As always, thanks to all for reading, and thanks to those who have reviewed, you guys are the best :) Sorry this one took so long, it's been one of those weeks... Let me know what you think, and hopefully the next chapter won't take so long!
Still don't own, still make no money.
Chapter 14: Trust
Craig watched as William and Jim walked out of the room. The paper tablet had been left on the table in front of him, with the pen, and one last warning that he needed to start writing a statement had been voiced by Jim before the men left. Craig sat back in his chair and looked around the room. It was small, and the mirror on the opposite wall looked like what he'd seen in police shows on television and in movies, when the cops would pull a suspect in for questioning. There was always someone on the other side of the mirror, watching and listening to everything going on. He wondered if someone was behind the reflection, watching him. Would Jim and William go into the next room and watch him while he sat there?
Was Harris behind the mirror, laughing at him, proud of how he'd managed to screw up his entire life? The man was destroying his entire life and no one cared. What was going to happen to him now? How long would they leave him sitting there? He leaned forward over the paper and picked the pen up in his hand. He pressed the pen down on one of the blue lines and let his mind wonder back through the past few days. He hadn't felt anything, and it had been a relief. He hadn't felt the fear that had been stalking him over the past few weeks, or the confusion. He had been free, for a short time.
He wanted that back. He didn't want to feel the pain or the fear. His father was dead, and his life was supposed to go back to what might be close to normal; instead, it was spiraling out of control on him. They were taking him away, and he was never going to see his brothers again. He was never going to go home again. As his mind rolled all of the thoughts around his hand started moving with the pen. He leaned over the paper closer, though he wasn't paying that much attention to what his hand was etching out in ink.
His mind flashed pictures and feelings through his head, like flickers of memory played back from a movie, Evelyn's face the day she walked into St. Vincent's the first time, his first birthday cake, the first time he'd seen the Mercer house, the first time he'd met his brothers, and cringed back from them. His first Christmas with his new family, and the feelings that had swelled inside of him tumbled into view. His mother's face the first time he'd given her a picture that wasn't a reference to his earlier days with Adam Macks. The look on Bobby's face the first time he'd looked up at him at the cemetery. The feelings he'd battled inside after his mother's funeral. That day his brothers had watched the video tape at the store and knew the secret he'd been carrying around, sure they would hate him for being what he was, and found only understanding from them once they knew the truth.
The picture of Bobby Mercer walking across a lake of ice, ready to take him back home flashed through his mind and he felt his chest hitch hard. Bobby's hands grabbing hold of him as he slid off the edge of the dock, stopping him from falling into the icy waters ready to suck him down and swallow him up. The look on Bobby's face when he'd asked him if he was going to be his father stuck out beyond all the rest. He had finally found his place with his brothers, and he knew why it had felt so wrong before, he had been afraid of letting himself feel close to them, afraid of having it all ripped away because of Adam Macks. But Adam was no longer a threat and it was all falling apart.
The door opened four pages after Craig's hand had started inking the paper with rough illustrations of his brothers' faces. He sat back from the paper and looked up at the form walking into the room. Harris closed the door harder than he needed to, and looked at Craig, a scowl written across his face. He pulled off his suit jacket and gave it a sling so that it rested over the back of one of the chairs, but he didn't move to sit. His arms crossed at his chest and he started pacing slowly back and forth in front of the mirror lining the wall opposite of Craig. He kept his eyes fixed on the boy, and the anger radiating from him was almost suffocating.
"Well, I see you have made some use of the paper." Harris looked down at the partial drawing on the sheet.
Craig glanced down at Bobby's face, mostly finished, staring up at him through thin blue lines. His fingers fidgeted with the ink pen, but he didn't try to respond to the comment. What was he supposed to say?
"That was not the purpose of that paper. Doodles and marks that have no significant meaning to me." Harris nearly hissed the words.
A shiver ran down Craig's back as the pen slipped from his hand and rolled across the page. He pulled further back into the chair, wishing he could sink all the way into it and disappear.
Harris stopped pacing and stepped up to the table. He picked the tablet up in his hands and flipped through the pages. "Your brothers," He commented as he viewed the images of each Mercer that Craig had etched out on the pages. He let out a quiet chuckle as he ripped each page from the tablet. He held up Jack's face and flashed it in Craig's direction. "This one is very good, but you might want to think about what is going to happen to your brother Jack if you don't co-operate with me and start writing out a detailed description of what took place on Saturday."
Craig stared that the sketch for a long moment before looking up into Harris' eyes.
The man was pissed, and that fact frightened him. He looked and felt like the kind of person who would strike out if he was pissed enough. "Do you know where Jack is right now? He's in jail. He's in jail for murdering your father. Do you not have any feelings about that? Your own father was gunned down in cold blood." Harris shook his head in a slow, calculating motion.
Craig shook his head quickly. He wanted to yell out at the tall man before him that he was wrong. Adam Macks was not gunned down the way he said; he was shot because he was going to kill Bobby. He'd come after his brothers, they hadn't gone after him.
"Now, this brother is going to spend the rest of his life in prison." Harris let a mean looking smile spread across his face while he gave the drawing of Jack a quick shake, crinkling the paper under his grip. "You could save him from that fate, simply by giving me your statement. Think about it. In fact, you could save all of your brothers. I'm going to take them down, one way or another. By the time I'm finished with the Mercers, they are all going to be locked up behind bars, or dead, and you don't want that, do you? There is so much for me to work with here, not one of them has a clean record, and hell, it's not as if they've taken the best care of you in the past month, now is it?" Harris drew in a long, deep breath and let it out with a loud huff. "What they said in their statements means nothing, absolutely nothing. The only thing that's preventing me from hauling them all in right now is Lieutenant Green and Sergeant Johnson's statements, but those are weak too, and I'll manage to tear them apart with little effort. So you see; you can help them out here by giving me something credible, so that I can believe everything they've told me. I would suggest, for your own benefit, that you do as I tell you.
Craig's throat went dry instantly as the tablet of paper was dropped back in front of him, minus the pictures of his brothers. Harris sounded threatening, and the glare he was casting down on Craig made him feel small.
"Now, pick up the pen, and start writing, or I will make you regret it." Harris grabbed hold of one of the chairs and jerked it away from the table. The screeching of the metal legs against the concrete seemed to vibrate throughout the room.
Craig watched Harris sit in the chair before reaching out to pick up the pen, his hand shaking from the weakness his fears seemed to induce in each and every muscle. He looked down at the paper and thought about what he'd said on Saturday. He knew what he'd said when they recorded his statement; it wouldn't be hard to write down. He remembered Bobby at the police station that morning though, and how his brother had insisted that any further contact with Harris or any written statement would have to be done with Robert present. He wasn't sure what he should do. How could his statement help Jack or any of his brothers? Harris didn't want to let them go, no matter what Craig wrote down. He sucked in a deep breath and looked at Harris. "I need to talk to my lawyer." He knew it sounded stupid as soon as he said it.
"You want to see your lawyer?" Harris smiled, but didn't really look amused. "You don't get to talk to a lawyer. You are going to write that statement for me." Harris leaned forward in his chair. "You don't want to be stuck in here, with me, all night, do you? Because the longer I'm here, the more irritated and pissed off I'm going to get."
Craig weighed his choices. He was sure that his brothers were doing something to try to get him home, at least he hoped they were. He thought about the fears he'd been fighting for so long, the fear of being taken away from his brothers, or of them getting rid of him; Bobby not wanting him was the worst of it all. That hadn't happened. They seemed to want him, they told him they wanted him, and he felt as if he was wanted. Bobby had come for him when Sweet had him, he'd even found him after his father had taken him.
He had to decide what to trust in that short moment. Did he trust that his brothers would come for him or did he trust that Harris was going to make good on his threats? Because if he was going to trust his brothers, he couldn't do what Harris wanted from him, he had to wait and do what Bobby would want him to do, and that was keep his mouth shut and not co-operate with the son of bitch, no matter how afraid he was of him. He tried to boost his own resolve by telling himself he'd already been hurt as bad as anyone could hurt him, he'd been under Adam Mack's thumb, and nothing else could be as bad as that.
Craig dropped the pen and pulled deep into the hard back of the metal chair he was seated in. "Go fuck yourself." He muttered, keeping his eyes on the paper tablet, trying to prepare himself for the anger that Harris was sure to display next, still clinging to the fragile thread of trust that connected him to his brothers.
Bobby stood on the front steps of his mother's house and watched as Jeremiah pulled his car out behind Johnson's to follow him to the police station. Angel was seated in the passenger's seat, and he looked over and gave Bobby a quick wave just before Jeremiah gave the car enough gas to move on down the street. Bradford had called with good news, and someone needed to be at the police station to pick up Jack. Their problems were far from over, abut at least Jack would be home. Now he had to figure out where in the hell Craig was and how he was going to get him home as well.
In the mean time, that left Bobby with no ride to meet up with Johnny. Well, there was the other car, the piece of shit Gremlin sitting in the driveway in the back, but he'd managed to avoid driving it and didn't want to ruin a perfect record. He didn't want any cops tailing him either, local or the Feds, and he knew that Harris would want to watch him, as well as the rest of his family. He'd have one of his guys on his ass the second he drove away from the house. Bobby reached behind him and checked the door to be sure it was locked. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and moved down the steps, walking away from the house casually.
He checked out the cars as he passed them in as discrete a manner as possible. He took a mental picture of each vehicle that passed him the street as well. He started to whistle The Star Spangled Banner as he stepped briskly down the cracked and uneven concrete sidewalk. His ears started to feel the pinch from the cooler air that was moving in around him as evening approached, and reached up to his black wool cap and pulled it down over the tops of his ears. His boots crunched through some half melted snow, a thin crust forming as the temperature dropped.
Half a block from the house he spied the beige sedan parked on the opposite side of the street with two men wearing black suits sitting inside. He held in a smile as he proceeded on. The plates gave them away, government tags screamed out Federal Agents, and the suits didn't hurt as far as distinguishing them from local cops. Hell, they weren't very bright, that was a fact.
Bobby reached the intersection and looked at the store front, the same store where his mother had been gunned down, killed in cold blood. It seemed nothing about his life, or his brothers' lives would ever get back to normal since that day. She truly was the glue that held them all together, even when three of them had been so far away.
He sucked in a deep breath and hoped that his plan to trust a total stranger was wise. He took wide strides across the wet street, looking up at the clouds moving in as the sun poked down towards the edge of the sky, reflecting red-gold off of the water and thin ice glistening off of the blacktop. He reached the steps in front of the store and hopped up them gingerly, looking pleased with himself as he turned in a casual manner to eye the sedan pulling up to the curb across the street. He stepped into the store and looked across the counter to a face he recognized, thankfully. He moved over to a cooler and pulled out a 40 ounce bottle of beer before moving to the counter.
Ahmed punched buttons on the cash register before looking at Bobby. A smile crossed his face as he recognized the man. "You are one of Evelyn Mercer's sons." The man spoke carefully, but his words still sounded choppy. "I remember you." He reached over the counter, offering his hand. "How are you doing? How is Craig? I miss seeing him." He smiled at Bobby, his eyes seeming to dance in a way they had not the morning he'd showed the Mercer brothers the video of their mother's murder.
Bobby was surprised by the strength of the man's grip when he accepted the hand shake. "He's okay, well as good as you could expect. I'll have to bring him in when he's feeling up to it. It's kind of hard for him to come in here, you know?" Bobby spoke quietly; he wasn't really lying, not completely. It seemed it had been hard for Craig to go anywhere, not just this store, and now he was separated from his brothers, alone somewhere and probably thinking the worst. Bobby felt a tug in his chest and tried to push it down.
"Oh, yes, I understand." Ahmed grinned and pulled his hand back to grab a bag. He rattled off the price of the beer before he slid it into to a brown paper bag.
Bobby didn't really hear the price, but dug into his pocket for some stray one dollar bills that were crumbled there. He started counting the money out slowly, shifting his eyes out to the window next to him. "You see that car out there?" He shifted his eyes back to the money in his hand.
"Oh, yes, the police that followed you." Ahmed didn't look out the window; he kept his eyes fixed on Bobby. "I noticed them before I recognized your face." He smiled.
"Well, I need to lose them." Bobby sighed and prayed Craig was right about Ahmed, he had said he was nice, and he liked him just as he had liked the clerk that had been killed the same night Evelyn had been shot.
"I see." Ahmed took the five one dollar bills from Bobby's hand. "Perhaps you should go to the back, to the restroom?" He suggested. "I do not let many people behind my counter. I think you, I can trust." He punched more keys on the register, popping the cash drawer open. He counted out coins to return to Bobby. "Perhaps there is some lunch meat you would like to look at?" He didn't give Bobby a chance to respond before he walked out from behind the sales counter and walked quickly to the back of the store where the meat counter set.
Bobby picked up his brown bag and followed the older man. He couldn't help but stare at the floor in front of the meats, the place his mother had died. He didn't follow Ahmed around the counter, he waited for the man to turn and look past him to the window. "They are looking, wait." Ahmed nodded his head and slid one of the doors to the meat cooler open. He leaned down and reached in, looking through the glass of the deli to watch the men through the front window. "Okay, come on." He turned and walked through the doorway in the back.
Bobby didn't hesitate, following his new best friend quickly. Ahmed led him through the storage room to a back door and thrust it open for him. "You go now; they won't be able to see you." He looked up at Bobby.
"Thank you." Bobby was at a loss for any other words. He hadn't been sure if he could trust the store keeper, but apparently Craig was right about him. "I appreciate this."
"I hear things, just like the rest of neighborhood. I know what goes on, and I know it is not right." Ahmed spoke slowly. "You go. If they come in, I will stall them; I will tell them you needed the facilities." He poked a thumb towards a door marked 'Men' off to the side of the back room.
Bobby wasn't sure what to think about Ahmed's words. He had the feeling the man wanted to tell him something, and he wanted to give the stranger in front of him the chance. He needed to know what he had heard, exactly, and from whom, but that was going to have to wait. First he needed make sure he lost the feds tailing him, and he had to meet up with Johnny and hear what he had found out. He sighed and gave Ahmed a nod. "If you don't mind, I'll come back later, and maybe we can talk?" He figured he'd test out the man's willingness to share information with him. He may have been helping him now, but that didn't mean it was going to be a long term commitment to helping out the Mercers.
"Oh, I believe that would be a wise move." Ahmed returned his nod. "But for now, I do think you should, how do you say, um, move your ass." Ahmed gave Bobby a slight push.
Bobby smiled and moved out the door. He found himself in the back alley and remembered the route Craig had taken the day he'd run from the store in a panic. He'd found out so much about his little brother since that day. Hell, he'd found some things out about himself as well. He'd found a paternal instinct that had been just under his skin, itching at him for years; that urge to be a father, though he'd never been able to identify it as that before. He'd always thought it was being a big brother that drove him. He was coming to terms with laying claim to Craig as his son, and now the kid had been taken from him. He was going to find him, and he would get him home, that was his priority, but he was sure it wasn't going to be as easy as getting Jack home and into his own bed that night.
He could smell dirty cop all over Harris, even though he was with the government, and Bobby knew this was going to be the biggest challenge yet, to keeping his family together. He had to bring Harris down, and clear his family completely. That wasn't going to be easy. What kind of contacts did Harris have? What kind of connections had he given to Macks, and what was it that Macks knew that Harris wanted so badly now? It had to be important, and it had to involve big money. Why else would Harris come storming in and tear apart everything that meant shit to the Mercers. He was ripping them apart and Bobby had no control over any of it, at least he didn't have control yet. He was gonna find what he needed to take control and get his family back together. He couldn't quite shake the feeling that he had let his mother down somehow, by allowing things to get out of hand.
Bobby heard the door behind him close with a soft click and was drawn out of his thoughts. He looked from left to right before glancing at his watch. Johnny had wanted to meet him about seven. He had a little ways to go. Johnny's fishing trips rarely involved the river, or water, let alone fish. He would have to catch a bus and head west, away from the river. It may have been a few years since he'd had do decipher Johnny's subtle hints, but he still knew where the older man wanted to meet up with him, and it damn sure wasn't the river. Johnny was being careful, which meant that he had already been visited by cops and wasn't taking any chances on talking over the phone.
Bobby decided to follow Craig's route, remembering the railroad tracks his little brother had followed the day they'd discovered the truth about what had happened in the store. The tracks ran where streets and alleys didn't. They could lead him several blocks away, unseen to the cops looking to follow him. He had given into a lot in just a short time. He was allowing himself to trust other people and he wondered if that was wise. He normally didn't trust anyone other than his brothers, and Johnny. He had trusted Craig's instinct about the store keeper, Ahmed, and he had a feeling it was going to turn out good. He could sense that there was something the man could tell him, what exactly, he wasn't sure, but it was a feeling…