Kingdom of Villains and Vengeance

by Laura Greenwood et al.

  Rob nodded. "Good. I want to take a look at the alley behind the store. I know the police have already searched it, but I'm hoping with your finding ability you can pick up on something they missed."

  "How do we explain if we find him? Will they suspect me? I mean, Dad said that when I started getting in trouble as a kid I suppressed my finding skill. What if..."

  Rob winked. "You leave that to me. Over the years, I've gotten quite good at giving creative explanations. You may not believe it now, but it’s actually pretty easy to tell people what they want to hear. Especially when the only alternative explanation is something that doesn't make a lick of sense."

  I considered his words, deciding he was right. I mean, he was a detective after all. I imagined he’d have to be good at what he did in order to get to that place on the force, so it would be reasonable to assume if he cracked a case it was due to his investigative skills, not something unbelievable.

  After all, I could hardly believe anything he was saying, and I’d just had my own world turned on its ear.

  Frowning, I raised an eyebrow and looked at my dad. "Is that why we went to the police station and didn't call in to make a report through the tip line?"

  My dad nodded. "Yes. I always knew this day would come, although to be honest I expected it to have already happened long ago." He sighed. “I guess you’ve been so busy with school, sports, and your friends it was easy to push your talents aside. Until now when it involves one of them."

  "How did you know though? And why aren't you more freaked out?"

  Now, he smiled. Technically, it was more of a smirk, like the one Robbie got when he knew something I didn’t and was going to enjoy dropping a bomb. I braced myself, but still wasn't expecting what he said next.

  "Let's just say we come from people that are known to be intuitive. Some can read minds like Rob, who I discovered was a distant cousin not long after meeting him.”

  I started, looking between the two men with what I was sure was an open mouth. My dad, pale, tall, and blond, did not resemble in any way, shape, or form the dark-skinned, dark-haired, and stocky detective.

  “Clearly, you didn’t see the resemblance. We get that a lot."

  Rob laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s a very peripheral connection. We have a great uncle in common in England.”

  "Huh. Okay, well aside from Rob, who else has abilities? Do you?"

  My dad shook his head. "Not exactly, at least, not like Rob. But your grandma did, and you've some distant cousins who do. Most are back in England, but there’s a few in North America, some who are incredibly powerful, if the rumors I’ve heard are true.”

  I was still waiting for him to stop mid-sentence and tell me it was all a joke and he was pulling my leg for thinking a dream was real, but he didn’t.

  Maybe it was because he was so matter-of-fact in explaining things, or maybe it was having this previously unknown police detective with a gaze so intense it did feel like he could read minds. Whatever it was, I knew my dad wasn’t lying to me now.

  Which meant this was really happening.

  I wondered if I shook my head until it sank all the way in if it would be easier to accept. Somehow, my dad expected me to find my friend and had expected me to do something like this a lot earlier in my life.

  If I wasn't completely off-base, he looked kind of pleased I’d had the dream. The same dream that had scared the crap out of me. And what was this about my grandma? I realized as I examined his face there would need to be a much longer conversation for me to get all the answers I wanted.

  Right now, my focus needed to be less on understanding what everything meant and completely on how I could help save Paul.

  I needed to find him before it was too late.

  "Okay, I’m going to have a ton of questions. But first I need to find Paul.”

  Rob narrowed his eyes as he took in my face. I wondered if he could see the anxiety building. I didn’t know how much was from the information they’d shared, or from this strange new sensation inside, an urgency to follow the clues in my dream.

  Rob stood up, dusting off the seat of his jeans and smiled. "Absolutely. Let's go to the convenience store where Paul works. It’s only been a few hours, so it’s still an active crime scene, but they’ll let you past if you stick close to me. Are you sure you're up for this? It may be a little disturbing."

  A shiver crossed my back when I remembered the news report and the shooting. He hadn't specifically mentioned it, but I knew there would be blood. Was any of it Paul’s?

  He narrowed his eyes as he watched me and I could feel his concern. Somehow, it was the small hesitation on his part which made it easier for me to reply.

  "I'll be fine after we find him."

  As we walked back to the SUV, I could only hope I was right.

  Because I could feel our chance was slipping away. If we didn’t find him soon, it would be too late for Paul, and I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.

  Chapter 5

  Everything looked so ordinary.

  The convenience store Paul had been working at to pay for university wasn't a chain, or even a large independent store. It was the kind of mom-and-pop store you could find on any street corner in every small neighborhood I passed in Toronto. Most I was sure were kept going by the owner and family working as close to twenty-four hours a day as their bodies could handle.

  Paul had been hired at this particular store because the owner’s daughter was already in university and couldn't work as many hours as she had in the past, and now there was tuition on top of their other expenses. It was a place I’d been many times before, often with Paul. We’d picked up ice cream or cold drinks in the summer, snacks after games, or swing by on weekends when we had the munchies.

  Today, the friendly mom-and-pop shop felt eerie.

  It looked the same on the outside, but I could sense it had changed. It was like the household dog had shown its teeth and attacked the hand that fed it—it was deeply wrong, but I didn’t have the words to explain how.

  I knew it wasn’t the owners fault, and it wasn’t the building’s either, of course. From what I’d read in the news report, Paul was throwing out the garbage at the end of the shift and had seen something he wasn't supposed to see.

  Bad timing, that's all.

  "Okay, Mark. I want you to be quiet and follow my lead. We're going to go inside the store. I’ll question whoever’s working and I want you to take a look around, try not to make it obvious you’re listening to my conversation, okay? Can you do that?" Rob raised an eyebrow.

  I nodded quickly, glancing at my dad when he answered for both of us.

  "Of course. Come on, Mark. Let’s go look at the beer."

  My eyebrows shot up and he started laughing. I picked my jaw back up, clearing my throat and hoping my voice didn’t crack as I attempted to sound nonchalant.

  "Are you serious?"

  I had turned eighteen a few months earlier, but drinking age in Ontario was nineteen and my dad had never encouraged me before.

  Now, he merely shrugged. "It doesn't mean I want you to get in the habit. But given the recent developments, it’s reasonable to have a six pack cold and ready for tonight, depending on how things go. What say you, Rob?" He tilted his head toward the detective.

  Rob nodded. "Absolutely. One way or another, a drink or two will be in order for tonight. Count me in."

  My dad clapped him on the back, then Rob walked into the store a few paces ahead of us, once again the powerful Detective Avery who had intimidated me with his intensity. I hesitated, feeling so far out of my element I briefly wondered if I was on another planet, before following after my dad.

  The innocent chime of a doorbell announced our presence, and I trailed after my dad through the aisles to the back, where they kept the freezers and fridges. He nodded briefly at the front desk person when they caught his eye and continued past when Rob flashed his badge and drew the man’s attention.

  "So, what are you in th
e mood for? A pale ale? Stout? Or how ‘bout some blue mountains?"

  We’d come to a stop at one of the beer fridges, and the bounty of brands in front of me was dizzying. I had no idea what to say. Most of the beer I’d had so far hadn't been ones necessarily chosen for quality.

  "Um, I don't know. What do you like?"

  He laughed, throwing an arm around my shoulder as he opened the fridge and selected a twelve pack of cans with blue mountains from the fridge.

  "It may not be fancy, but it's a decent starter beer. And best of all— it has a sale sticker. When in doubt, pick something bland and generic the crowd will love that has a half-off tag."

  He spoke as if imparting some great secret, handed down from generation to generation, and I couldn't help myself. Even with the urgency I felt to find Paul, a chuckle slipped out.

  "Thanks, Dad," I said softly, knowing exactly what he was doing.

  He winked then inclined his head slightly to the front. "Why don't we look for some snacks to go along with the drinks?"

  I knew based on the way his eyes widened subtly that he wanted us to move closer to the conversation. Since it was also what I wanted to do, I nodded and followed. Under the guise of selecting the perfect bag of chips, which just so happened to be the row directly behind the counter, we stood and listened to the conversation between Rob and the elderly man behind the desk.

  "What time did your employee come to work yesterday?"

  I could tell the man was devastated just from his face. Even before he spoke, a swirl of guilt and sadness flashed over his face, which was reinforced by his words.

  "Paul came into work just before four. He had agreed to work a twelve hour shift for me, to cover my daughter. She’s studying for finals. Second year law.” A smile flitted over his face, quickly replaced by fatigue and regret. “My wife was coming in early in the morning to take over but our youngest was sick so she sent my oldest daughter instead."

  Rob was scribbling down notes in a notepad and nodded now, looking up. "What time did she get there?"

  The man rubbed his forehead and looked down. "She arrived at two thirty or so and went into the store first. She figured Paul was taking the garbage out and went to look in the back, when she heard a commotion in the alley. When she opened the door to see what was happening, there was a man on the ground and someone was crouched over him, talking on a cell phone."

  "What happened next?"

  I marveled at his calm and rational tone. Somehow, even though his words were brief, he managed to sound both sympathetic and in control.

  The man behind the counter sighed deeply before shaking his head. "That was it. She saw a man bleeding on the ground. The woman who’d found him called her for help when she saw the door open and of course she came to see what was wrong."

  “Then what happened?"

  "She found the man bleeding heavily and ran back into the store, getting a roll of paper towels for the woman to apply pressure to the wound. A few minutes later, the paramedics came and took the man away. That was it."

  Rob closed his notebook with a snap. Even from where I stood, he appeared disappointed. "She didn't see a man driving away or hear anything? Such as a gunshot?"

  The man looked even older as his face crumpled. I noticed the sparse wisps of hair at the top. What was there was mostly grey with only hints of black remaining. I didn't know how old he was, but his face sagged like he’d lost ten pounds rapidly.

  "No. Whoever shot the man was already gone.” He swallowed audibly. “And so was Paul."

  Heaviness crushed my chest at his words. I couldn't fault the owner for his actions. He hadn’t even been there. I knew he cared deeply about his business and all of his employees were family, except for Paul. I could see his guilt written all over his face that the person taken had been his newest employee, how he was accepting all blame even though no one except him would ever consider it his fault.

  "Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Ardoin. We’ll let you know if we have any other questions. Can you show me the door your daughter took to the alley?"

  Mr. Ardoin nodded, pointing to the back and Rob tucked his notepad in his breast pocket, thanking the man before heading in the direction indicated.

  We lingered a moment longer at the chip aisle, and I saw the store owner quickly rub moisture from his eyes before standing up straight and smoothing his face into its usual customer service smile. My dad nudged me with his elbow and I followed him. "Morning. Just the beer and chips."

  My dad kept his voice friendly and impersonal as the owner nodded and rang us through, making a few mundane comments about the weather before thanking us for our business.

  After exchanging pleasantries and accepting bags for our purchases, we headed out of the store and around the side of the building, toward the back where we'd watched Rob exit the building.

  It was a normal, albeit smelly, back alley. A large dumpster was pushed up against one wall, and both sides of the alley were open to traffic except for the yellow tape now marking it off-limits. A uniformed officer began to walk toward us but Rob stopped him with a word.

  Without knowing what was important, I took in as many details as I could.

  Rob appeared very official in his detective role, already crouched down next to the dumpster. He was wearing a pair of blue gloves and sifting through objects beside the dumpster near a large bloodstain visible even from where we had stopped.

  I gulped. How much blood did someone have to lose to make that big of a mess? I wondered how that guy was doing, and if Paul was somewhere scared and bleeding as well. I tried not to think the worst, that he was dead, but the thought refused to go away. I exhaled slowly and scolded myself.

  Smarten up. Paul needs you rational and calm. You wouldn’t have had that dream if there wasn’t the possibility of saving him.

  I knew I’d been shown where he’d been taken because there must be a chance to bring him back in one piece. Doing my best to focus on that instead of the worst case scenario, I drifted toward Rob and looked at the scene in what I hoped was a logical, detective-like manner.

  The road was paved but cracked, with more potholes than asphalt. Not uncommon for back streets in this neighborhood. The dumpster was half-full and fragrant in a way that wasn't enjoyable, even so early in the morning on a cool June day.

  Near the blood spot, the items appeared to be mostly trash. I could make out discarded bits of paper and plastic, broken beer bottle, even a few batteries. Closer to the dumpster I caught a twinkle and felt myself drawn toward it, away from where Rob and my dad were speaking in low voices.

  On the surface, there was nothing to see but I allowed myself to head in the direction my body wanted me to go. When I reached the dumpster, I crouched over. There was a small cardboard box, propped up on other boxes. I reached out and moved a piece of paper.

  A silver flash.

  A whiff of rotten tomatoes made me gag and I breathed shallowly through my mouth, inhaling as little air as I could as I moved a few more papers. There, underneath a ripped up newspaper, was a cell phone.

  The face was cracked, but when I hit the home button, a picture I was very familiar with smiled up at me. Paul's girlfriend, Mandy.

  Shit.

  Chapter 6

  "Hey, what do you have there?"

  The sound of my dad’s voice brought me back to reality. I realized he and Rob had stopped talking but I had no idea how long they’d been trying to get my attention. I had completely frozen when I'd seen Paul's phone lying on the ground, cracked and unattended.

  No way would he ever leave his phone behind intentionally.

  I held it up, absently noting my hand shaking.

  Rob grimaced, immediately pulling out a plastic baggy and taking it from me.

  "Oops."

  I probably wasn't supposed to touch it, but that hadn't crossed my mind when I'd seen it lying there.

  He waved my apology aside. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure your fingerprints are alrea
dy on it," he added as an afterthought. "I'm assuming it is your friend’s phone?"

  I pressed my lips together and nodded, unable to choke the words past the lump in my throat. Dad put his hand on the back of my neck and squeezed it gently as he corroborated my find.

  "I recognize the girl. Paul's girlfriend, Mandy."

  I nodded, not sure what else to add. We knew he'd been taken. If this was his phone, they couldn’t use GPS or whatever to track his location via cell signals.

  Rob didn't look surprised and scanned the alley again.

  "So we can place your friend in the alley between two-thirty and two-forty-five last night. His phone was under the dumpster, and the gunshot vic was over there, about twenty feet away.”

  Something about the way Rob was listing the facts made me calmer. It was familiar, safe. I could almost convince myself it was a TV show about someone I didn't know and I was watching it from a distance.

  “My guess is your friend got the whole show."

  He looked at me and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Somehow, I knew what he wanted me to say. Closing my eyes, I concentrated on what I remembered from the nightmare.

  "In my dream or whatever it was, he was being dragged out of a van. They scuffled and took him into the building. I don't know if he saw the whole thing or not. I think the vehicle was black, or maybe a dark blue. Paul tried to fight back.”

  For some reason, it was important he knew my friend wasn’t a wimp. Paul hadn’t given up without a struggle.

  Rob looked at me for a moment then nodded. "Mark, I get it. For the record, you don’t have to worry about me thinking your friend is a wimp. He saw something he wasn't supposed to and was taken because of that information. It could have happened to even a trained professional. And you don’t need to worry I’ll think any less of you for being afraid for your friend. I’m worried about him, too. Anyone willing to kill, and kidnap a witness, will certainly be willing to kill again."