Chapter 26

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Harry Davidge turned off the cell phone and put it in his pocket. He looked at Martin with a look of absolute disgust. Martin swallowed suddenly feeling very afraid of what he was going to happen to him now that he had given his father the final proof of life and the money was most likely going to be paid. Harry looked at Martin and slowly pulled out the gun pointing it directly at him.

Martin lowered the paper and watched his captor warily as he walked slowly towards him. Harry pressed the gun barrel to his temple and whispered, "If your father does as he is told than this is the last time we are going to see one another so I want to give you a little something to remember me by." He pulled the gun away from his temple and stood up. He smiled darkly at Martin and hit him in the head with the blunt end of the gun.

Martin fell over in pain when Harry kicked him on his injured side. He bit his lip hard to suppress the overwhelming urge to cry out in pain. He could taste blood in his mouth when he looked up at Harry's face in time to see his foot moving in to kick him once again.

That was the last thing he saw before everything went black.

Martin moaned out loud as he maneuvered himself into a sitting position. He could feel warm blood trickling down the side of his face. His head was still throbbing where Harry hit him but he guessed he should be thankful that he was only beaten and not killed. However, every single nerve ending in his body would surely disagree. There wasn't one part of his body that didn't hurt.

He looked at his wrists and was immediately thankful that Harry was too busy beating the shit out of him to stop and check that the handcuffs were securely fastened. When Harry had Martin put the cuff on his wrist he did it so that it would be loose enough for him to slide out his hand. After a few tries he was able to slip his hand free. He lifted up his shirt so he could inspect his wound. He examined the gash on his side and saw that the kicks had caused it to start bleeding again. And judging by the bruises he had also been unconscious long enough for his skin to darken where Harry's boots met his chest.

He closed his eyes to try and keep the room from spinning. He felt really hot and exhausted. He briefly wondered if he should just rest and wait to be rescued or try and find a way to get out of the shed. He glanced at the door and toyed with the idea of slamming into it in the hopes of it opening but quickly decided that would most likely result in him hurting himself further. He looked around at the small shed but it was a well contained box. The only way in or out was through that door and he knew that there was a dead bolt on the other side.

If he were feeling just a little bit strong he would try to work the door open but he wasn't. He felt weaker than he had ever felt in his life. Martin leaned against the sandbags to give himself a little longer to rest up as he considered his options.

He prayed that the ransom drop would go smoothly. That Harry would be captured and they would get him to confess where Martin was being held. While he knew that he and his dad weren't close by any means he knew that he would never want any harm to come to him. After all he knew that even if he wasn't around, his dad loved him and missed him. Martin smiled at the bittersweet memory.

"What are you doing up?" Victor asked from the swing on the back porch. After the funeral they decided to stay at his granddad's house so they could pack it up and get it ready to sell. Martin missed sleeping in his own bed in his own room so he got up and decided just to wander around the house.

Still dressed in his sweat pants and t-shirt Martin shrugged his shoulders and simply replied, "I couldn't sleep."

Victor nodded his head in understanding. "Me either." He gave him a soft look and added, "Come and sit with me."

Martin hesitated a second before walking over and taking a seat next to his dad. They sat in silence with only the sounds of crickets chirping in the woods behind the house. At twelve Martin had long gangly legs so his feet hit the wood floor and he was able to push the swing slowly using the balls of his feet for leverage.

Victor just let his son control the pace of the swinging as he took a drink of his scotch. Martin watched as the moonlight made the ice in the glass twinkle like diamonds. His dad lowered the glass, letting it rest on his thigh as he commented, "I spent a lot of time on this porch when I was a kid."

"You and granddad?" Martin asked. He was incredibly curious about what his dad's relationship to his own father. And even more so about what his dad was like as a kid.

"Sometimes but not very often; he worked a lot and would have to travel quite a bit." Victor's voice got soft and sad.

Martin lowered his eyes to look at the cracks in the wooden floor boards of the porch. He could relate to having a dad who wasn't around much. He didn't know what compelled him to say what he did but in a voice as soft as a whisper he asked, "Did you miss him when he was gone?"

"Yeah, I did." Victor replied and then a little later quietly added, "I do."

Martin could hear a car driving down the street and then the sound of the engine fading away. He looked up at his dad and asked, "Do you think he missed you too? When he was away?"

Victor looked over at Martin and put his hand on his back as he replied, "I'm sure he did."

"How do you know?" Martin asked, not breaking eye contact.

"Well, my mom used to say that I am a lot like my dad and I know that I miss you when I have to go away for work. Just because fathers don't get to see their son's everyday it doesn't mean they don't love them or think about them. They are just working hard to make their sons proud." Victor gave him a sad smile. Martin nodded his head and returned the sad smile before turning to look back out at the trees.

There was a slight breeze and the leaves in the trees fluttered like butterflies. The symphony of crickets grew louder.

Victor leaned over towards Martin and mischievously whispered, "Did you bring your baseball and mitt?" Martin nodded his head while looking at him curiously. "When we were packing up earlier I found my old catcher's mitt from high school. Why don't you run upstairs and get yours so we can play some catch."

"Really?" Martin asked with wide eyes.

"Yeah really." Victor smiled.

"Okay!" Martin jumped off the porch swing and took off upstairs. He could hear his dad laughing as he called after him to slow down or he'll wake up his mom.

They played catch in the moonlight for over an hour. They talked about school and he found out that his dad hated biology as much as he did and his dad taught him how to throw a better curve ball. They didn't talk about anything deep or extremely personal but just being able to spend one on one time with his dad made it the best time ever and he never wanted it to end.