by Jon Mills
“Get your hands,” he bellowed.
The others were crying except for Neville. He removed his top, preparing himself for what was to come. It was like he had become conditioned to the abuse. He would wince in pain as he received his beating but he wouldn’t prevent them from doing it. Out of all of them he was the most subordinate.
As the beating continued, and the man moved from Darren to the next boy, Louis did the unthinkable. He bolted out of the open door. Only one other boy had attempted that four weeks ago. He was never seen again. The Mexican’s head turned sharply to the left. He didn’t rush after him which was one of the reasons why no else had attempted it. There was no getting out. They hadn’t gone to these lengths to make escaping easy. He simply pointed the hose and said that it was going to cost them. Every mistake made by another, meant all of them would pay. That was how they controlled them. Eventually controlling the unruly would no longer be an issue, as the boys themselves would do it to avoid punishment.
The Mexican casually walked back out but not before slamming the door shut and putting the locks in place. Inside, all of them looked at each other and listened intently. If they were beating Louis, they would never know. The room kept their screams contained.
Half an hour passed and the door unlocked. The Mexican reappeared.
“Where is he?” Billy asked. He had a feeling that Louis was dead but he couldn’t help but ask.
The Mexican didn’t answer. He simply closed the door and reached for Billy. He tossed him to the floor and continued the assault. Every time the hose came down against his skin he screamed in pain. There were moments he hoped it would break his back, cause inner bleeding, anything that might help him escape the misery of the sick cycle.
After the beatings ceased, they were left alone to whimper.
Hours passed, at least it felt that way. When the door cracked open for a third time, a different man entered with the Mexican. He was tall, blond, with a thick mustache. His gut protruded over his belt and his face was red. He leered at them then pointed to Billy.
“That one.”
Billy felt his stomach sink as the Mexican grabbed a hold of him and yanked him up.
“Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“Move it.”
Billy glanced over his shoulder at Neville and Darren, wondering if they would follow but they didn’t. A blindfold was placed over his eyes and he was led out of the room. All the while he screamed inwardly while the two men talked.
“If I find even one mark on this boy, I will…”
“You won’t. They are in good shape. We only select the best.”
Billy’s world was dark as they led him down some stairs. He heard another door open and then close behind him. He felt a meaty grip on his wrist and then he was pulled away.
“Remove his clothes.”
He felt hands grasping at his top, pulling it off and then he felt a cool draft as the air from the outside blew against his skin. He stood there naked while hearing someone walk around him. They didn’t touch him, which was unusual.
“What’s that mark there?”
“Rubber hose. It won’t stay.”
“How many times have I told you? I don’t want their skin to be bruised.”
“Then perhaps you would like to keep an eye on them yourself. They get out of control. We are the ones who have to reel them in. You’re lucky this fucker is not dead already.”
Billy swallowed hard.
“Put your clothes on, boy.”
He felt his clothes shoved into his arms. With the blindfold on, he fumbled around and got dressed. He had no idea if the clothes were on correctly. Once he was done, someone took a hold of his hand and guided him down a hallway. A door opened and he tasted dust. Even though he had a blindfold on, he felt the warmth of sunshine. He had begun to forget what it felt like.
“I will be in contact.”
With that said, he was hurried to an idling truck and tossed in the back. He felt a blanket thrown over him and the man jumped in beside him. He placed his hand on top of the blanket and told the driver to go.
Chapter Four
Winchester fished into his jacket before handing the cab driver a few bills. Billy Carson had lived at 1192 NW 22nd Street. It was your typical suburban, two-story home, partial brick and the rest siding with brown shingles. The first thing he noticed was a flyer of Billy attached to a lamppost a few feet away. He couldn’t begin to imagine what it was like to lose a child, but to not know what had happened must have been unbearable. Jack strolled up to the porch and pressed the bell. A blond woman in her early forties answered the door. She was wearing black jeans, and a cream pullover that hugged her figure.
“Can I help you?”
“I would like to help you find your son,” Jack replied without even introducing himself.
“Right,” she said turning and grabbing a handful of missing person flyers off a small table close to the door. She went to hand them to him and he glanced at the face of Billy.
“No, I didn’t mean hand out leaflets, though I would be more than glad to do so. I wanted to offer my services.”
Her brow furrowed. “Who are you?”
“Mrs. Carson. I’ve helped others in the past when others have given up.”
Jack knew the circumstances surrounding her son’s disappearance and he was aware that they had little to go on other than a shitty composite of the suspect.
Mrs. Carson looked him up and down. “Are you a private investigator?”
He produced a card from his wallet and she took a look at it.
Jack had recently acquired a fake private investigator photo ID as a means of covering his ass in the event any of his clients asked him to produce it. In this case, it was important, he wanted to put her mind at ease. She didn’t know him, and the chances of her opening up to him without it would have been slim to none.
“Do you mind if I come in?”
She yelled over her shoulder. “Richard, can you come here?”
A wiry-looking man stepped out from a room; Jack remembered his face from the news. He was partially bald, wore thick glasses and was short in stature. He had dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept much.
“Yes, dear?”
“This man…” she motioned with her hand. “What was your name again?”
“Logan Winchester.”
“Logan was saying he would like to assist in the search for our son. He’s a private investigator.”
Richard looked him up and down and told him to come inside. When the door closed, they led him into the living room. On the coffee table were stacks of flyers. All of them said the same thing. Have you seen Billy Carson?
“Please. Take a seat.”
Jack sat across from them.
“How did you hear about Billy?” the man asked.
“Through the media. I saw that there was a reward leading to the safe return of your son.”
“You understand that reward is only for his return. We cannot afford to pay you to look into this. You aren’t the first person that has offered their services and then declined once they realized that we couldn’t pay them.”
“I understand. Now what can you tell me about the day he went missing? Anything that wasn’t released in the media?”
“I can tell you we are getting zero help from the police department.”
Jack frowned. “But he’s only been missing two months. Surely they would have a task force in place to deal with this? The FBI and so forth?”
“You would think so. However, they consider him a runaway.”
“A runaway?”
She took a deep breath. “Richard here isn’t Billy’s actual father. I was divorced three years ago. Billy took the whole divorce pretty hard. For a long time he wanted to go live with his father and on two occasions he actually packed some belongings and went to his place. This time he wasn’t with his father.”
“Would your ex lie?” Jack asked.
“Whil
e my ex and I have our differences, we have always been on the same page about our children.”
“You have another son?”
“Yes, Zach. Actually it was Zach’s paper route that Billy was doing the morning he went missing.”
“Is Zach around?”
“He’s at school at the moment.”
“So it was uncommon for Billy to do his route?”
“Alone, yes. He never told us he was going to do it that morning; otherwise one of us would have gone with him. We assumed Zach was doing it.”
“So you mentioned you checked with your ex-husband and Billy wasn’t there. Are you sure?”
“Of course.” She leaned forward. “Listen, Mr. Winchester. My ex might be many things but a liar is not one of them. Besides we have joint custody. Billy can go there any time he likes.”
“And yet he ran away twice.”
“Look, I don’t know what you are insinuating but he had no reason to run away.”
“Why did he leave before?”
“Like I said, that was when we had just separated. In both instances he was found at his father’s. But the evidence is clear that he was taken this time.”
“Evidence?”
She breathed in deeply as if trying to maintain her composure. “On the morning that he went missing, there were several parents and paperboys who saw a man in a car asking him for directions. But that’s not the most damning evidence. There was also a resident who saw the car speed off leaving his bike behind.”
“But they didn’t see him get placed in the car.”
“Well, it’s kind of obvious if his bike was laying on the ground, isn’t it?”
“Maybe. Who was this guy?”
“Dylan Nichols. I can give you his address if you like.”
Jack nodded and Trish wandered off into the kitchen to find a pad of paper and pen. Jack looked over at Richard.
“Did you and Billy get along?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s quite common for a son to not like his mother’s boyfriend.”
Jack thought of his stepmother and how brutal she was to him. To anyone else looking in, she was a woman that could do no wrong but they didn’t see her late at night after she was intoxicated.
“We didn’t have any problems. It was a little rough at the start but nothing that wasn’t eventually straightened out.”
Mrs. Carson returned with the address and handed it to him.
“Okay, so you want to fill me in on what you have done so far?”
She brought him up to speed on those they had spoken to and what the police had done which amounted to very little. In their mind unless the family could prove that a criminal act had occurred, he had simply run away. They had stopped looking for him after a month and at no time had they contacted the FBI.
“Have you tried to get in contact with the FBI?”
“Of course. But we just get the cold shoulder. At first we thought they were going to do something about it. They said they would speak to the local police department. Since then nothing has been done. That was a month ago. I’ve demanded to know what they are doing to find my son but they just keep telling me they will look into it.”
Jack rose from his seat and went over to a bookshelf and picked up a photo frame with a picture of Billy and his parents. He stared at it for a while.
“I’ll be back later to talk to Zach, if that’s okay with you?”
“Certainly.”
Jack thanked them for their time and left.
The address for Dylan Nicholas was for a home two streets over. It didn’t take him more than ten minutes to reach the property. On the way over he took in his surroundings and tried to imagine what the place might have looked like early in the morning when it was dark. There were a lot of trees between the houses and it would have been easy for someone to lay in wait. Jack pondered what Mrs. Carson had said about the paper route belonging to her son Zach. It had to have been a planned abduction. How else could they have known that Zach wasn’t going to be there that morning?
Heavy trees shrouded the dead end near 1673 NW Broadway Street. No doubt in the early morning it would have been pitch-dark on that street. There were only two lampposts on the street. One at the end and one at the top of the road before it curved around.
Jack approached the door and gave it a sharp knock. A few minutes passed and he tried again. There was no answer. He stepped back a few paces from the home and looked up. He contemplated going back later that evening but he saw the curtain move in one of the bedroom windows. He gave it another minute, assuming they would answer the door now they had seen him but when they didn’t, he rang the bell and knocked multiple times.
Eventually the door partially cracked open. He could only make out the one side of the man’s face. The rest was hidden.
“Yes?”
“Dylan Nichols?”
“That’s right.”
“I was hoping to have a word with you about the disappearance of Billy Carson.”
“Why? The police already know what I saw.”
“I understand. I’m not the police.”
“Who are you?”
“A friend of the family. Someone looking to find him.”
“I also told Mrs. Carson what I saw. I don’t see how I can be of any use to you.”
“Can I come in?”
He stared back at Jack before unlocking the flimsy chain that was still in place. Once the door opened, Jack got a better look at him. He was five-foot-seven with mousy hair, and his jaw was sporting a five o’clock shadow. He pushed up thick-rimmed glasses off the bridge of his nose and Jack noticed they had been repaired at the corner with a few wraps of scotch tape.
“You live alone?”
“No, with my mother. She’s unwell. I look after her.”
He guided Jack back into a room that overlooked a colorful garden full of flowers.
“You a gardener?” Jack asked.
“Yes. It allows me to relax. My father was the one who got me into it.”
Dylan was wearing a pair of jeans, and a shirt that was buttoned up to the top collar. It looked almost too tight for his neck. He swept hair out of his eyes and readjusted his glasses. Jack took a seat on a chair and looked around. The interior of the home looked as though it was frozen in time. There was nothing modern about it. The furniture was worn, the décor, gag worthy and the smell — musty.
“What do you do for a living, Dylan?”
“I… am on disability.”
“Must be hard.”
“I get to look after my mother.”
“You want to tell me what the police had to say about your statement?”
“They didn’t take it. I approached Mrs. Carson.”
“And then you went to the department?”
“No. She passed on the information to the police”
Jack’s brow furrowed. “Why?”
His head dropped slightly and he squeezed together his hands. “I have a record.” He searched for words but couldn’t seem to piece together what he wanted to say.
“A criminal record?”
He cleared his throat. “Sexual assault.”
Jack’s eyebrows rose.
“I’m on the sex offenders registry.”
A look of shame spread across his face.
“For what?”
“What?”
“What did you do?”
“I would rather not go into it.”
“Is Mrs. Carson aware of this?”
He nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“And she didn’t find that in any way a little strange?”
“Look I’m not proud of what I did but it happened.”
“What happened?”
“I’m not going into it but I will say that it had nothing to do with kids. I’m not like that but that doesn’t seem to matter around here.”
“Struggling to fit in?” Jack asked.
“By law they have to show your face and
give out your address. Since the disappearance of Billy, I have had death threats, eggs thrown at the house and a group of kids flooded the inside of our basement by pushing a water hose through the vent and turning it on.”
“You understand though, why they might be angry, right?”
“I understand people are misinformed about those who are listed as a sex offender.” He paused. “Did you know if you take a photo of yourself naked while you are a minor and share it around you can end up on that list? Or visiting a prostitute in New York can get you listed? Or how about peeing in public, or having consensual sex with a teenager when you yourself are a teenager but under the age of sixteen?” He paused. “No, people don’t think about those things. All they envision when they hear the words ‘sex offender’ is rapist.”
If he was hoping to invoke sympathy, Jack had none. There were very few things he despised. Violence against women and children was on that list, but sexual predators, he couldn’t stand them. They would give all manner of reasons why they weren’t to blame, anything to avoid accepting responsibility for their crude and harmful actions.
“Listen, Dylan, I couldn’t care less what you have done in your past unless it directly or indirectly has played a role in the disappearance of this kid. What did you see that morning?”
“I’m a light sleeper. I usually hear Zach in the mornings delivering papers. Sometimes I’m up and will stand on the porch to have a cigarette. I was up that morning at around five. I made a cup of coffee and had a cigarette outside. Close to six I decided to head back to bed. That’s when I heard the cry. At first it sounded like an animal. I glanced out the window and that’s when I saw them. They pushed him into the back of that car and took off.”
“But you told her that you only saw the car drive away. She didn’t mention that you saw them.”
“I don’t know what she said, but that’s what I saw. I saw them push him in.”
“Can you describe the men?”
“It was dark outside. I only saw the silhouette of two figures. There was a third driving the car.”
He nodded.
“So you say Mrs. Carson did go to the police about what you told her?”
“Many times but they wouldn’t listen. What you have to understand…” he paused as if trying to remember Jack’s name. When Jack didn’t offer it, he continued. “What you need to understand is that Chief Karl Weldon isn’t exactly liked around here. Most think he shouldn’t even be in the department.”