Chapter Fifteen – The Cost Of Making It Big

Mark sat propped up in bed surrounded by folders.  His magician friend had left a little over an hour ago and Steve had been gone for some time.  He knew he would be unable to sleep until his son was home in bed.  He smiled to himself as that thought took him back through many years of memories spent waiting up for his son to come home.  He pulled himself back to the present and found his eyes drawn to a police interview with an employee of the LA Times who frequently worked the subscription booth across from Ray's Gym.  The name seemed to scream at him.  Mark felt a flash of panic ripple through him as a wave of memories crashed through his mind.  The man's unexplained anger towards his son, his proximity to the only common area the murders had, and most importantly his recent call to Steve.  Mark reached for the bedside phone and called Steve's cell, after several rings he got voice mail.  He left a message, then threw the covers back, jumped out of the bed and raced to his desk in the living room.  He rifled through his address book until he found Alex's cell phone.  As he punched the buttons with trembling fingers he silently prayed that the number was still good, it had been some time since he had called it.  His knees became like rubber when a voice he recognized answered.  "Alex," he practically shouted.  "Is Steve with you?"

A perplexed Alex pulled the phone away from her ear to look at the number revealed by the caller id.  "Mark?" she questioned.  The number was his, but the voice tinged with panic sounded nothing like the affable doctor.  "What do you mean is Steve with me?"

Mark had to suppress the wave of anger that threatened to erupt.  "Did you call and ask him to meet you?"

Alex was even more confused.  "No, Mark, I haven't talked with him today, why?"

Mark's anger was quickly replaced by a deep sense of dread.  "I know you didn't call, did you have someone call for you?"  The normal composure was gone in its place were the emotions of a frantic father.  "David Larkin called and said that you wanted Steve to meet you at a warehouse on Dumsenil.  Why aren't you there?"

"Mark, I just told you, I neither called Steve, nor did I have someone call him.  You're scaring me; please tell me what's going on!"

Mark took a deep breath before repeating what he knew.  "Steve got a phone call from David Larkin; he said that you had some new information about the murders, and that you wanted to meet him."

Alex didn't answer immediately.  Mark couldn't see the frown that marred her perfect brow.  "Mark, I'm sure that this is just some innocent mix-up.  Let me check into it and call you back."

"I'll give you my cell phone number because I am going to look for him."

"Mark, do you have any idea how many warehouses there are on Dumsenil?" Alex questioned.

"No, and I don't care, my son is in one of them and I will find him!"

"Ok, Mark, I'm not far from there, the warehouse district starts at the intersection of Floyd and Dumsenil…."

Mark stared down at the phone as if it would explain why the call had ended so abruptly.  After a brief delay he pressed the disconnect button and immediately dialed another number and a sleep slurred voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Jesse, wake up, I need your help."

He had worked thirty-six straight hours and collapsed into bed about an hour earlier, but those few words jolted Jesse awake.  "Mark, what's wrong?"

"I'll explain when I see you, Steve may be in trouble.  Meet me at the corner of Floyd and Dumsenil," Mark paused as his looked at his watch.  "in about twenty minutes."

An immediately alert Jesse had been pulling his clothes on as Mark spoke.  "I'll see you there."

As Mark hung up the phone a brief smile touched his lips as he thought about the young doctor.  Jesse had been a wonderful addition to their lives.  They depended on him for so much and he never disappointed.

………………..

Alex looked at her phone.  "Damn, what a time for the battery to go dead."  She threw the phone into the seat beside her and quickly made a u-turn and headed towards Dumsenil Street.  She was on the opposite end of where she assumed Mark would begin his search, hopefully that would speed up the process of locating Steve.

………………..

Steve slowly swam through the fog that encompassed his head.  His mouth was dry and a throbbing pain emanated from his right temple.  He felt something wet running down his face.  He wanted to open his eyes but they felt too heavy, he decided to wait a minute and began a mental evaluation of his body.  The old aches were there, and seemed to be trying to keep time with the throbbing in his head.  He didn't have much sensation in his hands and moved them slightly and felt a rope chafe his wrists.  Next he tried his legs and found them secured at the ankles to the chair he was in.  His chin was resting on his chest and with supreme effort he lifted it up and took the monumental step of trying to open his eyes.  As they gradually opened he wondered if the blow had affected his eyesight.  All he saw was darkness, it shifted slightly, then moved away from him and then in closer again.  The darkness then spoke.

"He's awake, Boss."

Something about the voice was familiar.  Steve had heard it before.  His eyes adjusted and focused and he realized the darkness was the black shirt that a large man was wearing.  He heard another voice and realized it went with the eyes he had seen just before his world went dark.  Steve decided to try and take control of the situation.  The silliness of that thought made him chuckle out loud.  I'm tied to a chair, with a band competition going on in my head, and I'm going to take control?"  He was rewarded for his laugh with a large beefy hand back handing him across the face.

"What are you laughing at?  Boss, what is he laughing at?"

Steve was reminded of the John Steinbeck novel 'Of Mice and Men', he was being held captive by Lennie.  

....................

Alex recognized both Steve and David's car as soon as she saw then.  She couldn't believe her luck.  The first warehouse she had tried and she had hit pay dirt.  Out of habit she reached for her phone and then realized it was an exercise in futility.  She muttered an expletive and then climbed out of the car and moved towards the first visible door she saw.

………………..

"Lieutenant Sloan, so nice of you to join us.  Feeling a little under the weather are we?"

The mountain made a sound that Steve assumed was a laugh.  "Good one, Boss."

David Larkin looked at the large man with barely concealed fury.  "Would you please shut up?"

Steve looked between the two men and a sudden realization dawned on him.  His memory flew back to his altercation in the bar.  'Lennie', was his assailant.  "What, did you write his lines for him that night at the bar?  He doesn't seem able to create coherent sentences on his own."

The meaty paw once again connected with Steve's face and he felt a fresh warmth running from his nose and into his mouth.  He turned his head to the side and spit out a mouthful of blood.

"I would advise you not to antagonize Wilbur.  He's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he knows all kinds of unique ways to inflict pain.  Show him one, Wilbur."

Steve tried to brace himself, but it was useless. Wilbur threw a right handed punch that landed at the apex between the left and right sets of ribs at the base of the sternum.  The result was not only intense pain but the impact also took Steve's breath away.  He found himself gasping like a fish out of water.  As Steve regained his composure he looked into the face of David Larkin and saw nothing but hatred.

"Care for another demonstration, Lieutenant?" he sneered.

He never got to answer.  The sound of a voice calling his name drew the attention of the room's occupants.

"Steve," Alex shouted.  "Where are you?"  "David?"

"ALEX, RUN," Steve shouted just before Wilbur delivered another punishing blow that once again rendered him unconscious. 

………………..

"Mark, shouldn't we call Captain Newman?" Jesse asked.

"And tell him what, Jesse?  That I have a feeling that something is wrong? Because, basically that's all this is.  I have no real evidence, no proof."

"I know that Mark, but your feelings are often better than any evidence."

Mark smiled his appreciation.  "I somehow don't think Captain Newman would agree Jesse.  Let's find Steve first, then we'll go from there."

………………….

Alex heard Steve's shouted warning and then the sickening sound of flesh on flesh.  She took one step towards the door and freedom, then stopped and moved in the direction Steve's voice seemed to have come from.  She hadn't gone very far when David Larkin appeared in front of her.  "David," the calmness of her voice amazed even her.

"Ms Thompson, or is it ok to call you Alex?"

"Ms Thompson will do, where is Steve?"

"He's a little tied up at the moment," David answered with a chuckle.

Alex pushed her way past him and into the room behind him.  She came to a dead stop just inside the doorway.  Steve was tied to a chair, his head hung limply on his chest and his light colored shirt was covered in blood.  There were droplets of blood on the wall to his right and also on the floor around the chair.  She stifled the cry that tried to escape her mouth by placing her hand over the opening.  A slight groan from the figure in the chair released her frozen feet and she rushed to his side and dropped to her knees heedless of the blood that would stain her pants.  She reached a gentle hand to cup his face. 

Steve had heard the stifled cry and then felt a gentle touch on his face.  "Dad?" he groaned.

Through a tear laden voice, Alex choked out a response.  "No, Steve, it's me, Alex."

Steve jerked.  "Alex, you need to get out of here."

"How touching," sneered David.  "He treats you like dirt, and here you are on your knees in his blood trying to comfort him."

Alex stood up with a defiant look on her face.  "What do you think you are doing?"

"Why, helping you out with your career."

Alex was dumbstruck.  "I don't understand?"

Steve took advantage of the lack of interest in him for the moment and worked on loosening the rope around his wrists.  They had been rubbed raw by the chafing and had begun bleeding.  He used his own blood as a lubricant to try and slide them free.

"Alex, and I think I have the right to call you that.  I gave you what you always said you needed.  You always said if you got 'the story' you would make it big.  So I gave you a serial killer."

Alex looked around the room.  She needed a chair or maybe a garbage can.  The contents of her stomach were suggesting they might be making an appearance.  She spotted both in a far corner of the room.  She made her way over to them and collapsed into the chair before burying her head in the trash can.

………………..

Mark and Jesse pulled up in front of the next warehouse they had encountered, it could have been the tenth or even the twentieth, they had both lost count.  Repeated calls to both Steve and Alex's phones had gone unanswered.  In desperation Mark had called an old friend who worked for the LA Times.  He roused the man out of bed and requested his help in finding a phone number for David Larkin.  The man had agreed, but would need to go to the office to retrieve the information.  He had told Mark to expect a call within the hour.  That hour was almost up.  Mark had looked at his watch with almost each tick.  When his phone rang Mark practically pounced on it.  "Mark Sloan."

"Do you have it? Good, 555-6725," as Mark spoke Jesse wrote.  "Thank you Paul, I owe you."  Mark barely ended the call before he was punching in the number he had just been given.  The phone was answered on the third ring.

David marveled at what a wonderful thing caller ID was.  "Doctor Sloan, how nice of you to call."  

"David, where are you?"

'Wouldn't you like to know," David asked sarcastically.

"Is my son with you?" As Mark spoke his voice broke betraying the chaotic state of his emotions.

"Why, yes, he is."

"Is he alright?" Mark asked.

"Hardly, but then you didn't really expect him to be, did you?"

Mark closed his eyes in an effort to calm himself.  "Please, just tell me where you are."

"No, I don't think so, besides you wouldn't get here in time anyway.  I hope your son has his affairs in order.  Goodbye, Doctor Sloan."

Mark sat staring at the phone.  The feeling of despair was overwhelming.

"Mark, what did he say?" Jesse asked.  When he received no answer he gently prompted again.  "Mark?"

As Mark looked up a single tear slid from his eye and snaked down his cheek, he tasted salt as it fell into his mouth.  "He said he was going to kill my son."