Safeword (27 page)

DeGrassi: Have you told your parents any of this?

Hayes: I’m sorry, Marshall, but we need spoken answers for the recording.

Schofield: No. I probably should, but they get so upset when I even kind of bring anything up. I don’t want to hurt them anymore.

DeGrassi: Is this the driver’s license Alex Dennan carried around as Carter Black for his landscaping job?

Schofield: Yes. Have you talked to him? I need to get him a message.

Hayes: No, Marshall. We haven’t had contact with Alex. This was in the paperwork from a pawn shop where items believed to belong to the victims were sold.

Schofield: So you’re pretty sure he did it, then.

DeGrassi: We need to speak to him and find out if he has an explanation for this connection.

Schofield: Oh, Alex. Man, what are you doing?

Hayes: Have you any idea what areas around the city Alex may have visited in his small trips away from Strange?

Schofield: No. He always did exactly what he was told and came straight back. Especially after Jeremy. Two guys too old for Dave’s liking were a lot more burden to pay for than one. That’s why Alex asked if he could get a job. Help pay some bills and make himself useful. He figured if he was around, he could protect both Jeremy and me. He got that job set up as soon as Dave started talking about another boy, back in the summer.

Hayes: So you don’t have any information about his possible whereabouts?

Schofield: No, but I think if you let me talk to him, he’ll come out.

DeGrassi: Talk to him?

Schofield: Yeah. Get the reporters up here. I’ll go on air and ask him to come talk to me. Tell him I need him so we can stick together like we promised. So he knows I didn’t just forget about him.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT, DeGrassi,” Kittridge said. “He is not putting himself out there like that. His parents were
beside
themselves when they woke up this morning and discovered he was gone. No. No way are we plastering that poor kid’s face all over another sensational case.”

“Sergeant, he’s
volunteering,
and maybe, given the nature of their relationship, it’ll work and we can get Alex to come in of his own accord,” I argued vehemently from in front of Kittridge’s desk, refusing the seat behind me while I faced down my boss, who eyed me sideways.

“You can’t get yourself attached to these boys, Gavin. First names now? They may have a couple things in common with you, but one of them is our prime suspect for killing three cops.” He pointed a finger in my direction. “Including your friend Stevenson. Did he deserve what happened to him? Perspective, DeGrassi. Keep it. I’m not putting a minor with a sensational background on TV to plead for someone else with a sensationalized past to come into our precinct. We’d get nothing but junk leads for the rest of our lives. Waste of time and resources.”

Ben, who’d hung back in the corner while my boss thoroughly reamed Myah and me for even asking, cleared his throat.

“That may not be true, Sergeant. Now we know Alex Dennan had one person he could rely in not to mistreat him. We know he maintained his position with Strange in order to protect Marshall even when he had opportunities to escape. And he’s very likely feeling betrayed by Marshall’s severed contact. The chance to reunite could be very enticing, especially to make sure his sacrifices for Marshall weren’t for nothing. If he’s feeling wronged, he might seek an apology.”

Kittridge rubbed his chin, pensive. But he was listening.

I jumped in. “Sir, this isn’t a plea to the public inviting hotline tips. We’re talking to one person out there. He’s the only one we need.”

“What keeps Dennan from thinking Marshall’s turned on him by asking him to come to the police? Bad enough the kid didn’t keep his end of the bargain. This could make Dennan go nuts.”

“Nothing keeps him from thinking that,” Ben said. “We’d have to word Marshall’s plea for contact very carefully.”

Kittridge let out a frustrated breath. “Let me think about it, dammit,” he growled. “I gotta call brass anyway, and then the Schofields.” He shooed us out, muttering curses as we went.

I grabbed Ben’s elbow and hauled him through the nearest door, which happened to be a janitor’s closet, the antiseptic smell nearly overpowering from a bin full of dirty dust cloths waiting for the service to switch them out with clean. There was just enough room for us to stand facing each other.

“Thank you for backing me up in there.”

Ben’s eyes crinkled. “I didn’t. I told Kittridge what I believe your suspect would do if he allows the boy on TV. And nothing about Marshall suggests he can’t handle it. Might help him to feel he’s regaining some of the control Strange took from him. Then maybe you can get this case over with and skip town for a couple weeks.” He wound his arms around my waist and pulled me close, nuzzling my neck and ear. “You okay? That was pretty rough in there.”

I hummed affirmatively. “Thank you for not treating Marshall like a victim.”

Ben pulled back, looking at me very seriously. “Right now, he
is
defined by his victimhood.” I started to protest, but his finger to my lips prevented it. “All his interactions are colored by this, Gavin, from how the media treats him to his parents running off to a beach house with him for safety. Hell, even here, he’s one of Strange’s boys first, Marshall Schofield second.”

I frowned, but didn’t argue with the truth of that. “His parents couldn’t get a flight here until tomorrow morning. I’d rather not put him up in a hotel with a bunch of guards on him, afraid Dennan will get to him. He was climbing the walls and that was before we kept him in a windowless room all day.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Bring him to our house.”

Ben was already shaking his head. “No. We’re already on this guy’s radar. We’d all be sitting ducks. No way.”

I scowled, but had to concede the point. “Well, he’s not going to some impersonal hotel, either.”

“What about your partner? She knows better than to treat him like a china doll, and she’s just as good at protection as you would be.”

I considered that, frustrated by the bull’s-eye on my back, thanks to the few souvenirs left to taunt me. “I’ll ask her, but if she says no, it’s a done deal. Our house.” I leaned into his chest, resting my chin on his shoulder. “Hard limit. I can’t help feel for this kid. He’s been through hell.” A shudder stutter-stepped up my spine. “Years locked in a basement, only interacted with to satisfy a pedophile’s urges and be company for a fellow prisoner. Makes what we went through look like a day in the park.”

Ben made a noncommittal noise. “Kittridge wasn’t wrong, you know. You can’t let yourself get attached. Marshall and Jeremy will live their lives, grow up and be their own people, all without your help. There are professionals watching them very closely. They don’t actually need your intervention.”

I stood up straight. “I’m aware of that. But based on Marshall’s statement, one of the three kidnapped kids has gone off the rails. If being available for the other two can help prevent them from letting their pasts define them the same way, then I’ll make sure they know it.”

“Still trying to save the world.” He looked at our surroundings wryly. “From a broom closet.”

I smiled. “Yeah, better get back to Myah, or she’ll send a search party and I’ll never convince her we were PG in here.”

Opening the door, I saw my partner leaning against the wall, one foot up and knee jutted forward, a mocking smile on her face as she checked her watch.

“Not bad, gentlemen, but you’re both gonna get your asses kicked if you can’t simmer down at work.”

Ben started to protest, but I interrupted. “Don’t bother. You’ll lose. Myah, I have a proposition for you.” I sidled up to her, draping an arm across her shoulders. “How about a houseguest tonight?”

“Aw, trouble in paradise?” she quipped, winking at Ben. She seemed remarkably unaffected by what we’d spent the day listening to, but I could feel the tenseness in her shoulders, the stiff jut of her elbow poking me in the ribs as she crossed her arms over her midriff. She clearly didn’t want to be touched, so I dropped my arm. Joking or not, she was dealing with the interview by masking her emotions with our normal teasing.

“I think Marshall should stay with someone, not go to an impersonal hotel. Ben doesn’t think it’s safe with us, so we volunteer you and Cole.”

She looked at me sideways, a frown marring her normally stoic features. “Yeah, okay. I’m sure your brother will be fine with it, and if not, I’ll make him fine with it.”

Ben and I traded a look. “That was way too easy.”

“He shouldn’t be alone, and his parents won’t be here until tomorrow.” She shrugged as if it were a no-brainer. “If we broadcast his plea to Dennan tonight, he’ll be a media magnet all over again. At least if he’s with me, I can make sure he’s comfortable and left alone. No one’s getting through me to talk to that boy.”

I believed her. Myah was one fierce woman. I smiled at her fondly, only remembering not to hug her at the last moment.

“Hayes, DeGrassi! Write up the little speech for the boy to give and bring it in here for me to approve. Brass wants it your way. We’ll get it recorded and sent to the news outlets, and they won’t be able to pepper the boy with questions.”

“All stations?” Myah asked, briskly moving down the hall toward the pit and our desks.

“All except for KSMV. That idiot Jan Aldrich doesn’t get to ruin this one for us.”

I barely suppressed a triumphant laugh. “A little revenge there, Sarge?”

“It’s time she learns that a working relationship with the police goes both ways.”

§§§

MARSHALL FIDGETED in his seat in front of the blue background we used for press conferences, squinting into the bright lights of the camera from the one station we’d called in to do the recording. That station would distribute to the others—minus KSMV—after they put their logo in the corner. I didn’t care how the politics of journalist scoops worked, as long as Alex saw Marshall’s plea. As much attention as these boys had had with the nation, I didn’t see how, even excluding a news outlet, this video would be missed by anyone not living in a cave.

The room quieted and the camera operator nodded. Marshall had decided it would be better just to do the talking himself instead of having someone off screen ask him questions, so as soon as he got the signal to go, he focused intently on the lens and spoke in a steady voice. His gaze was earnest and pleading without being too jittery or demanding. It was perfect.

“Carter, it’s Marshall,” he began, using the alias from their lives with Strange. We hadn’t wanted to alert anyone we were speaking to Alex after the fiasco with the age progression photo. I hadn’t wanted to give away that we knew both his names, because it was entirely possible he’d ditch the Carter Black identity and pick up a new one, but it was a risk we had to take. Marshall Schofield asking him to make contact was our best shot at getting our suspect to come forward. “I’m pretty sure you can hear me, and I need you to listen closely. I’m here, looking for you, but I can’t find you. I want to keep my promise, Carter. Like we always said. But you gotta come talk to some people first, or I can’t keep my end of our deal. I need to see you, but I have no way to reach you so we can do what we always said, watch each other’s backs. So you have to contact me. Here’s my new number.” A number with dedicated trace equipment was already set up in the hotline center, waiting for that all-important ring. I only hoped if Carter Black/Alex Dennan called it, he would remain on the line long enough to be traced, since it wouldn’t be possible for him to speak to Marshall at that number. If discussion between them became necessary—for Marshall to talk with Alex to convince him to turn himself in—Myah had authorized her cell phone number to be given so she could screen anyone trying to reach Marshall. In the meantime, officers were on standby waiting to pounce on the area of the city where the call originated. Legions more were armed with copies of the driver’s license from Master Key Pawn to search for him should the first team be unable to locate him. Anticipation sizzled through my blood. We were getting there, closing in on Dennan. I only hoped we could do it before he got any more volatile.

“Carter, please. I need your help. You were always there for me, and I need you to be just one more time. And I can be there for you, too. Call me. I miss you,” Marshall finished. His eyes shimmered in the blinding studio light atop the camera, but his gaze remained unwavering, sending a silent message to the man he thought of as a brother.
Come quietly, and I can get you help.

I hoped it worked.

The room was silent until the spotlight went out; then we all breathed a collective sigh and began to move, Myah and me to Marshall’s side to get the microphone unclipped from his shirt, Kittridge to the camera operator to clarify exactly how he wanted the video distribution handled. Ben waited right behind me and offered a few encouraging words to Marshall as he stepped off the small riser. Kittridge walked up a moment later, holding out a hand to the boy.

“That was a brave thing you did, son. Hopefully Alex will see your face and make a move to get in touch.”

“You swear to me you won’t hurt him?” Marshall demanded fiercely, ignoring Kittridge’s outstretched hand.

With absolute honesty on his face, Kittridge nodded, his hand falling to his side with no visible irritation. Kittridge had heard the interview recording. None of us would look at any of these boys without a healthy dose of sympathy, Alex included. “I will not let anything happen to him as long as my officers remain safe, Marshall. What Alex has been through is not his fault. I just want to get him the help he needs.”

After a long, thorough appraisal for the sergeant’s reliability, Marshall nodded. “Can we go? I’m really tired.”

Myah put a hand to his shoulder and squeezed. “Yeah. You’re coming home with me, Marshall. Lucky you.” She smiled gently. “You get the five star treatment if you can ignore the small apartment and my boyfriend’s chronically smelly feet.”

I chuckled mildly, and Marshall’s mouth tugged up at one corner, betraying his amusement. It was short-lived, though, as a curtain of fear and self-doubt draped his features once more. Speaking low, I leaned toward him.

“You’re doing what’s best for him, so don’t sweat it. You know if he’d been home the day you boys were found, we’d have gotten him help, too. That hasn’t changed.”

“He’s killing people,” he growled. “He’s in a lot more trouble than he was the day we were rescued.”

“We don’t know that yet.” Okay, so we had more than just circumstantial evidence linking him to the victims. He was our most likely candidate. But after the story had poured from Marshall’s lips that day, I found it harder to keep Dennan strictly in the villain category, and I didn’t want to make any more assumptions about what drove his rage. It was one giant fucked up mess, and if anyone was the enemy here, it was David Strange, who’d taken these three boys’ lives and utterly devastated them. He would be given as much pain and suffering as I could reasonably get thrown at him with another kidnapping charge, a whole new set of sexual assault charges, and hopefully another two or three life sentences from the state of Texas. Or, if I knew anything about Texas retribution, a lethal injection.

“Yeah, I guess,” Marshall mumbled, letting Myah lead him toward the front doors.

“I’ll check in with you in a few hours,” I promised her. She nodded, and they disappeared into the parking lot.

Ben spoke in my ear. “I need to be with you tonight. You ready to go home?”

I needed him, too. So much about the day had left me feeling hollow. I was desperate for a reminder of what was good in life, what I still had despite the sometimes horrific world we lived in. I needed Ben. Lacing our fingers together without care for who was around to see and object, I pulled him to the exit.