“The Cajun’s better,” a voice said, and Riley looked up into the face of a skinny, weathered, scraggly looking bespectacled man who was trying desperately to look a bit more classy than his appearance was giving off. “Always bet on the Cajun spice, every time.”
“Do I know you?” Riley asked. There was something about the man that seemed awfully familiar.
“Probably not. But,” he added in a hushed whisper, “I know you.”
“I doubt it. Just visiting the area.” It was the story he and Charlie had stuck to when they’d gone out and about. Recon proved that there wasn’t a whole lot of black folks living in Northern Michigan, and people tended to notice when new people suddenly showed up.
“Oh, you’re doing more than just visiting,” the man said, the whisper trying to hide a moderately thick Cajun accent. “I know all about it.”
“You’re crazed, man.” Riley grabbed his items and started heading for the checkout.
“You don’t realize what you have, do you?”
“The hell you on about?”
The scraggly man chuckled. “You haven’t got a clue. No one does. If only they knew just how much that stupid brat was worth.” The smell of liquor radiated off the man, and Riley was convinced the guy was out of his head.
“What?”
“Ah, ah, ah,” the man said, waggling a finger at him. “That’s all you get for free. Wanna know more, you need to get in touch.” He handed Riley a scrap of paper with a phone number on it. “Trust me. It’s worth your while.” The man clapped Riley on the shoulder, and ambled down the aisle toward the door.
Weird, Riley thought. The niggling feeling that he knew the guy from somewhere still bothered him. He looked at the slip of paper, pocketed it, and headed for the checkout.
Chapter 25
Evan’s head sunk into his hands as he propped his arms on Francis Parker’s dining room table. The house was once again playing host to guests from the lake, while the police combed through the young couple’s kitchen and living room for evidence. It had been a long twenty-four hours.
“Come, lad,” the old man was saying, looking at both his young friend and his new fiancée, who was looking just as much the worse for the wear. “You need sleep. You’ll do no one any good in your current state.”
“They’re out there, somewhere,” Rachel said. “They could be scared, they could be hurt, they could be…”
“Don’t think that, lass,” Frank said, pulling the young woman into a hug. He clapped a weathered, wrinkled hand onto her back. “Your lads are smart. They’ll figure it out.”
“Remy and Sam, maybe. But Josh…”
“And those lads won’t let anything happen to him. Oh, I know,” the Englishman said, looking at Rachel’s wide stare. “The Long boy, he can be a bit of a bother, but your lads, they wouldn’t let harm come to him, not if they could help it. There was a saying in my day: “He’s a daft lad, but he’s our daft lad, and that makes him special.” Suffice it to say, I find that to be true in his case.”
“I hate just sitting here,” Evan said, his tired voice turning bitter. “I should be out there, pounding down doors and looking for them, not waiting.”
“And the moment you leave will be the moment they turn up, Evan,” Frank replied. “If you want to be useful, go over the facts again. What do we know for certain?”
“We know they went up to the corner store for milk and ice cream,” Evan began. “Papa Jack offered them a ride home, but they turned it down. Remy called him just as they reached the house.”
“It…it looked like they had dinner,” Rachel added. “Eggs, probably. There was a full carton when we left, and there aren’t any now.”
“They didn’t get broken in the melee?”
“No. The carton was in the trash. Sam was starting to put together his things for Sunday dinner—he does that, to make sure he’s got everything he needs before he starts.”
“Then somewhere along the line, the windows got broken. We found a rock from the yard lying in the middle of the kitchen, and the police think it was used to break the glass.” Evan shrugged. “After that, it’s a mystery. One thing I know for certain: all of their winter coats were still in the hall, hung up, and Sam’s cane was right next to them. He stores it in the hall next to the coats if he’s in for the night. He doesn’t need it to get around the house.”
“So wherever they went, you think they were coerced?”
“I’m convinced. I’m not so sure about the police, though.”
Frank rubbed his pointed chin. “Do any of the kids have records? Trouble with the law?”
“None of them,” Rachel said. “That’s what makes this so strange. They would have called by now, had they just gotten into a little trouble.”
“Police said they found all of their cell phones,” Evan said, to Rachel’s surprise. “Jesse told me during the last check-in. They were in the living room, on the mantle.”
“That’s…that’s not them,” Rachel said. “Their chargers are in their rooms. Why would they be there?”
“My guess? Someone put them there. All the more reason I think there’s something going on.” A thin fist struck the table in frustration. “But why?”
“You…you don’t think…” Rachel said, her eyes wide.
“What?”
“You think maybe Cooper…?
The three pondered the thought a moment. “Considering the man, I wouldn’t put it past him,” Frank said. “He is a stubborn, thick-headed sod, that one.”
“If it was just Remy missing, maybe,” Evan rationalized. “Not Sam or Josh.”
“Wait, Evan,” Rachel said. “There was that last run-in, at the house…”
“Oh, shit.” Pale eyes grew impossibly wide. “Rachel, you’re right.”
“What?” The old veteran’s gaze danced between his two young friends. “What am I missing?”
“Just before Christmas, after the break-in, Cooper came ’round,” Rachel explained. “Just trying to rile Remy and cause trouble. Only this time, Sam went after him. Struck him with his cane, trying to draw attention on himself in order to get Remy out of there. When Cooper went after Sam, Josh started throwing rocks at him in order to give Sam a chance to escape.”
“What happens when Lavelle riles his nephew?”
“Remy freezes up. If I had to guess, the poor kid’s got PTSD from living with him. It’s unreal. Normally he can handle himself with a bully, but the minute Cooper shows up and starts in on him, it’s like he tries to hide. He’ll withdraw into himself. And once Cooper’s gone, Remy goes into complete meltdown.”
“What is that like?”
“He closes himself off. Won’t talk, won’t look at anyone, won’t interact. A couple of times he’s started punching things just for a release. Usually he blares the stereo, possibly as a way to drown out the memories of the man, I think.” Rachel shook her head. “That particular time, Sam managed to snap him out of it, saying he didn’t nearly get arrested for assault just for Remy to hide and make everyone deaf. He was quiet, but he came downstairs and tried to get on with dinner.”
“The Davis boy is a good influence, then?”
“Whatever’s happening, if they’re together, Remy maybe won’t turn turtle. Sam being around gives him something to focus on. So does Josh. They give him some sense of control, which is good. If there’s one thing Remy hates, it’s feeling like he has no control over the situation.”
“Let’s pray they’re together, then.” Frank stood up, his arthritic knees cracking. “Tea? I find I’m in need of a cup.”
Evan also stood. “I need to go somewhere,” he said. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Where are you going?” Rachel moved to rise, but Evan stilled her.
“Find Cooper. I’m not convinced he’s not a party to all this.” At Rachel’s alarmed look, he clarified, “I’m calling Jesse. Eric Ingham, too. I don’t exactly trust myself to be alone with the man either.”
“Fine.
But keep me posted.”
“Always.” He kissed her porcelain face and left, the roar of the minivan echoing against the walls of the old house.
“Mark and Penny are beside themselves,” Rachel said. “They’re out canvassing, looking for any sign of the boys. Most of Otter Lake is, too. I can’t help but feel like this is all my fault.”
“How, Rachel? How is this your fault?” Frank asked gently, handing Rachel the promised cup of tea. “The families know you go out on weekends sometimes. You and Evan have been doing that a long time. It’s not a secret.”
“It just…feels like someone’s been planning something. The break-in, and now this? There’s nothing in that house worth killing someone over. Nothing.” A mass of fire-red hair flopped onto the table, the porcelain face it framed buried beneath it.
“Perhaps Evan is right, that this is one of Lavelle’s schemes. Lord knows the man’s a leech. He might have gone one step too far this time.”
The tinny sound of a phone pierced the air, and Rachel answered it. “Hello? Oh, thank God. The house is being searched, but we’ve moved up into town.” She then gave the address to the Parker house. “Yes, please,” she said as she made to hang up. “I’ll talk with you then.”
“Who was that?”
“Sam’s brother and sister. I called them to let them know what was going on. They’re in town now, just drove up from Ann Arbor and Grand Rapids.”
“I thought Sherman Davis only had one child.”
“Apparently they’re his half-brother and sister. Sam’s mom was married before, and they’re a fair bit older.”
“Ah. Explains things.”
“Not really. Doesn’t explain why his own father treats Sam like the proverbial red-headed stepchild. He seems to take more pride in his stepchildren than he does his own son.”
Frank shrugged. “I only know about Davis from the bits I read in the business section. Always described him as a fiery workaholic. I imagine that hasn’t changed.”
Rachel shook her head. “Still, it’s like he’s ashamed of Sam. There’s nothing to be ashamed about. Hell, I’d adopt him, if he were of an age to. It’s too late for that now.”
“Never say never, my dear. Life has a way of surprising you. Trust me, I know.” The old man patted Rachel’s folded hands, a twinkle in his eye. Behind them, a soft tapping on the front door caught their attention. The veteran stood and answered it. “Hello there,” he said. “You must be Sam’s relations.”
Chapter 26
Remy frowned as he settled back into his chosen corner of the concrete dungeon. The smell from the closet was growing worse, and it was making him more than a little nauseous. Sam had done his best to equally divide what little food they had between the three of them, and it still wasn’t enough to silence the growls that whined from their stomachs.
Remy was tired, but every time he closed his eyes he saw the masked men threatening Sam with that long knife under his throat, or heard the Southern voice that was nothing like his own faint accent. There was something about that voice that kept bothering him. It sounded like something…something he’d heard before, maybe?
“Sam?” he said quietly, turning toward his friend. The blind man was asleep, twitching as he rested his head on the concrete wall behind him. In the other corner, Josh was mumbling in his sleep. Remy slowly got up, pressing his bound hands against the wall for leverage, and walked over to the youngest of the three.
“No…no, stop…please, don’t eat us…” Josh squirmed as he slept, his voice growing louder with each cry. “No, he doesn’t taste good…no…Sam! Remy!” The last words were nearly shouted, and Remy pushed against the younger man. “No, get off me! Help! I don’t wanna get eaten!”
“Josh!” Remy hissed sternly, praying that Josh’s screams went unnoticed. “Josh, wake up. It’s me. It’s Remy. You’re all right. You’re all right!” Each sentence was accentuated with a sharp poke to the smaller man’s frame in an attempt to wake him.
“Huh…what?” A sandy head jerked up from its concrete pillow, and bright brown eyes blinked at his relieved friend. “R-Remy? Is that you?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s me.” A held breath exhaled. “The hell were you dreaming about?”
Josh blinked as he struggled to rise, his short fingers fumbling at his eyes in an attempt to open them. “I don’t remember.”
Oh, great, Remy thought. Let’s hope he’s not detoxing off his meds. He rubbed at his own sleep-deprived orbs. Or me either.
“Remy?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m hungry.”
“Well, you’re screwed there,” Remy said. He glared at their prison’s unyielding door. “I don’t think there’s anything coming for a while.”
“Th-there’s gotta be something we can do.”
“Got a hammer? Or maybe a saw? ’Cause I don’t see another way out of here.” Remy stood up, fighting for balance as he did so, and paced his way through the small space. He turned into the partitioned room where the water was kept and felt his way along the concrete wall that housed the plastic container of liquid. “There’s nothing,” he said, a note of dejection in his voice.
“We…we could try the door again,” Josh reasoned. “Maybe it will open this time.”
Remy shook his head. “Not likely.”
“But, we could try…”
Behind them, Sam stirred. “H-hello?” he called out nervously. “Remy? Josh?”
“Over here, Sam. About ten feet in front of you, near the water room.”
The tall man hefted himself out of his curled position and struggled to right himself. He found his bearings and made his way toward his friends. “What’s going on?”
“We’re gonna try the door again.”
Sam frowned. “Remy, it’s locked. You know it’s locked.”
“Beats sitting here waiting for someone to come back. I don’t know about you, but I don’t wanna be here if whatever they’re doing goes south, do you?”
“But that’s just it,” Sam tried to reason. “What are they doing?”
“That…that guy, the one with the funny voice,” Josh piped up. “He-he said something about…”
“About what?” Remy was all ears.
“Something about someone owing him something, I think?”
Long dishwater hair sank as Remy’s head drooped. “You think?”
“Well, I don’t know! My memory, it’s not so good!” Josh’s round face was starting to puff up in indignation. “I can’t help it!”
“Okay, Josh, settle down,” Sam said, sliding back into his role of peacemaker. “No one’s mad. But it would be helpful if we knew why we were here.”
“That guy, his voice,” Remy said. “There’s something familiar about it.”
“Familiar? Familiar how?” Sam’s frown deepened. “Do you know him?”
Remy shook his head. “Never seen him before. At least, I don’t think so. It’s hard to tell in the dark.”
“He sounded familiar to me, too. Like I’d heard him, but only once. It’s not like your accent, and I’m sure it’s not your uncle.”
“For sure it’s not him. I’d know that voice anywhere.”
As the older two talked, Josh made his way up the newly built stairs. He stopped at the thick door, and he grabbed the doorknob, turning it as he pushed. The barrier didn’t budge. He tried again, to no avail. Frustrated, he started pounding on it.
“Josh!” Remy hissed, racing up the stairs and grabbing his friend’s bound limbs. “What the hell are you doing?!”
“I want out of here,” the younger man said plaintively.
“Yeah, I don’t think they’re gonna let us just stroll out of here, Josh.” Remy’s ears were peeled for any sign that the racket had been heard, and heaved a short breath when silence greeted them. “Sam, anything?”
“No,” Sam replied. “Either they’re dead to the world or no one’s up there.”
The three unwilling prisoners thought about that a min
ute. “They…they wouldn’t just leave us here, w-would they?” Josh asked.
“No,” Remy said, ushering him down the blocked staircase. God, I hope not.
* * *
“Dude was whacked, man,” Riley said as he charred the steaks on the small hibachi in the back of the house. “And I know I seen him somewhere before.”
“What, exactly, did he say?” Dayton was smoking the last of his weed stash, and was cursing the idea of having to go out and get more. He desperately wanted a pill. One of those alprazolam pills would curb his need nicely, but it was worth more in cash to them than he wanted to forfeit.
“Said something about knowing what we were up to,” Riley said. “I don’t see how. Not like we were anywhere we could be overheard.”
“Or that anyone was payin’ attention,” Charlie mused. “Drunks aren’t known for having long memories.”
“Still, don’t wanna take chances. I got more than just money tied up in this.” The scent of roasting meat was making the Southerner hungry again. “Those almost done? I’m starving.”
“You were the one who wanted yours well done,” Riley reminded him. He pulled two off the grate and onto waiting plates. “Potatoes should be done soon. Have to live without butter on ’em.”
“Fine by me.” Charlie went back inside, eager to set into his food.
“Few minutes left on yours, man,” Riley said, looking at his employer. “There’s something else, too.”
“What?”
“The dude? Said one of ’em was loaded.”
“Come again?”
“I’m tellin’ ya, that’s what he said. Wouldn’t gimme nothing else though. Said I had to arrange a meet to get more information.” He pulled out the slip of paper with the telephone number on it.
Dayton stared at the string of numbers before him. “There’s no way. Those kids aren’t rich.”
“Not that I could tell. Plus, I think the dude was drunk off his ass. Still, might make for a nice payday if we can get more free information, don’t you think?”
Pale eyes closed, trying to keep his weed-addled mind from blowing up into a migraine. “We’ll call the number as soon as I’m done with Liam,” he decided finally. “Not like we were planning on keeping the baggage downstairs anyway.”
In the House On Lakeside Drive Page 13