Welcome to Beaconsfield

by DJ Manly

  Jeremy came right over to him as soon as he saw him. He reached out his hand, which was rather awkward. Gian took it. “Hey.”

  “Gian,” Jeremy said, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “I didn’t expect to see you either.”

  There was another man beside him suddenly. “Gian, this is Ron Talbet, Ronnie, this is Gian. Do you remember the cop I told you about?”

  Ron gave him the once over and then shook his hand, “Oh yes,” he said and then excused himself to talk to someone else.

  Jeremy looked wonderful. Gian tried to avoid looking at him too much so he looked around the room. There was this huge silence between them.

  “Busy?” Jeremy asked, meeting his gaze.

  Gian nodded. “You?”

  “There are always fires,” he replied.

  “I guess so.”

  “Still a cop?” he asked.

  Gian raised an eyebrow “Would it make a difference if I wasn’t?”

  “It might,” Jeremy said very softly, meeting his eyes.

  He didn’t know what to say to that so he just cleared his throat. “Well, it was nice seeing you again…and meeting…ah…Ron.”

  Jeremy seemed to want to say something else, then changed his mind. “It was nice seeing you, too, Gian,” he replied and walked away.

  Soon after, Gian said his goodbyes and left.

  He walked alone on New Year’s Eve while people around him walked arm in arm. He thought of Jeremy for a minute and it made him feel really sad, sadder than it should of have. He thought he’d dealt with that piece of history, but apparently he hadn’t done it very well. Seeing him tonight, especially with his new lover, had been tough.

  Instead of going home, he turned in the other direction toward the village and went into one of the gay bars. The only men in there on this night were the desperate and the lonely and it was a hard thing to admit, but he was one of them.

  * * * *

  They were back in the classroom now and Cory was relieved that the holidays were over. There had been one party after another and he didn’t think he could take any more. Now it was back to routine. He would be dragged out of bed maybe a few nights a week instead of every night. At least, that’s what he told himself.

  The teacher talked about love today. What was love? What did it mean? What was the difference between romantic love and family love? She wanted them to write an essay for English on that subject.

  Cory had often wondered about it. He never had much love from family and, as for romantic love, all he knew of that was what he saw in the movies. What would it be like if a handsome man fell in love with him, a young man with a heart stopping smile and a smoldering kiss? In spite of all the abuse he had suffered, he knew the difference between lust and passion. He knew that the stuff he’d experienced had nothing to do with love or desire.

  He dreamt sometimes of sex that was free of pain, sex that was pleasurable and tender and passionate in the moments when it should be. And he wasn’t opposed to kinky sex either, but it would be what he decided to participate in, some light bondage or even sex toys maybe, if they were used to excite rather than to brutalize. And then he too would have control. He imagined that one day he would be with some beautiful man, oh he would have to be incredibly sexy without any inhibitions. He would be big and strong and he would sometimes let him have the control. He would explore that beautiful taunt and muscular body and give him sexual pleasure, too, maybe tie his hands lightly behind his back and…um… a man that wanted only him, that trembled at his touch, that was so beautiful, his heart would almost stop whenever he’d look into his eyes.

  The teacher suddenly taped him on the shoulder and said, “Cory, are you listening?”

  “Yes,” he said, snapping back to attention. “Love, you want me to write about love.”

  She smiled at him. “Yes.”

  “No problem,” he replied.

  Cory liked . She was a nice teacher. Sometimes when she was alone at her desk, he went to her and wanted so much to tell her what was happening at night when everyone slept. He was afraid that she wouldn’t believe him or maybe she would hate him if he told her.

  He was worried about Daniel. He was becoming more and more withdrawn. Cory did everything he could to try and protect him, but he found that he was pretty powerless. Daniel’s age made him a target for pedophiles and a lot of the men that came there on the weekend were interested in Daniel because he was so young. What didn’t help is that he looked even younger than his age. He wanted so much to tell someone and he’d hinted about it often, but he just knew no one would believe him.

  One night when they strung Daniel up and were literally torturing him, Cory yelled at them to stop. Andy hit him so hard in the stomach with his club that he went flying across the room. His stomach hurt for a week after. His protests were for nothing. There was nothing he could do for him except hold him after, telling him that he needed to find other things to think about when it was happening. Andy had warned them that he’d kill them if they talked and Cory knew he’d do it.

  Three times he had tried to run away and taken Daniel with him, but the facility was maximum security and all three times he’d been caught. Once it was Andy who caught him and he was taken downstairs and beaten on the buttocks until his skin had torn from the flesh. After that, he never tried to run again.

  No, he knew that no one would come to save them. There was no white knight on a big horse that would come to chase the bad men away. That only happened in movies. There was nowhere to run and no one to tell. It was a battle of endurance and he was determined to survive and he would do anything he could to ensure that little Danny survived with him.

  He vowed that once he was out of there, he’d go directly to the nearest police station and make them listen.

  * * * *

  Except for the news Gian had received yesterday, New Year’s Day had been a complete waste of time. As he sat in the conference room waiting to talk to the cops who would be a part of his new operation, his mind went back to yesterday.

  “So,” the guy had smiled at him seductively from where he lay on the bed, “you’re some sort of hero cop, eh?”

  Gian pulled on his pants and ran his hand through his hair. He didn’t feel much like a hero this morning. It was after eleven and he had to shower and change so that he could get to work.

  “I’m no hero,” Gian told him gruffly.

  “You sure look like one and you sure as hell fuck like one,” the guy reached for him. “You fuck like a real champion.”

  “I got to go.”

  Who this guy was, he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t even recall his name and, in the morning light, he wouldn’t have been his first choice as a bed partner either.

  He hated these times, waking up with a strange guy. It was so damn uncomfortable. He kept telling himself that this was the last time he was going to do that, but it never was.

  He had gone into that bar last night and drank way too much. How he had gotten back here with this guy, he didn’t know. He was relieved to see a couple of used condoms on the floor, so at least he hadn’t been that stupid.

  “How come you work on New Year’s Day, gorgeous?” The voice asked him as Gian started to put on his boots and look around for his shirt.

  “Ah, criminals don’t celebrate, I guess,” he muttered.

  The guy pulled his shirt from underneath the tangled mess of blankets and dangled it in the air.

  “Come and get it,” he ran his eyes gaze over him.

  Gian walked over to the bed and reached out for it. The guy pulled it further away. Gian met his eyes. “Look, I got to go to work. So stop fucking around.” He reached over and yanked it out of the guy’s grasp. Gian put on his shirt and his coat.

  “Call me sometime?” the guy called out as Gian headed for the door.

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” Gian muttered under his breath.

  When he got home, he noticed the answering machine was flashi
ng. He turned it on and stripped off his clothes.

  “Gian, its Patrick, how’s next Saturday, I’ve invited Liam.”

  Gian sighed and pushed the button. “Gian,” it was Kayla. “Are you coming over tonight or what? Call me.”

  He pushed it again. “Davinci, its Commissioner Howard. I’d like to talk to you about the Beaconsfield case. Come up to my office when you get in.”

  Gian rushed to take a shower and pulled on clean underwear, jeans and a black sweatshirt. He assembled his gun, threw his badge around his neck and headed downtown.

  * * * *

  Now he sat drinking stale coffee and waiting for people. He had scribbled a whole lot of stuff down on a pad, none of which would have been decipherable to anyone else but him.

  Clint opened the door now, along with the Commissioner who was a tall gaunt man in his fifties with thick glasses. Bobby Denardo and Sandra Aston, two detectives Gian usually enjoyed working with, walked in behind them.

  Denardo gave Gian a high five and Sandra blew him a kiss.

  The commissioner cleared his throat. “We think we have enough information to begin an investigation, but the news isn’t in yet on what’s going to happen to Taylor.”

  “I did promise that-” Gian leaned forward.

  “You don’t promise anything,” he eyed him. “That’s the D.A.’s call, not yours.”

  Gian sat back in his seat and sighed. “We wouldn’t be at this point without Taylor’s statement.” He threw down his pen.

  Clint glanced at him. “We’ll work something out. All right, what we need to do is get someone inside to take Taylor’s place. The Director—”

  Gian looked hesitant, interrupting, “I’d prefer to go in without anyone on the inside knowing about it.”

  The commissioner shook his head. “I know the director, he’s a good man. He won’t blow your cover and he’s as concerned about this as we are.”

  “So he knows already?” Gian sat up in his seat.

  “Yes,” Clint interjected. “The department felt that informing was the right thing to do.”

  “I don’t think department resources should be wasted on this for a long time,” Howard was now saying.

  God, how he hated bureaucrats.

  “If we send you in there, Gian, you should be able to get in and out with the information you need within a month’s time, “Howard told him, matter of fact.

  “How ‘bout a day?” Gian replied with a sneer.

  Clint shot him a be careful look.

  Howard ignored his remark. He got up. “Send him in, but I want a report once a week on the situation. This is a delicate one and is to be played by the book. Davinci,” he pierced him with his eyes, “is that clear?”

  But it was Clint who replied. “Yes sir, strictly by the book.”

  Howard left the room.

  Gian rolled his eyes. “He hates me, that man.”

  Denardo laughed. “Don’t worry. He just doesn’t get your particular kind of charm.”

  “He is blind to your sex appeal,” Sandra added, pulling back her long red hair and twisting an elastic band around it.

  Clint cleared his throat. “All right, all right, enough of that. Denardo, I want you to work on getting the records set up that show Gian belongs to the Guard’s Union. Sandra, get working on a resume and make sure the sources can be confirmed in case they are checked.”

  Sandra and Bobby stood. They were ready to get to work.

  “We’ll get right on it, Cap,” Sandra said.

  “I want it by the end of the day. All right,” Clint continued after the other two left, “I’ve spoken to , Gian. He’s already expecting you to come in. There’s no reason for you to interview, but the records will be in the files in case someone wants to check you out.”

  “When do I go in?”

  “Tomorrow. You can keep the hair, but you have to tie it back. They’ll issue you a uniform there at the facility. Have you thought about how you will proceed?”

  “I obviously won’t be considered an insider right away. I thought I’d try to get some information from the boys involved first. I’ll work afternoons during the week and nights on the weekend, that way I can get to know the boys without the other three around.”

  “Sounds like a smart plan. This is a very delicate situation, Gian. You have to be careful.”

  “I realize that.”

  “I have a name for you. You can keep the first name, I changed the last. It’s Gian Franca. Is that all right?”

  “Sounds fine to me.”

  “Remember, you have to call me once a week so I can tell Howard something.”

  “Look I got some work to do at my desk. I better finish up my reports before I get into this.”

  Clint shook his head. “I’m still waiting for last weeks.”

  Gian laughed. “No worries. I’m going right now. Heard from Kayla?”

  “Not since she went back to California. New semester. She’s probably busy.”

  “She’s going to make one hell of a civil rights lawyer.”

  Clint sighed. “You, too? Ganging up on me, you and your sister.”

  He grinned and left the room as he heard Clint yell, “There’s no money in civil rights law.”

  * * * *

  Welcome to Beaconsfield. The sign was carved into the lawn, beautifully landscaped. Except for the gates and electronic cameras, Beaconsfield looked like a private school. An arrow in the parking lot indicated which side the boys division was on. He parked his police issued green Toyota Corolla in a lot marked visitors and walked across the parking lot to the front entrance. There was another sign which read, Director. He rang the buzzer and was admitted. A woman at a desk greeted him.

  “Hello, you must be the new guard, Gian Franca. My name is Nellie Carmelita. will be right with you. Welcome to Beaconsfield.”

  “Thank you,” he said, looking around. The long tiled hallways were so shiny you could see your face in them and the place was dead quiet except for the loud ticking of an industrial clock on the wall.

  was a short, blond haired man in his forties. He came out and shook Gian’s hand. “Please,” he said, “come into my office.” He had shifty eyes and he never quite looked directly at him.

  Gian followed him into a midsized office with a huge desk. There were pictures of children on the wall, his children Gian presumed.

  “I want you to know from the onset that I had no idea anything improper was happening here at Beaconsfield. I would like you to believe me when I say that your department has my complete cooperation in this matter. Anything you want, you shall have at your disposal.”

  “I will work afternoons during the week and nights on the weekend for the time being. This may change. Can you arrange that?”

  “It will take some effort , but, yes, I can arrange it. Consider it done.”

  “I need your guarantee that no one else will know my real identity.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “All right, I’m ready to start.”

  “I will call Ron Collins. He is the head guard in the day. He’s very experienced and will show you everything you need to know. He is aware someone new is starting today and that you have come highly recommended. We received the paper work this morning by courier so if anyone chooses to look up your file, it’s in order. I will enter it into the computer this afternoon.”

  “How many boys here?”

  “In this unit, close to fifty. They range in age from thirteen to eighteen. And then there’s Cory. He’s going to be nineteen soon. He’s more of a trustee than an actual resident. As soon as we can find a suitable transition house, he’ll be transferred.”

  “I see.”

  “We have accredited teachers on the premises and the boys get a good education here.”

  “I will need to see their files later on this evening. Right now, I’d like to take a look at your employment records.”

  “Certainly,” he said, rushing over to his desk. “I will bring those up
for you right now. May I ask which employees are under suspicion?”

  “No.”

  “I assure you, all my staff have been screened for—”

  “Screening processes only work if the subject has a record.”

  “Yes, I know ’ but wouldn’t they—”

  “Let the police handle this.”

  “Of course. I will leave you alone so you may review the files in peace.” He paused, “I can’t believe that anything out of the ordinary is happening here. I have good employees. I’ve had no problems with anyone and if something of this nature is going on here, why didn’t someone tell me? Why didn’t the boys—”

  “Fear,” Gian said. He went to sit in front of the computer as Mason punched at the keyboard. “There you go. I’ll come back at noon with Collins.”

  “All right,” Gian said absently and began to scan the files.

  Mason left the office, shutting the door behind him. You didn’t have to be a detective to see that Mason was running scared. If he did in fact find what he had come here for, there would be a full-scale inquiry into the running of this institution. It would be Mason in the hot seat. He could very well lose his job or worse.

  Gian reviewed the files of the employees. He was especially interested in Decoteau, Falcon and Anderson. Falcon had been responsible for hiring the other two. They were all bonded and had previously worked as security guards. These were the names that had been specifically mentioned by Taylor.

  He took a look cursory look at the other employment files. Most of the guards had been there awhile working days because they had seniority.

  There were seven teachers who taught in the boys sector. All their records seemed in order with nothing unusual there. There was a psychologist on staff and six counsellors who worked very closely with the residents. All these people worked in the daytime. Aside from that, there was a maintenance crew of three men, two women and five people who worked full time in the kitchen, as well as three part time laundry staff. Finally, at the top of the food chain were Mason and his secretary.