Don't Judge a Book
Chapter Eight
Finding the Simons had been easy. John knew he could have gone hunting, searched San Diego high and low and found them that way as well. Stopped them in their tracks, wherever they were. The problem was he didn't know how long ago they'd discovered and taken the boys. He'd staked out the Sanchez place for hours, and that left too big a window for the worst to happen. All he really knew was that Dean hadn't been able to make it to the housekeeping closet just outside the manager's office. It was the place he'd told the boy to barricade in, with salt at the door and a sawed-off shotgun in hand, if ever in trouble when John wasn't around. The knowledge that Dean would have done everything possible to make it to safety with his brother and hadn't sat like a weight in his stomach.
After brief consideration, he had figured chances were good that his boys had been taken too long ago for him to do any good tracking the detectives down and making them pay nice and slow. He had to be smart about this. He had fought the first instinct of hunt, hurt, kill, and elected to lay in wait instead, let them come to him. It had worked like a charm, because even though the pair of detectives had probably seen their share of deviant humans they were clueless to the real dangers in the world. They were careful, but they weren't monster-hunting careful. They had never expected anyone to be in their office.
John had had a solid hour of waiting in the Simons' dark office where he poked into their desks and files, memorized home addresses in case he was wrong about them stopping at work. The more information he had on them, the better, and it hadn't taken him long to know more about them than they would ever know about him or his boys. It was an hour separated by more than miles from boys, though, and all the while the rage inside him had percolated to the point it actually felt good to have his arm wrapped tightly around Country Club's throat.
"Oh please, help us. You're not there, you're … I'm going to call the police. I should have…"
The Sanchez woman's voice embodied terror that could not be muted by the phone line or the metallic twang of the answering machine. John had seen and heard so much of that kind of fear in the last fifteen months, he recognized immediately her situation was not to be trifled with. And that he'd made at least one critical error. He'd been too slow. He'd allowed outside factors to delay his work, and now innocent people were paying for it. So were his boys. He had to work on that for future hunts, hone his skills further. He didn't want to just be good at this, he had to be the best. He moved closer to the phone, ready to pick it up and tell Rosalie Sanchez to get off the damned line and get her family out of the house before it was too late.
"He's done…" Her voice cried out again, more of a whimper than a scream. She sounded garbled, out of her mind with fear. "There's something… Josh, look –"
Damn it. The blond one slumped in his grasp just as Mrs. Sanchez's voice cut off. His own boys were priority number one, but damn it, at the same time they couldn't be. John struggled to hold onto his only piece of leverage, releasing his arm from around the guy's neck and switching it to a rough hold across his chest again. He maintained aim of the gun against Country Club's ribcage.
"AJ," Rick said, voice losing the careful cadence it had held before. He made a jerky motion and stepped toward John. "Hey, take it easy with him."
"Anh," John said in warning, hefting up AJ, who was already starting to rouse. "Not so fast."
The dial tone filled the small office, but the frantic voice of Mrs. Sanchez buzzed in his head louder. More than anything, John wanted to force these guys to take him to Dean and Sammy. But he had responsibilities. He could not let another family be torn apart by evil if he could help it. He couldn't walk away from the poltergeist no matter how much he wanted to. Judging from the tenor of the call, the Sanchez situation required his immediate attention despite his own preference. The droning dial tone switched to the obnoxious beat of a busy signal. John watched Rick punch a finger at a button on the answering machine, cutting off the incoming signal.
John couldn't leave these two to go do what needed to be done, not without finding out where his children were first. He couldn't take the chance even if they did tell him where to find Dean and Sam. The second he was out of their sight, they would have the cops and social service on him so fast his head would spin, and that could not happen as long as he was separated from the boys. He knew this. If he could get Dean and Sammy, he could get all three of them away. Unfortunately, that sneaking suspicion that his boys were already in custody somewhere, "protected" from him, gnawed at his gut. His anger rose again, despite being distracted by the Sanchez problem.
"Look, man." Rick held his hands out in front of him, took a careful step toward John and AJ. He did not move out of reach of his weapon. "Something bad is going on down there. Now, I know it can't possibly be you; you're here. But we, AJ and I, we have an obligation to that family. Let me call the police for them."
In that both the Simons and he had responsibility to the Sanchezes, they were not that different. Only, John knew what that commitment entailed. These guys had no clue. None. Under other circumstance he would hate that that was about to change for them. It sucked that anyone had to know, on any level, what he knew in his daily life. But under these circumstances, since the Simon brothers were responsible for taking his sons, well, that made it slightly less bitter pill to swallow. They could do with a dose of the terror he had to live with.
"The police can't do jack squat for that family," John said.
He didn't like any of his options. Not that he had plural options, not really. He saw Rick's eyes dart to the .44 on the desk, and he also saw that the guy wasn't convinced of John's innocence on the Sanchez or any other matter. For the first time, he got a good look at Rick, proud to see the guy had a split lip. It looked fresh and since he doubted the Simons had gotten into a bar fight or something, John attributed the injury to Dean. Good boy.
"Disarm this one."
"What?" Rick asked stupidly.
"Remove any weapons he has concealed on his body, empty any clips and place everything on the desk next to yours." John made himself speak calmly. There wasn't time for this shit. "He's not going to need them. Neither are you, so I want it all off you too. Do it quick."
Rick looked somewhere between livid and worried, barely restraining himself from making a move. John knew that feeling well, and he knew by something in his gut the guy was ex military, maybe even Marine. He had Vietnam in his eyes. John didn't feel kinship, no semper fi. Once upon a time he would have. Once upon a time that shared experience might have meant friendship. Now it only meant John would have to be extra careful every step of the way, and he didn't have time for that shit either. But as long as he had AJ, he was almost certain he could control Rick. Speaking of AJ, the guy chose that moment to regain consciousness, squirreling a bit while Rick was removing a .357.
"Rick?" AJ mumbled, still pretty much out of it. "What … is it morning already?"
If looks could kill, John would be a dead man. The glare Rick gave him didn't intimidate him in the least. In the world of threats John knew and faced, a dirty look from an average human was a bunny with rabies, only harmful if it got too close. He poked AJ in the ribs, straightening the guy more. He was getting heavy.
"No, AJ, it's not morning," Rick said tightly, while his eyes continued telling John he was dead.
"Dreamin'. Bad dream."
"Afraid not."
"Oh." AJ got his feet on the ground, standing on his own for the first time since he'd gone out. He twisted his head and shoulders to get a look at John. "Oh. Shit."
"Yeah," Rick said
In a way, John took some comfort knowing these two assholes clearly understood family. They seemed close. On the other hand it made the desire to beat them senseless for taking his kids from him lessen, and he needed that fuel. Others ran on adrenaline, caffeine, whatever. John ran on anger and fear. It kept him and his boys alive. So far.
"That's all of it," Rick said.
"Better be," John said, eyeing the three guns and, surprisingly, one blade. He was almost impressed.
But once the Simons were weapon free, John hesitated again. He was still debating the best way to handle this. He knew what he had to do; getting there was another story. The drive over wasn't going to be easy. He'd learned a lot in the last few years, but the logistics still gave him a headache at times. Never worse than at this moment, knowing he had to go one direction when his heart was in another. He couldn't let feelings color his decisions. He remembered what Jim Murphy had told him: hesitation will kill anyone in its path. Jim had proven an immense source of knowledge and support to him, even if he was a servant of a god John could not believe in.
He also remembered what Missouri Moseley had taught him about banishing poltergeists. Had his original plan not been subverted, John probably could have handled the task on his own. It had escalated too far, and that troubled him. Plus, he wasn't sure it was going to work. He was never sure anything was going to work until he did it, not at the level he would like. That was another thing he had to work on as this mess of his life continued. He logged everything, took notes for reference in case he encountered the same thing again.
"Okay, now we're going to take a little road trip," John said, as resolute as he could be considering how nervous he was. "And when we're done, you're going to get me my boys back."
Rick looked at him like he'd grown a third eye.
John purposely tightened his arm around AJ's chest, making him gasp for air again.
Rick responded with a barely noticeable flinch.
Control had been established and verified, for the moment anyway.
"The Sanchez family is losing time. The longer you fight me on this and we stand around talking, the more likely it is they are going to end up hurt or dead," John said. "You got no reason to trust me, and I know for damned sure I can't trust you. But right now we all got to play nice. Move."
Rick complied.
John realized there was no real way for him to keep the cowboy from making a break for it once outside the office. Brother at gunpoint or no, Rick might think he had a chance. He couldn't cap one and expect the other to give him … oh, shit. He pulled his thoughts up short. He had just been contemplating putting a bullet in a relatively innocent human being's back. Take the boys out of the equation and, Jesus, he hated what he was becoming but he could not stop.
The possibility of cold-blooded murder ended up being a non-issue for the time being; Rick didn't bolt. He didn't make any move that could be deemed threatening all the way out to the parking lot, due in no small part to the gun at AJ's back. AJ, too, was as docile as a kitten, though still stumbled a bit on clumsy legs.
John did not relax his guard.
"No," John said when Rick headed for his big truck. "We're taking my car."
His car. His terms. His control. John motioned for Rick to get behind the wheel, while he maneuvered himself and AJ into the back. For a second or two, it seemed like AJ was getting ready to fight, his muscles tightened and he edged away. A quick glance assured John that AJ was still mostly checked out of the building. Choking the guy had been accidental and it was slightly regrettable, now that he planned on enlisting these two. If the 'geist was in full-on attack mode, speed was of the essence and three sets of hands were better than one.
"Not to be pushy or anything, but I was wondering something," Rick said, that false, nonchalant air back in his voice. "What exactly are we doing?"
"We're going to the Sanchezes," John said.
"Thanks. I figured that one out on my own, buddy."
"What Rick means is, why?" AJ said, lucid no, though he sounded weary and ragged and oddly apologetic. "Why not call the police? Unless that's already been discussed while I was unconscious, then you can ignore me."
John wasn't sure exactly where to begin. There was no way in hell these two would truly get it. He doubted they would believe him for a second until they walked into the chaos with him. He did need them to know a few basics, and he needed to relay the facts without losing control over them.
The sooner this was done, after all, the sooner John would have his boys back at his side where they were safest.