8

They let the night draw in around them as they snuggled together on the couch. Floyd sat in the middle with his arms securely around his boys' shoulders as they leaned in and rested tired and stressed bodies against each other.

Would it suddenly kick off that night? Would something come to get them and try to tear them apart? Would they get at least one night of pure lovely sleep before everything closed in and happened?

Sam admitted that the area upstairs was pretty damned awesome. He sulked slightly at the thought that it would never be used. He'd never bring back a bit of skirt or a hulking muscle bound man… not that he couldn't find such to bring home, but more that he'd not want to show Floyd that he appreciated what he'd provided him with. Anyway, he liked the shower in Spencer and Floyd's room better. It was a wet room with showerheads coming off the wall… and the hot water drummed against you hard and gloriously.

Stage two, after the coffee and movie had involved testing the shower. Both Sam and Spencer attempted to persuade Floyd to join them, but he didn't want to strip off. He wasn't feeling that secure. He was perfectly happy to stand and watch though, leaning on the wet room door smiling at his boys under their separate bit of water, washing, relaxing… looking like they wanted to be fucked. Sweet… very sweet. He'd wait until they were sleeping and watch it all again on the cameras he'd installed.

He'd had cameras installed virtually everywhere and he fully intended to spend his time as they slept to go through everything and make sure neither of them were playing games he didn't like the look of. Not that they'd had much of a chance. Tonight would simply be to see if the cameras in the shower worked. Floyd hoped so.

As Spencer and Sam slept… and yes, Floyd made sure that sleeping was all that they were doing, he snuck away to the small office and checked on security footage. It was the sensible thing to do. There really was no point in having all of this set up if it didn't work, but he was perfectly able to watch the boys sleeping and check on the shower footage at the same time. Floyd was able to multitask really well in situations like this.

The wind blew down the chimneys and howled through the trees. The windows rattled. The doors creaked. The floorboards also creaked in places and Floyd could sit there in his small office which looked so unassuming that no one would suspect that he had cameras in every room in the house… and he would be able to tell by the creaking and other noises who was walking through the house.

Night cameras. They made the world a greenish black but he could see his boys laying sleeping. Arms draped over each other in their innocent dreams. At least they had better be innocent. The infra red cameras worked well too. He checked the rooms. He looked for hot spots and cool places… he searched the rooms via the cameras and saw nothing to alarm him at all. This was at least a good start. The boys might object or be alarmed at the extra security Floyd had in place, but he was sure that they'd understand. Very sure of it.

They ate breakfast in the big kitchen. Floyd cooked, Sam made coffee… Spencer had been barred from touching anything to do with drink or food in the kitchen until he'd been to school to at least learn the basics. Sam got over excited when the horse trailers arrived. Floyd had spoken once about the prospect of getting horses, but it had never been discussed fully. It seemed that Floyd hadn't bothered asking. He wanted horses out in the back field… he had them. Sam loved it. Sam thought it was the most wonderful idea since the beginning of time. He spoke rapidly of his plans to teach them circus tricks. He spoke of his wondrous ability to stand on the back of a galloping horse. He grabbed at Floyd's arm and begged him to get him a tutu in striking reds and blacks… 'Oh it's going to be fucking awesome!' Sam sighed in happiness.

The joy of the horses didn't last long. Spencer could see that it wouldn't last long. He'd looked at the piles of tack, buckets, blankets and everything else a horse might need being hauled to the rear of the house to where there was a small barn. Spencer watched the stuff being moved in and saw the way Floyd was speaking to Sam… then the explosion… which was so loud that Spencer thought that the windows were going to fall out of the frames. Sam had been handed over the duty of caring for the horses.

'I'm not doing it!' A bit of paper which had been placed in Sam's hand was torn to little squares and hurled into Floyd's face. 'Get a boy in to do it. Hire someone. Get a stable boy! You gotta love the stable boys with their sweet smelling hair! You mother fucker! You bastard! It's all a trick. It's all a damned trick to make me forget what I'd forgotten and you made me remember and I'm not happy about it.'

Spencer saw that Floyd said something back, but didn't catch what it was.

'Get out! No! Never. It's just not fair. Why did you have to spoil it all by saying that? Why can't we just have fun? Why do you hate me?' Sam didn't wait for an answer but stormed off in the direction of the road, kicking out at the tyre of one of the trailers as he went.

Spencer walked slowly over to Floyd who was plucking bits of paper off his face and out of his hair. He didn't look cross. He looked very amused by the outburst. Spencer stood at the fence with Floyd and grabbed his hand, squeezing his fingers. 'What was Sam's tantrum about?'

'He's a problem with my past, even if there was nothing to it. I had a fancy once and that fancy worked in the stables. He thinks every time hay is mentioned that it's to wind him up. Though why would it?'

Spencer knew the basic outline of this story and it had slipped his mind as being something which would still effect Sam. He looked over his shoulder and watched Sam walk out of open gate way and turn towards the town. 'You should go and talk to him. Persuade him somehow that you didn't mean to hurt his feelings.'

'He doesn't have feelings. How can I possibly hurt them?' Floyd squeezed Spencer's hand in return. 'I thought you'd look good on that lovely chestnut.'

'Did you? Sam was saying that you need to get someone in to care for the horses.'

The hand stopped squeezing. Why was everyone so against every small plan he made? 'There are three able bodied males living here and you think we need to employ someone? Six old nags is all. It's not a fucking herd of them. How the fuck long does it take to…Oh fucking forget it.' Floyd turned from Spencer and called over one of the guys who had been unloading the horses. 'Change of plan mate. My wife here is objecting and my doxy had gone off in a temper. Maybe you can just take them back again? Of course I'll still pay for them, but if the family aren't happy then I'm not happy.' He didn't wait for a reply. He left the man standing around holding boxes and horses and walked away leaving Spencer to deal with the rest of it. Honestly they were impossible to keep happy. Floyd was just glad he'd changed his mind about the chickens. How they would react to the arrival of pigs he wasn't sure. Maybe that had to be cancelled too.

He walked out the way Sam had gone and found him sitting on the grass verge looking like the world had ended staring at his sneakers which he'd drawn on with a marker pen. There were a few things Floyd could do now… He decided to give Sam the change and go and tell him what his options were.

Sam looked up at Floyd with hate and disgust on his face and Floyd ignored that and sat on the grass with him. He slung a comfortable arm over Sam's slumped shoulders and spoke quietly directly into his ear, brushing his lips over that sweet pink ear as he did so. 'I'm sending the horses back. If you can't be bothered to look after what I give you, then I take it away again. Before you start raging at me again, listen. I'm not happy with you. I don't think it's healthy for someone of your age to have nothing in his life to keep him occupied. I can remedy that easily. I can beat you to a bloody mess of the blacktop there and have you be less bored in a hospital for a while. I can kill you here and leave you to rot in the ditch. I can tell you that if you continue to behave like a spoilt brat that I'll take a knife to that pretty face of yours and mar you for the rest of you little demonic life.'

'Fuck you.' Sam muttered, but he didn't try to get away.

'That's not work. That's a hobby. You need to work or study. I'll not have you sitting around the house expecting everyone else to pick up after you and provide for you. I'll not always be here… one day you're going to have to deal with life alone.'

'Fuck off.' Sam Said and this time tried to pull away. 'I've said I'd go to college. I've said. I'm not going to be a constant reminder of someone who shot me in the back and fed me to desert dogs. I'll go without a horse rather than have to suffer you sniffing my hair and looking at your moping face.'

Floyd moved his arm away from Sam and stood again. 'Come back in when you're ready. Come back in with a smile on your face. I demand that you are happy. That's not so much to ask is it? Be happy or feel my annoyance.'

'Give me some money.' Sam snapped. 'I want to go into town and I can't even buy a coffee if you don't give me my subs. I played your game in the shower yesterday. I could feel you watching even when you'd gone. Spencer doesn't have a fucking clue. You've smacked him in the head too much and now you've got an idiot, brainless sheep.' Sam paused and looked up at Floyd. 'Recent surveys… I read… people who participate in bestiality are more likely to get cock cancer. You better get checked out.' Sam now stood and put his hand out. 'You demand my happiness? You demand that I'm nice and don't spoil your dirty little games? Then I demand payment. Pay up or I make a big old noise that will deafen poor Spencer.'

So Floyd lightened his wallet by twenty bucks and watched an angry Sam walk off down the road. There was temptation to go after him, drag him down to the road by his hair and smack him until he stopped living, but then he had Spencer to keep in line too and Spencer would start asking questions if he came home without Sam, but blood splattered. He turned away from Sam and walked back to the house where the horses were re-loaded into the trailers and the other things which had been delivered were being packed away. Spencer was talking quietly to a man in a checked shirt, but it was just business they were discussing. He'd leave Spence to sort it out. Floyd needed a strong drink and some space from these guys who just seemed to fight against anything he did to make them happy. Would Spencer be happier without Sam? That was a thought, but maybe he was just over reacting to Sam's threats. How dare the little bastard threaten to ruin everything! It was a drink of whiskey Floyd took and he walked to the porch at the side of the house and sat there with a mesh screen ruining the view but keeping the insects at bay. 'Fucking blood suckers.' Floyd moaned and gulped back his drink.

Spencer tried to keep the peace with the people with the horses. They'd initially insisted that they couldn't take the animals back. Spencer had to calmly explain a few things.

'Mr Flanders gets over enthusiastic about things and doesn't think the whole thing through. None of us have ever owned a horse before and though Sam might say he can ride I'm not convinced that he knows how to care for a horse. I have no idea. I can't even ride. Mr Flanders has made a mistake. If the animals are left here they will be neglected. Please return them.'

'Can't.' The big guy said.

'Please make a phone call and see if it's possible.' Spencer asked. He tried to keep his voice down. He didn't want to make a bigger scene than there was already.

'Fine… fine. I'll make a call. Can't promise you anything.'

They guy was giving Spencer that look he'd received so many times in the past. This was the sort of person who thought that homosexuality was catching. Spencer was tempted to cough in the man's face or run a finger down his arm to see how fast he could run, but instead he moved back and gave the man some room. He turned to look at the sound of traffic making its way down the road, but the barn took up his view and he couldn't see what it was. It was a blast of ugly noise in the quiet though. All ready in this short time Spencer was beginning to like the silence and the peace. He didn't think that he'd like it out here at night… alone… or with Floyd… but during the daylight this place was nice. Had it not been for the murders then Spencer would have thought Floyd had chosen well.

'OK… we can take them back, but you'll have to pay for the extra costs.' The man confirmed at Spencer's back.

Spencer turned around and nodded. 'I can pay you now or you can send a bill. Which is easiest?'

The man gave Spencer that look again and shook his head. 'You'll be billed, I guess.'

A soft smile from Spencer who agreed to this without even bothering to find out how much it was going to cost. It wasn't his problem and he doubted that they were going to be alive when the bill got here. 'I'll be in the house if you need anything. Please, just carry on.' Spencer walked away around the side of the house and found Floyd sitting in a rocker on the porch staring out over the grass and into the woodlands beyond.

Spencer didn't quite know what to do with himself for the remainder of that first full day there. He could relax and enjoy the freedom, but relaxing wasn't coming easily to him. Sam had gone into town, Floyd was on edge and an edgy Floyd wasn't something anyone who knew him could relax around. He was barred from the kitchen so when hunger struck at around two in the afternoon he was forced to ask Floyd if it was possible to make something. Obviously it wasn't. Spencer was going to have to wait. Spencer asked if he could just warm something up in the microwave and was told to wait. Floyd wasn't in the mood for Spencer and his fussing around. The air smelt wrong. The air felt thick… it was sliding down Floyd's throat and sludging in his guts making him feel woozy and sick.

'Where the fuck is Sam?' Floyd finally asked when the large clock in the lounge showed five in the afternoon. 'I was going to get him a small bike. Not today, but at some point I was. I think I'll forget that bloody offer if he can't get his arse in here soon.' Floyd slapped away comforting hands which ran down his arm. 'I'm not in the mood, Spencer. Can't you feel that? Can't you sense it?'

'I think I have problems reading your mood. You're never in the mood any more.' He was about to turn away from Floyd and find a book to read, but a hand grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him around again.

'I wasn't talking of my mood.' He spoke as though talking to a child. 'I meant the house. The atmosphere in the house. The thickness. The heaviness. I need Sam here. If something is going to kick off I want the boy where I can see him.' A push now in Spencer's chest. That was all Floyd was going to say on the subject.

Sam looked towards the front door and then back to Floyd. 'I can go look for him?'

Floyd shook his head. 'And you think to leave me here alone?'

'Then we can both go?'

'And make it look to Sam as though I care?'

Spencer wanted to slap some sense into this stubborn man. 'You do care. Why are you so against showing it? I've come to terms with it… I came to terms with it a long time ago. Why don't you want Sam to be happy? Why are you going out of your way to make him so miserable?'

'I'm not. It's not that. It's just…' Floyd held up his hands in exasperation. 'The closer I get to him the more I'm going to miss him. I throw things at him… maybe so that when it comes I'll be prepared.'

And Spencer didn't much like the sound of this declaration. It wasn't what he'd expected. 'What have you done?' Spencer hissed at Floyd. 'What have you done to Sam? What are you planning to do to him? What the hell is really going on here? Why are we here? What are you expecting to happen?'

Floyd didn't answer. He walked into the kitchen and threw the switch on the cooker and began chopping vegetables.

'I'll go and see if I can see him walking back, shall I?'

'Sure.' Smack, smack, smack with the knife, slicing and hacking, sending bits of vegetable flying around the kitchen. That glint of knife made Spencer's skin crawl. The way Floyd was showing no interest in anything was making his hackles rise. The way Floyd was not looking at him in the eye when he spoke made his adrenaline pump and his face grow hot.

'Floyd… have you done something to Sam?'

The cracking smack of the knife carried on. Spencer was sure that if he closed his eyes he could easily replace the image of Floyd and the cabbage with one of Floyd plunging that knife into Sam.

'Floyd!' Spencer shouted this time. 'What the hell is going on with you? Where is Sam?'

The knife wavered in Floyd's hand and then was smacked point first into the work surface. It made a horrible thwang sort of noise as the blade firstly bent and bowed and then snapped off at the handle as the polished marble work surface resisted. Floyd's hand carried on down, slicing the side and palm of his hand on the blade, turning the pale green vegetable a gruesome red. Still Floyd remained silent and now Spencer was stunned into taking long gulping breaths. He stepped towards Floyd was stood now with the palm of both hands pressed onto the work surface. One of his hands had a sharp four inch bit of metal protruding from his hand half way between his wrist and little finger.

'This.' Floyd pulled his hand off the remains of the blade. It made a soft squishing sound which made Spencer's stomach turn and his face burn even hotter. 'This is nothing compared to what I'll do to you if you carry on.'

Spencer stood mid stride with his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide with shock. 'Carry on? What? I don't understand.' Though Spencer was sure that he knew. Floyd didn't like that he was getting so close to figuring out the reason for Floyd's dull enthusiasm for anything.

Floyd pressed his hand down again onto the work surface and Spencer watched the blood ooze from under his hand and over the shiny black marble. 'You're continual mistrust. I trusted you. I expect it to be reciprocated, though I'm thinking that you'll never believe a word I tell you. I've done nothing to Sam. I gave him twenty bucks and he walked into town. Now if that's a crime then I'm fucking sorry!'

'I just asked!' Spencer walked in closer to Floyd and handed over a tea towel to wrap around his hand. 'Can I see what you've done?' It was Floyd's right hand, but Floyd seemed to swap leading hands depending of mood and mission. Spencer wasn't too worried that this was his right hand. Actually Spencer was very aware that the first fist strike from Floyd always came from the left and that might have surprised him at first and it might put other people off, but it didn't surprise Spencer any more.

Floyd looked down at the blood soaking through the white cotton tea towel but didn't move his hand just yet. 'You shouldn't have to ask.' He snarled at Spencer. 'Dinner will be late. Go fuck off and play with yourself or something.' Floyd looked at Spencer's hand wavering over Floyd's bloody mess and shook his head at him. 'Want me to see how sharp that still is?' Spencer backed off. 'Go play! Turn on the television. Read some more books… don't leave the house and never question me on something like that again. Dinner might be late.'

'Floyd…'

There was no point in talking to him though. Spencer could see that expression on his face. He'd closed down. Turned off… done whatever it was Floyd did when he'd had enough of something. His body might still be standing there in the kitchen but his consciousness seemed to be elsewhere. He moved away slowly but didn't let Floyd out of his sight. This was one of those situations which could go either way. Floyd could pull back to where he'd gone and forget it had happened, or he could return needing to eat someone alive. Spencer had no way of telling how this was going to turn out. He sat on the large comfortable couch and clicked the remote on the TV and after turning the sound down low he sat and watched a virtual looping news report on something about beached whales somewhere in a country Spencer wasn't sure of. About ten minutes later the sounds of Floyd cooking dinner resumed in the kitchen as though someone had flipped his on switch back on now that he'd calmed down enough not to slice his own head off.

And Sam still hadn't returned home.

And as far as Spencer was aware, Floyd was the last person to talk to him. And that gave him that suspicion once again that Floyd had done something. The small temptation to go and look for him drifted as he looked over at Floyd and saw him staring right back… those dark unblinking eyes seemed to tear right down into Spencer's soul. It actually physically hurt to keep looking at Floyd. It made his heart shudder and leap and sweat appear on his top lip and the palm of his hands. Spencer genuinely did think that Floyd was the most beautiful man who had ever existed, but when Floyd looked at him the way he was now… Spencer was equally convinced that with a slight nod of the head, that Floyd could strike him dead. Spencer froze… he could feel sweat running down the side of his face and his bladder was suddenly too full. He had to move. He had to blink. He felt like he'd been nailed here in position.

'Half seven and no sign of Sam yet.' Floyd mumbled. 'Call the cops. They might have picked him up again.'

That was it. Floyd now looked away and that terrifying power Floyd had just exuded was gone. Was it just that? Just a show of power? Spencer didn't know, but there was now a small of trying garlic and onion and Spencer had gone without lunch, now those smells were making his mouth water.

o-o-o

Sam had spent most of his day hanging out with a group of lads in their vans and on the back of their bikes. They seemed like a nice bunch and had picked Sam up on the way into town. He'd ridden on the back of Fabio's bike and had held on tightly much to the amusement of the others.

'Way to go Fabio!' His friends hooted and called and Sam felt great. He was with people, the bulk of whom were his own sort of age, a few older, but none younger. They pulled up in a field and they lolled around on the ground and they popped open cans of drink and they smoked and shared the smoke. Sam had made friends! He was even going to tell them of his fantastic pad back home and invite them back. That would show Floyd. That would teach him to talk to him the way he had. He could make friends.

He changed his mind about the invite when Fabio started pushing Sam around. He shoved him in the side with his elbow and everyone laughed at Sam's expense when he fell off the tree stump he was sitting on. Very quickly the situation Sam was in turned from friendly to one that Sam wished he could just pick himself up out of and walk away… but there were too many of them and now the wind had picked up and dark clouds scudded across the sky and they held a squirming Sam down on the ground and pulled off his sneakers. An expensive make… they were thrown from one lad to the next until they arrived at someone who they fitted. Sam howled out for them to stop. He said that he thought they were friends. He begged them to stop what they were doing, but he still felt them roll him onto his front. He felt them pulled his Tshirt off and he screamed until someone smacked him on the back of the head with something and shut him up.

They dragged him around. Shared him as they'd shared their drink and smokes which they now got enjoyment out of by stubbing them out on Sam's tightly formed tummy. They hauled him with his jeans around his ankles to a ditch and dropped him into the bottom where rain water had once collected and now wild flowers shot up and nettles buzzed with insects. The lads had their fun, packed up their things and they walked back to their vehicles. Fabio hooted with delight and Simone showed of his new sneakers… great fun. They left the area taking the route they'd come in by, avoiding the town totally.

At eight in the evening Spencer heard the sound of vehicles out on the blacktop. They passed fast. In a hurry. Not like the ones which had passed earlier in the day. Those ones had been lazy and had almost dreamy sound to them.

Sam lay in the ditch with his head to the side and mud seeping into his mouth. He didn't blink. Warm liquid ran down the side of his face. He'd bitten his tongue. Something very hard and uncomfortable had been rammed up his backside. He didn't seem to be able to blink even though his eyes hurt and he could feel something scratching at them. He thought maybe one of his shoulders was dislocated and his ribs hurt. What hurt most of all was that he was alone. He thought he'd made friends and they'd turned on him so fast and with such fury that the only thing Sam could think of was that this was punishment from his personal gods and demons to teach him to remember that he'll always be trash and nothing more. He didn't cry and he didn't move, but the light slowly faded and he thought that this was going to be his last night on earth and it was really not so bad.

o-o-o

Spencer reported Sam missing at nine that evening. He'd eaten his dinner and now the pair of them sat looking at the silenced TV screen and listening to the rain hammering on the windows. It was a light summer rain. Refreshing. Floyd had a bandage around one hand and the other was resting on Spencer's leg.

'He'll come home now it's raining.' Spencer remarked. He was worried. At first he'd been annoyed, but that had turned to worry.

'Sure.' Floyd commented. There was no worry in Floyd's voice. It was as though he already knew that Sam wasn't coming home. He'd known for a long time that Sam wasn't going to be walking in the door with a spring in his step and a place at college. 'If you say so.' He muttered.

Spencer sighed and spoke with gentle calm he wasn't feeling. 'Something has happened to him.'

'For sure.' Floyd muttered. 'I felt it. I felt it a few hours back.'

Spencer looked at Floyd's hand and then up at Floyd's lovely profile. 'What did you feel?'

'Pain.' Floyd breathed the word out. 'He'll be OK. Tomorrow… the day after maybe.' Floyd now turned to look at Spencer. 'Can you smell that?'

Spencer could only smell Floyd's breath which was a quite strong onion and garlic scent and so he shook his head. 'What can you smell?'

'Crushed grass. The bent stems of flowers. Blood. I can smell the sweet mix of bruised roses and broken flesh. The stench of mud – black, dark… full of rotting creatures, plants… flies buzzing, insects sucking on his blood. I can feel what they've done to him and I can feel Sam's… shame… I think it's shame… disappointment… stupidity. Maybe it will cause him to be more guarded. His need for love and friendship is hollow and pointless. It's dangerous. Maybe he's been shown that.'

'He's been beaten and left somewhere?'

'Yup.' Floyd now stood, took the remote control and turned the TV off. 'I need you.' He told Spencer, grasping him by the hair and hauling him to his feet. 'In the bedroom. Now.'

'But…' He was going to say that he didn't feel all that loved up thinking that Sam was out there somewhere hurt, but Floyd wasn't really giving Spencer a choice. Spencer might not be feeling hot with lust, but Floyd certainly was. And hadn't Spencer been complaining and bitching about Floyd's lack of affection earlier? Well he'd better keep his mouth shut or he might have bigger things to be complaining about. He wriggled as he always did when Floyd threw him onto the bed. He resisted just enough to get Floyd hot and bothered. He yelped and slapped gently at Floyd and accepted the love Floyd gave him. He felt that tongue which explored every possible part of him, inside and out. He felt those fingers doing the same and the hot hard kisses which crushed his lips and made him bleed… and Spencer forgot all about Sam… he forgot all about those fingers which touched him when he was much to young. He forgot everything except for his own pleasure and the feeling of being taken by Floyd until his own blood lubricated him.

He fell asleep with Floyd wrapped around him, keeping him safe and close. When he awoke in the early hours of the morning, Floyd was gone and rain dripped off the trees outside in long big splats. He got up, took a quick shower and then went out to find Floyd who was laying on the floor in the lounge staring at the ceiling. Spencer stood looking at him for a while. He was laying flat on his back with his arms at his sides as though he'd been poleaxed. 'Floyd?' Floyd lifted a hand and waved it at Spencer.

'I've made coffee. Sam's not back. Can you call the cops again?'

Spencer knelt down next to Floyd and brushed his fingers over Floyd's face. 'You're worried about him.' He told Floyd. 'It's OK to admit that you're worried.'

Floyd gave the slightest of nods. 'I'm worried. He's in pain. You have no idea what it feels like to sense the pain of someone and not be able to draw it to yourself. I tried, but it's not working. I don't know if it's this place or where Sam is or what Sam is. I don't know and I can't home in on where he is either. He's not close.' Floyd stopped and coughed and rolled onto his side. 'He's maybe drowning.'

'Water? A river?' Spencer walked in a frantic circle.

'No. it's slow. It's painfully slow. A ditch, the side of the road… something like that. I can smell the grass, the plants… he's in the open.'

Spencer snatched up the telephone. He of course couldn't tell the cops that Floyd thought Sam was laying dying somewhere in the grass. But he could tell them that he still wasn't home and he wanted, needed, them to go and look for him. His look was very high profile. His clothing was bright. You couldn't miss him! But the cops just suggested that Spencer contact all of his friends and maybe the hospitals. He's a young lad. Kids do stupid things and forget to tell people where they've gone. Spencer slammed the phone down and sighed.

It was Spencer who drove into town to check out hospitals. Floyd told him that someone needed to stay at home in case he returned. He wasn't going to just walk in the door. Spencer could tell by the look on Floyd's face. Not panic. It hadn't reached that deep into Floyd yet, but worry was etched on his face. He'd tried contacting Sam and had received a buzzing howl in reply. 'He's not dead yet.' Floyd let Spencer know, which might have brought Floyd some comfort, but didn't give any to Spencer.

'I'll call you every half hour. Please try to answer the phone.'

Floyd gave Spencer a withering glare. 'I'll answer the fucking phone. Go check the hospitals then go in to see the cops again. I'll wait here.'

Floyd was avoiding the town. Spencer knew he was and he wanted to know why he was, but now wasn't the time to start an argument. He did thank Floyd for the previous night though and then left in a hurry to try to find some sign of Sam.

He drove slowly down the road into the town. He knew that Floyd had been out there talking to him the day before and had come back alone. Was there proof that Floyd hadn't done something and would it be a shock if he found Sam's battered corpse at the side of the road? No… neither would have shocked Spencer. He was more surprised that there was no sign of him. He did as he'd been asked or rather told to do and he visited the hospital. There was no one of Sam's description there. He left a phone number in case Sam did suddenly turn up… then he went to the same police station he'd gone to before when Sam had been arrested. He spoke to the police officer behind the desk who wandered off and brought back with him a detective in a grey suit, white shirt and pale blue tie. It was the same guy Spencer had talked to when Sam had been arrested. The man took Spencer through to a small interview room and asked him exactly what was going on.

'He went out yesterday before mid-day and didn't return.' Spencer twisted his hands on his lap. 'You've met Sam. You understand why we are worried.'

'We? I only ever see you.' The man placed a folder on the table and opened it. There wasn't much inside of it, but there was mug shot of Sam. 'This I guess is still a recent image.'

Spencer nodded at it and then shrugged. 'Mr Flanders is staying at the house in case Sam comes back or phones.' He explained. 'Sam can sometimes be a little bit unstable…'

The folder was slapped shut and the cop leaned on the table with his elbows. 'Let me be frank with you Dr Reid. This young man has problems. He's sexually active, addicted to narcotics… he's an underage drinker. There's not a lot of good things going for him really is there? He's not here. If you've checked the hospitals then obviously he's not there either. You could try certain areas of the town where lads like him might hang out… but people do go missing. I think you're aware of that though. People like Sam who are obviously vulnerable, obviously after something… temptation can lead to bad places. I'm just warning you.'

Spencer didn't like the sound of this. They seemed to be blaming Sam for going missing. 'He's unwell.' Spencer tried. 'He has his problems but he'd not step into danger knowingly.'

'No one ever does, but when you're a young prostitute and you want money to score your poison then you make mistakes. If he's as sick as you say he is then he needs to be supervised. Now I have your contact details. If something or someone turns up I'll let you know. In the meantime, take care and go talk to people here.' He slid a bit of paper over the table. 'And remember… this can be a dangerous place.' The man stood and left Spencer sitting there looking at a bit of paper with a street name written on it.

It felt to Spencer as though he walked for hours. His feet hurt and his back was beginning to ache. He'd made a couple of calls to Floyd and told him that so far nothing had turned up. There was no sign on Sam in the town and Spencer was doubting that Sam even came here. The bar where he'd been attacked before hadn't seen him again even though he handed out money when he asked the questions.

'If he'd been back we would have told him to go home to his daddy again.' Spencer was told.

'You might want to check out Barton Lane.' Another told Spencer. 'If the lad was after some quick cash he might have gone down that way. Depends on how well he knows the area and if he was after something heavy or not.' That was all the information he was given except for the general location of Barton Lane. Another long walk which took him in an almost circular route onto a road which looped around and went eventually back to the road Spencer had come into town by. It was going to be a long old walk back to the car, if he bothered going back for it today. Spencer thought maybe he'd not bother and would come back for it another day.

Barton Lane was part of the old town. The buildings were run down and mostly made of wood… no shiny metal and glass here. The road was in bad condition and the sidewalks were dirty… it was a rough place but busy none the less. Spencer took a deep breath and began asking people if they'd heard of Sam or seen him. He gave a description, height, colouring… eye colour… the way he was dressed and he got either suspicious looks of head shaking in reply.

'I'm looking for a friend.' Spencer said to a young man with dirty fair hair. The guy looked at Spencer and nodded.

'Fifty bucks.' He said and started to walk down a small side lane.

'No… no… wait.' Spencer walked quickly after him. 'That's not what I meant. My friend has…' Then he stopped and his stomach lurched. He looked at the face of this young man and then down at his sneakers and back up to his face again. 'My mistake.' Spencer stepped back, but a hand was already on his shoulder.

'No mistake… you're looking for Sam?' A voice snapped in his ear.

Spencer stared straight ahead at the Sam's sneakers on the young man's feet. He remembered clearly how he'd been so exasperated when Sam drew silly pictures all over the expensive footwear. He'd not mistake them. He'd never forget them… and they were on the wrong feet. 'I expect he's home. Sorry to disturb you.' He tried to sidle out of where he was being held but the hand on his shoulder tightened.

'A warning friend… Go home and forget you ever came here. If I or any of us see your face again then you'll end up in a world of pain. Go home and keep you mouth shut. I'll know if you've talked to the cops. I find out everything.' Spencer was shoved forwards and he turned to see who this person was. A tall Hispanic lad stood there glaring at Spencer. 'Go home.' He told Spencer again.

Spencer licked at his lips and his hand automatically twitched to where he'd have carried a gun once. 'If you know where Sam is…' He started…

They didn't give him the same treatment they gave Sam. Spencer was not stripped off and abused, but a knife was slashed across his face, his teeth where knocked loose in his mouth, his neck cracked backwards and his head smashed on the hard floor… and they dragged him away, put him in the back of a van and for now… just for a while… they kept him as they talked about what they were going to do with him.

Floyd sat next to the telephone. An hour passed and Spencer hadn't called.

Two hours passed.

Floyd reluctantly picked up the phone and called the cops.