Shattered Lives (11 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

His grandfather looked like he always did: plaid button-down long-sleeved shirt, leather vest, and faded blue jeans with well-worn leather cowboy boots.  His long gray hair was braided back and held in place with a leather tie.  His face looked like old, brown wrinkled leather, aged by the desert winds and the Arizona sun.  His brown, wrinkled hands were clasped behind his back, and every now and then, he turned his face to look at the sun, which was bright and shiny.  George couldn’t look at it because it was too bright.  Almost painful.  George was a shade taller than his grandfather.  The joke between them was that either George was growing or his grandfather was shrinking.  That brought a smile to George’s face.

              ‘You saved the blond boy, Shadow.’

              ‘I saw you talking to him.’

              His grandfather nodded and said, ‘He was scared, ready to give up.’

              ‘Give up?’

              He nodded again, looked up at the sun and said, ‘The blond boy has been through a lot, and he thought his time was up.  It isn’t.’

              ‘You know when someone is going to die?’

              His grandfather looked at George, smiled, shook his head and said, ‘A feeling.’

              George didn’t say anything but continued to walk next to his grandfather.  He didn’t know where they were or where they were going.  The only thing that mattered was that he was with his grandfather.

              ‘Grandfather?’

              ‘I can’t tell you what to do, Shadow. It is your choice,’ he said reading George’s thoughts.

              George remained silent.

              ‘Your brothers have the heart of a lion.’

              Puzzled, George glanced at his grandfather, then back at the ground.  It was a dirt road that seemed vaguely familiar to him.

              ‘One quiet, one not.  Both love fiercely.  Both loyal.  Deep as the Canyon.  They share the same heart, the same mind.’  His grandfather paused and then said, ‘They have come to care about you.’

             
‘My brothers?’

              Ignoring the question, his grandfather said, ‘Your father could be Dine’, our people.  Your brothers would be fierce warriors, especially the one.’

              ‘You called him my father.’

              His grandfather smiled at him but continued walking.

              ‘I should live with them?’ George asked.

              ‘It is your choice.  It has always been your choice.’

              ‘But you called him my father.  You called them my brothers.’

              His grandfather stopped walking, looked up and sun, smiled and said, ‘It is a choice.’

              A storm of emotions rose in George.  Longing.  Love.  Fear.  Confusion.  He didn’t know which was the greater feeling, but he felt them all.

              ‘Trust your heart, Shadow.  Always trust your heart.’ His grandfather smiled at him and nodded.

              ‘Will I see you again?’

              His grandfather placed a hand on George’s shoulder and smiled warmly at him.

‘When there is a need.’

              ‘Grandfather, please don’t leave,’ George said sadly.

              ‘Trust your heart, Shadow.  There you will find me.  There you will find answers.’

              His grandfather walked away, hands clasped behind his back, face turned up at the sun.  As he grew smaller in the distance, George heard him say, ‘Yes, I think your father and brothers are Dine’.’

              Then he turned and smiled, and faded away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Chicago, Illinois

             
“Cochrane was FBI!  He was right
here
. . . with our
kids
, and you didn’t know he was part of the group that took our boys!” Ted Bailey yelled.

              Pete expected harsh and accusatory words.  What made it worse was that he didn’t have answers.  Stephen was embarrassed by his father.  Mike was embarrassed for Stephen.  Tim and Brett listened without emotion or judgment.  Jeremy sat quietly, not much help when the discussion centered on the investigation.

              It had been a busy morning and afternoon.  Manville had been killed by Cochrane, who had injected him with Dilaudid.  Patrolman Juan Ortiz was found in a dumpster by maintenance personnel.  His neck had been broken.  Both Douglas Rawson and Victor Bosch were killed in Cook County Jail.  Exactly who did the deeds wasn’t yet known, but Cochrane was responsible.  Tim was almost kidnapped, and who knows what would have happened if Cochrane had left the hospital with him.  A security guard was shot and killed in the hospital lobby, and George was almost shot and killed along with him. 

What bothered and upset Kelliher the most was that under his watch, three FBI agents were involved in the human trafficking of boys, and all three were dead.  Dead, along with any leads they had.  Hell, they didn’t even have a direction in which to investigate.

He had called his old partner, Storm, and explained everything that had happened, and after that phone call, made a second one to Dandridge.  He made the same offer to both: turn in his resignation effectively immediately.

And both rejected it.

              “How can we trust you?” Ted Bailey asked, standing up.

              Fair question, Pete thought.  Under the circumstances and in their place, he wouldn’t be very trusting either and would probably ask the same question.

              “I trust him,” Brett said, turning around and staring at the man.  He was angry, so he stood up to face him defiantly, daring him, challenging him.  “I saw him take on those perverts in that building.  He almost got himself shot.  He saved us.”  He stopped and glared at him.

              “I do too,” Tim said, turning around also.

              Stephen and Mike turned to stare at him in silent support.

              “Guys, let’s quiet down,” Pete said, clearing his throat.

              Tim, Stephen and Mike turned back around.  Brett glared at Stephen’s father, then turned around and sat back down.

And not for the first time did Jeremy consider that these thirteen and fourteen year old boys were in some respects, older and more mature than the high school kids he worked with.  He knew they’d be changed, different after all that had happened to them.  He knew that they would be numb and indifferent to much of what kids their age were excited by or interested in.  He knew they were certainly more serious than they ought to be, but given the circumstances, that was understandable.  He only hoped that they’d regain some of the lost childhood that was stolen from them. 

“Here is what I can tell you,” Pete said, trying to get the conference room back in order.  “Our computer guy, Chet Walker, has done some preliminary diagnostics on Cochrane’s phone.  We know he sent an email to several individuals, and we’re working on who those individuals are.”

              “About as quickly as you discovered who Cochrane really was I suppose,” Ted Bailey snarled as he sat back down.

              “How safe are our boys?” Laura Pruitt.

              “Cochrane almost kidnapped your boy!” Bailey said.

              “Dad, shut
up
!” Stephen said.

              There was silence.  All heads turned first towards Stephen and then to his father, who got up out of his chair again.

              “What did you say?” Bailey asked through clenched teeth quietly.

              “He said, Shut up and sit your ass down!’” Sarah Bailey, his wife, said.  “In fact, leave.”  She glared at him and then said, “Stephen and I will ride back with Mark and Jennifer.” 

              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 reference 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.