Denise awoke with a start, not realizing that she'd actually fallen asleep until she felt something—more rather, someone. Looking up, she saw that Richie had rolled up against her in his sleep. She was thankful that that was all it had been and that Richie was still asleep – but how long had he been asleep? Had it been at 9 or 9:30 that he'd finally gone to sleep? And how long after that had she gone to sleep? It was 10:15 so either way, neither of them had been sleeping long, but the good news was that Richie was still asleep, so hopefully he would through the night.
Denise laughed to herself, yeah right – Richie would be up, it was just a matter of time.
It wasn't that she minded being used for a pillow, so long as Richie was quiet and resting, she could stay like that all night. In foster care, her well being sometimes depended on staying right where she was, having someone else use her as a pillow afterwards.
"Denise?"
Ah shit, and it had been going so well, Denise thought to herself.
Denise watched Richie as he woke up and rolled over beside her and looked at her.
"Yes, Richie? What is it?"
"I'm thirsty."
Denise pointed over to the nightstand at the bucket with a bottle in it. "Knock yourself out."
That had gone better than she thought, and, the rest of the night would go fine just so long as Richie didn't ask.
As soon as Richie got through taking a swig from the bottle, he asked, "Is Jeremy back yet?"
Too late, he'd asked.
Denise shook her head. "No, not yet." God, I hope the bourbon goes to work fast.
"Do you still think he's allright?" Richie asked, waiting to hear her admit she was wrong.
"Richie, you know as well as I do that if you manage to come out of foster care alive after 12 years, then you deserve a fucking medal—we all came out of it fine, some more than others, believe me, he'll be allright."
"This is not the same thing," Richie said, "We're not dealing with our foster parents here, we're dealing with a cold blooded murderer."
"How do you know it's not the same thing?" Denise asked, "You think our foster folks didn't have the capacity to kill? They would've killed us except they wanted the money, then we got moved again. Besides, then, we were living in the same house with those people—this guy's up and across the street, that gives us an advantage over him. Besides that, we've got Connor, Jason, and Krug all downstairs, and when Jeremy gets back that'll better our chances still, so please, don't worry about it."
Some days Denise wished she'd just cut out her tongue, and when she saw the pained look on Richie's face, she once again considered it. "I'm sorry, Richie. I know, you're tired, I'm tired, we're all tired, we're all under a lot of stress here, we all want it to be over, and it will be soon enough."
"I wish I could believe that," Richie said.
"Are you through with the bottle yet?" Denise asked.
"Yeah."
"Then go back to sleep, I'll let you know when Jeremy comes home," Denise said as she took the bourbon from him.
"I'll try."
Denise got off the bed and pulled the sheets back.
"What's that for?" Richie asked.
"You know damn well what for, get into bed," Denise commanded.
Richie was uneasy with the way she was talking, but knew better than to protest with her. So he moved up to the head of the bed and laid down. Denise grabbed his shoes and jerked them off his feet and then she brought the sheets back up to his chest. "I'm going to tuck you in nice and tight so you can't move the next time you wake up. I have half a mind to gag you too so you'll shut up."
She must've seen the terrified look in Richie's eyes because she started laughing, and then Richie didn't know what to think.
"Relax, Richie," she said, "I'm just messing with you, now go on to sleep."
"What about you?" he asked.
"I don't ordinarily sleep in a bed, you know that," she said, "Now go onto sleep before you drive us all crazy."
Richie turned on his side and closed his eyes, but Denise knew that he wouldn't be asleep for too long.
"Anything?" Connor asked.
"The bastard hasn't come out of the house yet," Krug replied.
"How long has it been?" Connor asked.
"I reckon about an hour now," Krug said.
"What do you think they're doing in there?" Jason asked as he came into the front room.
"What're you doing here?" Connor asked, "Denise said for you to watch the back."
"I did, I got tired of watching it, so I thought I'd see if anything interesting was happening in the front," Jason replied.
"Well now you know there's nothing going on out front, so get back at that kitchen door," Krug demanded.
"Exactly how long have you two been in the business together?" Connor asked.
"Long enough," Jason replied.
"Too long," Krug corrected.
"I'm sorry I asked."
"I have a question, Mister Nash," Jason said, "When we get this guy, Mason, what're we gonna do with him?"
"First we get him to tell us where the body is," Connor said, "Then once we find it, we kill him."
"Hmmm, you don't have too much faith in the justice system, do you?" Jason asked.
"Do you?" Connor asked.
"If I did, would I be in this business?"
"How do you want him?" Krug asked.
"What?" Connor asked.
"When we kill him, how do you want it done?"
"You'll have to ask Denise – she can tell you that better than I can."
"Maybe I oughtta go up and see Miss Kramar and make sure they're allright," Jason suggested.
Krug grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him forward. "No sir, you're going BACK into the kitchen and watching the back door so nobody tries to sneak attack the people here."
"But—"
"Get going!" Krug pushed Jason into the kitchen and closed the door.
"Are you two brothers?" Connor asked.
"Mister Nash, I've been very unfortunate in my life," Krug explained to him, "But I've never been that unfortunate."
Connor laughed, considering the situation they were in, there wasn't really anything funny about the whole thing, but he felt he had to either laugh, or he'd go completely insane. Everything had happened so fast, and it was taking a toll on everyone, Richie especially, and Connor knew if nothing else, he had to stay sane for the boy's sake.
Richie had only been half awake for a while, but he was waiting for the other half to sink in to sleep. However, that became impossible when he felt himself surrounded by hot water. That woke him fully and he jerked up and found himself in a bathtub, with Denise kneeling beside it so she could reach him.
"Denise!" Richie nearly jumped out of the tub in surprise, "What're you doing?"
She grinned and answered in a most nonchalant tone, "I'm giving you a bath."
"A bath?" Richie repeated.
"Yes."
"A bath?" Richie couldn't believe his ears.
"Yeah."
"Why?" Richie asked.
"Two reasons," Denise counted them off on her fingers, "One, you haven't been sleeping well at all, and I figured the quickest thing to make Jeremy nod off is a hot bath – or shower, so I figured maybe the same would work for you."
"And two?"
"Two, because you have the oiliest hair andskin I've ever felt and I don't want you slipping off the bed," she replied.
Richie rolled his eyes and sighed, but did little else to discourage it. Sure he was embarrassed, but he was also too tired to put up a good fight, but it didn't matter, Denise still knew these things, to her it was like bat radar.
"Well now don't tell me you're embarrassed," she said as she rolled up her sleeves, "After all, how many times have we done this before?"
Richie could feel his skin turning colors, and it wasn't because of the hot water. "It's different, Denise."
"Why?" she asked, "Just because we're older? Because you've grown up and filled out? Believe me, Richie, you're not much different now at 17 than you were at 9."
"Thanks a lot," Richie replied as bitter as he could be, which by this time wasn't very much.
Denise grinned as she continued, "Humor me, Richie, how many more times am I going to have to do this?"
"You don't have to do this at all," Richie told her.
"I know, but I like it," she replied as she swung a large cup through the water.
That surprised Richie, "You do?" Ordinarily no one who took care of him got any pleasure out of it until the check came, and Denise had to do it all for nothing.
"Sure – it makes me feel useful, besides, it'll give me something to do and keep me out of trouble for the time being. Tip your head back."
Richie closed his eyes and did as he was told, he'd never gotten used to this part. The first time Denise had done it he accused her of trying to drown him.
"Are you sure you don't mind this?" Richie asked. He was beginning to feel more and more awkward about the whole thing.
"Not at all," Denise replied, "It kind of makes me feel like a mother figure and – it's nice to be able to do it even though I'm never going to be a mother."
"Are you sure?" Richie asked.
Right after he'd asked, he felt two cold hands rubbing the top of his hair and fingers digging into the scalp. That was another part he wasn't too fond of.
"Positive, even if I did sleep with someone, I can't be a mother, nor Jeremy a father, it's just the way we are," Denise told him.
"Sorry to hear that," Richie replied.
"Don't be," she replied. She didn't have the heart to add, "Because you're in the same boat as us".
Once she finished rinsing out his hair, she started on his back, and Richie flinched.
"Now what?" Denise asked.
Richie caught himself before he said anything he'd regret, so instead he said, "Nothing," and leaned back for her to continue.
"What're you worried about, that I'm looking for a good place to stick a knife?" Denise asked.
"No."
Denise knew there was something bothering Richie still, and while she had a pretty good idea of just what, she wasn't going to say anything about it. "You do trust me, don't you?" she asked.
Richie nodded, trusting Denise was easy, it was trusting himself that could be a problem. Denise had what he considered a rather unusual way of bathing someone. She wouldn't bother with a sponge or a bath brush or a washcloth like anyone else, no, she preferred to work with just a bar of soap and her own two hands. It was different when you were little and didn't know any better, but now she was 19 and he was 17 and he had hormones that could set themselves off in a second if – Richie felt her hands reaching further down his body and took that as a sign to move. In doing so, he nearly jumped out of his skin.
"What's the matter?" Denise asked.
"Denise, that's it, that is it! Enough!" Richie exploded, "I'm 17 years old, and fully capable of bathing myself."
Richie tried to move out of her reach but in doing so he slipped and cracked his back against the tub. Denise laughed a bit but otherwise didn't pay any attention to it.
"Did you hit your head?" she asked.
Richie shook his head, "My back."
Denise smiled and shook her head, and she leaned over to grab Richie and pull him closer to her reach again. "Now are you going to cooperate this time or not?"
Richie sighed and responded, "Allright—I guess I can live with it."
"Give me a break, Richie, people in hospitals do this sort of stuff all the time, there's nothing embarrassing about it," Denise told him.
"Those are people who can't do it themselves," he argued.
"Yeah well you can't even turn around in a bathtub without hurting yourself, I don't want to see how you'd bathe yourself. Now just relax and hold still."
"Yes, Mom," Richie grumbled. He knew if he didn't do too much for the remainder of the bath, it would all beover soon.
"Nothing yet?" Connor asked.
"Nothing," Krug confirmed, "No Mason, no flunkies, no Jeremy, no nothing."
"You think they got him?" Jason asked as he came out of the kitchen again.
"Now what're you doing here?" Krug asked.
"I'm on a break," Jason responded, "I've been watching that back door for over an hour now and nothing has happened."
"It'll be just our luck," Connor said, "The minute you leave we find ourselves ambushed."
"Well if those bastards are going to do something, they ought to do it soon before we go into tomorrow," Jason said.
"Mister Nash," Krug said.
"What?"
"When's your brother coming back?" he asked.
"My brother?" Connor repeated.
"Miss Kramar told me that the kid was staying with your brother, you are his uncle, right?"
"Yes." At least he was the closest thing to an uncle.
"Allright, so this guy he's staying with is your brother, right?"
"You could say that."
"So when's he coming back?" Krug asked.
Connor shook his head, "I wish I knew. I wish he were there now, I could take Richie back and at least get him out of the line of fire."
"Don't you have a pass key?" Jason asked him.
Connor laughed, "The only pass key I have to his place is a brick."
"A brick?"
"For the window."
"I'm sorry I asked," Jason said, "Maybe we could open the place, we have had some experience with picking locks."
"It's a bad idea," Connor replied, "For one thing, Duncan doesn't know that I'm in town, and he also doesn't know that I know Richie's friends Denise and Jeremy. Now, they're supposed to stay here until Duncan and Tessa get back, how would it look if they got back and found the six of us there? You two especially, how would we explain the two of you?"
Jason thought for a minute, "Maybe we could pass ourselves off as relatives."
"Duncan questions everything and everyone, he'll want to know all about you and why you haven't been mentioned before, then what?" Connor asked.
"We could come up with something," Jason thought.
"Well why would you be over there? Why not stay here?" Connor asked.
"You know why, there's a murderer across the street," Jason told him.
"I'm aware of that," Connor said, "But the problem with Duncan is that he can be very impatient when something's wrong, and it would take plenty of time to explain everything, and take my word for it he would lose his patience long before we could even come up with a convincing story."
"Why don't we just go over there now and get it over with?" Krug asked.
"What?" Connor asked.
"They haven't come back out in quite a while, Mister Nash. Odds are there are two, maybe three of them over there, there's four of us here who can fight, why don't we go on over and take them out?"
"Because every damn thing that could happen has happened all at the same time," Connor said, "There is a deputy dead, their uncle missing, now Jeremy's gone off and we can't find him—"
"But what if," Jason cut him off, "Mason's got them over there? What if they're hanging on to life by a thread and we're over here doing nothing? What if they don't come back?"
"You came back," Krug pointed out, "Not that we wanted you much as it is, but we kept you here, didn't we?"
"That's different," Jason said, "I was out on a call, those people are out there God knows where and they could be in any sort of condition— I don't—"
The entire time that they'd been talking, Krug never once turned away from the window, and finally he saw good reason to look. "Shut up."
"What?" Jason asked.
"I said shut up, somebody with no lights on just pulled up outside," Krug said.
At the very mention of that, Connor and Jason dashed over to the window to see just what, and whom, it was that Krug was seeing. It was too dark to make out who it was, but the person got out of the car and was coming up the sidewalk.
"Now what?" Jason asked.
"If they knock, we see who it is," Krug said, "If they bash the door open—"
"Then we'll have a good idea it's not the welcoming committee," Connor added.
Jason turned around and gave Connor an unreadable look, but it most likely said 'annoyed'. They heard someone knocking on the door, and Krug went to answer. He turned on the porch light and swung the door open and saw a man he'd never seen before. He looked down at him, "Can I help you?"
The man almost jumped back when he saw him. "Are Denise and Jeremy here?"
"Who wants to know?"
"I'm their uncle."
"David Kramar," Krug said.
"Yes."
"ID?"
He showed it to him, after looking it over twice, Krug decided if the man wasn't legit, they outnumbered him 3 to 1. So he held the door open and stepped back.
"I didn't know Denise hired a butler," he said.
"She didn't," Krug told him.
David found two other men in the living room and neither one looked too friendly. "Am I interrupting something?" he asked.
"Not at all," Connor replied. He reached for David's hand and shook it, "Hi, I'm Richie's uncle, Russell Nash on vacation from New York, and these are my two boys, this is Jason, and you've already met Krug."
"Krug?" David repeated.
"It's a family name," Connor told him, "And you are?"
"I'm David Kramar, Denise and Jeremy's uncle."
"Oh, the flatfoot," Connor said.
That surprised David, and they could tell he was wondering what he'd gotten himself into.
"Denise speaks very highly of you," Connor said.
"Oh really? Have you been here long?" David asked.
"Not long enough," Connor muttered under his breath.
Jason got up behind David and tapped him on the shoulder. "Is the boy with you?"
"The boy?" David didn't know what he meant.
"Jeremy, have you seen Jeremy?" Connor asked.
"He isn't here?" David asked.
"No, he went out to look for you when they couldn't get anyone at the station," Connor explained.
"How long ago was that?" David asked.
"I'd say a couple of hours," Krug responded.
"At least," Jason threw in.
"Where'd he go?" David asked.
"We don't know," Connor replied, "However our first guess would be down to the station to see if anybody's still alive down there. No one answered and they called for a good long while."
"Well is—is Denise here?" David asked.
"Yes, she's upstairs with my nephew," Connor said, "All the excitement has taken him ill I'm afraid."
"Maybe I better go check on—" David suggested.
"No!" the three men simultaneously responded, and David suddenly got the impression that they were hiding something.
"She doesn't want visitors up there," Krug insisted, "For fear that it would be overwhelming to—to Richie."
"I'll tell her you've arrived, Mister Kramar, she will be glad to hear of that," Jason said.
Jason went through the kitchen and took to the back stairs, leaving the three men in the living room to wait.
"I'll go back to the window," Krug said to Connor, "You stay here and keep Colombo entertained—Dad."
It was fortunate David wasn't watching because Krug couldn't keep a straight face, it was a wonder his voice didn't crack as he spoke. Once Krug left, he and Connor made themselves comfortable on the couch.
"So I assume Richie's told you what's happened?" David asked.
"Yes he did."
"And about Mason?"
"Yes he did."
"And the woman?"
"Yes he did."
"And you believe him?"
"Yes I do."
"Even though the story seems to be full of holes."
"Yes it does."
"And he didn't seem to be—" David wasn't sure how to put it, "On full alert."
"No he wasn't."
"And you still believe him?"
"Yes I do."
"Why?"
"Because," Connor replied, "That boy is my family, and I do anything for family. They come first."
"But how do you know that he's telling the truth?" David asked.
Connor looked at him. "You're a cop, right?"
"Yes?"
"Then you must have some idea when you go out on calls, you see victims, people who have been robbed blind, almost killed in an accident or premeditated homicide, raped and knowing full well that it can happen again, people who have been sadistically beaten, had their very lives and those of their families threatened. It's at that time that you see what real fear is when you look in someone's eyes, you might see it every day in common strangers, but when I got here tonight, I saw it in Richie. Unmistakable terror, I could read it in his eyes, there was no getting past it, I know Richie and he likes to act like nothing bothers him. Even when he's scared stiff he tries to act like he's allright, and sometimes he can do a convincing job. But tonight I saw clear as day that whatever has gone on here, it has given Richie the worst scare in his entire life."
David wasn't sure how to respond to that or even if he should, but he did. "I don't want you to think I don't believe him, but are you sure it's not possible that the boy is making all this up?"
"The boy—" Connor quickly caught and amended himself, "Richie may not be the brightest kid in the world, and he may have a habit of trouble following him wherever he goes. But you mark my words, Kramar, what I saw tonight was no act, what I saw in him tonight was pure and concentrated horror, he is fearing for his life and with good reason." He paused for a minute before looked Kramar dead in the eyes, "Do you know him?"
"Mason?" David asked. Connor nodded, "Not exactly, why?"
"Ever since I got here, all I've been hearing is that nobody would believe Richie since Mason is such a well known man, and so nice and trusting," Connor said it with a sarcasm that made even him feel nauseated, "I don't care what he is, if he's a pillar to the community or if he's running for political office, or whatever the hell it is he does that makes him so great. He's killed a woman in cold blood and he's done something with the body, and he's had these goons over at his house all night, most likely the same ones who tore up the house this morning while everyone was out. He's already committed one murder and he has to pay for it, and I know for a fact that he's onto Richie by now, and he's trying to do away with him next."
David seemed unconvinced, "He told you this for a fact?"
"Nobody has to tell me a damn thing, I know!" Connor exploded, "I know that he wants to kill him because he knows, and I have a feeling you'll like the way I see this going."
"What do you think, Mister Nash?" David asked.
"I've had plenty of time to think about this since I found out what had happened, and I also know that this guy could very well have killed Richie by now, but he hasn't. I think that Mason knows that right now Richie has had a scare so horrible it's taking a toll on him, and I think that the reason he hasn't tried to flat out kill him yet, is so he can scare Richie to death, slowly but surely, drive him to the brink of madness, and then get him so worked up that his heart will just stop and take him with it. Yes, Mason has no intention of being proved a murderer, so he's already hidden the body, and now he wants to make what could become Richie's demise, to look like natural causes."
David was starting to get the impression that maybe Russell knew what he was talking about. "You really think that's his plan?"
"It sure as hell is as good a guess as anything," Connor replied, "You say that you believe Richie right?"
David nodded, "I about have two, I have a niece and a nephew who are willing to back him and his story up, and they're not the kind to be taken for fools, and they wouldn't lie even to protect a friend."
Connor wanted to laugh at that, he obviously didn't know them very well, but well enough for now—they would lie to protect Richie, but he was right, they weren't fools. "Then by God, do something! If I have to go to jail myself I will, but if you don't do something about that man soon—before he tries again to kill Richie—I swear to God I'll kill that man myself."
