Shattered Lives

by Joseph Lewis

  “My dad was really worried about you . . . afraid you’d get hurt, especially after you ran outside with the gun.”

  George said, “That is when I was afraid. Not because of the agent, but because of the police. Both of them had their guns drawn on me.”

  “Damn, George! You can’t do that stuff!” Billy said emphatically, smacking George’s thigh with the back of his hand.

  “My grandfather told me to go after him and not let him get away,” George answered quietly but with finality.

  “But the cops almost shot you!” Billy countered.

  “I was careful. I had my hands up, and I put the gun on the ground slowly and did what they told me to do.”

  Yet, that was when he was as close to getting shot as ever.

  “Don’t do it again!” Billy said smacking him on the thigh again, this time harder than the first time.

  Ignoring Billy, George turned back to Danny and said, “Is your father angry at me for disobeying him?”

  Danny considered the question. Concerned, yes. Worried, yes. Angry, not sure, but he doubted it. He said as much to George.

  “Randy, can you help me up?” George asked as he struggled getting his legs out from under him.

  “Where are you going?” Billy asked.

  “To speak with Danny’s father.”

  As Randy helped George to his feet, he noticed George wince with the effort and asked, “Do you want us to come along?”

  “No, I will go alone.”

  George walked slowly over to the door separating the two rooms, wrapped twice and waited.

  “Come in,” Jeremy said from the other side.

  George stepped into Jeremy’s and Jeff’s room and shut the door behind him.

  The two men were seated at the desk hunched over Jeff’s laptop. Jeff pointed at something on the screen, and Jeremy nodded thoughtfully and continued to stare at the computer.

  “Hi George,” Jeff said with a smile.

  Jeremy looked up, smiled and said, “Hey George. What’s up?”

  “May I talk to Mr. Jeff?” George answered.

  Jeremy and Jeff exchanged a look and then Jeremy asked, “Would you like me to leave?”

  “No,” George said shaking his head.

  He wanted Jeremy present if for no other reason than for moral support.

  “What’s up?” Jeff asked curiously, folding his arms across his chest.

  George wasn’t sure how to begin and suddenly became aware that he stood in front of them bare-chested, bare-footed and wearing only his shorts with nothing under them and his turquoise and leather necklace. Even though the men didn’t seem to notice or care what he was dressed like, he blushed deep crimson.

  “Do you want to sit down?” Jeremy asked.

  “No, Sir.”

  Both men waited. They had changed into shorts and t-shirts and were ready for bed. Jeremy wore flip-flops, while Jeff was barefoot. Several thin jagged white and red lines ran from somewhere under Jeff’s shorts to his mid-calf and George knew those were the scars from the motorcycle accident and the surgeries that followed it.

  “Mr. Jeff, when I disobeyed you this afternoon, I did not want you to think I was being disrespectful.” George decided to begin with that and see where it took him.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  George sat down stiffly on the edge of Jeremy’s bed, wincing at the effort. He knew it was Jeremy’s because of the bible just off the pillow and the John Sanford paperback he had seen him reading at their house. He knew the other bed must have been Jeff’s.

  He said, “I tried to keep you safe from the agent with the gun and then I ran after him even though you told me not to.”

  Jeff nodded thoughtfully, but didn’t respond.

  “I was worried that the agent was going to shoot you like he did the security guard.”

  Jeff nodded again. Jeremy glanced at Jeff and then looked back at George.

  “That is why I pushed you down.”

  “But you almost got yourself shot, George. That was risky,” Jeff said quietly.

  “I did not think the agent was going to shoot me. You were the bigger threat because you were the adult. To him, I was just a kid. I needed to keep you away from him.”

  “But that was really dangerous.”

  “Mr. Jeff, Danny was watching. I know what it is like to lose family.” George stopped and stared at Jeremy, then nodded at Jeff. “I did not want Danny to lose you and to watch it happen. If anyone was going to get shot, I wanted it to be me, not you.”

  Both Jeff and Jeremy sat back, speechless. Neither could find the words to respond.

  “But, I did not think the agent was going to shoot me. My grandfather would have warned me. I am certain of that. The only thing the agent wanted to do was get away.”

  “But then you went after him . . . with a loaded gun,” Jeff said.

  George nodded and said, “Because my grandfather told me not to let him get away.”

  George said it as a matter of fact.

  Jeremy and Jeff exchanged a look, but said nothing. George was certain that Jeremy had understood him, but didn’t know what Jeff was thinking. However, it was important for Jeff to believe him.

  “I do not want you to think I was being disrespectful. I was listening to my grandfather.”

  “Son . . . George,” Jeff said, getting up off the chair to sit down next to George on the edge of the bed. “I never thought you were disrespectful. I was only concerned that you put yourself in danger.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “What you did was very brave, but it was also very dangerous.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Jeff considered him and then said, “I think that if you had to do it all over again, you’d probably do the same thing.”

  George nodded.

  Jeff pursed his lips, looked at Jeremy for guidance, but didn’t receive any, so he said, “You were willing to sacrifice yourself for me.”

  It was a statement, not a question.

  “Yes, Sir. I did not want Danny to lose his father.”

  They regarded each other for several seconds. Finally Jeff bent over and kissed George’s forehead.

  “Kiddo, I’m going to ask that you never do that again, but I know you’re going to do what you think is best, especially if your grandfather gives you guidance.”

  George smiled shyly and nodded.

  “I figured as much,” Jeff said with a dry laugh.

  Then he kissed George’s forehead once again and the two embraced.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Fishers, Indiana

  MB was on her third lap moving from room to room familiarizing herself with the McGovern house. It was a typical family home, fairly plain and hid the fact that the McGoverns had money, pushing them to the lower limits of upper class. She didn’t know for sure, but decided that because Thomas was a university professor, that made him liberal and probably a democrat. She didn’t know about Victoria and didn’t care. MB wasn’t into politics.

  MB spent time in the basement checking windows to make certain they were locked. She guessed that if there was a break in, it would take place on the main floor from either the garage door off the laundry room or the slider that led from the family room and emptied into the backyard and patio. She made a mental note to secure the slider with a nail or bolt in the track that would prevent the door from opening more than six inches. That way, it would be too narrow for someone to enter. Satisfied that nothing could be done to secure the house further, she went back into the kitchen and found Victoria sitting alone at the table.

  Pete had driven Chet and Skip to a nearby motel that was going to be their base for the time being. Skip had volunteered to stay with the McGoverns and genuinely seemed disappointed that Pete chose MB to stay with the family.

  The Quality Inn was a short five, maybe ten minutes away even in traffic so they could get there in a hurry if need be. Skip and Chet were going to get started on the techie thing
s Chet liked to do, while Pete had other plans that he hadn’t shared with her. In fact, MB was pretty sure he hadn’t shared his plans with Skip or Chet either.

  Kind of a different guy, MB thought.

  MB was going to stay at least one night, perhaps more. A lot of it depended upon whether or not Thomas and Victoria wanted her to. So far they had allowed her, even if they hadn’t actually welcomed her.

  She had hoped Pete would let Skip stay because this protection duty- babysitting duty- seemed like penance during lent. The family and the house had a stifling feel about it. Hell, all she needed was sack cloth and ashes. She liked the two boys, though she hadn’t interacted much with either of them, but the parents, well, they were a different story altogether.

  “Ma’am, is there anything I can get you? Anything I can do for you?”

  Victoria smiled weakly, shook her head and said, “No, not really.”

  MB waited, sensing that she might want to talk woman to woman, even though MB was at least ten years younger. Probably more.

  “Are you married . . . have kids?”

  “No, Ma’am.”

  “Please call me Victoria or Vicki.”

  “Yes, Ma’am . . . Victoria,” MB said.

  There was silence between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or cold.

  “When Brett went missing, I blamed Thomas. I blamed myself. I blamed Bobby for not being with him. I even blamed Brett for allowing himself to be taken,” she said shaking her head.

  She held her head in her hands and then folded her hands on the table. It seemed to MB that Victoria didn’t know what to do with them. Or with herself for that matter.

  “I couldn’t comprehend it. I tried to find a why and a how, but . . .” she let the statement drift off to nothing.

  MB sat down across from her.

  “Never, and I mean never, did I suspect my brother. I never suspected him of being involved. It had never occurred to me. My own brother! Brett’s uncle! My God!”

  She shook her head and looked off somewhere towards the empty family room. MB looked into the family room to see if there was anything in particular Victoria was looking at.

  “Even after I heard the 9-1-1 tape . . . killing his partner . . . even though I saw those ugly,” she twisted up her face in disgust, “ugly, disgusting pictures of him doing things to those boys . . . to Brett . . .” she let her voice trail off, never finishing the thought, letting silence finish it for her. “I can’t imagine what Brett went through. I. Just. Can’t.” she said, shaking her head at each word.

  MB sat helpless. She felt sorry for Victoria. A woman’s instinct is to protect her children. And perhaps it was this instinct, failing her in the case of Brett and then in the case of Bobby, that made her all the more vulnerable, insecure and, well, pathetic.

  MB wouldn’t judge her. She had to admit that she wasn’t all that enamored with her. Or with Thomas for that matter. But there was no way she was going to judge her. Them. She didn’t have that right.

  “Do you have a gun or . . . something for protection?”

  Victoria smiled and said, “Ironically, my brother gave me . . . us, a gun. He said it was ‘just in case’, whatever that meant.”

  “May I see it?” MB asked curiously.

  “It’s in our bedroom in the night stand on my side of the bed,” Victoria said.

  She waited and when Victoria showed no sign of moving, MB got up to retrieve it.

  She passed Thomas in the study at the computer. The computer wasn’t turned on, the screen was dark, and he sat at the desk staring at, what? MB couldn’t tell and wasn’t curious enough to ask. She didn’t think he had noticed her standing in the doorway.

  She passed Bobby’s bedroom, peeked in and saw both boys sitting on the bed talking quietly. Neither looked in her direction, though she was certain both knew she was there.

  Entering the master bedroom, she went to one nightstand and with a quick look in the top drawer discovered it was Thomas’. It was man stuff: a watch, a bit of jewelry, a finger blood pressure gauge, some books and pictures of the boys. All tucked away in fairly orderly fashion.

  She moved to the other side of the bed and opened the top drawer. She lifted out a prescription bottle of Ambien with Victoria’s name on it that had only six tablets left in it. There were pictures of Brett and Bobby. The pictures of Brett were dog-eared as if they had been held long and often. In the bottom drawer she found an S&W .38. It wasn’t a powerful handgun, but it could be lethal nonetheless. A quick check told her it wasn’t loaded, but a box of bullets sat in the drawer next to it.

  She carried it back to the kitchen and sat down at the table. Victoria hadn’t moved. In fact, it didn’t even look as though Victoria knew she had left the kitchen.

  MB began taking the gun apart piece by piece. Victoria watched her curiously, wondering how a woman knew how to do something like that.

  “Hmmm . . .” MB said.

  “What?”

  “The firing pin was removed.”

  “What does that mean?”

  MB looked at her with a frown and said, “Without the firing pin, you could pull the trigger all day long and nothing would happen.”

  “Who . . .” Victoria never finished the question because she knew the answer.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Waukesha, Wisconsin

  He lost count of the number of times he checked each of his email accounts. He had even gotten into his car and ventured into his neighborhood, cruising past his house. There were no strange cars on the street or in neighbors’ driveways. He decided that if anyone had come looking for him, they had left long ago. His neighborhood was as quiet and as peaceful as it ever was.

  Perhaps he had over-reacted in not going to work and in getting a room at the hotel. But it was smart to take precautions. And, there was nothing wrong with calling in sick. He seldom took time off.

  He lingered in Brookfield Square looking for cute boys. Unfortunately, he didn’t see any that suited him, not even in the arcade. He drove back into Waukesha to Frame Park to watch Little League baseball. He hated the game but loved the boys. He even went to the concession stand and stood as close to two boys as he could. He smelled their sweat and their scent. He even brushed up against the better looking of the two, touching his arm. It was soft with light, downy hair. He apologized, smiled charmingly, and the boy smiled back, then left with his friend. Driving back to the Holiday Inn, he thought briefly of calling one of the boys he had been with, but decided that might be pushing his luck.

  No, he’d have to lay low for a while.

  He pulled up the email, and the picture of Stephen and the other boy, Michael. He enlarged the picture as much as he could without it getting fuzzy and out of focus.

  He’d have to have Stephen.

  Sooner or later.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Hannibal, Missouri

  Jeremy and Jeff popped into the room to say goodnight after the boys settled in for the night.

  George looked forward to each of these nightly visits. In a different life, after saying goodnight to his mother and grandparents, George would kiss his youngest brother, Robert, and the youngest of his siblings, Mary, on the cheek along with a hug each. With William, who was just over a year younger, he exchanged hugs. He shared a bed with both Robert and William. Robert would snuggle against George, and William would keep to himself on the other side of the bed.

  George felt sad that he hadn’t done more or told them how much he had loved them and that he would always love them. He regretted it each time Jeremy came in to say goodnight and give them hugs and kisses because it reminded him of his inability to say I love you and that now, he never could. He knew he would regret that the rest of his life.

  It didn’t take long for Randy and Danny to fall asleep. Randy fell asleep in his usual position on his back with one knee up and arms out. Danny slept with his back to Randy but pressed up against him.

  George remembered that the do
ctor had advised him to sleep on his sore ribs because that way, the mattress would act much like a splint and they’d be better protected. So he laid on his right side, his back to Randy and Danny but facing Billy, who tossed and turned. Billy was as quiet as he could be, but it was clear he was wide awake.

  George reached out and touched Billy’s bare shoulder and whispered, “What’s wrong?”

  Billy shrugged but otherwise didn’t respond.

  Still gripping Billy’s shoulder, George shook him gently. Billy turned and stared intently at George, their faces inches apart. George waited patiently.

  Billy lifted his head to see if Randy and Danny were awake. He moved even closer, their noses almost touching.

  He said in an urgent whisper, “Promise me that you’ll protect Randy and Dad and that you’ll take care of yourself.”

  George frowned at him and considered the remark. He didn’t know if he could actually make such a promise. George considered promises a sacred thing, never to be taken lightly.

  Billy continued, “I know your grandfather will tell you to do things, but you have to promise me that you’ll protect them and yourself. You can’t let anything happen to them or to you. Okay?”

  George stared at his friend, smiled and said, “I’ll do my best to protect father, Randy and you. I promise.”

  Billy shook his head and moved closer so that their noses touched lightly. George could smell the scent of Billy’s minty toothpaste and the clean, soapy smell of his face.

  “I don’t care about me. I care about Dad and Randy and you. Promise me you’ll take care of them and yourself.”

  George rubbed his nose with Billy’s, just as he used to with his little brother Robert and said, “I promise I’ll do all I can to protect us. All of us. I promise.”

  Billy nodded once and then rolled away from him.

  George let him settle and then on impulse, tapped Billy on the shoulder.

  Billy rolled onto his back and turned his face towards George.

  “I love you and Randy and father.”

  Billy smiled, nodded and then turned away again.

  Satisfied, George shut his eyes, smiled to himself and laid his hand on Billy’s shoulder.