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Disclaimer: Still don't own and still make not money from this story!
Chapter 29: Body Bags
Bobby stood in the street, watching the ambulance driving away with Jack in the back. He had told his little brother they would be at the hospital as soon as the police were done with them. Jack was being fed oxygen at the time and he couldn't respond to the words, but he'd looked his older in the eyes, and Bobby was sure he understood.
Bobby turned and looked at the street lined with police cruisers, and ambulances. Body bags held the remains of the gunmen who had shot up the Mercer house. Detectives and uniforms alike were carrying cameras, and taking photos from every angle. Yellow numbers were scattered across the street in random patterns, marking what the cops considered vital pieces of evidence.
"Bobby." Jerry spoke from the front steps of the house. He was sitting on the step towards the bottom, his arms resting on his long legs; Angel was sitting behind him, in the door way with both of his feet resting on the step directly behind his older brother.
Sofi was behind Angel, sitting on the floor of the porch, holding onto him, and looking as if she had been shaken up pretty bad. Bobby had never thought he'd feel for Sofi, but the girl was going to be a Mercer, and she seemed to be fitting in pretty good. She'd been shot at right alongside her man, and she was still there, holding onto him. Though she looked like she could become emotional at any moment, she was staying strong, and the man had to admit, that was a trait of the Mercers, though he could never come right out and tell her, he was proud of her.
Bobby walked up to the steps and sat down next to Jerry. From his perch on the steps the man observed the entire scene in front of their home. A detective was standing in front of the group at the end of the walkway with a pad and pen. He'd been asking Jerry, Angel and Sofi questions while Bobby was seeing Jack off at the back of the ambulance, but the brothers had kept the answers vague. They weren't sure if they could really trust the man. Green was walking up the street towards them, telling one officer what he wanted him to get a picture of. Bobby was thankful to see Green, though he'd never thought he'd feel that way about any cop.
Green approached the detective who was still writing in his notepad. "Hey, let me talk to them" He spoke casually.
The detective looked at Green, turned and walked up the street in the direction Green had just come. Green turned to look at the brothers.
"Look, I'm real sorry, man, I really am, but what happened here?" He asked them.
Bobby looked up at Green. "Victor Sweet did this." He spoke flatly.
"How do you figure?" Green asked.
"Because his friend in the body bag over there told me," Bobby pointed towards the dead man.
"Okay, I'll make sure to get a statement from him then." Green glanced over at the body bag, and then returned his gaze to Bobby.
"He has my brother, they took Craig." Bobby added.
"Why did Sweet do us like this man?"Jerry spoke quietly, looking down at the ground.
"And why did it have to be our Mamma?" Angel asked with his voice sounding choked up, something rare for him.
Green drew in a deep breath. "Because Evelyn was going after him," He leveled his gaze on Jerry, who looked up at him, finally. "She knew her son, man. She never thought for a second that you were corrupt."
Jerry shook his head, and his voice sounded weak. "But I never told her about my business." He spoke the words slowly.
"Jerry, were you ever able to keep a secret from her? She knew all about your trouble, man. The moment they shut you down, she went down there, raising hell with the councilman." Green shared the information.
Bobby looked at Jerry for a long moment. He was mentally kicking himself in the ass at that moment. Their mother had stood up for Jerry, and he and Angel had been ready to pound him. He would have to remember to tell his brother he was sorry, if he remembered to get around to it later. He turned back to Green. "You gonna get our brother back and bury Sweet, or are we?" His voice sounded cold. He was ready to go after Sweet right then, guns blazing. "What do you know about a guy named Max?" He asked the question as an after thought, not thinking Green would actually have an answer for him.
Green stared at Bobby for a long moment. "Macks." He nodded his head. "Adam Macks." He glanced behind him; it seemed he was worried about someone else hearing him. "Adam Macks is Craig's father." He spoke with a quiet voice.
"What?" Bobby felt a vice tighten down on his chest. "Craig told us he's seen his Dad, but he never told us his name." Bobby shook his head.
"His father works for Sweet?" He felt as if he'd been kicked hard in the stomach.
"Adam Macks was a small time thug for years. He pushed drugs, and did some pimping." Green looked at Bobby. "He found a bigger market for the drugs, and a better paying market in auctioning off the services of various aged females, and males, to the highest bidders." Green drew in a deep breath, "He trained his own son himself, to be sure he did what he was told, and the way he was told."
"What?" Bobby couldn't believe what Green was telling him. "Why didn't Craig tell us all of this?" He looked back at Angel, and then to Jerry.
"From what I could get from the transcripts of the trial, and the statements from the psychologists that worked with Craig the first two years after his mother's murder, and his father's arrest, the boy doesn't remember much of it, at least not consciously. He's repressed most of it. Evelyn knew his history because she worked with him at St. Vincent's."
Jerry looked up at Green, "St. Vincent's?" He repeated. "Why couldn't they place him? He was only seven years old when Mom brought him home, man."
"Craig had a lot of emotional issues. He was placed in only one foster home when he was released from the hospital. The man there was a firm believer in being strict with the kids. Apparently Craig lost it with him, bit and scratched at him, and tore him up bad. The kid wouldn't talk, eat or sleep. Evelyn worked with him for months, pulling him out of his shell, and you know the rest from there. No one was going to take him in, except for Evelyn Mercer."
"How the fuck did this guy get out of prison?" Angel asked the question quietly.
"Apparently he had connections with someone who hired a high profile lawyer who went through the whole case file with a fine tooth comb and found some technicality that got him out." Green informed. "I'll give you one guess who it was that it was he was connected with."
"He worked for Sweet." Bobby nodded his head.
"No, not for, with, he did business with him, partnered up on some deals. I'm thinking that when Sweet went after Evelyn he pulled Macks in because he knew about Craig, and figured he could use that factor somehow." Green glanced behind him again, at Fowler who was busy taking pictures of the crime scene.
Bobby nodded his head, "So, you never answered my question. "Are you going after him, or are we?" He asked.
Green looked at Bobby, "Well, I got me …" He hesitated and glanced at Fowler again, "a dirty uniform I gotta deal with first." He looked down at the ground for a moment before meeting Bobby's gaze.
"What?" Bobby looked pissed.
"Yeah, you see Evelyn filed a report that got passed onto Victor Sweet." Green spoke quietly
"By who?" Bobby pushed.
"Look I got somethin' that I…" Green started to speak.
"He has Craig." Bobby growled the words.
"And if he finds out I'm gunning for him, or trying to get the kid, he'll probably kill him." Green pointed out.
"Don't bullshit me, Green. Who are you protecting?" Bobby looked in the direction of Fowler, whom Green had been keeping a discreet watch over since he arrived, "Your boy Fowler?"
"Look, Fowler's my problem. But if he knows anything, then Sweet knows. I need to get rid of his ass first, got that? I'll deal with him, and then we get Sweet." Green turned to walk away.
"Green," Angel called out.
Green turned back to the men on the porch.
"So how we gonna deal with all this?" Angel waved his hands at the body bags, and police officers combing the street.
"Self defense, wasn't it?" Green sounded like the answer should be obvious to the men. He turned and walked into the activity on the street, leaving the Mercers sitting on the steps.
Bobby looked at Jerry, then turned and looked back at Angel and Sofi. "He has Craig." He spoke the obvious.
Angel nodded his head. "And we are gonna get him back." He looked at Jerry, as did Bobby.
Jerry looked at his brothers. "Yeah, I'm in on this, we get him back, and we get him back as soon as fucking possible."
Craig's head was pounding. He wasn't awake, but his head was pounding hard. His arms were aching, feeling as if they were being pulled out of his shoulder. He tried to move, tried to turn, but he couldn't. He didn't want to wake up, but the pain was drawing him out of his blissfully unaware state. He tried to open his eyes, but they wouldn't comply. Then he realized there was something over them, blocking him from seeing. His senses started coming back to him slowly. He was lying on his stomach, on hard concrete, and it was cold against his face.
His arms were pulled behind him, held in place by something that felt like a knife cutting into his wrists. He tried to move his legs, but something was hold his ankles together tightly, and his knees, with the same cutting sensation as his wrists. That was when he realized his pants, his socks and his shoes were missing, as was the shirt he'd been wearing over his t-shirt.
He tried to rub his face against the concrete to loosen whatever was covering his eyes, but it wouldn't move. The effort he was putting into it seemed to take most of his strength and his breath. He felt groggy, and disoriented. It wasn't until he tried to call out for someone that he realized that a cloth of some kind had been stuffed into his mouth, and his mouth was taped closed. He could feel thick, sticky tape that had been pressed across his face almost from ear to ear. It felt too heavy to be one layer of tape. It seemed there were several strips weaved over each other to prevent it from coming loose, and it was holding his mouth shut tight. That was why it was so hard to breathe. He didn't understand what was going on, the drug was still working in his system, and he felt confused.
He tried to remember that morning, and what had happened. His memories of the events were choppy and fuzzy. He could remember hearing Jerry's voice, and he remembered going down the stairs. After that it was blank. He turned his head so that his left check was resting on the ground. He tried to shift his body onto his left side, but he couldn't seem to get enough strength into the roll to accomplish the task.
"Looks like he's awake," A voice spoke from somewhere nearby.
"I thought that shit was supposed to keep him out for a few hours." Another voice responded. "Pump him with some more."
"I can't, if we give him too much he won't wake up when the man wants him awake." The first voice countered, and it seemed to be moving closer to him. "Keep still kid, no one wants you moving about." A boot pressed down on his back, between his shoulder blades. "I'll have to hit you with the needle again if you don't behave like a nice little runt."
"Hey, you want a go at him? He's all primed and ready you know." The other man's voice spoke with an evil sounding laugh.
"Are you crazy man, or you just have a death wish?" The man stepping on Craig's back spoke. "Sweet wants this one reserved for somethin' special. You touch him, and you're dead."
Craig felt a shiver run through him. His mind was flashing pictures of Jack lying in the snow, bleeding. His brothers trapped in the house, trying to fight back, but they were outnumbered. For all he knew all four of his brothers were dead. He tried to cry out, tried to lift his body, but the foot pressed harder, causing pain to shoot down his spine.
"Kid, don't test me. Your old man said you would listen; don't turn him into a fucking liar!" The man pressing his hard boot down on him spoke in a harsh tone. "That's only gonna make it harder for you."
Craig tried to fight down the panic he was feeling. He thought about the fact that his pants were missing, along with his shirt and his socks and shoes. He was cold, and the cement under him only made it worse. He didn't try to move, he didn't try to resist the pressure of the foot holding him down.
He wished the gag would be pulled out of his mouth. The inside of his mouth was dry, and his throat hurt. He wanted water. He wanted a big glass of water, and a thick blanket to roll up into. He was freezing and the cold seemed to intensify with every passing second. He tried not to shiver, tried to stay still, but he was so uncomfortable, and the fear was building in him so quickly that he couldn't stop from shaking.
"Hey, kid, you really as good as your daddy say's you are?" The second voice spoke teasingly. "Huh? You wanna demonstrate for me once like a good fuck?"
Both men laughed and Craig's body tried to twist instinctively, tried to get out from under the boot on his back, not that it did him much good.
"Come on, man, give him another shot and let me have him for a little bit. No one will ever know. Hell we're gonna be stuck here with him for a while, we may as well get somethin' out of it." The second voice spoke again. " I could do some things with that one."
"You are one sick fucker." The owner of the foot in Craig's back laughed. "No, you don't need to do shit with him. We need to be ready to move with him as soon as the phone call comes in." The man sighed. "But give me the needle anyway; I'll give him half a dose and that should put him back out for a while and we can get back to our game."
Moments later Craig heard footsteps coming towards him, the foot lifted off of his back, and then a stabbing sensation hit his right thigh. He couldn't struggle against them, he couldn't get away. He felt his mind starting to shut down, just as it had earlier. He was afraid, and he wanted Bobby. That was all he could think of at that moment. He wanted Bobby to come and take him home. But Bobby was probably dead, he reminded himself as the nothingness tried to take over. He fought against the drug induced sleep, but it was doing no good. He felt his muscles relax, and that put a strain on his arms. He could do nothing but let himself drift into the sleep, praying that someone would help him.
Bobby stood at the end of the waiting room, staring out the window at the grey and white world outside the hospital. There seemed to be no color beyond the glass. Even the cars, caked in street grime and salt residue seemed void of color. It was as if he were looking out into a real life version of one of Craig's sketches with the grey clouds heavy over head, and the snow, dirty from the traffic in and out of the parking area was grey, and black and in spots didn't cover the blacktop. The thought twisted his heart around in his chest. Craig didn't have his sketch book with him. That seemed wrong to him, though he had never thought much of the boy's need to have that book of paper with him before, he did now, and it just seemed wrong that he was without it. He didn't know what to do.
Sofi was at the house, keeping a vigil at the phone, just in case Sweet decided to call to try to make a deal for the youngest Mercer, but Bobby didn't have any real hope of that happening. Green wasn't going to be much help, he had Fowler to deal with, and as much as he hated to admit it, Green was right about Fowler having to be out of the picture before the police could do anything, the piece of shit would pass any information onto Sweet that he could. That meant it was going to be up to him and his brothers.
Part of him wanted to take to the streets at that moment, but there was another part of him that couldn't leave Jack. He was sure it was the same with Jerry and Angel who were sitting just a few yards away in the waiting area of the emergency surgery unit. Jerry had been handed a beeper and when there was any news on Jack they would be paged so they would know to go to the front desk.
Bobby had visited the front desk a few times already, thinking that the pager they gave them might be broken; it did look pretty worn and beaten. It had been over four hours since his little brother was taken into surgery, it just seemed the longer they waited the more frustrated and scared the man felt. The woman he spoke to each time seemed to be a little more annoyed each time she told him she hadn't tried to call for them yet.
"Bobby," Angel's voice drew the man out of his thoughts and he turned to look at his brothers. Angel was on his feet, calling to him quietly. Jerry was gathering up his coat and a cold cup of coffee he'd grabbed from the machine down the hall.
Bobby walked towards them. "What, did it finally make some noise?" He asked them.
"Yeah, it finally made some noise, man, let's go." Jerry answered and walked ahead of them towards the front of the waiting area, where the desk was located.
Bobby wondered why they called it a desk. It was a long counter with four woman seated behind it in little cubicles. Jerry stepped up to the older woman they had been dealing with. "You have news about Jack Mercer?"
The woman smiled this time. "Yes, actually, I do." She looked at Bobby pointedly for a moment, and then turned back to Jerry. "He's out of surgery, and the doctor with be out in a few minutes to talk to you." She spoke calmly.
"Can you tell us how it went? How is he?" Angel asked.
"I'm sorry, I don't have details. They called up and informed us that the doctor was on his way to talk to you. He should be here shortly. You can have a seat, or you can wait here at the desk. We'll call you with the beeper again." The woman nodded towards the device in Jerry's hands.
"What?" Bobby shook his head, thinking that the action might make the woman's words make more sense to him. "You called us up here to tell us you were going to call us up here?" He asked with disbelief.
"Look, he's out of surgery that should be something to ease your mind." The woman seemed to understand the frustration in Bobby's voice. "They don't have us call you to tell you that we are going to call you if the news is bad." She winked at Bobby and pointed to the chairs lining the wall where they had been sitting most for most of the past four hours. "Now go sit."
Bobby felt a weight lifting off of his chest. If he didn't know better, he would almost swear Evelyn Mercer was sitting on the other side of the counter the way this woman spoke to him. He supposed it was her age; she looked like she was pushing sixty, and her hair was mostly grey. The tone in her voice was so close to the same tone his mother would use with him when she was trying to drive home a point that it felt as if she was there, right at that moment, driving home her point. "Yes Ma-am." He turned and obediently walked over to a chair and sat down.
Jerry and Angel exchanged surprised looks before joining him.
Bobby looked at his brothers. "He's gonna be fine, he's gonna be just fine." He nodded his head.
"Once we're sure of that, then what?" Angel looked at Bobby.
"Then we do what Green can't. We go after Sweet." Bobby looked at Angel.
"We need a plan." Jerry spoke quietly.
"I'm working on it." Bobby muttered, though his mind had been trying to come up with something, it seemed to be void of any real plans or solutions. He was still trying though.
"Look, there's room at the house. Y'all and Sofi need to come stay the night." Jerry offered. "It's gonna get fucking cold after dark, y'all know that."
"We stay at Ma's." Bobby looked at Jerry. "We don't need to be bringing nothin' down on your family Jerry." He spoke carefully. "We stay at the Ma's, and that includes you. If they come after us again, we'll be ready and your girls won't be in the middle."
Jerry nodded his head. "You gotta point." He spoke quietly.
They were quiet for a long time. Angel reached over and smacked Jerry's arm. "Is that the doctor?" He pointed to a young man wearing surgery scrubs standing at the counter.
"I hope so." Jerry muttered.
The beeper rang out, and all three men stood. Now they would find out some news about Jack, finally.
