by A. M. Arthur
He made it home with no drama. After Eunice medicated Molly and read her a few books, she came into the kitchen where he was waiting. Pacing, really. She studied him a moment, then reached for the teakettle.
“What happened, honey?”
“I ran into someone at the store.” He waited until she’d put water in the kettle. “Brittney Mattson.”
“A nice girl, as I recall.”
“She had her son with her. I’d forgotten all that from senior year.”
Eunice turned on the burner, then pressed her palms flat to the counter. “She’s such a brave soul, raising that boy. Her parents still help, of course, but he’s got no father.”
“Who is the father?”
“No one knows.”
“She’s never told anyone?”
“Not to my knowledge. There were so many horrible things said about that girl when you were in school. Kids can be so cruel to each other. You know that.”
“I know.” His mind raced with so many disconnected thoughts. Did Brittney know who the father was? Was she protecting someone or actually in the dark herself? Why the hell did that kid look like Justin?
“What’s wrong, Alè?”
“Nothing, I just…feel bad for her. For everything she went through in school.”
“She’s a strong girl. Works hard from what I hear. She takes care of her child and that’s what matters, no?”
“Right.”
“You can’t change the past, honey. But you’ve already grown into a better man. I see that every single day.” She studied him so intently that he looked away first. “Are you sure that’s all that’s bothering you? Everything all right with you and Jaime?”
Was it? He didn’t know. “Yeah, things are good. I’m just tired, I guess.”
“Well, get some sleep. Five a.m. comes early.”
“Tell me about it.”
He didn’t find much sleep that night, though. He tossed and turned, replaying memories from so many years ago. The truck, the money, the school rumors. The ugly things other kids had said about Brittney. She hadn’t had a steady boyfriend at the time, and when curiosity about the pregnancy got the better of Alessandro once, he’d asked Justin about that truck ride home. If she’d been his mysterious passenger. Justin threatened to make an anonymous call to the police about Alessandro’s weed smoking and selling habit. The topic got dropped. Alessandro quit weed cold turkey that day. Quit drinking and getting into trouble, too.
One good thing came out of his keeping Justin’s bizarre secret. He’d left town sober and made a life for himself. But now he was positive there was more to the secret than he wanted to admit, and he had to find out. Tomorrow.
* * *
Jaime didn’t feel much better about how he’d left things with Alessandro the day before. He wanted to apologize for leaving the way he did. They were friends, they were fuck buddies and they’d made no huge promises about telling each other every little detail of their lives. Jaime couldn’t change the rules because he was falling for Alessandro, and he couldn’t get mad at Alessandro for having a secret that had nothing to do with their relationship. Acting like that was childish and silly.
He packed up his books to take with him to the bakery at ten-thirty, to keep a sense of normalcy. Studying there was becoming a fun habit anyway. He’d just climbed onto his bike when his phone rang with Alessandro’s tone.
“Hey.”
“Hey, have you left yet?” Alessandro asked.
“On my way.”
“Listen, I can’t hang out after work today. There’s something I need to do and it can’t wait.”
Alessandro was breaking up with him. Then the distress in Alessandro’s voice sunk in—something was genuinely going on. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. I’ll probably tell you about it later, but I can’t yet. Is that cool?”
“Of course. Promise you’ll call me if you need anything, okay?”
“Okay, thanks. I’m really sorry, Jaime.”
“Don’t worry. Do what you need to do. I’ll go study at the park today, I think. It’s nice out.” That was the truth. The sun shined, and the air wasn’t as chilly as the last few days. It had been unseasonably cool for September, and today was a good day for some outdoor studying at the pavilion.
“I’ll call you later.”
“Sure.”
Jaime put his phone away and stood there, unsure. Biking all the way to the park seemed like a huge chore, but staying inside all day wasn’t going to help. He believed Alessandro had something to do, something that was truly bothering him. He wanted Alessandro to confide in him, though, so they could work it out together. But that’s what they did in real relationships, and this wasn’t a real relationship. Except for declaring them boyfriends at the club, Alessandro was consistent and clear on that topic.
If only Jaime’s heart would pay attention.
* * *
One o’clock took forever to arrive. Alessandro couldn’t confront Brittney directly, but he could question the next best thing: Claire. She and Justin had been together since high school. She and Brittney had been friends in elementary school, according to gossip, and then they had a falling out in junior high. Claire was his best chance at getting some answers.
Finding one person in a Home Depot wasn’t an easy task. He knew she was working because he’d called and asked. After circling the entire store twice, and fending off three different employees asking if he needed assistance, he spotted her in the lighting department.
Her eyes went wide when she saw him coming down the aisle. “Alessandro, can I help you find something?”
“I’m sorry for doing this here, but can we talk? I need five minutes.”
“I don’t have a break coming up for a while.”
“Then pretend you’re helping me pick out table lamps or something.”
She chewed on her lower lip, clearly nervous. “Okay, fine. What?”
He was just guessing here, but he made his theory sound like fact. “April, our senior year, Justin gave Brittney Mattson a ride home from a party. She was drunk and passed out in his truck.”
Her mouth dropped. She opened and closed it several times before finding her voice. “How do you know about that? Justin said he didn’t tell anyone else.”
“He didn’t tell me. I saw him with a girl in the truck that night and put it together. He paid me to not tell anyone I saw them.” Connections clicked in his mind. “He didn’t pay me off so you wouldn’t find out, because you obviously knew. “
“She was walking home drunk from a party. Justin gave her a ride so she didn’t get hit by a car.”
“Then why the secrecy? A ride home is a good deed, not something that needs to be covered up. What did he do?”
“Oh God, leave it, Alè, please.” She’d paled and her breath came in short gasps. “Please.”
“I saw Brittney last night. It was the first time in, like, six years. I saw Kyle, too.” He made another leap of logic and delivered it as fact. “Is it me, or does he look an awful lot like his father?”
Tears pooled in Claire’s eyes. He was a first-rate jerk for making her cry, but it also answered his question. One thing still didn’t add up.
“How come Brittney has never named him as Kyle’s father?”
“Because she can’t prove it.”
“Justin denies it?”
“He doesn’t have to. She doesn’t have anything for him to deny, except a kid with a resemblance to Justin and a lot of other people in this inbred town.” Claire wiped tears from her cheeks, then pretended to be showing off a lamp shade.
“Brittney doesn’t remember sleeping with Justin because she was drunk?”
Claire shook her head no.
The connection slammed home for Alessandro. His insides churned. He’d been a witness to it. He’d been complicit in hiding it from the world. “Fuck,” he said, unable to get his voice above a whisper. “He raped her, didn’t he?”
She nodded,
then choked back a sob. “He told me later, when I heard him arguing with his father about money. You weren’t the only one who saw them together that night, Alè. They paid off another student who saw Brittney get into his truck. They didn’t want anyone to know he could be the baby’s father.”
“Jesus Christ. He let her suffer alone after he did that to her?”
“Leave it, Alessandro, please. It was years ago.”
“Brittney deserves the truth.”
“And then what? A big trial where your reputation will be dragged through the mud and ripped apart, just to discredit you? It will be your word against Justin’s, and you’ll lose. Brittney will lose.”
“It should be her choice. Even if she doesn’t want Justin in her son’s life, that’s her choice to make. Justin made his a long time ago.”
She gripped his arm, her eyes fierce. “Don’t cross him. You know he’s dangerous.”
Alessandro wanted to forget everything he’d learned in the last twenty-four hours and go back to when things made sense. To when he wasn’t the witness to a felony and when he didn’t hold the lives of so many people in his hands. He didn’t think he was strong enough to do this. Not alone.
“I don’t think I can let this go, Claire. Not this time.”
“Then don’t tell anyone you heard this from me. I mean, Justin will probably figure it out on his own, and I’ll deal with it then, but I don’t want to get dragged in.”
He studied her then, her hunched shoulders and pale skin. The way she acted in the bakery, so skittish and afraid of being noticed. He touched her arm, and she flinched back. Hell. “Does he hit you?”
She glared at him then. “Not all the time. I have to get back to work.”
He left, unsure if he’d made Claire’s life a lot more miserable—or given her a chance to get out. Either way, he wanted to talk to Jaime.
But his call went straight to voice mail. All three times.
Chapter Seventeen
Alessandro’s phone rang while he was pulling a pan of enchiladas out of the oven, and he nearly dropped the baking dish in his haste to answer. He hadn’t heard from Jaime all day, and he hoped he was finally returning one of his many messages. He got the dish onto a trivet on the counter, then yanked his phone out of his pocket.
Shannon’s name lit up the display. He took the call right before it would have gone to voice mail. “Hey, Shannon.”
“Alessandro, have you heard from Jaime today?”
No hello, no nothing. And the tart question made his insides freeze. “We talked this morning around ten-thirty.”
“You guys didn’t hang out today?”
“No, I had an errand to run.”
Eunice came into the kitchen and stopped short. He could only imagine the look on his face if it was anything like how he felt on the inside.
“He hasn’t called me all day.” Shannon’s voice shook. “Or texted, nothing. His bike isn’t at the house. I’m going to go check the bakery.”
Shit. “Okay, look, I’ll drive over to the park. He said he might go study there. Maybe his phone battery died and he lost track of time.”
“Maybe. Thanks. Let me know.”
“I will.”
Eunice waved him off before he could explain. She’d heard most of the conversation. He ran out of the house, ignoring surprised questions from Molly and Tony, and straight to his car. He couldn’t let himself panic or he’d begin a terrifying list of what-ifs, including accidents and illness. His scenario to Shannon made sense. Jaime was probably on his way home. He’d get there, plug in his phone and call his sister. Tell her that he was fine and he was sorry he’d made her worry.
Alessandro liked that scenario best.
He was lucky he didn’t get a ticket as he sped across town to the park. It was dinnertime, so the majority of the park was empty, except for a family of six enjoying the playground. He drove right across the grass and parked between the picnic pavilion and the public bathrooms. He tripped getting out of the car. Gravel cut into his knees, and he ignored the sting.
“Jaime!”
Shouting might have been dramatic, but he didn’t know what else to do. A familiar shape was lurking near one of the pavilion support posts, and he bolted toward it. Jaime’s bike was chained to the post. The sight of it, alone and abandoned, was a kick in the chest. Alessandro turned in a slow circle, eyeballing his surroundings. All of the picnic tables were empty, cleared of trash.
Jaime kept the chain lock’s key on his house key ring, and he would never leave his bike behind. He loved that bike too much.
“Jaime!”
Panic was creeping in, despite his attempts to keep it out.
He circled the perimeter of the pavilion, desperate for a clue as to where Jaime had disappeared to. The cement-block public bathrooms caught his attention, and he ran over, heart threatening to beat out of his chest. The men’s room door was locked, and a paper sign was taped to it that said Out of Order. He checked the women’s room—empty.
Desperate and confused, he called Shannon. “His bike’s here, but he’s not.”
“I’m on my way,” she said, then hung up.
The line of trees and bushes behind the bathrooms loomed like a nightmare. Alessandro reminded himself that he’d seen too many movies, that Jaime was fine, and he wouldn’t find anything back there except windblown trash, wet leaves and maybe a used condom or two. He picked his way through the bushes, saying Jaime’s name every few steps. He probably looked like a lunatic and sounded even crazier, but he didn’t care. The area wasn’t very large—about thirty feet long, twenty deep, and he searched it all.
Shannon popped out of her car door at the same moment Alessandro circled back to the front of the bathrooms. She ran to meet him, her cheeks bright red, and her eyes shiny. He’d never seen her so scared.
“I don’t think he’s here,” Alessandro said.
“He wouldn’t leave his bike.” She ran both hands through her short, spiky hair, making it stand up even higher. “It’s time for his medication, Alè.”
He hadn’t even considered the antirejection meds that Jaime took daily. Jaime rarely took them in front of him, and he didn’t make a fuss about them. Those pills kept him from rejecting the heart that kept him alive. “We’ll find him, Shannon.” He hated the way his voice shook when he said that.
Shannon pointed at the family over on the playground. “I’m going to ask them if they saw him, or saw anyone near his bike.”
“Okay.”
He watched her run across the field, helpless to do anything except worry and hope for the best. Hope that they’d find Jaime in the next five minutes and then spend the next thirty yelling at him for scaring them both so badly. He stared around this side of the park, trying to make sense of Jaime’s disappearance. Jaime could have fled from fear or because he was threatened, but even if he left his bike behind, he wouldn’t be able to run fast with the forty pounds of books he usually toted around in that messenger bag. And the bag was nowhere to be seen. Barring an abduction—and Alessandro wasn’t going there—he had to be in the park.
Where?
His gaze landed on the men’s room and its handwritten out-of-order sign. He walked over and studied it. The sign was written on lined notebook paper ripped out of something, and in black marker. The handwriting wasn’t neat or even. It looked like it had been written in a hurry and taped up haphazardly. City employees weren’t necessarily the neatest people on the planet but an official sign would probably at least rate copy paper and a few thumbtacks.
The door was locked from the outside with a single-hinge hasp that was rusted and as old as the building. The padlock was brand new. Together, the two things meant something and nothing.
He pressed his ear to the thick wood door. Heard some sort of steady, hushed noise that he couldn’t place. “Jaime?” Listened. “Jaime!”
A muffled thud from inside sent his heart slamming into his ribs. Alessandro ran back to his car and fumbled in
the trunk for the handle of his scissor jack. It wasn’t a crow bar, but it was better than nothing, and he didn’t keep a toolbox in his trunk. He fitted the hooked end of the handle in the corner of the door, just far enough between the wood and the hasp to get a grip. The metal shifted, tearing away from the wood. He pulled harder, working the leverage until his arms ached from the strain. The screws nudged their way back out of the wood, loosening the hasp.
He changed his grip, changed the angle of the jack handle and, well aware he was about to destroy public property and that the city council could go fuck itself, he gave it another solid pull. The hasp popped off the frame. Alessandro shoved open the door to the two-stall bathroom, and for the first time he didn’t even notice the stink of urinal cakes and old water.
All three sinks were running, creating white noise that echoed in the small space. He pushed against the door of the handicap stall against the far wall, saw the figure huddled on the damp cement floor, and something inside of him threatened to snap.
Jaime was on his left side, body curled up close against the cold. Strips of duct tape covered his mouth and eyes. More duct tape was wrapped around his ankles and wrists, and had been used to bind his wrists to the base of the toilet. He’d been tied up and secured like a fucking wild animal, but that wasn’t what made Alessandro’s blood alternately boil with rage and run cold with terror. Jaime had also been stripped naked. Several purplish bruises stood out on his legs and ribs, and his entire body was trembling.
“It’s me, Jaime. It’s Alè.”
Jaime stopped trembling, only for Alessandro to begin shaking so hard that he almost dropped his phone twice before he managed to call Shannon. He didn’t greet her, didn’t say anything except, “Men’s room, get a blanket.” Then he dropped his phone.
“It’s okay, it’ll be okay.” Alessandro repeated it over and over as he knelt next to Jaime. He didn’t know whether to hug him, free him, cover him up, or head out on a rampage to kill whoever had done this—and he had a pretty damned good guess. He yanked the tape off Jaime’s eyes and mouth first.
Jaime stared up at him with wide, panicked eyes that filled with tears as soon as he realized that Alessandro really was there. He coughed and the sound turned into a choked sob. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”