Chapter 7 After Charlie's conversation with Stockwell, he decided to go down and wait for him in the car. The body in the loft was starting to give him the creeps. He had seen more gruesome sights in his life, but this was his boss. Charlie was surprised that such a short time passed. Stockwell said he was going to be at least an hour, but a police cruiser was pulling up in front of the building. Then it hit him that this has nothing to do with Stockwell, and he had better just lay low for a bit and see how this is going to play out. The two police officers gained access to the building and headed to the top floor as they had been instructed. When they saw what met them there, they got on the radio immediately to call in Homicide. Stockwell had a police scanner in his car and heard this news immediately. Who the fuck called in reinforcements? Shit, was he going to have to cover his ass? No use in hurrying there now. Don't want the Homicide boys to think he has anything to do with this, so I'll just show up as a casual observer. Charlie couldn't believe all of the cars that were starting to show up on the scene. Where in the hell is Stockwell? Shit, someone called the cops and now some things might come out. He decided to just hunker down and see where everything went with this little investigation. Did Robert have any cops from Homicide on his payroll? He was racking his brains trying to figure out what angle he could play with the cops that were there. After two hours Stockwell decided to show up, figuring Homicide and the crime scene people would be there by now. As he parked his car and walked along the sidewalk, he saw Charlie sitting in the car. Jim leans in through the window and whispers to Charlie, "What the fuck are you still doing here? Don't you think this looks a little suspicious with you just sitting here this whole time?" "Well, frankly, Jim, nobody seems to be paying me any mind whatsoever. I think your Homicide guys need some more investigative training. Did you call the fuck-ups?" "Not me. I'm going to try to get to the bottom of it, though." ------------------------------------------------------------------------- As Jim walks into the bedroom, he can't believe what he is seeing on the television that is set up in there. The guys from Homicide are viewing some select gay porn, it looks like. Detective Roberts eyes Jim and says, "Whoever lives here has quite the collection, don't you think? Look at the names on these videos. We've go one Federal judge, one State judge, about four city council members, and various other state appointment heads. Whoever this kids is," pointing to Justin in the videos, "he seems to have quite the collection. Looks like he was storing these away for a rainy day." Stockwell can't believe his eyes. There is an open cupboard filled with row upon row of videocassettes, and sees that there is a gap on one of the shelves. Quickly scanning the names, he sees that none of them has his name on them. Shit, that gap. Are those videos with him on them? Did the kid have them? "Seems we have some missing," Roberts points out to Stockwell. "I wonder who is on those? It certainly would be interesting to find out. Maybe whoever it is killed this guy, and did away with the blonde." "It looks like you have your hands full. I'm going to check in for my shift at the stationhouse," Jim says nonchalantly. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- As Jim walks back to Charlie, still sitting in the car, he can't believe that little shit was taping all of his encounters. He has tapes of me, that little son of a bitch. I'm going to cut off his balls and then skin him alive. "Charlie, we have a problem. That little whore was taping all of the times that Robert brought people here to have a little fun, including me. The tapes I'm on appear to be missing. We've got to find the shit, and find him soon. Do you have any ideas?" "Not a one. I know Robert came here last night and Justin wasn't here. He walked in later in the evening with some guy. I think I've seen him before. I think he might live in the building." "Do you have a name?" "No, I don't. But he looked to have a thing for the kid. Maybe he got him the hell out of here. Is there anyone missing from the building who should be here?" "I don't know, but I intend to damn well find out. I'll see what kind of information I can scrounge up, and I'll be in touch." ------------------------------------------------------------------------- The sun is starting to come up and is hitting Brian right in the eyes, as he is heading east along the Massachusetts Turnpike. Justin fell into a restless sleep soon after leaving the city. The kid looks exhausted, even as he's sleeping. Brian rubs his eyes and tries to formulate in his mind what the hell he's going to do. He knows he has to get Carl involved. Carl definitely would not be a cop on this asshole's payroll. He had no worries there. Brian knows he can make where they're headed in one day, but he doesn't want to get there after dark, especially since the road will probably be snow covered. When I get a little closer to Boston, I'll get us a room, we can both have a decent clean-up, and then I can finally get some sleep. Just as Brian is thinking all of these thoughts, Justin startles awake screaming, "No, leave me alone." It scares the shit out of Brian, and he swerves in the road. Shit, maybe we should stop now so I can get some sleep, he thinks. "Justin, are you okay? Are you awake?" Justin sleepily rubs his eyes and just looks out the passenger-side window. "Yeah, I'm just fine. I feel great for someone who just killed somebody about 10 hours ago. Just terrific. So you're talking to me now?" "Yeah, a bit. I'm just trying to figure out how we're going to play this. You know we'll have to call the cops eventually, don't you? Remember Carl who you met at my party the other night? He's a good guy. I really think you can trust him. We'll get settled where we're going, and then we'll give him a call and see what's going on in the Pitts with your boyfriend." "You're a shit, you know that? He wasn't my boyfriend. A boyfriend wouldn't do to me half of the shit that he did." "Whatever. Before we left I called Mikey and told him to give us 30 minutes and then call the cops in." "You did what? Are you fucking nuts?" "What's done is done. They're probably investigating as we speak. Like I said, we'll get settled in, and then we'll call Carl." "Where the hell are we, anyway?" "Right now we're in Massachusetts." "And where are we going?" "Remember that photo I showed you with me, Deb, Mikey, Ben and Carl? We're headed to Maine to the cabin. It's the only place I could think of. We could make it there today, but it would be dark when we get there. I don't want to maneuver those roads in the dark. We're going to stay the night once we get closer to Boston, get some decent rest." As Brian looks over to Justin to see if any of this is registering, he just sees Justin sink lower in the seat and continuing to stare out of the side window. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Brian finally decides that he can't stay awake any longer and decides to find a hotel room in Methuen, just north of Boston. He and Justin walk into the room and all Brian can do is flop on the bed with a sigh of relief. It feels so damn good to be out of that Jeep. Justin just sits on the edge of his bed staring off into space. "Come on, Justin. Let's get you cleaned up. You've still got a smudge of blood on your neck." Brian stands Justin up and pulls off his sweatshirt. The sight that greets him is not a comforting one. He sees the old bruise along his ribs, the abrasions on both of Justin's wrists that had bled at one point, and, turning Justin around, he sees the two bruises on his back that have started to turn a sickening shade of yellow-brown. "Did he do this to you?" Justin looks at Brian, not really comprehending that he's standing there with a bare upper torso. When did this happen? I must have zoned out again, Justin thinks. "This one," pointing to his ribs, "was courtesy of someone else." "What happened to your wrists? Those look fairly fresh." "Robert has -- had a rope that he liked to use on me. It was a special weave. The more you struggled, the tighter it became, until your arms would finally just go numb. That's what he had on me last night. I didn't mean to hurt him, Brian. It was an accident. I just pushed him, and he fell and hit his head." Brian was starting to get a little concerned. Whenever Justin was talking about his experiences up in that hell-hole of a loft he called home for who knew how long, he had such a distance in his voice, as if it had all happened to someone else. "Justin, how long were you there in the loft?" "Two years," he said in a distant voice. "Did other guys pay to fuck you?" At that Justin gives a choked laugh. "What makes you think I got paid to do anything? I was Robert's property to do with what he liked, give me to whoever he liked. That loft was my cage." Brian slowly stands Justin up and walks him over to the sink and takes a washcloth and warm water and soap and gently starts to clean his upper body and wrists, trying to wash away the blood. Justin flinches at first at the touch, but then starts to relax. He closes his eyes and tries to let go of some of the memories that are flashing like a slide show through his mind of his two years in the loft, and slowly the tears come again. Soon Justin is sobbing, and as Brian wipes him dry, all he can do is turn Justin around and hold him in a comforfting hug, trying to soothe him. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Brian was so exhausted that he slept through the afternoon and most of the night until Justin's nightmare woke him up. He looked over at the clock between the beds and saw that it was 4:00 a.m. As he glances over at Justin, he can see him sitting up in bed and crying, "No, mommy, please don't hurt daddy." What the fuck is this all about? Jesus, what kind of issues does this kid have going on in that head of his? Brian crawls out of his bed and lays beside Justin, wrapping him in his arms. "Shh, it's okay. Everything is all right. Just go back to sleep." To Brian's surprise, Justin relaxes at his touch and leans his head on his shoulder, fast alseep. Great, Kinney, are you going to sleep like this for a couple more hours? Carefully Brian lays Justin's head back down and heads into the shower. Might as well get this show on the road. It suddenly dawns on Brian that it is Tuesday. Thank God Ryder told him to take Monday off since he worked on the Brown account all weekend. Shit, work. What the fuck am I going to do about that? Picking up his cell phone, he dials Ryder's private line at work. "Hey, this is Brian. I've had a family emergency come up out of state. I need some time off. I'm not quite sure how long, but considering I just landed the Brown Athletics account, consider this my bonus in lieu of a monetary bonus. I'll try to call you back either later this afternoon or tomorrow." ------------------------------------------------------------------------- After another four hours of driving, they're almost at their destination. Brian keeps glancing over at Justin, who seems even more removed from the whole situation than he was the afternoon before in the hotel room. Brian knows he's going to have to deal with some issues with this kid while they're up here, not to mention the whole situation they left behind them in Pittsburgh. As they head up I-95 in Maine, Brian sees the turnoff for Freeport. As Brian turns off, he heads down the road marked for Bradbury Mountain State Park and Pownal. Ah, cabin, sweet cabin, here we come.