When he was close to the Ohio River, the buildings turned into shut down factories, skeletons of the past. He cracked the truck window and picked up the musty scent of the muddy water.
A streetlamp illuminated a gravel lot, but most of the dim light was blocked by fog and misty rain. Nate pulled in and slowly made his way around the empty area, until he arrived at the correct loading dock.
The mist turned into a hard, pelting rain. It was hard to see; Nate stuck his head out of the window as he backed the truck to the loading door.
The whole facility looked abandoned, and it reminded Nate of when he used to work the graveyard shift at a nearby soap factory. It gave him chills and the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up.
Nate got out of the truck and crept across the puddled gravel lot. By the time he made it to the metal entrance door, his pant legs were soaked.
Nate pushed the door open and was greeted by a dark-skinned man with a full beard, with his feet propped on an old metal desk.
"You must be the Irishman," the bearded man said, looking up from his book.
"That's me," Nate said, glancing around the warehouse. He could hear the echo of an industrial fan, and men talking in a room near the back. The humming of the fan made it difficult to make out any of their words. Off to the side, two men were busy unpacking a crate. They didn’t look up.
"You can call me Lenny," said the man at the desk, as he grabbed a walkie-talkie. "The Irishman's here. Load the truck," he barked.
The device crackled, and a response came back. "You got it, Boss."
"I recognize you from the party," Lenny said.
Nate smiled. "I was pretty busy enjoying myself."
"I don't blame you, lots to enjoy at one of Malek's little gatherings. It shouldn't take too long to get you loaded up. There's some chairs over there if you want to sit down."
"Do you mind if I use the head? It was a pretty long drive."
Lenny pointed over his shoulder. "Back wall and to the left. Just don't go upstairs."
Nate made his way to the back, and as he approached a little walled-off room with a plexiglass window, he could clearly hear the conversation. It was uninteresting small talk, but Nate peeked into the window, careful not to get noticed.
Nate was about to walk away, when he caught a profile view of a man he recognized. It was the man who threatened Boniva in the parking lot of the strip joint. Nate could feel his heart pounding against his chest. He swallowed hard.
Seeing the familiar face jolted him, and he wondered how this man was connected to the Armenians. He ducked and kept listening to the conversation, anxious to find out more.
The men continued with jokes and idle banter. Nate raised himself up carefully and snapped a picture with his cell phone.
Knowing if he was gone too long, Lenny would come searching, he moved on to the bathroom.
After sending the picture to Sarge and Scarecrow, he closed the door and dialed Sarge. He spoke low, into the phone. "I've seen this guy before, he attacked Boniva in a parking lot at TC's."
"Scarecrow says it’s the same guy that runs the adult store," Sarge said over the line.
Nate fought to control his excitement and kept his voice down. "This is the guy who took the girls. It has to be."
"I don't know, Nate. Attacking Boniva and owning the adult store. It could all just be a coincidence. We need to find out how he's connected to the Armenians."
"It's no coincidence. I know how he's connected. He supplies girls for them. I need to get back out there. I want you guys to keep watch and follow this guy when he leaves."
Sarge raised his voice. "I don't know if that's such a good idea. We need to stay on you."
"I'll be fucking fine. This guy can lead us to Ruby. Stay on him!"
"You got it, Nate, but don't do anything stupid."
Nate disconnected the call and made his way back to Lenny's desk, careful not to get spotted by Animal as he walked past the room.
"I wouldn't go in there for a while," Nate said to Lenny.
"Thanks for the warning. You're all loaded up."
"Thanks," Nate said, as he headed to the exit.
•••
After making the drop at Arik's bar, Nate rolled the cargo truck into the Bandidos’ clubhouse. As soon as Nate stopped the truck, MC President Diego Sanchez and his crew came out of the building.
Diego smiled when Nate climbed out of the cab. "Right on time. I like that."
"It's all here," Nate said.
Diego gave Nate a fist bump. "My man."
Nate grinned. "I could use a drink."
"Go on inside," Diego said.
Nate made his way to the building, praying his newly discovered half-sister, Maria, was inside.
He didn't see her when he entered, so he made his way toward Al, who was drinking alone.
"Have you seen Maria?" Nata asked, after Al finished tossing back a drink.
He pointed to a set of steps. "She's upstairs watching TV."
"Cool if I go up?" Nate asked.
Al nodded, and Nate made his way up the steps.
Maria sat on a sofa, her feet propped up on a vintage coffee table. "Holy shit. I didn't expect you to pop in. Want to watch TV?" she asked, smiling.
Nate nodded.
"Have a seat," Maria said, patting the space next to her.
Nate sat down. "I have something I want to tell you, and it may be a bit shocking."
Maria raised her eyebrows. "What on earth is it?"
"You said your father passed away recently."
"Yes, did you know him?"
Nate rubbed his beard stubble. "You could say that."
"Well tell me, damn it. What's this all about?"
Nate put a hand on Maria's back. "I think we have the same father."
Maria's eyes widened. "You have to be shitting me?"
"Was your father Nathan Randolph?" Nate asked, already knowing the response.
"Yes."
"I'm not messing with you, Maria. I'm your half-brother."
"I don't know why I'm so surprised. I always thought it was likely there was family I didn't know about, but I never expected to meet someone out of the blue like this."
"I was shocked too."
"I'd really like to get to know you better. I don't even know your real name" Maria said.
"Nathan, just like my father, but everyone calls me Nate. I'd like to know more about you too, but right now, there are some things I need to know about our dad, and the neighborhood I grew up in."
Maria frowned. "I don't know much."
"You mentioned our father had another friend. You called him Kessler."
Maria nodded. "They were close friends. This all seems strange, Nate. What are you looking for?"
"It's a long story, but there were some weird happenings where I grew up. There was a rumor that a man kept his wife locked in their basement."
"Jesus, that's some freaky shit. I don't know, but Kessler would probably have the answers you’re looking for."
"Do you know how I can get in touch?" Nate asked.
"Good luck with that. Kessler is pretty much a recluse. He doesn't even own a phone."
"Do you know where he stays?" Nate asked.
"He moved to Indiana and lives out in the sticks. I bet you could find him at the local tavern. Last I heard, he was trying to drink himself to death."
"The local tavern?"
"I think it's called Wipples. Should be easy to find. From what I hear it's a one-light town."
"That helps. I'd like to talk to this guy."
"Buy him a few drinks. He'll talk to you."
"Thanks for the tip. Give me your contact info and we'll stay in touch."
Maria smiled and gave her contact info to Nate.
•••
Nate was on his way to drop off the cargo truck when his phone rang. He answered, and Sarge shouted from the other end, "You're not going to believe this!"
"Better be good."
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"Animal led us to his home. Smack dab in the middle of Highpoint."
Nate mashed the gas pedal. "We have to get in that house. I'm heading that way."
"He can't see you, Nate. If the girls aren't in that house, he walks. Besides that, we need a warrant."
Nate could feel blood pumping through the vein running along his forearm. "That could take too much time."
"I know a way to speed it up. I’ll fill you in later. I take it the delivery went OK?"
"It went perfect."
"Drop that truck off, try to get a little rest, then meet us at Animal’s store when it opens."
"I don't think I'll be getting any rest."
"Do the best you can. We're going to be searching his house before you know it."
"I hope it's not too late."
"Don't think like that. It's not."
Nate gripped the wheel. “I don’t think I can wait. What if—”
“If the girls aren’t in his house and we spook him, he could disappear on us.”
"You’re right. I’ll see you tomorrow," Nate said and disconnected the call.
TWENTY-EIGHT
October 18, 2015
Nate pulled his pickup behind the black van parked in front of Animal's sex shop.
As soon as he got out, the rear van door slid open and he was greeted by Rosales' smiling face. "We're going to nail this guy,” she said.
"Get in," Sarge said from the driver’s seat.
When Nate hopped in, Sarge turned around and handed him a black ski mask. "Put this on."
Scarecrow was in the front passenger seat; he held up a baggie of white powder. "We're going to plant this on the bastard."
Sarge rubbed his bald head. "It'll give us some physical evidence. This along with our intel connecting him to the Armenians will be enough to get a warrant to search his home. I’ll go see the judge myself."
Nate pulled the ski mask over his head. "Good, time is precious."
Rosales put a hand on Nate's knee. "Hey, we're getting close now."
Sarge swung the van door open. "Let's do this," he said and jumped out.
Nate, Scarecrow, and Rosales followed Sarge as he drew his M&P 9mm and entered the sex shop.
As the task force rushed in, Animal dropped an armful of dildos. "What the fuck is going on?"
Scarecrow flashed his badge. "We're taking you in for dope, is what's going on."
"I don't have any dope," Animal said, curling his upper lip.
Sarge grabbed his shoulder, spun him around and pulled his arms behind his back.
Nate and Rosales watched as Scarecrow dug his hands into the pocket of Animal’s jacket. "Then what's this?" he said, showing him the baggie of white powder.
"That's not mine," Animal shouted.
Sarge grinned. "There's four cops here that say it is."
Nate watched Animal’s face, trying to control his rage, as Sarge cuffed him. He wanted to get his hands around the monster's neck, demand to know where Ruby was, and hurt him in so many ways.
Rosales picked up a big dildo from the counter. "Nice store you got here."
Animal squirmed. "I want my attorney."
•••
Nate, Scarecrow, and Rosales were following Sarge along the cracked sidewalk, toward the front door of the ugly single-story house. "I don't expect Animal lived with anyone, but we need to be careful," Sarge said.
"Looks like a shithole," Rosales added, looking at the moldy aluminum siding.
Scarecrow drew a sidearm but kept it at his side. "What did you expect, a manicured lawn and an herb garden?"
Nate pointed to lower level windows. "The house has a basement."
Sarge banged his thick fist on the cheap, thin door. "Hamilton County Sheriff's Office. We have a search warrant," he yelled.
Nate could feel his heart pounding against his chest. "Just hurry up and break the damn door down."
Sarge swung a battering ram, and the crashing blow sent the door flying open, and nearly off its hinges.
Scarecrow raised his weapon and entered first. Sarge, Nate and Rosales followed behind.
"Anyone in here?" Nate yelled.
"Jesus Christ," Sarge said, watching a roach crawl across the kitchen floor.
"No wonder they called him Animal," Rosales said, looking at a sink full of dishes, lined with caked-on food.
"I'm checking the basement," Nate said as Sarge and Scarecrow peeked into bedrooms.
Rosales followed Nate as he drew his sidearm.
Nate carefully descended the steps. He could feel a lump in his throat as he neared the bottom.
He slowly peeked around the corner, half scared of what he might see. Then, there was a flood of disappointment. The only thing in the open area was a row of storage boxes lining one of the walls. "Fuck! She's not here," Nate shouted.
Sarge was at the top of the steps. "The upstairs is clear too, Nate—the place is empty."
Nate continued searching, but there was no evidence that anyone had been held.
Rosales put a hand on Nate's shoulder.
Nate shook his fist. "He's going to tell me where she is. I'll beat it out of him, if I need to."
He started back up the staircase, and Rosales followed.
"Let me take a crack at him," Sarge said, when Nate was back upstairs.
"It's a minor drug charge, how long can we hold him?" Nate asked.
Sarge smirked. "I'll stall and hold him as long as I can. You got anything to keep you busy for a while?"
Nate nodded. "I do, but I want at this guy.”
Sarge shook his head. “No, Nate, you need to trust me on this one. What do you have to check up on?”
“There's a guy out in Indiana that's from Highpoint. He was friends with my father. I’ve got some questions, and hopefully he can help make sense of some things."
"That's good, Nate. Head out there and I'll keep in touch."
TWENTY-NINE
October 19, 2015
Nate got off the interstate, onto the lonely rural road, rolled down his window and inhaled the crisp, clean air. The fresh oxygen pulled his brain out of a thick fog, and his thoughts began alternating between Ruby and Esperanza Rosales.
As he drove past old barns, corn fields and pastures, he was hoping someday Ruby would be meeting Esperanza. He knew his sister would love Detective Rosales. He imagined the two of them going shopping and gossiping like sisters. Then, he felt a gnawing pain, deep in the pit of his stomach. A sense of dread was rising, as he started to think about the possibility of Ruby being dead.
Nate managed to clear his head and arrive in town. He passed the Dollar Store and drove past the only traffic light. He slowed his vehicle as he crossed a set of rough railroad tracks, and looked toward a small liquor store on his left. It seemed to be the busiest place in town.
There were a couple of brick buildings at the next road, and it seemed like a logical place to turn. He spotted Wipples Tavern, sitting across from a small Mexican cantina. Nate parked on the street and made his way into the run-down hole-in-the-wall.
Nate spotted a man with a long ponytail, sitting alone at the bar. "Do they call you Kessler?" he called out.
"It's one of the nicer things they call me," the man said as he swung around.
"Maria told me I'd find you here. I'm Nate Randolph, you were friends with my father."
"Holy shit! You look like your dad," Kessler said as Nate joined him at the bar.
"I don't act like him," Nate said.
"Good, we were friends, but he was an asshole. What brings you here?”
"I don't know much about my father. Just trying to learn some things. Mostly about the neighborhood we lived in. Maria said you might have some answers."
"What are you drinking?" Kessler asked as he leaned forward, his fat belly pressing hard against the edge of the old bar.
"Miller Lite and Jameson neat," Nate said.
Kessler looked toward the bartender and whistled. "Hey, I'll take another one
, and bring my buddy a Miller Lite and some Jameson."
"Thanks," Nate said.
"My pleasure. After all, you're Nathan's boy. You said you wanted to know about the neighborhood? I take it you’re talking about Highpoint?"
"Yes. I'll cut to the chase. More specifically, I’m here about the rumor that a man who lived there kept his wife locked in his basement. They called him Junk Man."
"Well shit, Nathan, I can tell you all about that."
Nate sat up straight. "Really?"
"It wasn't just a rumor. Your father and I had a run-in with him."
"A run-in? With Junk Man?"
"Well first of all, it was a kid locked in that basement, not the guy's wife. Second, it was more than just a run-in. Why are you trying to dig up all this?"
Nate had an excuse ready. "I visited a friend in lockup. A friend I grew up with. We started talking about it and it's been on my mind since then."
The bartender returned with drinks. Kessler took a sip of his whiskey and Coke before he continued, "The house next to the one where the crazy guy lived was running a meth lab. Me and your old man were making a drop-off. Ephedra—we dropped it there once a week. It was just past dark when we rolled up. That's when this little boy came running out of the house next door. It was frosty cold out and the little fella was in nothing but a pair of tightey whiteys. He was dirty as hell too, screaming, crying and flailing his arms around like this," Kessler said, then crinkled his nose and waved his hands in the air.
"Jesus," Nate said, and took a drink of his beer.
"The little guy didn't make it very far. This dude, probably in his forties, runs out of the house and snatches him up. Took him right back inside. After we dropped off the Ephedra we started to leave, but there was something about the look on that little kid’s face."
"Fear?" Nate asked.
"Terror, panic and sadness," Kessler said and tossed back a drink. "What we found, shit, I remember it like it was yesterday. You sure you want to hear this?" he asked.
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