still do actually, but he’s still a fourteen year old boy. He’s scared you might not remember him . . . worried about what you might think of him . . . maybe that you’ll be disappointed in him.”
“Disappointed in him?”
“Please take us to our son,” Victoria said standing up. “Now.”
“One more thing,” Pete said.
“No! No more! I want to see my son!”
“If Dominico contacts you, we need to know because we believe your son and the other boys are in danger with him on the loose.” Then he added for good measure, “He’s a wanted felon, and harboring a felon or aiding and abetting a felon is also a felony.” This last part he said specifically to Victoria. Victoria shook her head dismissively, but said nothing. “If he contacts you, we need to know,” Pete repeated, looking first at Victoria and then at Thomas.
Thomas looked from one man to the next and then nodded slightly at Pete. It was slight, but noticeable by everyone, including his wife.
CHAPTER NINE
Northern Suburb of Indianapolis
He had hoped he wouldn’t be the only one but didn’t know for sure. Each of them knew it was a possibility that the ring would be broken. Strike that, a probability, if not an eventuality.
Each of them had a clean, unused Gmail address with a clean user name that only they had known about. He had come up with the idea and the plan and had shared it with nine others who had shared the same urges, appetites and tastes, and who had been paid well for the protection they had provided.
So much for protection. It was over- at least in its present form.
The question was, how many of them got away and were in hiding? He needed to know. He sat in front of his laptop and piggy-backed on an unsecured wireless network from one of the neighbors who lived close by.
Idiots! He thought. When would they learn?
He logged onto Gmail, clicked on Mail, then New, and typed in the nine e-mail addresses he had memorized. In the subject line, he typed, Survived! In the body of the message, he typed,
New location and new identity. Enough money to last a long time. Would like to get back at them. Maybe begin again. How about you?
He sat back and considered his message and then went back to the subject line, deleted Survived! and instead typed, Free! He then considered the message and thought it was too direct, and perhaps, too reveling, so he deleted the first two sentences. It was still direct but fairly innocuous. Besides, if anyone snooped looking for him, they’d find someone else’s IP address.
Now he’d sit back, wait, and see who would respond. If anyone did.
CHAPTER TEN
Chicago, Illinois
“Dammit!”
Brett slapped the water once, then twice, sending water up over side of the tub and onto the linoleum floor. He raised his bare, wet knees to his chest, hugging them with his good arm and hung his head. He was beyond frustrated. Tears sprung to his eyes, which made him even angrier.
Tim, who had been in the other room, but near the closed door, stepped into the bathroom, shut the door behind him, knelt down in a puddle on the floor next to the tub and rested his chin on his arms, trying without much luck to keep from smiling. Biting down on his tongue didn’t help either.
“Need some help?”
“I want to take a bath by myself!” Brett shouted. “For two years . . .” he shouted, sobbed, then quieted a bit and said through clenched teeth, “for two years, that fat fuck Butch washed us, and did other shit to us, and I’m sick of it!” He sobbed again and said, “After two years . . . now when I get the chance, I can’t wash myself because my left arm is fucking useless!”
Tim smiled at his friend, took a plastic cup, dipped it into the water and poured it on
“Disappointed in him?”
“Please take us to our son,” Victoria said standing up. “Now.”
“One more thing,” Pete said.
“No! No more! I want to see my son!”
“If Dominico contacts you, we need to know because we believe your son and the other boys are in danger with him on the loose.” Then he added for good measure, “He’s a wanted felon, and harboring a felon or aiding and abetting a felon is also a felony.” This last part he said specifically to Victoria. Victoria shook her head dismissively, but said nothing. “If he contacts you, we need to know,” Pete repeated, looking first at Victoria and then at Thomas.
Thomas looked from one man to the next and then nodded slightly at Pete. It was slight, but noticeable by everyone, including his wife.
CHAPTER NINE
Northern Suburb of Indianapolis
He had hoped he wouldn’t be the only one but didn’t know for sure. Each of them knew it was a possibility that the ring would be broken. Strike that, a probability, if not an eventuality.
Each of them had a clean, unused Gmail address with a clean user name that only they had known about. He had come up with the idea and the plan and had shared it with nine others who had shared the same urges, appetites and tastes, and who had been paid well for the protection they had provided.
So much for protection. It was over- at least in its present form.
The question was, how many of them got away and were in hiding? He needed to know. He sat in front of his laptop and piggy-backed on an unsecured wireless network from one of the neighbors who lived close by.
Idiots! He thought. When would they learn?
He logged onto Gmail, clicked on Mail, then New, and typed in the nine e-mail addresses he had memorized. In the subject line, he typed, Survived! In the body of the message, he typed,
New location and new identity. Enough money to last a long time. Would like to get back at them. Maybe begin again. How about you?
He sat back and considered his message and then went back to the subject line, deleted Survived! and instead typed, Free! He then considered the message and thought it was too direct, and perhaps, too reveling, so he deleted the first two sentences. It was still direct but fairly innocuous. Besides, if anyone snooped looking for him, they’d find someone else’s IP address.
Now he’d sit back, wait, and see who would respond. If anyone did.
CHAPTER TEN
Chicago, Illinois
“Dammit!”
Brett slapped the water once, then twice, sending water up over side of the tub and onto the linoleum floor. He raised his bare, wet knees to his chest, hugging them with his good arm and hung his head. He was beyond frustrated. Tears sprung to his eyes, which made him even angrier.
Tim, who had been in the other room, but near the closed door, stepped into the bathroom, shut the door behind him, knelt down in a puddle on the floor next to the tub and rested his chin on his arms, trying without much luck to keep from smiling. Biting down on his tongue didn’t help either.
“Need some help?”
“I want to take a bath by myself!” Brett shouted. “For two years . . .” he shouted, sobbed, then quieted a bit and said through clenched teeth, “for two years, that fat fuck Butch washed us, and did other shit to us, and I’m sick of it!” He sobbed again and said, “After two years . . . now when I get the chance, I can’t wash myself because my left arm is fucking useless!”
Tim smiled at his friend, took a plastic cup, dipped it into the water and poured it on
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