The Unearthed: Book One, The Eddie McCloskey Series (13 page)

Eamo
n
Moriarty sat on a swing in the backyard, the toes of his sneakers touching the dirt below. He was thirteen years old, and he’d just experienced a major growth spurt.

Though his voice was still high.

He didn’t have any friends, really. All he’d wanted was a chance to start over. He had dreamt of going back to school and fitting in, like he never had before.

But Taberville was a little too close to home.

It was only one town over. He’d been a fool to think he could just start a new life. Though it took a half hour of driving down a lonely stretch of backwoods road, it was only one town away. And word of the Moriartys had spread. He’d made the news. His picture had been on TV, in the newspapers. On the internet.

Everyone knew who he was. He never imagined there could be something worse than being made fun of openly, but there was. The kids at the new school avoided him.

His cousin, Steven, was playing football in the backyard with his friends. Steven was the tallest of the bunch, and he had jet black hair and steely blue eyes.

The game had devolved into rough touch football, complete with tackles. Their laughter, their taunts, their desire to hurt and humiliate one another—all of these things were very foreign to Eamon, who glanced over with disinterest.

The play ended with a dropped pass.

“Hey Steve, what’s wrong with your retard brother over there?” Carl Aitken said.

Steven glanced at Eamon. “He’s not my brother.”

“So what’s wrong with the retard, then?”             

“He doesn’t like football, Richie.” Steven cracked a smile.

“So he’s a pussy,” Carl said.

The others erupted into laughter. Steven didn’t even try to keep a straight face.

Eamon flipped them off. “So he’s a pussy.”

Carl stopped laughing. “You making fun of me?”

Eamon was good at imitating people and amped up Carl’s nasally voice. “So he’s a pussy.”

Carl started toward him.

Eamon was already at the back door, though, and stepped inside.

He pretended that their words didn’t bother him, that they were beneath him. But they did. He was only trying to mind his own business, in his own backyard. Well, not his backyard exactly, but this was home for him until he grew up and could move out. He’d come to realize over the last three years that to truly start over, he needed to move far, far away, possibly change his name, too.

He went into the kitchen and grabbed his sketch pad off the table and found a fresh page.

“Hey there, hon.”

Eamon put the book down and turned around to see Aunt Chefaun. She was tall and black, her skin the color of dark chocolate. He’d heard the other kids make fun of Steve once for having a black mom—but the truth was, she wasn’t his mom. Uncle Sean had had a child with another woman before meeting her. Kids could be such bastards.

He gave her a limp smile.

Chefaun ran a hand through his hair. “Hey, listen. There are some men here. They need your help.”

He frowned and waited for her to say more. He worried they were cops. Since that day three years ago he’d lived in fear of getting caught for something … even though he couldn’t remember doing anything wrong.

“There’s a boy missing. He lives in your old—” Chefaun was saying.

“I don’t remember anything,” he interrupted, his back stiffening. Eamon felt a cold sweat break out. He didn’t want to talk about that. The asshole therapist always tried to get him to talk about it. He couldn’t remember anything. He didn’t want to. It was better that way.

“I know you don’t remember a lot, honey.” She rested a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t remember anything.”

“I know, but just come into the living room and talk to them. I’ll be with you.” That made him feel a little better, but not much. What could Chefaun do if the cops wanted to take him away? Or worse, maybe they’d decided to put him into a hospital?

* * * *

“I don’t want you disturbing him,” Sean said.

He looked the two men over. Tim seemed a bit forward, and he was severely out of shape according to Sean’s standards. Sean had him pegged as a geek who’d figured out a way to make himself more important than he was. And he was waiting for Charlie to ogle his wife, Chefaun, since she was black too, and had a nice round, thick ass.

Sean was friends with Bob Cooke, Charlie’s contact, but that didn’t mean he owed these two any favors. He wanted them out of his house as soon as possible.

Sean said, “He doesn’t remember anything. He’s blocked all of it out. So you’d better be careful, real careful or we’re going to have a problem. You got it?”

Tim, the fat one, said, “Of course, Mr. McKenna. We’re not here to talk about that night.”

Sean didn’t like Tim’s use of Of course. “You know how many whack jobs have tried to talk to him, how badly he’s been treated? If there wasn’t a kid missing, you two wouldn’t be standing in my living room. We clear?”

Charlie spoke up, and he sounded like he was playing the role of cop now to Sean: “We’re here to find a boy, Mr. McKenna.”

Sean folded his arms, letting them both see how big they were. Eighteen inches cold.

“Good. As long as we have an understanding. And I don’t want you putting any crazy ideas into his head. This boy has been through more than anyone should ever go through.”

* * * *

It was times like these that Tim wished he exercised more. This Sean McKenna was a real fucking prick. He’d probably always had the ego, but his physique only served to amp it up. He thought he was tough shit. Charlie probably would have laid him out in ten seconds if it came to a fight.

Tim didn’t understand what the guy’s problem was, either. They were only here to see if Eamon could help them find a missing child. Did the guy have no heart?

Sean’s wife led Eamon into the room.

He’d aged a lot in the last three years. The face had gotten more angular, and he was taller. He was no child anymore.

And he looked … distant. Tim wondered if he was on medication.

“Eamon,” Sean said. “This is Charlie and Tim. They’re here to ask you some questions.”

Eamon said, “I didn’t do anything.”             

Charlie gave him a friendly smile. “We know that, Eamon. We just came to see if you could help.”

“And this is my wife, Chefaun.”

They exchanged their hellos and sat down. Sean, his wife, and Eamon on the sofa together. Tim and Charlie in a couple seats on the other side of the coffee table.

Tim told himself to be more like Eddie when talking to the kid. “Eamon, there’s a boy missing. And we think you might be able to help us find him.”

“Okay.” Eamon looked like he wanted to crawl inside a hole and die.

“There’s a boy named Billy,” Tim began.

Eamon’s eyes went wide. “Billy?”

“Yes. He lives … in your old house.”

Eamon looked up at Chefaun, who put her arm around his shoulder while Sean eyeballed them suspiciously.

Tim scooted forward on his chair. “Do you remember your old house?”

Eamon nodded.

“Do you remember that you used to run away from home?”

Eamon shook his head several times. “I never ran away. I only took day trips and one night trip. I never was going to run away.” He blushed deeply.

“We know that.” Charlie smiled. “We didn’t mean to say that you ever ran away.”

“Good, because I didn’t.”

Tim felt Sean’s glare but kept his eyes on Eamon.

“When you took your trips,” Charlie began, “where did you go?”

“Why?”

“Just curious. We’re wondering if this boy is going to the same places.”

Eamon looked at them sideways. “I went to Mrs. Dilworth’s a lot.”

“When you went really far, do you remember where you went?” Charlie asked.

Eamon stared at them both. “I don’t really remember.”

“You can tell us,” Tim said. “No one’s going to get in troub—”

“He just said he doesn’t remember,” Sean barked.

Tim wished he had some leverage, like Barnes the detective, to deal with this guy.

Charlie ignored Sean. “How about you and your brother, Billy. Did you two ever go anywhere?”

“No. His name was William, not Billy.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you called him Billy.”

Eamon glanced at his uncle, who was scowling at Charlie.

“Did you …” The way Eamon had responded earlier, Tim thought there was more to the story. He knew he’d be prying, but with Billy Rosselli missing he had to ask. “Did you have a friend named Billy?”

Eamon gaped at Tim for a long moment. “No.”

Sean caught on. “What are you two talking about?”

Chefaun pulled Eamon a little closer. “What’s the meaning of all this?”

Charlie started to speak, but Tim grabbed his shoulder to check him. “The boy that’s missing, Mr. McKenna. He has a friend named Billy, too.”

Sean shot forward and pointed at Tim. “I warned you about this. Tell me exactly what you’re saying.”

Charlie stood up and put his arms out, palms down. “Okay, everyone. Let’s just take a step back, here.”

“Don’t play the cop with me.” Sean stood too and balled his fists. The veins in his forearms looked like cables ready to punch through the skin. “This is my home, and you’re here as a guest.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Charlie looked back at Tim “Why don’t you tell Sean what you’re talking about.”

Sean turned from Charlie to Tim and locked his jaw.

Chefaun rubbed Eamon’s head while the kid stared down at the glass table separating them.

Tim took a deep breath. “The boy that’s missing—he’s been talking to someone at the house. It’s a voice, and its name is Bil—”

“It’s a voice?” Sean nearly exploded. “I’ve heard enough of this.”

Tim looked at Eamon. “Did you know Billy? Did you ever talk to him?”

Sean stepped around the coffee table, reaching for Tim. “Get the hell out of—”

Eamon cut him off. “I talked to him, too.”

* * * *

“No way,” Moira said. This was starting to get fun for her, though she could tell Michelle was getting bored.

They were still in the interrogation room, sitting at the table. They’d been through the case files and Moira had just put something together.

“What’s up?” Michelle got up to work out the kinks.

Moira pointed at her note pad. “Look at this.”

Jackie—37. Siobhan—37.

Talia—47. John—47.

Billy—13. William—13.

“These are ages?” Michelle asked.

“Yeah. This is how old the Moriartys were when they died.” To Moira, good research meant not only connecting the dots, but finding the dots to connect in the first place.

Michelle laughed. “Coincidence, right?”

“There’s more to it.”

“What else?”

“They’re both CPAs, Jackie and John.”

Michelle shook her head. “That isn’t a strange job. And didn’t you say Eamon used to run away, not William?”

“Yeah,” Moira said, chewing on her bottom lip. “But the drawings that Tim told me about—Billy’s been drawing houses, like William used to.”

“Didn’t you say that Eamon tried to draw, too?”

“Yeah.”

“This has got to be coincidence.”

* * * *

Tim settled back in his chair. Charlie was holding his hat by the brim in his lap. Things had relaxed a bit.

“Billy told me to do stuff,” Eamon said, his face still a deep red. “Bad stuff.”

“Did he tell you where to run—where to take your trips?” Tim asked.

Eamon nodded once. “He gave me some ideas for good hiding places.”

“Like where?”

Sean was calmer but still looked like he was ready to roid-rage. Chefaun had her arm around Eamon.

“I don’t remember. He was always telling me to be more like my brother. He was always telling me to draw pictures. Houses. He said that Mom would like me more if I did.”

Tim couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was sounding like this Billy might not even be William Moriarty at all, but something that had been present before the Moriartys moved in.

“Why did he want your Mom to like you more?” Tim asked, fearing he’d overstepped his boundaries. Sean shot him a nasty look.

“Mom liked William more. She let him get away with stuff. He didn’t do his school work. He used to beat me up, but she always said he was just playing around. Billy thought if she liked me more, William wouldn’t get away with so much.”

Tim had to call Moira first, then Stan and Eddie. They were going dark tonight, and they didn’t have the whole picture of the house. He silently cursed. Wasn’t he always telling everyone never to rule anything out until they had all the facts? And here he had pulled Moira off the house history to watch a videotape he could have watched himself or had Michelle watch. They’d lost precious hours, and Billy was still missing.