s arm. “Come on, we’ve got to get moving,” he said and led Tom outside, knowing he didn’t have time to fool around. “At least it isn’t summertime,” he said when they slid in the car. “Otherwise we’d be screwed.”
Tom nodded. Without traffic, it took a good fifteen minutes to get from their house to the police station, provided you kept to the speed limit, but in the summer, Long Sands Road was wall-to-wall traffic and it could easily take twice as long to drive the same distance.
I can’t take the bus.
“I know.” Steve had seen the direct route along with the time-frame allowed for the commute. It didn’t allow any leeway at all and he sighed. “I’ll drive you in and I’ll see if Jen can pick you up.”
I can drive.
Steve sent a glare in his direction. “No, you can’t.” He pulled the paperwork out of his pocket and handed it to Tom. “Regardless of the stipulations, it’s better than sitting in jail until this gets straightened out.”
Tom scanned the paper, raising an eyebrow in Steve’s direction when his gaze landed on the amount of bail required for the arrangement. He blew out a stream of air and continued reading, each word bringing with it a deeper despair, and by the time they pulled into the security gate and his ankle bracelet blinked green, his eyes filled with tears.
“When we get inside, we need to map out exactly where you were for each of the murders. We need a couple concrete alibis.”
They really think I’m the Windwalker?
“Yes, and they found the mutilated pictures in your room.”
Tom put his hand over his eyes and hung his head.
“They are going to try to nail you for Tanya’s murder regardless of whether they can pin the rest on you.”
I didn’t kill her! Tom signed as well as projected the thought.
“I know you didn’t kill her, but there isn’t any evidence to refute it, so the cops are doing exactly what I would have done in their shoes,” he said and glanced at Tom. “Minus what happened in the jail earlier. That’s unacceptable and I’ll be filing a complaint as soon as we get inside. Having internal affairs on their ass won’t help their case either and the lawyer I’ve hired will have a field day with that transgression.”
Steve turned the car off and closed the garage door. “The stunt you pulled the other night isn’t going to help your case, either.” He rubbed his face and opened the car door. “With all the trouble you and CJ have gotten into over the past year, it just makes it harder to prove what we already know. You’re a good kid, even though on paper it looks like you’re a rebel who has no regard for the law.”
I’m sorry, Uncle Steve. Tom thought and met Steve’s gaze over the roof of the car.
“I’m sorry about Tanya,” Steve said and Tom’s calm demeanor crumbled. Tears sprang into the corners of his eyes like someone turned a faucet on and Steve rounded the car to give his adopted son a much needed hug. Tom sobbed on his shoulder like an inconsolable toddler.
Chapter 11
Each sob that ripped from his chest burned, and Tom couldn’t get control over the flow of tears or the pain hammering his muscles. Steve’s awkward pats on his back did nothing to help quell the hurricane, and all he wanted to do was curl up and die.
Steve gripped his shoulders and Tom pushed him away, giving him a glare that sparked a layer of anger under his skin. He hated it when either Steve or CJ read his mind, and he ripped himself out of Steve’s grip. Disgust roiled in his stomach and he stormed into the house, wiping his nose on the sleeve of the hideous police-issue jumpsuit he still wore.
CJ stood up from the couch and turned in his direction as he crossed the living room, but he ignored the concern painted on his brother’s face. He took the stairs two at a time and ripped at the fabric covering his skin, leaving the jumpsuit crumpled at the bathroom door. With his heart pounding in his throat, he reached into the shower and turned the water on. The scorching spray bit at his skin, dulling the pain in the center of his chest and he focused all his energy into scrubbing every inch of his skin, removing all traces of Tanya’s blood.
When his skin was raw enough to burn under the water flow, he stopped and turned off the shower. He ran his hands through his dripping hair, pushing it from his face, and leaned against the wall, waiting until his breath slowed to normal before he wrapped a towel around his waist.
Tom opened the bathroom door and stared at the hallway, thankful someone else had gotten rid of the orange jumpsuit. He stopped in the doorway of his room and met CJ’s gaze, before continuing to his dresser and slipping on a pair of clean clothing. Tom didn’t want to talk about what he witnessed, or the near disaster at the jail, and he recognized the itch of CJ’s mind scan. After he pulled his jeans on, he turned to CJ.
“Stop,” he signed and the release of CJ’s silent interrogation left him dizzy and unsteady. He reached for his bureau and blinked the swoon away. CJ stared at the floor with that guilty expression Tom was used to seeing, and he had to bite the derogatory comment to keep it from spilling into his mind or out of his mouth. He clenched his fists in response and slipped a t-shirt over his head before sitting on the edge of the bed next to his brother.
It sucked, he thought and sighed.
“I’m sorry,” CJ said and put his arm around Tom’s shoulder.
Tom blinked the sudden sheen of tears away and nodded, allowing his brother to offer him comfort in his own way. He could tell CJ wanted to say more, but he kept quiet and the sting of tears coated his throat. CJ understood, just like he always did, and while that silent knowledge sometimes angered him, this time he was thankful for not having to explain any of the emotions crushing his chest.
CJ pointed to the ankle bracelet, “Do you want me to remove that for you?”
Tom wiped his face and shook his head. No, he signed. I don’t want to go back to jail.
“Those assholes really believe you’re the Windwalker?” CJ asked with a voice filled with disbelief and disgust.
Tom nodded.
“Stupid hicks,” CJ muttered.
“He has to play by the rules on this, CJ,” Steve said from the doorway and met Tom’s gaze. “You about ready to go o
ver those dates and times now?”
Tom nodded and stood. Thanks, he signed to CJ before he followed Steve downstairs.
Papers covered the table along with the calendar from the kitchen that had work and sports schedules scrawled all over the pages, and Tom slid onto the seat that Steve pointed to.
Steve turned the calendar back a month and pointed to the date circled in red. “He strikes on the new moon, when it’s the darkest in those woods.” He flipped the calendar backwards showing Tom the clear predicament they faced. Not one of the dates had work hours or sports events that coincided with the killings. “He likes to strike just after sundown or just before sunrise and the tide always works to his advantage.”
Tom bit his lip and took the calendar from Steve, flipping back over the last year. A ball of fire erupted in his stomach, burning his esophagus as he swallowed it. The morning deaths were easy to explain. He was either sleeping or jogging with Tanya. Neither of which provided him with any concrete alibi.
He couldn’t remember what he had done on the three evening dates on the calendar and raised his gaze to Steve. Most nights he took Tanya home after football practice. Again, a dead end as far as an alibi was concerned and he covered his face. He doubted her folks would offer any help, especially if they believed he killed her.
“There’s nothing?” Steve asked, leaning back in his seat. “No dinner dates or anything you can think of?”
Tom just shook his head, devastation increasing a notch in his bones. He lowered his hands and stared at the array of paper before raising his gaze. Doesn’t the Windwalker take the scalps?
“Yes, and nothing beyond the mutilated pictures and your fishing knife was found here,” Steve said and inhaled. “Will they find anything other than fish blood on that blade?”