by J. S. Bailey
Bobby checked the time. Eleven o’clock. Where could Jack be? Would he even show up?
He leaned his head back into the headrest to get more comfortable while he waited and immediately regretted doing so when a spike of pain hammered into his scalp. Blinking away tears, he looked over at The Pink Rooster’s door just in time to see a blond man swagger out into the night.
Jack Willard.
He blinked. The aura had been Jack’s. But where had he been hiding?
He watched as Jack got into a car. Its engine turned over and headlights winked on. Heart thumping, Bobby stuck the key in the ignition and eased out of the parking space.
Jack’s car made a left onto the street, and when it passed the video rental, Bobby pulled out behind him.
“Please don’t let me lose him,” Bobby whispered. He gripped the wheel so hard his hands hurt. With luck, Jack would lead him to Mystery Woman within the hour.
How Bobby would free her was another issue entirely.
BOBBY DEVELOPED a violent case of the shakes as Jack led him north for five blocks and east for five more. If Jack had so gleefully aided his grandfather in his mission to torment and kill Randy, what in the world might he to do Bobby? If Jack caught him trying to free his prisoner, Bobby might find himself at heaven’s door trying to explain to God that he’d truly had the best of intentions and hadn’t meant for the world to fall into further ruin since he’d croaked before finding a replacement.
Jack finally turned into an apartment complex aptly-named Shady Grove for the thick stands of trees surrounding it. Red-lettered signs posted on the fence standing between the parking lot and road announced that there should be No Trespassing and No Soliciting.
Bobby drove in anyway.
He chose a spot far from the lit, open stairwell in the nearest building. Jack parked closer to the light, got out of his car, and sauntered up the stairs.
Bobby almost called the police then. Jack had been at large for a week, and here he was, walking around right out in the open where anyone with eyes could see him. Did he have no fear that someone might recognize him from the mug shot they kept showing on the news?
Bobby pulled out his phone, entered the first three digits of the local sheriff dispatch, and hesitated. He couldn’t call the police unless he knew precisely where Jack was staying.
Bobby fumbled with his seatbelt and dashed across the lot before he lost sight of Mystery Woman’s abductor, his stomach queasy from the pain in his head. He took the stairs two at a time and got off on the second floor, where Jack paused outside a door on the right hand side at the end of a long hallway.
A key appeared in Jack’s hand, and he let himself inside.
“God, help me,” Bobby whispered.
He felt a slight boost of encouragement. He crept down the hall, stopped outside Jack’s unit, and pressed his ear to the door.
His heart gave a flutter of surprise when a woman’s voice issued from within, and he strained to hear better. “—to hear about your grandpa. I know he means a lot to you.”
Footsteps crossed the floor inside the apartment. “I’m not sure what he means to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Forget about it. Where are my cigarettes?”
“I thought you took them with you.”
“Why would I do that? The government won’t even let a guy smoke in a bar, and Vern and Chuck have been brainwashed into enforcing it.” Something slammed—maybe a cabinet.
More footsteps. “So about your call to me earlier. What’s the scoop with Troy?”
“The scoop is that Troy wants me to bring in five by next Saturday or I’m gone.”
“Is he high, or something?”
“He says if I succeed, I get a promotion. For the love of God, I need a cigarette.”
“Chill out, Jack. I can run down to the corner and pick up a pack for you.”
“Get me some Bud, too. A whole case of it.”
“Weren’t you just down at the Rooster?” A long silence. “Okay, I’ll get beer, too.”
Bobby nearly wet himself when he realized the woman in the apartment would be coming through the door any second.
There was no place to hide in the hallway. Without thinking, he raced on light feet to the closer set of stairs and up to the third floor.
He paused at the top and listened. The sounds of a door opening and closing and the jingling of keys carried up to him, and footsteps receded toward the other end of the building.
Bobby waited another minute before moving. Certain the woman had reached the parking lot after that length of time, he slid a hand into the pocket of his jeans and closed his fingers around its contents.
“Dad,” he whispered, “please pray for me.”
He crept back to the second floor and stopped outside Jack’s door, which had been painted a glossy white and bore gold numerals indicating that this was unit 212.
Logic told him he should call the police now, but the woman who’d gone on a beer run might have been involved with the kidnapping, too. If she returned and saw police cruisers outside, she might run for it.
Seconds ticked by as Bobby stood indecisively in front of 212. He glanced to his left and right. No visible cameras monitored the floor.
Sweat broke out all across his body. He raised his left hand and knocked on the door, hoping he hadn’t just made the worst mistake of his life.
Footsteps approached the door. Bobby’s attention was drawn to the peephole just below the numbers. Though he couldn’t see it, he knew Jack’s eye was peering out at him.
When the door swung open, Bobby whipped his right hand out of his pocket and flicked the blade out of the pocketknife, a motion he’d practiced a few times at home before coming to the bar.
Jack stood in the doorway with his arms hanging loosely at his sides. His blondish hair shined in the reflection of the hallway lights, and his blue eyes bore a dangerous glimmer.
The shadowy aura—not nearly as intense as that of the demoniac at the bar—filled Bobby’s mind.
Jack’s gaze traveled to Bobby’s knife. “What are you going to do, poke me to death?”
This wasn’t quite the reaction Bobby expected. “Where is she?” he asked, taking half a step closer to Jack.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to be a little more specific. You look a little crazed right now, so I don’t think you’re thinking clearly. Nice earrings, by the way.”
“You put the picture and notes on my door. You must have been stalking me to figure out where I live now.”
“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t. Maybe I wanted to see how badly your feathers could be ruffled. It’s funny what a few pieces of paper can do to someone, isn’t it?”
“Cut the crap. You wanted me to track that woman down, and now I’m here. Is she locked up in there?” Bobby craned his neck to see around Jack and caught a glimpse of a couch and coffee table on which sat a scattered newspaper, a pair of scissors, and a bottle of Elmer’s glue.
Jack might have shut the woman away inside a bedroom.
Jack’s eyes flashed. “Do you really think I’d tie someone up in an apartment?”
“You could have bound and gagged her so she wouldn’t make any noise.”
“Nice theory, but you’re still wrong.”
“I’ve got my phone with me. I can call the cops right now.”
“But if you do that, you won’t get to ask me all the questions buzzing around in that little head of yours. How does it feel, by the way? A blow like that had to hurt.”
Bobby’s stomach squirmed. “You did that?”
“No, but I admit it was rather entertaining seeing that buffoon knock you senseless the second I walked in the door.” Jack smiled. “Let’s make a deal.”
Don’t do anything stupid.
“What kind of deal?” Bobby tensed his muscles in anticipation.
“I’ll tell you everything I know.”
Bobby sensed a trap coming. “What’s the catch?”
“You forget you ever saw me. You don’t call the cops, we go on with our lives, easy peasy.”
Bobby tightened his grip on the knife. “How will you know if I’ve called the cops?”
“Presumably if they show up at my door. But that’s not the issue. I’ll only tell you what you want to hear if you promise in front of my face you won’t tell anyone where you’ve found me—cops included.”
“I can break a promise.”
“Can you? I know about your kind. Grandpa told me all sorts of things about the people he used to hang out with. He said the Servants can’t commit evil deeds in order to save anyone—and I know you’re the Servant now because I heard what Bellison said to you in the barn. Now what’s it going to be? Do we talk or do you let the cops take me away to a place where you’ll never learn what you want to know?”
Bobby hoped he wouldn’t regret his next decision. “Let’s talk.” Then, though it pained him to say it, he added, “And I won’t tell anyone where you are.”
Jack looked like he’d just won the Mega Millions jackpot. “Excellent. But I’m not going to flap my gums out here. Let’s go to your car.”
Bobby heard a tremor in his voice when he spoke. “You’ll kill me out there.”
“I solemnly swear I won’t, though I do find it tempting. It’s your fault I can’t go back to my own apartment and your fault I’m wanted by the law.”
Yeah right, it’s my fault. If Jack hadn’t broken any laws in the first place, the cops would have no interest in him, but of course Jack wouldn’t see it that way.
Straightening his shoulders, Bobby gave Jack what he hoped was a stern glare. “Turn out your pockets.”
Jack shrugged and did as Bobby requested. Both pockets were empty.
“Now turn around.”
“Are you going to stab me in the back with that thing you call a knife?”
“I want to make sure you don’t have anything in your back pockets.”
Jack rolled his eyes, held up his hands, and turned to face the interior of the apartment. “See? Nothing.”
Jack’s back pockets lay too flat to have contained anything, so Bobby said, “Fine. We’ll go to my car. But if you try to hurt me, I will call the cops.”
“That’s fine with me. Where did you park?”
Bobby pointed at the far set of stairs. “That way. But you’re going to walk in front of me.”
To Bobby’s delight, they passed no one on their way out to the car—at this hour, many of the apartment’s residents would either be in bed or enjoying a night out on the town.
When they reached the Nissan, Bobby gestured at the front passenger door. “You get in first.”
Shrugging, Jack obeyed without hesitation.
Bobby smelled a rat. People like Jack weren’t this cooperative unless they had some kind of ulterior motive in mind.
Do not let his words get to you.
Dreading what might come next, Bobby got behind the wheel, shut the door, and switched on the dome light.
The first ten seconds were filled with silence. Bobby wondered if this was what it felt like to be locked in a cage with a tiger. He had to remind himself that Jack was nothing more than a man—one not much older than himself.
Jack was casually examining his fingernails. “That was you in the parking lot at the Sanchez woman’s place last week, wasn’t it?”
He nodded. Bobby had driven Randy there to be with Lupe after her emotional breakdown and waited in the car for over an hour until he realized someone occupied the vehicle next to him.
“It’s interesting how one of my grandfather’s tenants ended up joining the very people he despised.”
“You’re stalling.”
“Why, yes—yes I am.”
Jack’s glib manner dialed Bobby’s anger up a notch. “Why did you kidnap a woman I don’t even know and stick her picture on my door?”
Jack cocked his head to the side and studied Bobby with those unnerving blue eyes. The shadows that filled Bobby’s mind swirled and intensified as if their conversation was stirring up the evil being that influenced Jack’s thoughts and actions. “I didn’t kidnap her,” he said.
“I don’t believe you.”
“You can disbelieve me all you want. And before you ask, I don’t know where she is, either.”
Bobby tried not to let despair take hold of him. If Jack was indeed providing him with honest answers, then he’d reached a dead end. “You were still a part of it, though.”
“Of course. Otherwise we wouldn’t be having this little chat.”
“So what’s your part in all this? You find women and have somebody else kidnap them for you?”
Jack focused his attention on the windshield, onto which a single green maple leaf had fallen and stuck. “Remember what your God will do to you if you break your promise to me.”
Bobby gulped. “Who are you, really?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Who am I? Seems to be the topic of many an existential crisis. I’m a number of things. A human being. A free thinker. What answer would you like?”
“That wasn’t a trick question.”
“Of course, of course. You want to know what I do, not who I am. People always want to know what you do. It’s one of the first things people ask when they meet you. What do you do, Jack? Even Grandpa wanted to know, but I didn’t tell him because I didn’t trust him to keep his mouth shut. But you’ll keep your mouth shut because you’re afraid of failing your Maker.”
It was all Bobby could do not to hold his pocketknife against Jack’s throat and demand that he get on with it.
Thane’s words echoed through his mind in that moment. I was going to remind you that saving this woman might require you to do some things you’re not comfortable with. You should do them anyway.
God help me, Bobby thought as he pointed the knife at his passenger. “Look. If you don’t hurry up and tell me what I want to know, I’ll slash your stupid throat and dump you in the woods.”
Jack’s nostrils flared. “If you think you’ve got the guts for it, go ahead and kill me. I’ll be able to tell you all kinds of things when I’m a corpse.”
Bobby lowered the knife. “Then get on with it.”
“Fine. I met the woman. Sweet-talked her a bit like I do with all of them. This one said she’d been in the area for a week or so and was looking for some work. So I told her I knew some people in need of help over on Oakland Avenue but they wouldn’t be home until after midnight, but unfortunately her car broke down so she had to walk there all the way from the McDonald’s on Ridge Avenue. I guess she was waiting out on the sidewalk in front of their house when someone came along and nabbed her.”
“Let me guess,” Bobby said, his voice shaking. “There weren’t any people she was supposed to meet about a job on my street.”
“That’s what it looks like.”
“Why did you do it?”
“A man has to make a living somehow. And what’s one of the biggest commodities out there? Women.”
Bobby swayed in his seat. “What are you talking about?”
Jack wore an expression of triumph. “Don’t you know? Normal men have needs. I help them obtain the objects they desire in order to meet those needs.”
“Women, you mean.”
“Mostly. We deal in young men, too, but not as many.”
“Women aren’t objects.”
“Aren’t they? Some of them are so vapid it’s almost as if God gave them no brains.”
It almost took more willpower than Bobby was able to muster not to swing back a fist and knock the smile off of Jack’s face. “So you…you trick women into thinking someone is going to help them find work, and then someone else nabs them. Then what?”
“Then buyers show up where they’re being held and purchase the ones they think will benefit them the most. I take a cut of the sale.”
“And you’re just admitting all of this to me like it’s nothing?” A high-pitched whine
rang in Bobby’s ears. He’d heard of such things, of course, but never had it occurred to him that something so vile could be happening right where he lived.
“It’s making you angry, yes? It’s so easy to press your buttons. I can tell you anything I want because you already promised you wouldn’t report me.”
Bobby gnashed his teeth together. Jack was right, and Bobby hated it. “So why did you make that woman go to my street? Why did you put her picture on my door?”
“Are you really so dense that you haven’t figured it out yet?”
“You’re just getting back at me for calling the cops on you and Graham. What’s her name, Jack?”
“You should know it.”
Bobby brandished the knife at him. “I said, what’s her name?”
“Why don’t you know what it is?”
“Because I’ve never seen that woman before in my life.”
Jack laughed. “And that’s where you’re wrong. The two of you used to be rather close.”
“You’re lying.”
“See, you think that because of who I am, I’m incapable of telling you the truth.”
“You’ve got me mixed up with someone else. I don’t know her.”
Jack gave him that Cheshire Cat grin. “Really. What if I told you her name is Adrian?”
Bobby’s heart was beating so hard he thought he might faint. “Adrian who?”
“Adrian Pollard. She told me when we met at the bar.”
Puzzle pieces clicked into place in Bobby’s mind, forming a picture he had no desire to see. His voice sounded far away when he next spoke. “Pollard. Like, that’s her maiden name?”
“I would assume so. She certainly didn’t call herself Adrian Roland, but that’s because she never married your father. Right?”
The whine in his head grew increasingly louder. Bobby pointed at the door. “Get out of my car.”
Jack didn’t budge. “Poor old Adrian came all this way to see her precious baby boy—the one she abandoned oh so many years ago. Imagine my surprise when she told me her baby’s name.” He laughed. “I hope she’s having a good time wherever she is. I wonder how many men she’ll have before one of them does things a little too rough and kills her.”