Fire and Agate

by Andrew Grey

  “I see.” She nodded slowly. “I had that with Gregory… still do.”

  “I haven’t before, and I keep wondering how long before it turns yellow.” He continued the analogy because, hell, it seemed to be working.

  “That’s where the work comes in. If you want it to stay green, then you need to water it and fertilize it, mow it, and all that stuff. It requires care and hard work.” She patted his hand. “But it’s worth it….” Nadine rolled her eyes at Gregory. “Sometimes I wonder who the kids are in this family.” Still, she turned, gave him a wink, and hurried over to where Gregory stood in the middle of a kiddie dust storm.

  Pavle continued playing with Isaac until the picnic began to break up. Then Chris got his empty bowl and what was left of the dressing and packed them to take home.

  “You know you’re welcome here any time.”

  “Thank you. I’m sure Pavle and I will be back.” It was never a bad thing to make new friends, and Pavle needed them. Heck, so did Chris. Chris shook Tyrone’s hand, and Pavle did the same.

  “I like it. I be back.” Pavle grinned and nearly shook Tyrone’s arm off in his excitement.

  “I’m glad you got some happiness and hopefully a little peace of mind from the service.”

  “I think what got Pavle was the food and the children.” Seeing him so happy warmed Chris’s heart. “We need to go, but thank you all for everything.” He met Tyrone’s gaze. “I’m sure Pavle and I will be in touch.”

  It had been a special day, and he’d give a lot to see Pavle this happy. There were difficulties ahead—Chris knew that. But he’d take the happy times when he could get them.

  Chapter 9

  “I NO want talk to more police,” Pavle said Monday morning when Chris got him out of bed. He’d been sleeping hard and Chris hated to wake him, but he didn’t have much choice.

  “I know.” He sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing the wayward wisps of hair off Pavle’s forehead. “But the state police are coming in to talk to you. It’s perfectly okay. Just tell them the same things you did to the FBI and everyone else.” Hopefully they were running out of police departments to speak with. Of course, prosecutors and lawyers were the next step. Chris didn’t bring all that up. One step at a time. “Try not to get upset.”

  “I will.” Pavle lay back down, burying his face in the pillow. Chris gently rubbed his back. He was well aware that each time he told his story, Pavle relived the hardships all over again. “What about nutsack man?” Pavle had taken to calling Anthony that for some reason.

  “While you talk to the state police, I’m going to talk to him and see if we can make some progress.” Chris rubbed his hands together.

  He turned his head to the side. “You break nose?” Pavle actually smiled at the notion.

  “I won’t actually hurt him, but if I can get him to wet himself, I’ll consider it a success.” Chris chuckled.

  Pavle pushed back the covers, got out of bed, and padded his tight little naked butt into the bathroom. Chris had to remind himself that they needed to go to the station and that Briggs and the state police were not going to be happy if he decided to take Pavle back to bed and help him forget all about what was coming up… at least for a few hours.

  “I’m going to get you something to eat. Don’t take too long.” Chris checked the clock, which read a little after seven, and went downstairs. He would give anything if he could take this burden off Pavle, but there was little he could do. It had often been said that the justice system was just as hard on victims as the actual criminals. Chris now understood why.

  Pavle came down while Chris was plating the eggs. He added a piece of buttered toast and set the plate at what he had come to think of as Pavle’s place. Then he handed him a glass of the grape juice he loved so much.

  “I spoke with Reverend Tyrone yesterday.” Chris had been running through what he should tell Pavle all night and figured it was best to just get it in the open. “He told me that the church has offered to pay for your trip back to Serbia, if you want to go home.”

  “Home?” Pavle asked.

  “To Serbia. They will pay to send you there. You can’t go until you’re released, but if you want to go, you can.” Chris had decided that he had to present the kind offer from the church, no matter how much he’d have liked to just keep quiet about it and have Pavle stay here with him. “You don’t have to decide now.”

  “Okay.” Pavle ate his eggs and drank his juice. Then he quietly took his dishes to the sink and headed to the back door. “I ready.”

  Chris finished getting ready, and they left the house in plenty of time to get them to the station on time.

  Briggs met them in the back parking lot to escort Pavle inside. “Go in on your own. That way hopefully most people won’t link you and Pavle together.”

  Chris agreed and entered using his usual entrance, saying good morning to people as he headed for his desk.

  Briggs joined him a while later without Pavle. “He’s with the state police now,” he said softly.

  “Did you speak with the DA?”

  “Yes, and he said he’d take cooperation into consideration, but that’s all. He isn’t going to give us much to go on.” Briggs sounded exasperated.

  “Then let’s see if we can talk to him again. Let’s get Pierre and see if he’ll help us out.”

  Briggs chuckled. “He’s already on board. They’re going to be with Pavle for a while, and I told the state officers to be gentle with him. They already have copies of Pavle’s drawings.”

  “I wish I could be there with him.”

  “I know. But the best we can do for him right now is to find out where his papers are.” Briggs motioned, and Pierre came over. “You ready?”

  “You better believe it. Let’s get over to the jail.”

  Since the office and the jail were on the same parcel of land, they walked over, showed ID, and requested that the prisoner they wanted be brought to an interrogation room.

  “We intend to scare the piss out of him. We need a piece of information that will help one of his victims,” Briggs explained, and the sergeant in charge nodded. “So we need a good room that’s soundproof.”

  “Don’t lay a hand on him,” Sergeant Grill told them.

  “Definitely not,” Briggs answered, holding up his hands. “We just plan to scare him a little.”

  “Then use room two. Go on in. I’ll have him brought down, and all you need to do is call when you’re finished and we’ll take him back to his cell.” Grill was a good guy as far as Chris was concerned. He took his job seriously and felt strongly that the people in his charge were indeed innocent until convicted, and he felt that they should be safe while in his care. Grill unlocked the door, and he and Briggs went inside. Pierre would return a little later once he was needed.

  Chris did his best to control his nerves and not pace, but still he jumped when the lock thunked and the door opened.

  Harvey Anthony wasn’t at all what he expected. The guy was maybe five foot three, with slight, almost delicate features. His eyes, however, betrayed his inner being, filling with fury at the sight of them.

  “What do you want? I’m not talking to any of you.” He sat down, head erect, uncowed by anything that had happened to him.

  “You don’t have to. We’ll just stay here and stare at each other, then. I don’t have anywhere to go, and neither does he. You aren’t going anywhere in a hurry either. From the looks of things, the only place you’re heading is to maximum security.” Briggs smiled a little. “One-way trip.” He crossed his arms over his chest, and Chris did the same, not saying a word, even though he wanted to charge forward and wring the scrawny asshole’s neck.

  Briggs said nothing else. Chris did the same, just staring. At first, he didn’t think the tactic was going to work, but soon Anthony’s leg bounced a little and his gaze shifted between them.

  “Fucking hell, what do you want?” he finally asked.

  “We have you on so many charge
s, it’s unlikely you will ever breathe free air again. But you can do something for someone else.” Briggs placed his hands on the edge of the table and leaned over it. “We want to know where you have Pavle’s documents.”

  “I don’t.” His denial sounded feeble at best.

  “We know you do, and we want to know where you have them hidden. They are of no use to you now and never will be again.”

  Anthony’s lips curled upward. “That may be so, but I’m not saying anything. The little bitch can just rot in hell, but I’m not saying a word.”

  Briggs chuckled like an archvillain. “You’ve already told me plenty. See, we know a lot about you. We’ve already been through your safe-deposit boxes, and we’ve got what you tried to hide there. Those have already been confiscated.” He curled his lips upward, and for a second, he looked like the Joker. “Those will never see the light of day again, except in a sheriff’s sale for your victims.” Briggs clicked his tongue. “Your wife and kids will get nothing, not that they want anything to do with you.”

  Anthony jumped to his feet, and Briggs leaped around, grabbed him by the collar, and pushed Anthony back into the chair. “Sit down.”

  “You leave them out of this!”

  “Why? You didn’t. You’re not going to see your kids again. You’ve hurt them so much, they don’t want to see you. You’ve hurt everyone who was ever important to you.”

  “Briggs,” Chris said sharply. “You need to step out so I can talk to him.” He banged his hand on the table, making Anthony jump. “This scum and I need to have a private conversation.”

  “What is this, some version of good cop, bad cop? You need to get yourself some new material.” Anthony smirked and sat back in the seat, cuffed hands resting triumphantly on the table.

  “No. See, we’re both bad cops. I’d beat the shit out of you just for looking at me, and Chris here… he’d like nothing more than to bend you over this table and show you that turnabout is fair play.” The look on Briggs’s face was pure evil, but the beauty shone in the jab of fear that filled Anthony’s gaze.

  “You can’t do that!”

  “Wanna bet? This room is soundproof. It’s where lawyers meet with their clients. No recording, no cameras, friends standing on the outside who aren’t going to hear a thing.” The back of Pierre’s head of black hair filled the window in the door and didn’t move. “There are no witnesses, so I think I’ll let Chris have his way with you. Maybe he’ll be able to demonstrate some of the things Pavle says you did to him.” Briggs cocked his eyebrows.

  “Fuck you!” Anthony challenged.

  “No, babycakes,” Chris said drolly. “You’re going to experience exactly what you did to the people you enslaved.” He lowered his arms and rubbed his hands together, stepped forward. “Get him out of that chair,” Chris said to Briggs, then turned to Anthony. “Are you a virgin?” he asked as the fear spiked in Anthony’s eyes. He looked from side to side like he was at a tennis match.

  “There’s no one coming to your rescue. You can either tell us what we want to know, or I’ll let Chris have you like the little weaselly bitch you are.” Briggs stepped in front of Chris to block him from Anthony. “You can either do this the easy way or the hard way.”

  “What’s it to you? Why do you care about this guy?” Anthony asked. “He’s just some kid from a shithole country who doesn’t even speak English.” His gaze continued darting around the room, fear rolling off him as Pierre stayed where he was and showed no sign of coming to his rescue.

  “He happens to be a very kind person who you put through hell,” Chris said, and then both of them stood still, staring once again.

  “What will it be?” Briggs said. “Tell us what we want to know.”

  Anthony didn’t talk, so Briggs shrugged and stepped aside. Chris stalked closer, wondering if Anthony was going to crack. Anthony bit his lips and indecision shone in his eyes. Chris had no intention of hurting him. Hell, the idea of touching this scum in any way turned his stomach, but he needed to help Pavle.

  “So, let’s get started.” Chris turned to Briggs. “Did you bring the knife? That way I can cut his pants away before I—”

  He didn’t get a chance to finish. Anthony slid his chair backward and ended up falling back in an effort to get away. “I’ll tell you whatever you want. Just keep him away from me.”

  Briggs righted the chair and slammed Anthony down into it again. “Where is the identification?”

  “Safe-deposit box, Orrstown Bank, Camp Hill.” He gasped.

  “Is it under your name?” Briggs asked, and Anthony nodded. “Where is the key?”

  Anthony’s hands shook. “On my wife’s key ring. Just keep him away from me.” He slid back once again.

  Chris knocked on the door, and Pierre opened it.

  “We good?” Pierre asked.

  Chris nodded and smiled before leaving the room, letting Briggs wrap things up. “Tell Grill he can take him back to his cell. We’re through with the trash.” He closed the door and finally felt like he could breathe. “We got what we needed.”

  “He told you?”

  “Yes. I think he nearly pissed himself.”

  “So you didn’t need me?” Pierre asked.

  “Actually, you were perfect. All he saw was your head, and it made him think he wasn’t going to get any help. It was awesome.”

  Pierre made a call, and Grill returned. Briggs exited the room, and Grill brought out Anthony to take him back to his cell. Anthony didn’t seem particularly steady on his feet, and when he turned to look back, Chris met his gaze and he stumbled. Grill tugged him up, marching him down the hallway and away.

  “Damn, that was masterful,” Chris said. “You were amazing.” With the tension gone, he sighed softly. “I can’t wait to tell Pavle we got him.”

  Briggs phone chimed, and he checked the message. “Pavle is done. I need to go, and I’ll take him to your grandmother’s for the day. You go ahead and type up the request for a warrant, and we’ll take it to the bank and see what’s truly inside.”

  Chris hurried away as tension flowed out of him like water. One major hurdle managed.

  PAVLE AND Nanna were waiting in the living room when Chris pulled up at the end of his shift. He went right inside, smiling as he handed Pavle his Serbian passport, along with his other documents. “We got them.”

  “Did you hang by ears?” Pavle asked, taking the documents with what looked like disbelief.

  “No. I never touched him, and he didn’t wet himself, but he was really scared.” Chris sat down on the old sofa next to Pavle. “All I did was frighten him really badly. Briggs and Pierre were incredible, and we got him to say what we needed.” He paused a second. “The man is a real ass and he was afraid.”

  “So what now?”

  “We’ll call Marie when we get home and tell her that we have it.” The next step was for Pavle to decide what he wanted. Marie would know the ins and outs of exactly what they needed to do from here. But everything hinged on what Pavle decided to do.

  “Okay.” Pavle stood and hugged Nanna. “I come back tomorrow.”

  Chris hugged her as well and thanked her for her help. Then he took Pavle home and called Marie.

  She was ecstatic. “I’ll get all the paperwork started for an asylum hearing. Now that we have his identification and documents, it should be fairly easy. In the next couple of days, I’ll bring things over, and we can review everything that Pavle can expect.”

  “Thank you,” Chris said, then let Pavle talk to her while he made some dinner.

  Pavle returned his phone and remained largely quiet. It worried him, but when Chris asked, Pavle simply shrugged. Chris gave him the privacy and time to think that he seemed to need, and spent much of the evening watching television with him. Pavle went up to bed early, and by the time Chris joined him, Pavle was already asleep. Chris slid under the covers, and Pavle immediately curled up next to him. He gently tugged Pavle closer, running his hands over his belly. Pav
le mumbled softly in his sleep and didn’t wake up.

  Chris, however, couldn’t sleep and spent hours staring at the ceiling. He’d hoped that Pavle would talk to him about what he wanted to do, but he hadn’t said anything since Chris had told him about the church’s offer. Chris didn’t want to pressure him, but wondered if he should simply tell Pavle that he wanted him to stay. He sighed, closing his eyes for the millionth time, pushing that notion away. Chris had promised himself that he’d be better than the people who had hurt Pavle and that Pavle would be free to make his own decisions. No, he had to keep what he wanted to himself and let Pavle make up his own mind. Marie could explain his options to him, and when Pavle was ready to talk about it, Chris would be there.

  Sometimes waiting was hell.

  Chapter 10

  “PAVLE, ARE you ready to go?” Chris asked. “We need to leave or we’re going to be late.”

  “I ready,” he said, and met Chris by the back door.

  They were going to church again. Chris had been raised Catholic, but he hadn’t been to a mass in years, and here he was, going to church for the second week in a row because Pavle was so excited about it.

  “Okay, let’s go.” Chris opened the door, and they headed out.

  “I see Marie yesterday,” Pavle said as they rode together. “She come to Nanna’s. Say police have what need.” He turned to Chris. “They done.”

  “That’s really good.” At least he wasn’t going to have to keep telling his same story over and over again, unless it was in court. “I’m so glad.” He reached over, squeezing Pavle’s hand. That was a huge worry off his mind. “We still need to be careful.” The last week had been very quiet, which was a relief, though Chris remained vigilant.

  He parked near the church, and they went inside. Nadine hurried up and asked if they wanted to sit with them. The church was fairly crowded that morning, so Chris was happy to have a seat. He and Pavle slipped into the pew as the music started and everyone stood for the first hymn.