CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

"His name's Justin Taylor, and he's nineteen. His father owns Taylor Electronics andhis mother was killed in a car crash nine years ago. She was pregnant at the time."

Debbie gasped and put a hand to her mouth. "Holy shit, that's terrible!"

Vic shook his head.

They were seated around Deb's kitchen table, having a council of war. Justin was gone, there was no doubt about it; he'd apparently sneaked out while Vic was taking a nap, taking just about everything he owned with him. He could be half way to Baltimore by now.

"Terrible is right, although it seems it didn't take his old man long to get over it," Brian replied. "He married his secretary a year later." He set down his coffee mug. "The thing is, I've got two different takes on this story: the one Justin told me, and Stockwell's version."

Debbie's eyes widened. "Fucking Stockwell? What's he got to do with Sunshine?"

"That, I don't know." Brian ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I had a meeting with Stockwell earlier today. He let me know in no uncertain terms that my services were no longer required."

"Why would he do that?" Vic asked. "Thanks to you he's way ahead of Deakins in the polls."

"Ostensibly because his Goon Squad saw me at Woody's the other night, which made good old Jim do some digging. He raked up all the shit about Kip Thomas ... how it wouldn't be seemly to have a man of such dubious integrity as myself on board."

"Why, the sanctimonious bastard!" Debbie snorted indignantly. "I bet he's got a few skeletons buried in his backyard, too, if we knew where to find them!"

"That could be closer to the truth than you imagine." Brian stood up and began pacing, the way he always did when he was thinking. "Okay. According to Justin, he got caught at school jerking off another boy, and they expelled him for it. He says his father's a homophobic Bible-thumping cop, and rather than have his old man beat up on him every night he ran away and he's been living on the streets ever since. Which is why he was so afraid of the authorities finding him, because he'd be returned to his father."

"But you just said he was nineteen," Vic pointed out. "His father can't touch him."

"No, but I think it suited Justin to let us believe he could," Brian replied, "and because he looks the way he does, nobody questioned his age. We all took him at face value ... he could count on our trying to shield him."

"Well, I always figured he wasn't telling us the whole truth," Deb said, "and he was certainly afraid of something. But why would he lie about his father being a cop if ..."

"Would you both shut the fuck up!" Brian stood still and glared at them. "I can't concentrate with the two of you yacking on!" He resumed pacing. "So that's Justin's story. Now, I'll tell you how my conversation with Stockwell ended up. After he told me that I'm basically out on my ass, he shows me these photographs from the charity strip at Woody's, and he asks me, 'Who's this kid?' ... meaning Justin. He seemed too eager to me, but he was trying really hard to hide it ... so I said Justin was just some trick and I didn't know his name or anything else about him."

"As you wouldn't," Deb smirked.

"So then Stockwell says that he's an old friend of Justin's father," Brian continued. "He tells me Justin had got into trouble at his school because he was taking drugs and stealing, and he got expelled because of it."

"I don't believe that for a minute!" Vic said immediately. "That kid's honest as the day is long, I'd stake my wrinkled old ass on it."

"Damn right!" Debbie agreed. "He could have cleaned us out today if he'd have wanted, and Rip Van Winkle here would have been none the wiser!"

"According to Stockwell," Brian went on, doggedly ignoring the latest interruptions, "Justin's father was going to put him in rehab, and that's why he ran away from home. Craig Taylor is now frantic with worry and obviously good old Jim is only too willing to help out an old friend."

"Well, I'm glad to see he's got at least that much decency," Deb huffed.

Vic frowned. "But if Stockwell knows Justin as well as he claims to, then he'd be aware of Justin's age, too. Justin's father can't put him anywhere unless Justin agrees."

"Exactly!" Brian came to sit back at the table. "And yet Stockwell was definitely implying that Justin was still underage."

"So he's lying too," Vic mused.

"I'm sure he is. I'm sure he's lied about the reasons Justin got expelled, and I'm pretty certain he's lying about Craig Taylor wanting his son back."

"Why?" Deb looked puzzled.

"Craig Taylor's a rich, influential businessman who's big buddies with the Chief of Police," Brian replied. "Put yourself in his place. If your teenage son was a junkie who ran away from home while he was still of school age and you had no idea where he was or what was happening to him, what would you do?"

"I'd have his picture up on every street corner," Debbie replied. "I'd have his photo in every paper and magazine in Pittsburgh; I'd have every cop on the lookout for him, I'd hire a fucking private detective if I had to ..."

Brian raised his eyebrows. "Has any of that happened? Do either of you recall any posters, or news reports, or any mention at all about how the son of one of Pittsburgh's most prominent citizens is a missing person? And yet, Stockwell gets shown a photo of the kid at Woody's and suddenly there's a manhunt going on. He must have circulated that photograph as soon as I left, or how else could that cop be showing it round Liberty Avenue a couple of hours later? Not only that, but Stockwell made it pretty damn clear he'd be willing to re-think getting rid me ... as long as I came up with some information about where Justin was."

"He tried to bribe you?" Vic whistled softly. "He must want to find the kid very badly, if he was prepared to be that blatant."

"Yeah. And that's the million-dollar question ... why?"

"Well." Deb stood up. "I don't know, but I'm sure as hell going to find out. We'll go and talk to Carl ... he'll know what the official line is, if they're searching for Sunshine."

"Wait ..." Brian grabbed her arm. "Does Horvath know about Justin? I mean, has he seen him?"

"No, the only time Carl came to the house Sunshine stayed upstairs."

"Maybe we shouldn't involve him, Deb."

She frowned. "Why not? We need to know what's going on and Carl's the obvious person to ask."

"Look ... we all agree Justin's scared of the police finding him, right? If it's not because they're going to take him back to his old man, which it isn't, and it's not because he's wanted, which I don't believe he is, then it's got to be because he's afraid of the police themselves."

Vic looked at him sharply. "What ... you think it's some kind of conspiracy?"

Brian shrugged. "I have no idea ... but if it is something like that ... or even if there's been some kind of cover-up ... who's better placed to orchestrate it than the Chief of Police? Maybe there's something in Stockwell's past Justin knows about. His father's Stockwell's friend, remember; perhaps the kid saw something, or heard something. Something that scared him badly enough to drop right out of sight and stay there. In which case the worst thing we could do would be to draw attention to him."

"We can trust Carl," Debbie insisted. "He's a good man."

"Stockwell's still his boss," Vic pointed out.

Brian rubbed his upper lip with his fingertips. "It would be a good idea to know for sure why the police are trying to find Justin," he admitted, "if he really is on the Missing Persons list, or if he is wanted for something. But how the fuck are we going to explain asking questions about a kid we've denied even knowing?"

"Well, we'll tell Carl what Sunshine told us," Debbie replied practically. "That he'd run away from an abusive father and nobody wanted to see him taken back. Now he's disappeared again, we're worried about what's happened to him."

"Can't hurt," Vic agreed. "After all, we can't give them information about where the kid is if we don't know anything, can we?"

That was the problem, Brian realised uncomfortably, not knowing where Justin was: whether he'd gone back to the streets, if he was cold, if he was hungry; if he'd been picked up and was in custody, alone and afraid in a police cell; or if he'd used the money he'd earned to get out of Pittsburgh and was even now sitting on a Greyhound taking him God knew where, never to return.

Brian didn't know why he found the last image the most disquieting of all.

TBC