Broken Boys_The Extractor

by L. J. Sellers

  Donna shook her head. “Tommy had stopped talking to me.”

  “Tell me about his friends and hobbies. I’d like to start my search next week.”

  Donna waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “I went through all this with the police.” She spoke slowly, as if trying to be careful not to slur. “They talked to Tommy’s friends, and no one knows anything.”

  “Where does your son normally hang out? Any clubs or sports?”

  “He plays basketball at the Y. Or at least he used to.”

  “The YMCA? Which one?”

  “On Powellhurst Street. The youth group had a lot of activities there.”

  Another odd sensation she’d never experienced—in her chest this time. “Kids from the Community Fellowship?”

  “Yeah, but I stopped going. I’m not sure I believe in a higher power anymore—unless he’s a sadist.” Her mouth twisted into a bitter scowl.

  Rox wasn’t in a mood to discuss theology. She had too many questions and not enough patience to be anything but direct. “Did you send Tommy to a gay-conversion camp?”

  “No!” Donna’s expression suggested that Rox might be crazy. “Tommy’s not gay.”

  No hint of deceit or shame.

  “What about a corrective wilderness program like Ridgeline?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Tommy’s a good kid.” Donna gulped her drink. “Yeah, he had started staying out for days at a time and not telling me where he was. His grades had slipped too, but he wasn’t in any kind of real trouble.” It took the mother a minute to enunciate all that.

  Rox believed her. At least the part about not sending Tommy away. She had one more long-shot question. “Does Tommy know Josh Lovejoy?”

  Donna shrugged. “I think I heard him mention a Josh once, but I don’t know that last name.”

  A hard knock on the door startled them both. Donna pulled her robe together. “I can’t handle more company right now.”

  Rox stood. “Should I see who it is?”

  “Please.”

  As Rox moved toward the door, another knock sounded. “Portland Police! We need to talk to you.”

  A wave of dread flooded her as Rox hurried to the door. She heard Donna get up and follow.

  Two uniformed officers stood outside looking solemn. The older one asked, “Are you Donna Goodwin?”

  “No, but she’s right here.”

  Donna stepped into the doorway beside her.

  “Can we come in?” the same officer asked.

  “No.” Donna shook her head. “Just tell me.”

  The cop wiped his sweaty brow. “Ma’am, we have news about your son Tommy.”

  “What? Where is he?” A note of hope in the mother’s voice.

  The officer reached out and touched Donna’s arm. “A hiker found him in a shallow grave. I’m sorry, but we think he’s been dead for a few weeks.”

  Chapter 25

  Rox paced her house, dreading making the call. Or maybe she didn’t have to contact Scott Goodwin. Surely Donna would let him know Tommy was dead. Still, Goodwin was her client, so she felt obligated to reach out. She had wanted to see him again personally—just not under these circumstances.

  Still stalling, she took a moment to change into black pants and a navy-blue blouse. A dress would have been more appropriate for a funeral service, but she didn’t have a black one. She hadn’t known Carrie Lovejoy—except for their brief encounter a few nights ago—so attending her service wasn’t about paying respects. She wanted to see who attended, how they acted, and who knew each other. Curtis Fletcher, in particular, was a person of interest. A wild speculation popped into her head. Had Fletcher killed both Carrie and Tommy? But why? What was the victims’ connection? Other than the Fellowship, where she was soon headed.

  Rox checked herself in the mirror and abruptly realized she couldn’t attend. Fletcher had seen her Wednesday at the prayer service. Although she’d been wearing a wig and glasses at the time, he’d commented on her height. For sure, her six-foot frame would attract his attention at the memorial. Damn! She would have to send Marty instead and rely on his feedback. Or she could go along and stay in the car, watching people in the parking lot. She texted her stepdad: Lots going on. I need your help. She’d been trying to reach him for an hour. Sometimes when he was golfing he turned off his phone.

  Before she could change her mind, she switched to her work phone and called Scott Goodwin. He answered quickly and sounded upbeat. “Hey, Karina.”

  Scott had recognized her number, which meant he’d created a contact listing for her and must be interested. Rox shook off the thought. It didn’t matter now. “Hello.”

  Before she could continue, he cut in eagerly. “What have you found out?”

  Damn. Donna hadn’t told him. The grieving mother had probably been too drunk or too devastated. “I’m sorry, but I have some bad news.”

  “What? Tommy’s in the wilderness program?”

  “No. He’s dead.” Rox mentally kicked herself. That had been too abrupt. “I’m sorry.”

  “Dead? How? What are you saying?” His voice pitched up a notch.

  “The police think Tommy was murdered. His body was found in a shallow grave in Forest Park.” Five thousand acres of trees—right in the middle of Portland’s upscale neighborhoods.

  “Oh god. No!”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” Rox didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t have any other details yet. She’d made calls to both Kyle and the missing-person unit but had only been able to leave messages.

  “I have to call Donna.”

  “She knows.” Rox had offered to go to the morgue with Donna to identify her son, but the distressed woman had lashed out at her. Now Rox hesitated to offer Goodwin comfort. “Can I do anything? Of course, I’ll refund your deposit.”

  “Thank you. I’ll call you tomorrow. I can’t think straight right now.” Goodwin abruptly hung up.

  Rox sat down, her body still fatigued from yesterday’s traveling. Today had been rough too. First her office had been broken into, then the news of Tommy’s murder had hit her hard. Not because she grieved for a boy she didn’t know, but because it forced her to rethink her whole investigation. On the surface, both cases involved a troubled teenage boy. Yet the fact that Josh and Tommy had attended the same fellowship meant there might be something bigger at stake. Instinct told her to keep digging. If Tommy had been killed, Josh might be in mortal danger as well. And she was no closer to extracting him than when she’d started the case.

  Marty’s knock snapped her out of the funk, and she called out, “Clear!”

  Her stepdad bounded in, looking chipper for an old guy who’d driven hundreds of miles the day before. “What’s going on?”

  Rox gestured for him to have a seat. He was making her feel old. “Our second client, the missing boy? He turned up dead in Forest Park, bludgeoned and buried in a shallow grave.” She shook her head, knowing what Marty would ask. “I don’t know how or when. I just happened to be at his mother’s home when officers came to break the news.”

  “That’s damn sad.” Marty worked his eyebrows. “So is Tommy a runaway who fell in with drug dealers or maybe a gang?”

  “I’ve considered that.” Rox stood. “I need more coffee.”

  Marty followed her to the kitchen so she kept talking. “But the fact that Tommy and Josh both attended the Community Fellowship makes me think the boys knew each other, and that Carrie and Tommy’s deaths are connected. With Tommy murdered, I’m more worried than ever about Josh.”

  “Other than the church, what have you got?” Marty challenged.

  He was forcing her to think it through. “Maybe nothing. Josh was sent to a wildness camp by a mother who wanted to correct his behavior so she could move in with her fiancé.” Rox poured coffee, now a little stale, and took a sip. “Tommy ran away from home because he was grieving and angry and using drugs. On the streets, you can get killed for a lot of reasons.” Rox v
isualized the people she’d seen on Dirty Kid Corner and the surrounding blocks. Some were mentally ill and might strike out in a schizophrenic psychosis. But that didn’t explain where the body ended up.

  “So the only connection is the fellowship.” Marty nodded. “But I trust your instinct. Let’s look into it. Maybe both boys were involved in the same activity.”

  “A youth group,” Rox said. “Tommy played basketball at the YMCA where Josh’s mother worked.” Rox gulped more coffee. “Speaking of Carrie, her memorial service is at the Community Fellowship in forty minutes.” She grinned at Marty. “I need you to attend.”

  He groaned and made a face. “Why?”

  “Because I went there already, remember? And I took Carrie’s phone. I can’t hide my tallness. Someone will make the connection and look at me very closely.”

  “All right. But you have to be available to help me keep everyone straight.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be in the car.” She gave him a mock-shock look. “You mean you’re going to text me with questions while you’re in the church?”

  “Yep.”

  This would be interesting. Rox’s work phone rang again. A vaguely familiar number. She nodded at Marty and took the call. A canned voice announced: “You have a collect call from the Multnomah County Jail. To accept these charges, press one. To deny the call—”

  Rox hit the button, and the voicemail switched to another message. Moments later, Lovejoy came on the line. “Thanks for talking to me. I hope you believe I’m innocent.”

  “For now, yes.” Rox paused. “I have some good news and bad news about Josh.”

  “What?” He sounded alarmed.

  “We found the area where Ridgeline conducts its wilderness programs, but the base camp had just moved. I think the local police tipped them off that I was looking for it.”

  “I’m not surprised. But please don’t give up. I’m worried sick about Josh. Especially if they told him his mother was dead.” Noise in the background, mostly loud male voices, made it hard to hear her client. “The poor boy was already depressed.”

  She knew Lovejoy didn’t have much time on the phone, so Rox got right to the point. “I have no idea what Ridgeline plans to do with Josh, and Curtis Fletcher won’t return my calls. But I’m still on the case. We’re going back out to Sun Ridge as soon as we have more information.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You need to contact Ridgeline and demand they release Josh. If you can get permission.” Rox spelled out the number.

  “I have nothing to write that down with.”

  He couldn’t remember a phone number? She gave it to him again, and he recited it back, sounding uncertain.

  “What’s your public defender’s name? That’s the only way I can get information to you.”

  “Amy Borden, but she hasn’t even been to see me.”

  That reminded her to ask, “If I successfully extract Josh and you’re still in jail, what do I do with him?”

  “I have a sister in Seattle. Lynn Severs. Josh knows how to contact his aunt.”

  Relieved that the boy had somewhere to go, Rox felt her energy kick in. She asked the long-shot question again. “Do you know a boy named Tommy Goodwin?”

  “No. Why?”

  “He went missing and turned up dead.”

  “What does he have to do with Josh?” Tightness in his voice again. “You’re freaking me out.”

  “It’s probably nothing. I’m sorry.”

  Someone shouted loudly in the background, and her client said a quick goodbye and hung up.

  Rox looked at Marty. “Time for church, old man.”

  Chapter 26

  Marty put on a black suit with a white shirt, then selected a dark-red tie. He glanced in the mirror and smiled. He looked darn spiffy and wished SiriKaren could see him right now. His girlfriend liked him to wear nice clothes, especially when they went dancing. They’d finally consummated their relationship the night before, and it had been great. Well, mostly. The first time was always a little awkward, but at least his body hadn’t betrayed him.

  He caught himself whistling as he walked over to Rox’s and put a stop to it. Besides the fact that she hated the habit, he didn’t want to talk about why he felt so chipper. Not yet. Eventually Rox would meet SiriKaren, who was Pakistani and ten years younger than him. They’ll get along just fine, he told himself.

  Rox stood outside her place, looking fierce and beautiful at the same time. “Let’s take your sedan.”

  “Excellent idea. That eyesore of yours doesn’t blend in anywhere.” He hated boxy vehicles and didn’t understand the appeal. But he loved Rox more than he’d ever expected to. She’d been such a peculiar child. So unlike his sweet and predictable Jolene. But Roxanne had been special in her own way—and fascinated with his police officer job—so they had bonded easily.

  Rox nodded and surprised him. “I’ve been thinking about that. I’ll probably trade in the Cube for something that looks just like every other new car on the road.” They climbed into his sedan, and Rox asked, “What’s your cover for being there?”

  He was still worried about that. “I have to stick with the line I gave Curtis Fletcher when I knocked on his door the other day.” Marty gave Rox a quick grin. “A grief counselor, sent by the fellowship to comfort him.”

  “Oh boy.” Rox shook her head. “If Fletcher asks someone from the group about you, your cover may be blown.”

  “Maybe not. There’s another Community Fellowship, and I’m from that congregation.” He shrugged, hoping to ease her mind. “It’ll be fine. I’ll avoid Fletcher and limit who I engage with.” Marty backed out of the driveway and headed east.

  “We still need to find the Oregon transport office.” His daughter sounded worried. A new emotion for her.

  “We will.” Marty reached over and touched Rox’s shoulder. “What’s bothering you most?”

  “Our client’s son. If Josh is suicidal, he might already be dead after a couple of weeks in an abusive camp.” Rox let out a sigh. “The counselors already left one kid for dead, so they might have left Josh too. He could be out there, being eaten by coyotes.”

  Marty was still stunned about the girl they’d found—and the lack of concern displayed by the Sun Ridge brothers in blue. But he’d done some reading, and the program had been around for twenty years, with only one camper dying from a seizure. “Ridgeline can’t make a habit of that behavior or they would have been shut down. Even tough-love parents don’t put up with that.” He made a left and drove toward the freeway entrance.

  “Maybe they buy off the parents who complain.”

  “Josh is probably all right. But we’ll find him and get him out.” Marty was glad to still have a meaningful purpose. Even with SiriKaren in his life, he needed to feel useful. Especially now that his days were numbered.

  When they neared the fellowship, Rox pointed and said, “Park next door in front of that school.”

  Marty pulled in, glad it was Sunday evening and the school was closed. Butterflies in his stomach surprised him. He’d thought he was too jaded by now to get nervous about investigative work. But he’d always been a patrol officer, so the extractions and their cover stories were still new to him. And his part had always been backup or distraction—not direct engagement. Still, he’d already done this gig once at Fletcher’s house, so he could handle it. “Why am I worried about this one?” he mused out loud.

  Rox turned to him, staring hard. “I don’t know. It’s a memorial service in a fellowship hall. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “You mean like stealing someone’s phone and having them get murdered a few hours later?”

  They both laughed, but it felt hollow. Marty reached for the door handle. “Here goes.”

  “Text me if we need to leave in a hurry.” Rox grinned. “I’ll start the engine and turn the car around.”

  “More likely, you’ll have to come in and wake me up.” Marty climbed out and hopped over the s
hort metal railing that divided the parking spaces. The church’s space was full, but a regular service probably followed Carrie’s memorial, so he couldn’t tell how many people had showed up to honor the victim. Marty glanced around, looking for Fletcher’s red BMW, and spotted it not far from the front entry.

  Three people stood on the landing outside the front doors, talking quietly. As Marty passed, he heard a woman say, “Her poor son. I wonder what will happen with him.”

  Marty slowed.

  The man standing next to her responded, “Hopefully, Carrie has relatives. I’m sure Curtis isn’t going to take him in.”

  Marty stopped, bent down, and fiddled with his shoe, a slip-on loafer.

  “Why should he?” another man asked. “He and Carrie were engaged, but that doesn’t make him responsible for her kid.”

  “Where is Josh?” The woman’s tone was sharp this time. “Shouldn’t he be here?”

  “He’s probably inside,” the first man said. “And we should be too.”

  Marty stood up and hurried in ahead of them. The foyer was packed with a dozen people, but the space was quiet, with only a few whispered conversations. He glanced around, looking for Curtis Fletcher, and more broadly, for anyone who looked out of place. Particularly a male. Since Carrie had been beaten and strangled, her killer was most likely a man. Another lover? If she’d cheated on her ex-husband, she might have cheated on her fiancé too. One of the men in her life was likely the killer. With a child’s custody at issue, Marty had his money on Isaac Lovejoy. He was humoring Rox by being here.

  The crowd was older than he’d expected, mostly couples over fifty. Where were Carrie’s friends? He would have expected a crowd of women in their forties. Marty stepped closer to a couple talking in harsh whispers. The woman said something about selling their house and the man argued about the timing. Marty moved on, shifting to a position against the wall, where he could see inside the main hall. The space with all the pews had a name but he couldn’t remember it. This organization might call itself a fellowship, but it looked and sounded like a church to him.