by Joseph Lewis
Then all the adults turned back towards Pete.
Stephen had never seen his mom and dad fight with one another, so not only was he shocked, he was also scared at what might happen to him for telling his father to shut up.
Brett leaned over towards him and whispered, “That was pretty cool.” He paused and then added, “Suicidal, but pretty cool.”
Stephen barely heard him.
“Mrs. Pruitt, we think Cochrane tried to take Tim because Tim witnessed him leaving Manville’s room. The hospital security tapes support that. We don’t think Tim . . . or your family, is in any immediate danger. However as a precaution, we’re arranging for protection through West Bend PD.”
Laura and Thad Pruitt nodded solemnly.
“Brett, you and your family are in grave danger,” Pete said quietly.
He looked at both Thomas and Victoria, no longer expecting a protest from Victoria, because all of the fight went out of her when she had heard the 9-1-1 recording of Dominico killing his partner. She had recognized her brother’s voice and was appalled at his cold calculation.
“We’ll be protecting you and your family, but Brett, you’ll have to be careful.”
Brett showed no emotion, and Pete and Jeremy worried silently what Brett was thinking or what he might do if given the opportunity.
“Thomas, we’ll need to change the locks and the garage code,” Victoria said, leaning over towards her husband. “Tony has a key and knows the code.”
“With your permission, we’ll send someone over to you home before you get there to check out the premises and to wait there until you return,” Pete suggested.
Victoria and Thomas turned towards one another, nodded, and then Thomas said, “Thank you.”
Brett watched the interaction and wanted to ask, “Who are you and what did you do with my mother?” He had not heard the 9-1-1 recording and didn’t know what his uncle had done, so he was not expecting this reaction from his mother. She smiled at him, and he smiled back. He made a face at Tim suggesting his amazement. Tim did not respond.
Pete continued, “Stephen is in danger, because we don’t know who was responsible for targeting him. Remember, each boy found in captivity was targeted by someone. According to the boys,” Pete nodded at Brett and Tim, “Stephen would have been visited by him soon after he was taken, but because the boys were rescued, he wasn’t. Until we find out who that is, Stephen is in danger and by extension, so is his family. We also think that because Stephen and Mike were taken together, Mike and his family might be in danger. Detective Jamie Graff and Captain Jack O’Brien are arranging protection for both families. Graff will be in touch with you when you get back to Waukesha.”
Mark and Jennifer Erickson gripped each other’s hands and then Jennifer reached over and took Sarah’s hand.
“We believe George Tokay to be in danger because he was specifically mentioned in the email sent by Cochrane. Looking at the security tapes and in talking to Jeff Limbach, Cochrane aimed right at George’s head, but didn’t pull the trigger.” Pete stopped and shook his head. “And if George is in danger, Jeremy and the twins are also in danger.”
Jeremy lowered his eyes to his hands, but otherwise kept his emotions masked. Of course he was scared- not so much for himself as he was for his boys. And he included George as one of his boys.
“We also can’t find the men responsible for two other boys . . . one from Chicago and one from Long Beach, so we think they might be in danger too.”
“Who? What boy?” Tim asked.
Pete checked his notes and said, “Cole, rescued from Long Beach . . . and Patrick, rescued from Chicago.”
Brett panicked, stood up, and went white.
“You have to protect Patrick. You have to. Nothing can happen to him.” He looked from Pete to Skip to Jeremy and pleaded, “Please. You have to take care of him.”
As confidently as he could, Pete said, “Brett, we’re on it. We’re working-“
“-Does he know? Does he know to be careful?”
“Brett, we’ve spoken to his family and with Wentzville PD and with the FBI in St. Louis. They’re on it.”
Panicking and pale, Brett paced the room with his head down and one hand in his hair.
He stopped and said, “Can I talk to him? Please?”
Brett’s parents looked at each other, not understanding the connection between Brett and Patrick. Pete and Jeremy exchanged a look, with Pete shrugging an okay.
“Yes, you can,” Jeremy said softly. “I know how much Patrick means to you, but can you wait until we’re done here?”
Brett stared at Jeremy and said, “I need to talk to him now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Chicago, Illinois
George’s dark eyes fluttered open, and it took effort to remember where he was and how he had gotten there. He had no recollection of how he went from the cold, damp pavement to a bed. The room was small. A curtain covered one wall, presumably the door because the room was without one as far as he could see. A TV was mounted up in the corner tuned to Sports Center on mute. He had recognized it because it was the station of choice in the Evans house.
He was sitting up in bed and leaning against several pillows, dressed in a hospital gown with the sheets down at his waist and an IV in his left arm. He tried to sit up straighter, but stopped immediately because his ribs hurt. He moved his gown to take a look at the blue, black and red bruising on his right side. He couldn’t breathe deeply with any comfort, and it was equally uncomfortable for him to move.
“You’re awake,” Billy said softly.
George blinked at him and saw Jeff and Danny Limbach behind him.
“Jeremy wanted me to text him when you woke up,” Danny said.
He pulled out his cell, and his thumbs sped rapidly over the keyboard.
“How’re you feeling?” Jeff asked.
George nodded and said, “Okay.”
His ribs hurt, he was thirsty and he had a lot of questions and not many answers.
“You have badly bruised ribs, but otherwise, you’re fine,” Jeff said. “The IV was a precaution because you had passed out.”
George nodded again.
“Your cell has been vibrating like crazy,” Billy said. “You must have a dozen or so messages.”
“From who?”
“Not sure,” Billy answered. “Danny put in a bunch of numbers that Tim and Brett had given him.”
George shut his eyes and lay back against the pillow. He must have dozed because when he again opened his eyes, Tim was sitting at his bedside.
“Hi.”
George blinked at him and smiled.
“I’m Tim.”
George nodded.
“You saved my life.”
George shrugged, wincing at the pain.
“Can I ask you some questions?”
George nodded again.
“That was your grandfather?”
“Yes.”
“But he’s dead,” Tim said.
“Yes.”
Tim nodded as he considered the answer, not sure how he felt about it, but certain that George had told him the truth. He didn’t know how it was possible that a dead person could appear and talk to him like he had done.
When he did speak, he said, “Your grandfather said I shouldn’t worry . . . that I was going to be okay.”
“He told me that he thought you had given up,” George said.
Tim lowered his face and kept it down. George waited patiently, letting Tim gather his thoughts. Finally Tim looked up, and he wiped his eyes with his hands.
“I didn’t think I was going to get out of it this time. I thought . . . the others . . . Johnny . . . now me.” He shrugged again.
George reached out and took Tim’s hand and said, “You cannot think like that. The others look up to you.”
Tim shook his head and said, “Not me . . . Brett.”
“You and Brett together.” He remembered his grandfather’s words in refe
rence to Randy and Billy, and he said, “You share the same heart. You cannot give up because who will the others turn to?”
Tim and George stared at one another in silence.
“Do you think I’ll see you or your grandfather again?”
George shrugged and said, “I think if there is a need, my grandfather will be there. And me . . . probably,” he said with a smile.
Tim smiled and said, “I hope so.” Shyly he added softly, “I was hoping we’d be friends.”
George smiled at him and nodded. “We’re meeting in the sunroom at the end of the hall. Our parents wanted to meet you and say goodbye. We’re getting ready to leave,” Tim said sadly.
“Why does that make you sad?”
Tim couldn’t put it into words, but he and Brett had worried about it for the last several days, both together and privately and especially since the meeting they had just had with Pete and Jeremy, who had outlined the danger they were in. George watched him mull the question over.
Tim was about the same height as he was, an inch or so shorter than the twins, with longish blond hair and blue eyes. He was handsome with a friendly smile, and was on the skinny side like George was, though both boys had broad shoulders.
Tim sighed. “We’ve been gone a long time. We don’t know what it’s going to be like when we get home.” He paused, looked George straight in the eye and said, “There are assholes out there who want us dead. I’m scared.” He was quiet for a bit and some more tears leaked from his eyes, which he wiped away. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s all worth it.”
George didn’t say anything.
“You lost your grandfather . . . your whole family. Pete thinks they’re still after you. Brett’s my best friend, and his uncle is out to kill him. You saved my life this time, but who’ll be there next time?”
The news that someone, maybe more than one person, was after him had startled him. That meant that if they were after him, Jeremy and the twins might be in danger, and by extension, so would Danny and Jeff.
Did his grandfather know? If so, why didn’t he warn him? His frown was visible, and his mind worked overtime.
“What?” Tim asked studying him.
George shook his head still frowning.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Northern Suburb of Indianapolis, Indiana
Dominico read the text and was pleased. Now all they had to do was to concentrate on getting even and then begin again.
Of course he knew why getting even was so important.
They had done this to him!
Him!
He felt the anger boil up in him again and let it surge through his brain, his veins, his muscles and his being.
He tapped in a message to the five others: Get them all. Dispose of the boys and their families. We will begin again. Need three to take care of the Indian kid, the Evans kid and his father and anyone else with them or anyone who gets in the way. Who’s up for it?
He didn’t have to wait very long before three stepped forward. They knew where to go, but not necessarily who they were looking for. Dominico sent an email with two photos: a head and shoulders shot of George and then a picture of Jeremy and the twins.
The text response was quickly returned: Got it!
Dominico smiled. He had a couple of others he wanted to deal with on a very personal level. One at his mother’s house and the other would be back in town later today or early this evening. He might even do the kids in front of his dimwitted sister and her idiot husband. Let them all know who was in charge. He had something to prove to them all.
He was the one in charge now.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Chicago, Illinois
Billy had helped George get out of bed by picking up his legs and placing his feet on the floor and then he helped him get dressed. He led him to the conference room on the first floor where Pete and Jeremy heard him go through his story twice. Pete took notes, while Jeremy listened.
“How did you know, George?” Kelliher asked, puzzled with it all.
George shook his head, shrugged and said, “I heard my grandfather, and when we walked into the hospital, I saw them.”
“Them . . .” Pete said.
George nodded.
“That man . . . Cochrane, Tim and my grandfather.”
Neither Pete nor Jeremy doubted him. They didn’t understand it, but they didn’t doubt him.
George cleared his throat, and Jeremy looked at him and said, “What?”
“There is one more thing you should know,” George said, staring first at Jeremy, then at Pete. “Last night, I had a dream.”
Besides George’s ability to see and talk to his deceased grandfather, both Jeremy and Pete put stock in George’s dreams. His dreams hadn’t failed him, or them, in the past.
“What was it about?” Jeremy asked.
George frowned, looked down at the varnished table and then back at Jeremy.
“It was short and unclear, but there was a man with a gun. I never saw him before. He had the gun pointed at a boy. The boy was shorter than me with dark hair . . . brown, I think. The three of us . . . you were on his left, and I was on his right . . . stood in front of a door. I didn’t know the room or the house we were in, but the man with gun was going to shoot the boy to get someone.” He looked at both men expecting a question. When he didn’t get one, he added, “I am certain he was after someone in particular.”
Both men stared at him. Jeremy’s brow was furrowed. Kelliher’s lips were pursed. George waited patiently.
Finally Jeremy said, “Either this is just a bad dream . . .”
“. . . or one of George’s warnings,” Kelliher finished for him not taking his eyes off George. Then he said, “Do you think you can recognize the boy or the man if you saw them again?”
George thought about that. First of all, the dream seemed like a lifetime ago, and secondly, he didn’t see either of them very clearly. Mostly just the height, weight and body build more than anything else. Not much more than that.
But to be helpful, George said, “I can try.”
Pete speed-dialed Chet Walker, put him on speaker and without any introduction said, “Where are you?”
Walker answered, “About to land in Indianapolis. Why?”
“Send me the pictures of the men in the wind.” Presuming he could but not waiting for confirmation he added, “Send them in an email as soon as you can.”
“Coming your way in less than five,” Chet said. “Is Skip on the way yet?”
Kelliher checked his watch and said, “Should be there by now.”
“Okay, when we hook up, we’ll be in contact.”
Pete said quietly, but firmly, “Chet, you and Skip need to watch your backs. This one’s dangerous.”
“Aren’t they all?” Chet said with a laugh.
Kelliher, not at all amused said, “No, not like this. Take this seriously and both you and Skip watch your ass! I’m serious!”
Chet was all business when he said, “Got it. You should have your email any second.”
Kelliher booted up his laptop, opened his email and opened the jpg file that was attached and then spun it around so the three of them could look at the pictures together.
“I have it. Can you also send me pictures of each of the boys who were rescued?”
“Coming your way in five.”
“Thanks, Chet.”
“Holler if you need anything else.”
Pete clicked his cell off and began the slide show.
“George, these are pictures of some men we can’t locate. I want you to look at them carefully and see if one of them was the man in your dream.”
George took his time as Pete suggested, pausing it here and there and asking about heights and weights. He stunned both men when he asked about their familiarity with guns.
“Why? What do you mean by that?” Pete asked.
George became flustered.
He hesitated and then said, “The man did not seem like
he had used a gun before, but he was confident. His voice was cold.”
“What did he say?” Jeremy asked.
George shook his head and said, “I do not think he said anything. It was a feeling.”
Both men frowned at him and in the end, there were two that were close, and Pete noted them.
“The first man you picked is Detective Anthony Dominico. He’s responsible for Brett’s abduction, and we believe he murdered his partner earlier today.”
“He’s Brett’s uncle,” Jeremy added. “Have you met Brett yet?”
“Maybe, but I wasn’t very awake.” He shook his head. “Tim said he and Brett are best friends.”
Jeremy nodded, “They’re very close. Brett is also very close to another, younger boy, Patrick.”
“The second man you picked out is Detective Mark Fox,” Pete said. “He’s responsible for the abduction of Patrick Wright . . . Brett’s friend. The man was one of Patrick’s soccer coaches. The problem is that Fox is much shorter than Dominico.”
He paused, flicked the computer back and forth between the two men, so George could have more looks at the two of them. In the end, George shrugged unwilling to pick one over the other, because either man could be the guy in the dream or neither man could be the guy in the dream. He couldn’t tell.
“The other problem is that both men are familiar with guns, handguns in particular.”
“Does either of the men have blue eyes?”
Jeremy and Pete glanced at each other, and Pete said, “Why?”
“The man in my dream had bright blue eyes. Strange eyes.”
“Both of these men have brown eyes, I think, but I’ll check to be certain,” Pete said, jotting a note in his little notebook.
George shrugged, disappointed he wasn’t much help.
Next, Kelliher opened the other email and showed him the pictures of thirty boys. One by one George looked at them. There were four who could have been the boy in the dream, but he wasn’t sure.
“Patrick and Brett are the closest, but I do not think it was either one. The other two . . . Cole and Eric, are close, but if I had to pick one . . .” He shook his head. “Probably Patrick. Maybe Brett . . . I do not know for certain.”