Will could obviously tell this, too. He pulled his chair a few inches closer to the bed. “Did you know that most turtles can breathe through their butts?”
The boy shot an excited look at Sara, probably because Will had said “butt.”
“It’s true.” Will pulled his chair closer. “They’ve got these little air sacs in their butts. So they keep their heads down under water and just stick up their butts when they need to breathe.”
The boy had stopped gripping the sheet around him. He stared at Will with open curiosity.
Will said, “Actually, I just heard there was some kind of battle going on in the forest.” He cleared his throat again. She hoped he didn’t get cut off by another coughing fit. He said, “Insects versus the animals. Did you hear about this?”
The boy still would not answer, but he was leaning slightly forward.
Sara said, “I think I read about it in the newspaper.”
“I’m sure you did. It’s been all over the news.” Will asked the boy, “Did you see it on television?”
There was an almost imperceptible movement from the boy as he shook his head.
Will told him, “They finally decided to have it out. The animals and the insects. They scheduled a football game. The winner gets to be the king of the forest forever and a day. And I mean forever, plus an extra full day.” Will leaned his elbows on his knees. He asked the boy, “Are you sure you didn’t hear about this game? It was huge.”
This time, the headshake was more apparent.
“It was an epic game,” Will said. “I mean, unforgettable. For years, the insects and the animals will be telling their kids about it.”
The boy leaned forward even more, waiting.
“The first two quarters, it was no contest. The animals were pounding the insects. I mean, obviously, they’ve got physical superiority.” Will feigned throwing a football. “One after the other, touchdown, touchdown, touchdown. The animals dominated the field. The insects couldn’t do anything to stop them. Then halftime comes.” Will held up his hands as if to stop everything. “The insects were crying like babies in the locker room. They were going to lose this thing. They knew it. They could feel it in their exoskeletons. Humiliation for the rest of their lives. But they still go back out onto the field. They can’t just walk away, right? Not after all these years. They may be invertebrates, but they’re not quitters. Am I right?”
The boy nodded. He was hanging on Will’s every word.
“So, they start the third quarter, and suddenly, the caterpillar walks onto the field. He’s strutting his stuff. He takes up the wide receiver position—and I mean really wide. You can imagine the turning radius on this thing. So, the cricket snaps the ball, and suddenly, whoosh”—Will swooped his hands through the air—“the caterpillar takes off. He’s hogging the ball, running up and down the field like crazy. Touchdown after touchdown. I mean, the caterpillar is on fire. He doesn’t just win the game. He runs up the score. At the end, it’s animals 34, insects 212.”
The boy’s lips parted at the very thought.
“The insects are ecstatic,” Will continued. “They all run out onto the field. They lift the caterpillar up in the air. They’re carrying him around. They can’t believe it. They’re king of the forest forever and a day. And then somebody says to the caterpillar, ‘We could’ve won this thing before halftime, man. Where were you all that time?’ ” Will paused for effect. “And the caterpillar says, ‘Puttin’ on my shoes!’ ”
The boy sucked in a shocked breath, then exploded with laughter. His mouth opened. He doubled over. His tiny fists were clenched from the effort. He looked at Sara, as if to ask, Can you believe that? Sara didn’t have to pretend to laugh along with him. The boy’s unrestrained joy was the sweetest thing she’d heard in a long while.
He fell over onto his side. The sheets were a forgotten memory. For a brief moment, he was just a kid again.
Then, like a curtain being drawn, the laughter died out and the memories came crushing in. Slowly, the boy pushed himself back up against the headboard. He tucked the sheets tightly around his waist.
Will pulled a handful of Jolly Ranchers out of his pocket. “You want one?”
The boy chose a watermelon-flavored candy. With careful dexterity, he peeled away the wrapper. Sara held out her hand for the trash. The boy’s lips puckered as he sucked on the candy. Something was different. She knew that his guard was still up, but there was daylight between the cracks now.
“You know,” Will began, “the man who did this to my face will be in a lot of trouble when they catch him.” He crossed his ankle over his knee, casual. “He’ll end up in prison for the rest of his life. Maybe Denise or Lila will arrest him. Or maybe somebody else. There are a lot of cops out there who are good people. They make sure that the bad guys get locked up so they can’t hurt anybody else.”
The boy rolled the candy around in his mouth. Sara could hear it click against his teeth.
Will said, “People who do bad things always get caught. Did you know that?”
The boy seemed to consider the question. Finally, he shook his head.
“You don’t know it or you don’t think it’s true?” Will asked. The boy shook his head again, then stopped. Instead of talking, he held up two fingers.
Will said, “You don’t think that’s true?” The boy nodded.
Will told him, “I know you’re a smart little boy, but you’re wrong about that. This is what I do for a job. I chase down bad people and I lock them up.”
The boy looked down at the sheet. He picked at the stitching again.
“I arrested some really bad guys a few months ago. They told this little boy that his mommy and daddy would get hurt if he talked to the police.”
The boy looked up, shocked.
“The bad guys were lying,” Will said. “They were just trying to scare the little boy. His mommy and daddy were safe all the time. And when he told me what happened, I arrested the bad guys and brought the little boy home.” Will leaned forward again. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
The boy seemed to understand, but he didn’t acknowledge it.
Will said, “The sooner you tell me what happened, the sooner I can get you back to your family. And trust me, they want you back so badly. You are all they can think about. No matter what the bad men did to you, they just want you back so they can take care of you and make sure you’re safe.”
The boy looked down at the sheet again. Tears slid down his cheeks.
Will said, “It’s okay to talk to me, buddy. Whatever happened to you, it wasn’t your fault. You’re just a kid. And your mommy and daddy love you so much. They want you back home. That’s all they care about. No matter what the bad men did to you, they will always, always love you.”
The boy kept his head down. His mouth moved. He had to think about how to turn sounds into words again. “What about Benjamin?”
Will glanced up at Sara.
She asked, “Is that your brother?”
The boy nodded.
Will said, “I’m sure he wants you back, too. Even if you fought with him or didn’t get along, none of that matters. Benjamin wants you back home with him.”
The boy finally looked up at Will. “He’s not home,” he whispered. “He was in the basement, too.”
Sara felt her heart stop. She was too paralyzed to speak. Another boy, a brother, still out there suffering horrible cruelties. Or, worse, not still out there, but lying somewhere in a shallow grave.
Will was obviously considering the same possibilities. He visibly struggled to keep his calm. “Benjamin was in the basement with you?”
The boy nodded his head. “The bad man took him away.” Will’s cool started to slip. His voice cracked. “Can you tell me your name?”
The boy didn’t answer.
Will said, “I met a little boy last night, and he knew the name of his school. Do you know the name of yours?”
The boy still did not answer. H
e was getting scared again, worried that he’d said too much. He slid down the bed, pulled the sheets up over his head.
Will opened his mouth to say more, but nothing came out. He didn’t want to give up, but he didn’t know how to keep going, either.
Sara rested her hand on the boy’s arm. He was shaking. They could hear his cries through the bedcovers. She told him, “It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to say anything else for now. You were very brave to tell Agent Trent what you did. And you’re still safe. Nothing bad is going to happen to you.”
Denise Branson cleared her throat. She was standing in the doorway.
Sara told the boy, “We’re going to leave you alone for now, but we’re all here if you need us.” Sara stood up. She motioned for Will to follow her. “I’ll be in the kitchen, okay? You don’t have to talk anymore until you’re ready.”
Sara left the room, though she felt like part of her heart stayed with the boy. His brother had been taken, too. Why hadn’t they found him at the house? Where had he been taken?
Sara told Will, “I’ll try again in a few minutes.”
Will pulled out his phone. The glass was shattered, but the phone seemed to be working. Sara assumed he was calling Faith, but then he said, “This is Agent William Trent. I need a national alert issued immediately on the authority of Deputy Director Amanda Wagner. Two missing brothers, both disappeared on the same day, possibly more than a week ago. No name on the first kid, but he’s around seven years old, has dark hair and brown eyes. The second kid is called Benjamin.”
Sara told him, “Or Ben. Or Benji.”
Will’s expression showed absolute shock. He almost dropped the phone. “What did you just say?”
She knew that he wasn’t good with nicknames. “Benjamin is sometimes shortened to Ben or Benji.”
“Benji?” Will braced his hand against the wall. He seemed stunned.
She asked, “What is it?”
“Give me your keys.”
14.
Will pushed the needle on the BMW’s speedometer past one hundred as he sped away from Lila’s farm. She lived only a few miles from the interstate. He barely slowed for the turn. The tires skipped across the road, but the BMW stayed upright. Will cut off a lane of cars as he merged onto the interstate. He was going fast, but it didn’t feel fast enough. He shot past the exit for Macon General. The engine screamed as he gunned it harder.
He was coming up on the exit that led to Cayla Martin’s house when his phone finally rang. Will drove one-handed as he answered, “Did they get him?”
Faith said, “They can’t find Cayla Martin’s street.”
Will cursed under his breath. “What about the cops who knocked on her door last night?”
“They’re both off-duty. Neither is answering their phones. They’re probably asleep.”
“Send somebody to wake them up.”
“Don’t you think I did?”
Will tried to tamp down his frustration. “They have to find the house, Faith. Tell them to send out a helicopter.”
“The state highway is thirty miles through that zip code, Will. We’ve called the road crews. We’ve called the park service and waste management and the post office and the middle school. We’ve got three cruisers out there already. They’re trying.”
“It’s a dirt road. There’s a trailer park and—”
“We’ll find it.”
“Tell them to look for me. I just passed Macon General. I’m taking exit twelve now.”
The phone was muffled as Faith relayed the information. She came back on the line. “Cayla Martin was seen at the hospital half an hour ago. She was picking up her paycheck. Her car is still in the parking lot, but we can’t find her.”
“Did they check the employee entrance? She goes out there to smoke.”
“Hold on.” Again, Faith put her hand over the phone to talk to the dispatcher. “They’re checking now.”
“Did you find an Amber Alert on two missing brothers?”
“We’ve got nothing.”
“That’s impossible,” Will argued. “Two brothers went missing on the same day. Why didn’t we hear about it?”
“Maybe the police thought it was a parent abduction?” Faith pointed out the obvious: “Something like that wouldn’t make it on the news cycle unless there were bodies.” She asked Will, “Are you sure the boy wasn’t making it up? Kids that age lie about everything. Maybe the other kid was a cousin or friend, or—”
“He wasn’t lying,” Will said. “And you don’t believe in coincidences. Benjamin’s not a common name around here.”
“You’re right,” Faith admitted. “Amanda’s talking to the Mounties.” The Canadian federal police. “Their news doesn’t trickle down much unless you’re in a border state. She thought maybe the boys came from up there.”
“What about the French-speaking parts?” Will asked. “The Mounties don’t serve those areas.”
“Did either of the boys sound French?”
“Maybe they’re bilingual. I don’t know, Faith. Just tell her to call everybody.”
Faith said, “I’m sending her a text right now.”
Will was silent, waiting for her to type it out. His head was spinning. He didn’t know how this had happened. Benjamin had been right there in front of him. He’d practically begged Will to help him. He’d said he’d been taken a month ago. Will had thought the kid meant taken away from his mother by the police, not abducted by a sadist.
Big Whitey.
Will knew what had happened to Marie Sorensen. He’d seen the cigarette burns on the boy’s back this morning. Denise Branson had rescued him from the basement. What happened to the boys who weren’t rescued? What despicable things were being done to Benjamin right now?
“Okay,” Faith said. “I sent Amanda the text. We got a no on Cayla in front of the employee entrance to the hospital. She’s not on the roof or in the stairwells, either. How far are you from the house?”
Will slammed on the brakes. The car shook. He jerked the gear back into reverse. He’d almost missed the turnoff. “The road’s at a steep angle from the main highway, roughly ten miles from the interstate.” He silently berated himself for not resetting the odometer when he got off the interstate. “There are a lot of overhanging trees. There’s a yard sign where the turn is.” He recognized the logo. “It’s for the trailer park. It’s got palm trees on it.”
“I’ll let the cruiser know.”
Will laid on the gas as he sped down the dirt road. Red dust curled up behind him. The screen on Sara’s dashboard flashed black. There was no map in the GPS system for the dirt road. Will muttered another curse at his own stupidity. The screen had been in front of him the whole time.
He told Faith, “Track my phone. Maybe the roads will show up on the military GPS.”
“I’m on it,” Faith said. “Call me when you get there.”
Will ended the call and tossed his phone onto the seat. Then he thought better of it and jammed the phone into his back pocket. As long as the trip to Cayla’s had felt the night before, the trip this morning seemed unending. The road spread out ahead of him. It felt like half an hour passed before he saw the trailer park. Kids were out playing in the yard. Will slowed, looking at their faces, checking for Benjamin. They all stared back. Some of them headed home. They’d probably been taught to run if a strange man ever looked at them twice.
The steering wheel jerked as the BMW hit a large pothole. Will fought the turn, overcorrecting. He straightened the tires just in time for another loud bump as the wheels finally hit solid pavement. He was in the subdivision now. The empty lots and unfinished building sites were even more desolate in the light of day. Fortunately, Will could easily see the cluster of completed houses. He skidded to a stop in front of Cayla’s driveway. There was no car there. He jumped out of the BMW. He checked the windows to the garage. Empty.
Will dialed Faith’s number as he ran up the front walk. He said, “I’m here. There’s no
car. The house looks empty.”
“The cops from last night are on their way. They’ve got two more cruisers with them. I know you don’t have your gun. Wait for backup.”
“I’m not waiting.” Will ended the call. He stepped back from the front door, then kicked it open. “Benjamin?” he called. His voice echoed through the house. “Benjamin?”
Will opened the coat closet. He checked the back wall to make sure there wasn’t a hidden panel. Next, he went into the garage. The space was unfinished, just the structural studs. There were no hiding places.
The kitchen looked the same as the night before. Will’s cleaned plate was still on the table. The pots and pans were still on the stove. Tony Dell’s beer cans were stacked on the counter.
“Benjamin?” Will called. He took the stairs two at a time. He stopped outside the bathroom, but didn’t go in. There was a surface bolt on one of the bedroom doors. A heavy-duty combination lock held it closed.
“Benjamin?” Will banged on the door. “It’s Mr. Black from last night. I’m a police officer. I’m here to help you.” The lock was secured with bolts, not screws. There was no way for Will to pry it loose. “Benjamin, I need you to stand back. I’m going to break open the door.”
Will waited a few seconds, then raised his foot and kicked the door. The lock rattled against the wood. He kicked again. The wood around the jamb started to splinter. He raised his foot and kicked it again. Then again. Finally, by sheer repetition, he was able to break apart the wood. The door popped back on its hinges. The knob stuck in the sheetrock.
Benjamin was chained to the floor. He was sitting in the corner, his back to the wall. He was obviously terrified.
“It’s okay,” Will told him. “I’m a police officer. I’m here to help you.”
Benjamin didn’t respond. Will quickly took in the situation. A pair of handcuffs linked the boy’s ankle to the chain. The end was attached to an eyehook screwed into the floor. Someone had doused it with Liquid Nails to keep the boy from backing out the screw. Probably Tony. It seemed like the kind of half-ass job he’d do. Tony should’ve thought about the fact that Benjamin wouldn’t have anywhere to use the toilet. The wood had softened from urine. Will easily wrenched the hook out of the floor.
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