A Hopeless Wound (9/?)
***
A/N: I know, I know I'm late, and I'm terribly sorry about that. I've been away for a week and didn't have time to write or post another chapter. Please forgive me... ;) I promise I'll do my best to figure out how to end this story and go back to posting one chapter per week.
This said, hope you guys are still following, and thanks again for the feedback.
Enjoy! :)
***
Chapter nine
***
Leonard sat in one of the plastic chairs in the visitors' room, his left leg bouncing up and down in a nervous gesture.
He exhaled loudly, then rested his forearms on the table and lowered his head as he waited for the guard to escort his brother.
Taking the cop had been a good idea, he reasoned. Then why had Jermaine decided to stay in the car and sent him to talk to Vernon?
He shrugged. They'd done their job, there was nothing to worry about.
The house where they'd left him was isolated enough not to draw any attention, the ropes were tight and the tape on his mouth would prevent him from making any sound and let his presence known.
Yeah, definitely a good job.
The sound of the door opening pulled him away from his thoughts and he looked up. Vernon nodded at him, his face breaking into a wide grin.
Even in prison, the man looked perfectly at ease. He had the same old arrogant smile, the I-take-no-crap attitude, and despite the uniformed officer at his side and the cuffs on his wrists, he acted like he ruled the place.
Leonard sighed. I'll never be like him. "Hey, how're you doing?" He asked as he stood up.
"Len! What's up, little bro?"
Their hands locked in one of those gang greetings as the guard eyed them suspiciously for a moment before backing up and leaving them alone.
"How're they treating you, Vern?"
"Me?" He laughed, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table. "I'm alright. This place ain't that bad if you know the right people. But I'm not here to talk about me."
A smile lit Leonard's face. He glanced around for a moment to make sure no one was listening and leaned forward. "We got him."
"What you mean you got him? He's dead, right?"
"Better than that."
Vernon's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"We kidnapped him. He's inside the Hole." He added, referring to the place where the three brothers used to hang out and score.
"You what?"
The younger man's smile broadened. "We followed him to a bar last night, waited as you'd said, and then knocked him out."
"A bar?" He hissed through tight lips. "Christ! You have any idea how stupid that was?"
"It's okay, man." Leonard replied uncomfortably, shifting his eyes off him as a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. "The place was closed, he was the only one inside. You know, like he owned the joint or something. J thought we could have some fun before killing him."
"Oh, is that right? J thought it was a good idea!" Vernon slammed his fists down on the table in frustration, nailing him with a murderous look. "Where the hell is he, huh? What, the little son of a bitch was afraid and sent you instead?"
"He uh... he's waiting outside."
Vernon leaned back into his seat. "I can't believe you screwed up TWICE! All you got to do was kill him! Is it so fucking difficult to kill a man?"
Leonard's leg started to bounce again under the table as he shook his head in protest. "He put you in jail, bro. He needs to pay! We thought you'd be happy with it."
"Well, I'm NOT! What if he gets free, huh? What if he recognizes you?"
"Don't worry, man. He's not going anywhere." He assured him. "And I don't think he's seen our faces. We just left him in the Hole while he was unconscious."
Vernon ran his hands over his face. "This can be dangerous, Len. He's a cop, for chrissake! I just wanted him out of the game, that's all. Damn! Why don't you two ever listen?"
"Relax, Vern. We got everything under control."
"I still don't like it. They gave me a life sentence, man. If they find out about this I get the death penalty!"
"Don't worry, alright?" Leonard said with confidence as he rose to his feet. Their time was up.
Vernon grabbed his brother's arm. "I'll call you tomorrow. And he'd better be dead, you hear me?"
He nodded his understanding. "See ya, bro."
"Yeah." He waved his cuffed hands in dismissal as the guard came to bring him back to his cell.
***
Bosco forced his eyes open and glanced hesitantly around the darkened room.
He couldn't remember passing out and didn't know how long he'd been asleep, but apparently nothing had changed.
At least he didn't feel much pain anymore. His hands had gone numb hours ago, his feet shortly thereafter, though he still had a dull ache in his shoulder blades from the awkward position.
Mentally, he was more clearheaded and alert, despite having completely lost track of time.
He tried to listen for sounds, but couldn't hear anything. No cars, no people talking, or even dogs barking. Was he in some kind of basement underground? He had to be. Presumably a couple levels down.
He found it weird that no one had bothered to check on him but then again, he had no idea who he was dealing with. For all he knew, they might have planned to let him die in this hellhole without food or water.
Maybe they'd been caught, he reasoned, and wouldn't tell the police where he was. Or maybe they'd already been killed, and his friends would never be able to find him.
He shook his head. It was hard to imagine someone finding you when you have no idea where you are.
The thought sent a surge of rage flow through him and he jerked his arms painfully against the ropes.
Bosco knew he could die, but before he did, he wanted to look his mother's killer in the eyes and make sure to bring the bastard down to hell with him.
He yanked on the bindings again. Felt the concrete hold strong while his own flesh tore and his wrists started to bleed. It was amazing how much effort you could put into something with basically no result.
Suddenly an image popped up in his head. Faith taking his hand, speaking to him in her soft but convincing tone. Faith looking at him, confidence in her eyes as she told him that they'd find the men responsible for this.
The scene replayed itself in his mind, and he wished he was still in the middle of that perfect moment with her.
***
"Alright, everybody calm down." Swersky ordered from the podium in the roll call room.
The news of the incident at Boscorelli's apartment and his consequent disappearance had been greeted with dismay. Incredulous officers stared at each other, voicing their doubts, wondering if the uniform they wore was enough to keep them safe, and fearing the fate of their friend.
"I said knock it off!" He repeated, his voice firm. The meeting room became suddenly still. "This is all we have so far. I know it isn't much, so if you hear or see something, please call it in." He paused and looked around, scanning the rows of familiar faces. "I already have one officer missing. Don't want to add a couple more names to the list."
They all nodded their approval as the uncomfortable silence still hovered around them.
"I'm gonna ask the officers whose names I've called to stay back. The rest of you, eyes and ears open out there."
The men and women of the Third Watch immediately resumed their talking as they slowly walked out, concern clearly written across their faces. When the last uniform had left, the Lieutenant closed the door and stared at the six people still seated in front of him.
"Okay, here's what we're gonna do. First, I'm gonna need a list of places where he might have gone to rule out the possibility that he's left voluntarily." He turned to look at Faith. "Yokas. You and Mr. Boscorelli can work on that."
"Yes, sir." She agreed.
Mikey, who'd never been called 'Mister' before, stared back at him for a moment to make sure the older man was really addressing him and then gave him a slight nod.
"The detectives are heading down to the bar." Swersky continued. "As soon as you're done with that, you two can join them. You're both familiar with the place so it'll be easier for you to notice any differences."
Faith sighed. Knowing the shape the bar was in was going to draw in a lot of questions, she immediately reached for her notebook and started to jot down all the addresses she could think about. The sooner they finished here, the faster they could leave the precinct and assist the detectives in their search for clues.
The Lieutenant took a deep breath and moved to his right. "Sullivan, Davis. You're going to follow-up on that list of locations. Ask around, see if anyone has seen him. Neighbours, clerks, anyone."
"Will do." Sully said, shifting uneasily in his chair.
The two men shared a sad look, both aware that the search, although necessary, was more likely to turn into a big fiasco.
"We could check the hospital. See if he got back there." Davis suggested.
"Sure." His partner replied.
"I don't think this is gonna work." A voice rose from the back.
There was a moment of silence as all the heads drifted in the direction of the person that had just spoken.
"What?" Cruz asked, an annoyed expression on her face.
Faith glared at her, her blue eyes sparkling with anger. "What'd you say?"
"I said, this is not the right way to go. There's other things we should be doing."
"True." Swersky nodded. "That's why I need you and Monroe to stay here and look over past cases."
Cruz shot him an incredulous look. "Are you kidding me?"
"Do I look like I'm having fun, Sergeant?"
Faith couldn't hide the smirk on her face.
"Start looking over possible arrests that might have sought revenge against Boscorelli."
"But..." she tried to protest.
"Now."
"We're on it, Lieu." Monroe nodded as she got up.
"Good. Let's go, people."
***
In the quietness of the room, Bosco finally heard a noise.
A creak in the floorboards. Then another. Footsteps.
His whole body tensed as he watched the wooden door swing open and light stream in. Seconds later, two men entered the room.
"Well, well, well, look who's awake!"
His eyes narrowed and he glared coldly at them.
"So, how'd you like the place?" Jermaine asked, a wicked grin plastered on his face.
Bosco twisted his body, desperately trying to free himself from the ropes. He wanted so bad to hurt them. Needed to inflict violence and pain to make up for the hurt he was experiencing. Angry words formed on his lips, but the tape chocked them off, leaving him with only grunts and groans.
"What, you wanna say something, Boscorelli?" The man pulled a chain and a light bulb suddenly illuminated the place.
The two brothers moved closer, allowing him to take a better look at them.
They were both black, probably in their twenties, wearing baggy jeans and oversized sweaters. The guy on his right, who he assumed was the older of the two, was over six foot tall and had a red bandana over his bald head. The second one, a couple inches shorter, was wringing his hands nervously and avoiding eye contact.
His body language told Bosco that the young man had never found himself in a situation like this. He was the weakest link, the one he should go after.
"I've been told you've got a little temper problem, don't you, little man?"
There was something familiar in their features. He knew he should remember why, but the answer escaped him right now.
Leonard walked past him and over to the table, sitting down so he could see both Jermaine and their prisoner. He needed a hit, and he needed it bad. The whole situation was making him extremely nervous, and he desperately craved for something to relax his nerves and help him forget what they were about to do.
Fantasizing about getting revenge was one thing, but after seeing the man tied to a metal anchor on the wall, his bruised face, he'd started to think that he really didn't like the idea of killing another human being.
Suck it up, Len. Be a man. He told himself as his hands expertly moved on the table to prepare his fix.
Unaware of his brother's inner turmoil, Jermaine kept his eyes trained on Bosco.
He was a lot like Vernon, arrogant and self-absorbed, and his military training had only served to fuel the anger of a kid grown up too soon in the projects.
Lips still curved upward, he stepped in front of him and without even thinking yanked the tape off his mouth.
Despite the sudden pain that the action caused him, Bosco immediately felt relieved. After drawing in a deep breath and letting his lungs fill with the much-needed air, he focused his gaze back on his captor. He couldn't see the second guy, but decided he wasn't dangerous for now.
"You son of a bitch, I'm gonna kill you! You hear me, You're a DEAD man!" His voice was surprisingly strong, even defiant as he pulled on the restraints.
Jermaine shook his head. "No, I think you got that turned around, cop. YOU're gonna be dead soon." He sneered, punching him in the stomach.
Leonard, startled by Bosco's angry voice, dropped the spoon full of coke on the table and helplessly watched the white powder scatter around the plastic surface. He let out a frustrated cry and turned toward his brother.
"Fuck! That was good stuff, man! Why'd you do that?"
"Chill out, bro. There's plenty of it. As soon as we're done with the cop here, we're gonna fix us some."
Leonard wasn't sure he could do the job without a little help, but swallowed hard and nodded. You can do it, Len. You can do it.
"Now, where was I?" Jermaine brought two fingers to his temple to emphasize the effort of thinking. "Oh, yeah. Here." He finished as he hit his prisoner again.
"Who the hell are you?" Bosco asked between gasps. He could see the butt of a gun sticking up from the waistband of his jeans.
"Should we tell, him, Len? What do you thnk?"
The younger man shrugged, his eyes still fixed on the empty spoon.
"You must excuse my little brother over there. He's not in the talking mood today."
Bosco rolled his eyes. He was growing angrier by the minute, and his mind kept taunting him with images of his mother's pale face as she lay on the ground, blood soaking her white blouse. These were the men responsible for it, and he swore they were gonna pay.
"I'm gonna kill you, morons..."
Jermaine grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, adding more pressure to his already strained wrists. "Who'd you call a moron, asshole?"
"You... jag-off."
He heard it all: the threats, the nasty words, but none of it registered, let alone mattered.
"Vernon was right. You are one crazy son of a bitch."
Bosco's eyes widened as he heard the familiar name. "Vernon... Vernon Marks?"
"That's right. He's my brother, man. And he's in jail because of you!"
He stared at the other man for a moment, unable to reply. Vernon Marks was the man behind all this. It was too hard to conceive of, but shockingly true.
"That night at your place, it was supposed to be you." Jermaine continued as he let go of him and took a step backward. "But your old lady got in the way."
Bosco's heart started to beat faster.
"Saw it on the news. She looked pretty nice."
"Don't you talk about my mother again!" He screamed, fighting insanely against his bonds, twisted his body furiously, careless of the damage he was inflicting to himself as they ripped into his already bruised skin. Anger was now his only emotion. "Untie me, you bastard! Untie me and I'll show you what I can do to you! You wanna kill me that's fine, I don't care, but you're going down with me!"
For a moment as he furiously twisted his body he could swear he'd felt the anchor move a little, but his blurred mind couldn't tell if it was true or just a product of his imagination.
Leonard saw him struggle against the ropes and hung his head down. This wasn't right.
"J?"
"What?"
"I can't do this..."
"That's bullshit, Len!" Jermaine said, walking up to him. "Come on. We're in this together, bro." He put one arm around his shoulder. "Tell you what, we rough him up a little bit first, alright? Then you can have your little fix."
Leonard nodded unconvincingly and turned to look at Bosco.
"You can do it, Len."
"Yeah."
Jermaine followed his gaze. "So what do you say, cop? Ready to learn your lesson?"
TBC...