sake of argument, let’s suppose you’re right, Pete,” Musgrave said after a long silence. “We can’t prove its child trafficking, and we can’t prove it isn’t . We can’t prove the kids were targeted. But the key to all of this is finding Ruiz and Szymanski. They’re the key. We find them, we find the answers.”
CHAPTER TEN
Two of the boys, Ben and Cory, weren’t in the hallway. The rest of the boys, however, had filed out of their rooms as they were told to do, and they stood in front of their doors with hands at their sides in a sort of loose attention that wouldn’t pass military inspection. This was a ritual that none of them wanted to witness or be a part of.
Brett caught Tim’s eye and then Patrick’s. He glanced at Johnny, sweaty and pale and leaning up against the wall just to keep standing. He coughed as quietly as he could into his hand. Tim moved as closely as he dared without the guards noticing and whispered something to Johnny who wiped sweat off his face and nodded slightly without drawing attention to himself or to Tim. He stood a bit wobbly but as straight as he could.
Brett looked back at Patrick, four doors down and too far away to speak to. He seemed on the verge of tears, and Brett silently hoped Patrick would keep it together until he went back into his room.
“Fuck me,” Ian said in a very quiet whisper.
Brett, who stood one door away, shushed him without even looking at him. The door next to Ian’s room opened and out came Ryan, led by the Fat Man and Skinny Beard, two of the guards the boys feared the most because when they showed up, one of the boys went away. As good as dead.
With the two guards was a young, tallish dark-haired man wearing a baseball cap, trim and fit and wearing sunglasses even though there wasn’t any sun shining inside their little prison. The man took a long look at Ian and then at Brett, but barely glanced at the other boys. Brett and Ian exchanged a look, a silent question as to who he was. Ian shrugged slightly, while Brett shook his head. Neither of them had seen him before.
Ryan shuffled between the Fat Man and Skinny Beard with Mystery Man riding drag. Ryan was dressed in a gray t-shirt with a hole in one sleeve and another hole in the lower back, jeans that were about an inch and a half too short with holes in both knees, and in tennis shoes that had a hole big enough for his toe to stick out of the left, and with the sole on the right flapping when he walked. He actually didn’t walk, though, because his legs were shackled forcing him to shuffle. His hands were cuffed in front of him.
He was a handsome boy with light brown hair and blue eyes. He was rather quiet, so none of the boys knew him particularly well, but he was one of them. Now, it seemed, he wouldn’t be much longer. He never raised his eyes from the floor as he shuffled along. He reached the end of the hallway where the door led down, to where? The boys didn’t know, but whoever walked through that door was never seen again.
Ryan turned back, managed to look at both Tim and Johnny before he was shoved by the Fat Man. Quietly, without a word or sound, the boys went back into their rooms and shut their doors behind them, which were locked by Butch, the ugly fat guard. Brett sat on his bed, his hands balled into fists, jaw set; more than angry and more than sad. More than frustrated that he couldn’t call out, couldn’t lash out. He wanted to hit someone or something.
Knowing that one way or another, some way or another, they had to escape before anyone else was taken away.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Under the very best of circumstances, a five hour drive into the middle of nowhere is something he didn’t want to do. A five hour drive into the middle of nowhere with Frank, Ron and a kid chained to the inner wall of the van being driven to his death was even worse. Yet, the Dark Man had given him an order, and
CHAPTER TEN
Two of the boys, Ben and Cory, weren’t in the hallway. The rest of the boys, however, had filed out of their rooms as they were told to do, and they stood in front of their doors with hands at their sides in a sort of loose attention that wouldn’t pass military inspection. This was a ritual that none of them wanted to witness or be a part of.
Brett caught Tim’s eye and then Patrick’s. He glanced at Johnny, sweaty and pale and leaning up against the wall just to keep standing. He coughed as quietly as he could into his hand. Tim moved as closely as he dared without the guards noticing and whispered something to Johnny who wiped sweat off his face and nodded slightly without drawing attention to himself or to Tim. He stood a bit wobbly but as straight as he could.
Brett looked back at Patrick, four doors down and too far away to speak to. He seemed on the verge of tears, and Brett silently hoped Patrick would keep it together until he went back into his room.
“Fuck me,” Ian said in a very quiet whisper.
Brett, who stood one door away, shushed him without even looking at him. The door next to Ian’s room opened and out came Ryan, led by the Fat Man and Skinny Beard, two of the guards the boys feared the most because when they showed up, one of the boys went away. As good as dead.
With the two guards was a young, tallish dark-haired man wearing a baseball cap, trim and fit and wearing sunglasses even though there wasn’t any sun shining inside their little prison. The man took a long look at Ian and then at Brett, but barely glanced at the other boys. Brett and Ian exchanged a look, a silent question as to who he was. Ian shrugged slightly, while Brett shook his head. Neither of them had seen him before.
Ryan shuffled between the Fat Man and Skinny Beard with Mystery Man riding drag. Ryan was dressed in a gray t-shirt with a hole in one sleeve and another hole in the lower back, jeans that were about an inch and a half too short with holes in both knees, and in tennis shoes that had a hole big enough for his toe to stick out of the left, and with the sole on the right flapping when he walked. He actually didn’t walk, though, because his legs were shackled forcing him to shuffle. His hands were cuffed in front of him.
He was a handsome boy with light brown hair and blue eyes. He was rather quiet, so none of the boys knew him particularly well, but he was one of them. Now, it seemed, he wouldn’t be much longer. He never raised his eyes from the floor as he shuffled along. He reached the end of the hallway where the door led down, to where? The boys didn’t know, but whoever walked through that door was never seen again.
Ryan turned back, managed to look at both Tim and Johnny before he was shoved by the Fat Man. Quietly, without a word or sound, the boys went back into their rooms and shut their doors behind them, which were locked by Butch, the ugly fat guard. Brett sat on his bed, his hands balled into fists, jaw set; more than angry and more than sad. More than frustrated that he couldn’t call out, couldn’t lash out. He wanted to hit someone or something.
Knowing that one way or another, some way or another, they had to escape before anyone else was taken away.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Under the very best of circumstances, a five hour drive into the middle of nowhere is something he didn’t want to do. A five hour drive into the middle of nowhere with Frank, Ron and a kid chained to the inner wall of the van being driven to his death was even worse. Yet, the Dark Man had given him an order, and
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