I hope you enjoy :)
As always, I do not own and make no money! Well, there are a few characters that are mine...
Chapter 33: Country Roads
Jessup Winston stood in the lobby of the hotel, his cell phone firmly pressing against his ear. He had tried to phone William and James several times already, and kept getting voicemail for both of them. He knew where Harris was sitting at that moment, and he was sure that the other two men were in the same situation, but he was hoping beyond hope that they had somehow been spared the same fate as Harris. With each attempt to reach them, his hopes were quickly falling.
He had called down to the lobby ten minutes earlier to have his car brought around for him. He'd thought that it would be waiting for him by the time he managed to dress and get downstairs, but of course it was he who was now waiting. He would have to handle the mess with the Mercers himself, that was obvious. His men, all three of them were obviously being detained by Green, and he had no one else in Detroit that he could trust at the moment. That was one of the downfalls of faking your own death. He couldn't risk revealing himself to the people he did trust, for fear word would get back to the people he feared. A lot of people would be pissed if they knew what he had been planning, especially once they realized he'd been planning it for years.
His father's business, therefore his contacts, rivals disguised as friends, had fallen into his lap, not by choice. If he hadn't taken over, there would have been war, and it wouldn't have ended well for anyone, especially for him. It wasn't a business you just stepped away from. His father had sucked him deep into his affairs, and there had been no way out once his father had control. It was even worse after the old man was dead.
The only positive aspect of his situation at the moment was that only one other person besides himself could figure out where the Mercers were going to be headed next, and that other person, Harris, was sitting tight with Detroit P.D.. His best advantage was that the Mercers would only know one way in and one way out; they would take the highway. He knew another route, he knew the area, and he wasn't trying to track down his destination the way they were. For him, he was headed home, finally, after all these years. His plans were coming full circle.
His car came into view through the lobby windows. He was going to be driving back to a place he'd abandoned years ago; back to the hopes he'd given up on when the only person in the world he could trust was lost to him forever. His heart twisted slightly as he thought about her; the only person in the world who had understood him, and could relate to him. They had been so careful, keeping their secrets. They had managed to fool the old man, allowing him to direct their lives as if they were puppets, all the while they were taking care of each other, making sure they could both break free. Damn Macks. That was the only thing he hadn't counted on, the crazy son of a bitch Lydia had taken up with. It wasn't her fault. She'd been trying to survive, and had been tangled up with the asshole before she ever heard the name of Jessup Winston.
Winston marched out of the lobby as he snapped his cell phone closed. He got into the car, trying to drive his memories out of his head. Jessup Winston had been an only child, but Jesse Nicholas had a sister. A sister his father had never told him about. A sister who had runaway and been dragged back too many times to count. Jessup found out about Lydia by accident. The old man had already taken over his business, had sucked him into the life his mother had tried to save him from, but he had never mentioned Lydia. Lydia's mother was dead, and Winston didn't want to know the particulars of that, he was afraid to know. Lydia had never shared what she knew, though she knew plenty, he could tell.
Lydia had hidden away in drugs, and had let Macks keep her there because she had no other place to hide. Jessup found out about her, and revealed his self to her as a spark of hope. He had worked out a way to dig out from under his father, and the legacy the old man was trying to bury him under, and he'd promised to save her as well. He'd gotten her to clean up, and that had been a challenge in its self.
He'd managed to get her away from Macks, only to have the old man push her right back at him, his abuse and his drugs, wiping away any progress Jessup had managed. Keeping her trapped in the drugs was the only way he could control her. The cold hearted bastard didn't care about his daughter, and he sure as hell didn't care about his grandson. Jessup realized then that his father could never care about him, not the way a father should care. Sure, he had claimed to love his children, but the man had no love in him; he liked to think he owned anything he touched, including his children. He had plans for Lydia, and they weren't good plans. Once Jessup could see that, he understood the trap that he'd fallen into. His only hope, Lydia's only hope, was to disappear, to vanish, and cut all ties to their father.
His mind continued to ponder his past while he also tried to concentrate on the drive out of the city. The streets were slick and icy, and it had been a long time since he'd had to navigate the route himself. He had been out to the orchards, but he always had someone to drive him before. His driver would sit in the car while he walked around the orchards, lost in the past, replaying the plans in his mind, remembering how happy Lydia had been there, and how promising their future had been, at least for a short time. The only problem at the time was he had lost the key, and the paper with the combination. He'd thought they were gone forever until Macks confessed his interest in the Mercers was based on the youngest of them. Craig. He hadn't known until then where Lydia's son had ended up. He'd looked for him, but to be honest, he hadn't put a lot of resources into the search. The kid was free, away from his past, clear of Macks, or so he thought. He thought it was for the best. Why dwell on what was lost if the kid was free? He didn't think Macks would go to the extremes he did, he didn't think he'd get his hands on the boy, but he did.
Once Macks got his claws into the kid, Winston couldn't help but wonder if the rabbit still existed. He'd given up hope, he'd figured there was no chance, but now, if the boy still had that toy, then there was millions of dollars worth of diamonds locked up in a bank, just waiting for him to liberate them, and start his new life. it had taken a lot of effort, laundering his father's dirty money, skimming from the profits and hiding them away in diamonds. He'd risked his life and his future. Harris had latched onto the idea as soon as Winston told him about it. His mistake was telling Harris anything. He'd thought he could trust him, he should have known better. He usually read people better. He should have seen Harris for what he was.
His first task at hand was getting the key and the paper from the Mercers. Then he would have to lay low until the ground thawed in the spring. Once he was able to dig, he'd find his tree, and dig up the lock box. Once he had the box, he'd have everything he needed to get his diamonds. They were clean. This was his new start, his chance for a clean future. No looking over his shoulder to see if someone was trying to kill him, now wondering who was planning to take him out so they could step up in his place. He, untracable, and legally his. He just had to make the Mercers understand how important it was that they give up the key, and the code.
He pushed the car as hard as he dared on the ice. He worried that somehow the Mercers would make it to the house before him. He would be cutting it close, he knew that. His route was shorter, and he knew it well, but the Mercer brothers had a head start. The night was silent, and once he left the city behind, it was dark, and still. Snow covered the ground, ice hung in the trees, and an eerie mist seemed to cote the air just above the snow, dancing between the trees as if it had a life of its own. It wasn't like him to notice things like that. But there was so much about his life lately that wasn't like him. The mist seemed to seep into his chest, filling him with a cold chill and a sudden uneasiness that he wasn't used to. His life was on the line tonight, not just his future, his life.
He found the back lane easy enough. He prayed he could get the car through the ice crusted snow that covered the rocky drive. This was the drive used during the harvest, when there was a harvest. The orchards hadn't been worked in years. He'd tried to keep the farm going, but he just didn't have the heart for it after Lydia died. Now it stood like a ghost of his past, reminding him how he'd let down his sister, and how they'd lost their future. He guided the car along, trying to stay on the gravel path that ran between the apple trees, keeping his speed slow as the back end of the luxury car shifted unannounced every few seconds. He didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until he reached the back side of the barn and a long sigh released from his chest. He checked the buttons on his overcoat and slid on his gloves with the engine still running. He pulled the key free from the ignition before he thought to grab the gun from under the car seat. He reached into the glove box to snatch a small flashlight stored there. He got out of the car and tested his footing on the smooth crust of ice. He should put the car in the barn, he knew that, but it wasn't visible from the front of the house, or the main drive, and he didn't want to lose any time.
The ice crust broke under his feet as he made his way along the whitewashed wood fence that separated the yard and house from the orchards. He found the gate hanging open and frowned. He always made sure he secured it after him, but it may have been knocked loose during a storm. He moved around to the side porch and used his key to open the door. He hadn't been in the house since the last time he'd been there with Lydia. He always kept to the orchards when he visited. He had paid people to close up the house after Lydia had left with Adam, and he hadn't been inside since.
He stood in the open door for a long moment before he stepped into what had been the laundry room, and let his eyes adjust to the dark. He almost forgot about the flashlight in his left hand. It wasn't until his eyes had adjusted as well as they were going to and he still couldn't see that he fingered the flashlight with his gloved hand, finding the switch that sent light ahead of him. The condition of the house was almost a shock to him. He walked though the rooms, making his way from the front of the house to the kitchen. Flowered paper was peeling away from the walls; paint was separating from the trim in flakes. Years had deteriorated the plaster walls in places, and rust had eaten at metal hinges, bringing down some doors. He found what appeared to be the nest of a wild animal tucked away in the restroom cupboard. The uneasiness that had build in his chest as he drove out of the city seemed to intensify, taking on a hint of dread as he made his way along in the dark. It had been an older house to start with, and he'd let it fall into a sorry state. It was as if part of his soul was dying with this house. He made a mental note to put some money into it, to restore it back to its original state, as soon as he was finished with the business at hand. He would restore it and would never let it fall into ill repair again; he'd do that for Lydia, and for himself. Maybe it would help to ease his soul.
He wasn't sure how much time passed before he heard the car engine choking and sputtering in the drive. One gunshot rang out, echoing through the dark house. The shot worried him for a second, until he remembered the gate that had been secured with a padlock. He switched off the flashlight and ducked into what had once been a library of sorts, just off the living room. He held his breath and waited. He tried to figure out how he was going to deal with Bobby Mercer, how he could possibly make the hard headed son of a bitch see reason. He wasn't only trying to save his ass, but the boy's as well. Maybe Bobby Mercer would see that.
Craig looked around the dark car. The engine was running but he was alone inside. The heater was still squealing and sputtering out that disgusting odor that reminded him of Bobby's cooking, but his breath still formed a mist in front of his eyes. He reached forward in the cramped back seat and used his hand to wipe frost from the passenger's side window. He recognized the back of Johnny's bar, and could see his brothers grouped together at the open door, talking to their friend. He sighed with relief that he wasn't really alone. He noticed Bobby glance back to the car and that helped him to relax a little more. Despite the fact that he knew Bobby couldn't actually see into the car, his brother hadn't forgotten about him. That's all that mattered at that moment.
He eased himself back down into the seat, on his left side. The pillow had found its way to the floor at some point, now he pulled it to him, rested his head on one corner of it and hugged onto the rest as if it could protect him somehow. He barely got settled back into the seat when Bobby and Jack returned to the car. Bobby sat up front this time, but he still let Jack drive with no arguing.
Bobby turned and looked at Craig. "You're supposed to be asleep." He kept his voice quiet.
"I woke up." Craig didn't feel like going into details about a dream that really hadn't felt like a nightmare to him. Okay, he'd been pulled awake by fear, his last memory of the dream was not pleasant, and his first reaction had been to reach out for Bobby, but it really hadn't been a nightmare, not the kind that he usually had.
"Well, go back to sleep. You look like shit." Bobby turned back to face the front before Craig could say anything else, but he glanced back after a few seconds.
Craig closed his eyes before Bobby could start in on him. He didn't think he'd be able to sleep again, but he did try. The effort of not thinking seemed to stir his brain around and resulted in him finding plenty to think about. He gave great attention to the events of the day, and what was happening now, at that very moment. He understood that what they found out that very night could be the difference in Jack going back to jail or not. He also knew that if Jack went to jail that meant his other brothers would probably be following him. Harris was set on tearing them up and Jack was like the pivot point. It was like everyone's fate depended on whether they could keep Jack out of jail. Harris had made his intentions all too clear, even to Craig.
What didn't make sense was the way Craig felt at that moment. His mind picked through the details, what his brothers had told him, and what he could piece together in his own head, and there was something he was missing. He felt as if he should have some kind of answer to a question that had never been asked. He reached for the rabbit that he'd tucked under his shirt at some point and he held onto it tight. For some reason, that rabbit still felt important, even though Bobby had already emptied its secret contents, he felt like his little friend still had something to tell him, and he had to make sure it was safe and close to him. His mind slipped away into its own thoughts, and he barely noticed the city moving past.
Craig cracked on eye open enough to look around. He let both eyes open all the way and watched to see if Bobby would look back at him, but at the moment Bobby was talking with Jack in a quiet voice. Every once in a while Craig heard Jessup Winston's name, and Harris, but with the noise from the engine and the heater the conversation in the front of the car was lost on the boy in the back. Bobby had forgotten about him though, or thought that he was asleep like he should have been. Craig looked down at the rabbit and mentally willed the toy to talk to him. The nagging feeling in his brain wouldn't let up. It was like a whisper that he could hear but couldn't understand.
The conversation in the front seat of the car had shifted from a fairly calm discussion about what they were doing to a more heated discussion about Jack driving too slowly. Bobby wanted his brother to speed up but Jack was arguing that the ice on the roads prevented him from going any faster.
"Then let me drive Jack, fuck, we're gonna be a couple of old ladies before you get us there." Bobby smacked at the space between the seats.
"You'll get us killed, you ain't driving." Jack kept his voice calm, though it felt tense.
"Just give it a little gas Jack?" Bobby sounded more irritated now.
The engine revved and the back end started to sway slightly.
"What the fuck Jack!" Bobby yelled just as the car jolted hard and then spun slightly. "Watch it!"
Craig reached out with one hand to grab the back of the driver's seat in an attempt to keep his self from falling to the floor. In the same moment Bobby's hands shot up to the dash as if bracing himself against some kind of impact. Craig felt his stuffed rabbit fall from his free hand, but he didn't have time to look for it in the dark. The car jolted again, this time towards the right. The motion would have pulled Craig down the seat towards the passenger's side of the car, if the car had been a normal car with full sized seats. Instead, the lack of space kept him wedged into the seat. His legs did stiffen though, instinctively trying to keep him secured in once spot.
The car jerked hard and stopped with no warning. The sudden stop was too much and Craig slid towards the floor. Jack's seat was close enough that his body didn't actually get all the way off the seat, but his legs did. Once the motion of the car had settled, Craig pulled his butt back into the seat, sitting stiffly against the cold vinyl back. He ended up dead center on the bench seat, his legs straddling the big hump that ran down the length of the car.
There was complete silence, not even the engine was running. Craig was afraid to move, but his eyes caught sight of his rabbit within reach. He snatched it up just as Bobby started counting quietly.
"One, two, three…" Bobby drew in a deep breath, but didn't continue his count, instead he turned and looked at Jack, who was gripping the steering wheel with both hands and staring straight ahead. "Fuck it, I ain't counting to ten." A low growl rumbled in his throat as he let out a long breath. "Great, Jack, this is all we need."
"You're the one who keeps telling me to hurry. The road is covered in ice; what did you think was going to happen?" Jack sounded irritated, but he didn't turn to look at Bobby.
"We need to get there in one piece, or it won't matter, now will it?" Bobby snapped.
"Fuck you." Jack's voice held the same sharpness to it as Bobby's. "And don't crack a gay joke either." He added quickly. "This is bullshit."
"What the hell is your problem? We're doing this shit for you little brother; you know that, don't you?" Bobby's face turned towards Jack, and his eyes flicked towards the back of the car. Craig hadn't tried to hide the fact that he was awake. If he had been asleep the sudden stop would have brought him to his full senses anyway. Besides, he was sitting there, in the middle of the seat.
Craig just met Bobby's gaze, not sure if he should try to say anything.
"You need to close your eyes and go back to sleep."Bobby probably didn't mean to sound pissed. In the dark interior of the car he looked as if he was ready to hit something. He quickly turned his attention back to Jack. "Let me drive." He reached for his door handle.
"Screw you Bobby. You ain't driving my car." Jack didn't yell, but his voice was strained. "I got this under control."
"You got this under control? We're in a fucking ditch Jack, is that your kind of control? Because it sure as hell ain't what I call control!" Bobby pushed his door opened. "Help me push us out 'Dick Weed'." He got out of the car and slammed the door hard.
The door popped back open, "Son of a bitch!" Bobby yelled and slammed the door again. His voice seemed to echo in the darkness that had engulfed the car. Craig wondered when it had gotten so dark. He hadn't paid any attention before, but as he leaned closer to the window on his right that there were no street lights around them. There were no other cars, no buildings, no sidewalks. There was no moon above, but he seemed surrounded by a ghostly blue glow. Surrounding them were fields blanketed in crusty, ice coated snow and seemed to radiate the blue. An illusion, he'd learned about it in Science class. Separating the fields were clusters of trees patch worked here and there with mist swaying in and out between the bare branches; swirling and bouncing back and forth from tree trunk to tree trunk, giving an eerie, static feeling to the air as it struggled against the freezing temperatures.
They were well out of the city, and Craig wasn't sure how far they had traveled, but he had obviously lost track of time. Had he been so absorbed in his thoughts that he'd lost that much time? Maybe he had managed to sleep after all and just didn't realize it.
Jack didn't move from his seat for a long minute. He was breathing hard, and looked as pissed as Bobby. He finally glanced back at Craig. "You know how to steer?" He asked while his fingers found the ignition key and gave it a turn. The motor whirred into action immediately and Jack looked as if he relaxed a little.
Craig shrugged his shoulders, and then realized Jack probably couldn't see the motion in the dark. "I don't know."
"Well I guess this is as good a time for you to learn as any, isn't it." Jack cracked a smile and Craig thought that he even winked at him. "Don't worry; it ain't as bad as my first time driving. You don 't need to worry about any cops chasing you down side streets out here in the middle of bum-fucked Egypt." He opened his door and motioned for Craig to get into the front of the car.
Craig didn't understand the words at first, but then realized what Jack was saying. "I can't drive!" He cried out.
"Yes you can. Come on, it's either you or Bobby, and right now I trust you a hell of a lot more."Jack got out of the car and waited for Craig to wiggle in between the seats.
Jack pointed to the gear shift and instructed Craig on how to put the transmission in reverse. "When I tell you to, give it some gas. Push the pedal about half way down, okay?"
Craig watched Jack slam the door shut and join Bobby at the front of the car, each at one headlight. He felt his stomach tighten up as he visualized himself screwing up and running over both men. How the hell would he explain something like that to anyone else?
Jack yelled at him to give it gas and Craig's foot automatically followed the instructions against his will as his eyes slammed shut. Bobby started yelling for him to turn the wheel to the left. Craig hands obeyed, but then Bobby yelled even louder. "Your other left!"
Craig realized he'd been turning the steering wheel to the right. He quickly spun it in the opposite direction and the car seemed to inch backwards slowly. He let his eyes open up and watched as Jack and Bobby both pushed on the front of the car. The car was moving backwards slowly for another couple of feet, but then stopped. Bobby yelled something about not stopping as he let go of the car and moved up the passenger's side. He opened the passenger door, but didn't get in. He used the door frame to push from his new position. "Give it more gas kid!" Bobby yelled out after a few more seconds.
Craig pushed the gas pedal down further and the sound of the tires spinning wildly filled the air. Another second later and the tread seemed to grip something, pulling the car all the way back onto the road, leaving Bobby and Jack behind. Craig's foot instinctively left the gas and hit the brake, jolting the car to a stop.
Jack let a whoop and was grinning wide. He gave Craig a thumbs-up and started walking towards the car. Craig felt a rush of something that wasn't familiar. He let his own smile spread across his face as he turned to look at Bobby, anticipating a similar look on his older brother's face.
Bobby was looking at him, his arms hanging down at his sides. His face and front were covered in brown slush and muck. Craig felt his smile fade away. He looked over at the passenger door, which Bobby had opened, to see the same substance had coated the interior of the door and the passenger seat. His brain pieced together what had happened easily. The car was rear wheel drive; it had thrown the ground muck; snow, ice and mud up when he'd given the car gas. That muck had sprayed Bobby full force from head to toe, coating him. It dripped slowly down his arms and off of his face.
Craig stared, unable to move until Jack opened the driver's door and gave him a nudge. "Put it in park kiddo." He spoke a seriously as Craig had ever heard him. "Get in the back seat."
Craig couldn't move, so Jack leaned in and put the car in park. "Go on, in the back." He gave Craig another nudge.
Craig looked at Jack and then slid in between the seats into the back of the car. He grabbed the blanket and hugged it around him while he groped around in the dark to locate his rabbit. He looked back at Bobby, who still hadn't moved. Jack got in behind the wheel and revved the engine. "Come on Bobby, let's go. We need to get there before the sun comes up, remember?"
Bobby's head turned slightly towards Jack's position in the car. Jack sighed and turned to look at Craig. "Don't worry, we're gonna have a lot of fun about this one." He smiled at him, breaking some of the tension that seemed to have filled the car. "I mean, come one, the Michigan Mauler is standing in the middle of a road, coated with mud, don't you think that's fucking hilarious?" He started to laugh.
Craig felt the tightness that had building in his chest break free slightly and managed to laugh a little bit.
Bobby started walking towards the car, slowly, mud sliding down his leather coat and dripping in globs at his feet with each step that he managed.
"Come on Bobby, hurry the hell up, we ain't got all night!" Jack turned to watch the man's advancement. "At least we're all in one piece, right?" He called out and glanced back at Craig, a chuckle still running through him.
Craig tried to fight down the laugh that escaped him just as Bobby climbed into the car and slammed the door hard. He expected Bobby to yell, or hit Jack, or do something, but instead he just pointed straight ahead. "Drive the damn car Jack."
Craig sat back in the seat and started to relax.
"Just keep it on the road, would you?" Bobby's voice was quiet, and calm, but as he turned to meet Jack's gaze Craig could see that his eyes were narrow slits and his mouth was almost forming a wild sneer.
"Wouldn't have left the road if I'd been driving at a reasonable speed," Jack muttered the words as if he was speaking to his self, but Craig knew he was directing the statement at Bobby despite the fact that he had focused his attention on the road and shifted the car into drive.
All was quiet from that point forward, except for the squealing that still persisted from behind the heater vents. Bobby wiped at his face as best as he could, but it was still spotted with mud when the car pulled onto a gravel drive and stopped close to an hour later. The sun was still hiding, but it was close to daybreak, with a bluish-grey hue starting to take hold of the trees lining the road. Craig squinted as he looked through the window. The white picket fence that lined the road gave way to an iron gate that hung across the drive. That nagging feeling he'd been struggling with earlier returned, like an itch in his brain. As he studied the fence, his attention was drawn to the little white house on the other side of it. There was a wood porch swing on one end of the porch, with one chain busted so that only one side dangled. The white paint that had once coated the grain of the wood was peeling away so that it looked old, and unloved.
Snow had drifted high enough that it covered the steps of the porch. An old tree towered close by and had been unkempt long enough that the branches had grown long enough to bust out two of the upstairs windows, probably during a good wind storm. The windows were dark, but it was easy to see there were no curtains. The house looked lonely, abandoned and deserted. Craig felt his heart twist hard. This house had been full of life at one time, and now it was alone in the cold, surrounded by the dark, blanketed by snow. It felt sad. A fear seemed to swell inside him that he couldn't explain. He groped around in the dark for the little blue rabbit, not sure where he'd left it this time, and not paying much attention to where it was when he found it. He kept his eyes fixed on the house, trying to process what he was seeing.
With no warning Bobby opened his door and got out of the car. He didn't bother to slam the door closed after him and the car quickly cooled from the lukewarm that it has been most of the drive. Craig barely noticed it though. His brain was swimming around with pictures of that same house on a warm, sunny day. Flowers colored the front yard and the smell of apple blossoms drifted on the breeze.
The sound of a gun blast startled the teen back to reality. He thought for a second that someone was shooting at them, but Jack didn't look concerned. He leaned forward to look through the gap between the front seats and realized Bobby had shot through a pad-lock that was holding a chain to secure the gate. Bobby gave the chain a quick tug through the ice coated bars and let it fall to the snow covering the drive; and then started slipping and sliding through the tire-rut caverns to push the gate open.
Jack waited for Bobby to get back into the car before slowly easing the car down the drive, "I don't like this." He muttered.
"What you got a problem with now?" Bobby cupped his hands and huffed into them in what appeared to be an attempt to warm them up.
"The tire tracks, they're fresh." Jack muttered, barely loud enough for Craig to hear him. He didn't give the car much gas, guiding it forward about fifty feet before stopping.
Bobby shook his head. "We know where the hell Winston and Harris both are at the moment. There ain't no cars in sight." He motioned to the emptiness that seemed to surround them. There was a barn straight in front of them, and the house directly to their right. "No footprints around." He shrugged his shoulders. "Those tracks are coated in ice; it's been days since anyone was here."
Jack looked at Bobby. "I just have a bad feeling about this." He muttered.
"Jeeze Jack, we're in the middle of bum fucked Egypt right now, there ain't a soul around. You show more fucking nerve on the streets, surrounded by drug dealers and gangsters. What the hell is wrong with you? Scared a bear is gonna come after you?" Bobby laughed and got out of the car. "Come on, let's check out the house."
"Bobby, someone could live here." Jack called out, but he turned the off the car engine and looked at Craig. "Come on, you can't stay out here alone." He didn't wait for Craig to respond before he got out of the car and followed Bobby.
Craig didn't want to give up his blanket, so he wrapped it around him tightly, stuffing the rabbit under his shirt. He got out of the car, barely thinking to close the door behind him as he followed his brothers towards the back of the house.
"No one is living here Jack. There's no sign of anyone walking around this house. Whoever left those tire tracks didn't even get out of the car. No one has been in this house for years." Bobby crunched though the ice and snow to the closed in porch on the back of the house. He pulled on the wooden screen door only to have it fall off the hinges. He grunted something under his breath before propping the door up against the side of the porch.
Craig was still trying to reach his brothers as they stepped onto the porch. He tried to walk in their footprints, but the snow had not been cleared away, not since the first snowfall of the year, and he was struggling through knee deep drifts. Bobby and Jack were both in the house before Craig got to the porch. He stepped across the concrete floor of the porch to a second door that his brothers had left standing open. The kitchen was huge and open. The refrigerator loomed in the corner next to the entrance, its door hanging open, showing that it was empty. Craig instinctively reached to the wall next to him for a light switch. He found a switch but when he flipped it up no light came on. There didn't seem to be any electricity, which would mean that Bobby was probably right, no one had been in this house for a long time. The air inside was just as icy as outside.
Bobby and Jack weren't waiting for him. They had already moved out of the kitchen. Craig pulled the blanket tighter around him and moved past the remains of an old, rusty metal table, using his brother's hushed voices to guide him. He fought off a shudder as memories from just a few short weeks ago filtered through his brain. An abandoned house in the middle of winter; he never would have guessed he'd be standing in another one, one like this, for the rest of his life. The only difference was this house seemed mostly in tact with no scars from fire, and he knew this house.
His brain was picturing the living room before he ever stepped into it. There was furniture there, covered in dusty sheets, barely visible in dim shadows of the breaking daylight that peaked through the uncovered windows. He knew the sofa was gold with wooden arms, and that the floral design of the arm chair sitting in the corner was a baby-poop shade of green with yellow roses, though all he could see were the hinted forms under the sheets. His stomach tightened and seemed to swell with anticipation for something that he couldn't identify. He wasn't worried, or scared, he felt almost excited. Jack and Bobby were looking around the room.
"So, what are we looking for?" Jack finally looked at Bobby.
"I don't know. Just look in anything with drawers." Bobby walked to what appeared to be a cabinet that rested next to the front door and pulled the sheet away. "Damn, this is nice shit." He let his hand rub down the side of the smooth wood, slowly.
"You're starting to sound like Jerry." Jack laughed as he moved to a small end table next to the sofa that had been left exposed. He pulled the drawer completely out but it was empty. He didn't bother to slide it back into place; instead he dropped it on the sofa and looked for something else to investigate.
Bobby turned and looked at Jack. "That's fucking rude, comparing me to Jerry." He snapped, but he smiled enough that Craig could see he was joking. Craig stood off to the side and watched the men go through the drawers.
"What the hell are we looking for Bobby?" Jack repeated the question after several seconds.
"Hell, I don't know Jack." Bobby turned away from the drawer he'd been going through. "There has to be something here."
Craig pulled at the blanket, wrapping tighter into it, trying to warm up. His teeth were starting to chatter. "It's not in here." He muttered the words without thinking.
Bobby looked at Craig. "What?"
Craig flinched inside when he realized what he'd said.
Bobby's eyes stayed glued to the boy. "You know what we're looking for?" He asked the question slowly.
Craig shook his head. "It's not in here." He repeated, not sure himself where the words had come from. He knew this house, he remembered a life there, but it was cloudy and faint in his mind. He was unsure of what exactly they were supposed to be looking for anyway.
"You've been here before Craig?" Jack asked the question.
Craig shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah," He kept his head down and spoke quietly.
Bobby stepped across the floor and took an easy hold of the boy's shoulders. "When were you here?"
"With my Mom," Craig muttered. He avoided looking up at his brother.
"When you were little? That's when you got the rabbit?" Bobby pushed.
Craig nodded his head slowly, his mind trying to grasp the memories that were right there, on the edge.
"It's okay Craig." Bobby spoke slowly, with the same tone of voice Craig was used to hearing from him after one of his nightmares. "The key that was in the rabbit, do you know what it goes to?"
Craig shrugged his shoulders. "No." He truly didn't know the answer. "But it's not in here." He finally looked at Bobby, sure of that one fact, though he wasn't certain how he knew.
"Can you tell me where it is then? Can you tell me what it is?" Bobby kept his hold on Craig's shoulders. "Just think, try to remember."
Craig shook his head. "I don't know."
"You don't remember?" The voice was not Bobby's. It wasn't Jack's either. It took Craig a moment to realize the voice was detached and a little muted, as if it were coming from inside a box.
Bobby reacted instantly, pulling out the gun he'd been carrying in his belt. Jack turned quickly, towards the doorway to another room.
The man stepped into view in the dark shadows, his form barely visible in the twilight of dawn. "We spent a whole day together, in the orchard. Your mother wore that blue blouse and she gave you the rabbit once we were done playing."
Craig recognized the voice, and though his first reaction was to step closer to Bobby, he wasn't afraid.
"We dug a hole, remember? And we played in the dirt." The voice drifted across the cold air, sounding lonely. "We had a great day that day."
"How the hell did you know we would be here?" Bobby spoke with an edge to his voice, interrupting the thoughts that were stirring in Craig's head.
"Once I knew you had the toy and I figured out you'd managed to get a hold of my documents, it wasn't hard to figure out where you would go next. I hoped you wouldn't show up, I really did. If you had just stayed away, just let me go in peace, there wouldn't have been any more trouble from me." The shadowy figure seemed to turn towards Bobby. "I can take care of Harris; keep him from causing you any more trouble. It's not too late. Just take the boy, and go home. I'll make sure everything is settled. You won't have any more problems from my people or the law. Just give me the key and the code and leave."
Craig stared at the stranger; his mind was trying to place a face to him. He was certain he knew him, and he liked him. He felt at home with him, and he definitely wasn't afraid of him. It was a surprise when Bobby grabbed hold of him and pulled him further back, away from the shadow.
"Go to hell." Bobby held his gun up a little higher.
"I don't want to do this the hard way Bobby." The man stepped a little further into the room. "I want this to end, don't you? I can make shit happen. I'll take care of Harris. He's the one causing the problems."
"He works for you." Jack was suddenly right behind Craig.
"Not anymore. I never paid him to set you up; he did that on his own. He's planning to screw me and I can't let that happen. I want this to end, just like you." The man stepped further into the room. "My intentions were to quietly reclaim what was mine, and disappear. I have a new life planned; do you really think I would risk those plans to fuck with you?"
The words sounded familiar to Craig, the voice and the tone, it itched at the back of his brain, bringing back memories from when he was small. He could remember the same voice saying almost the exact same words. He tried to picture the face that went with the voice, but the only thing his mind could show him was that vague memory of being in the orchard with his mother and her friend, the features of his face washed away by the sun.
The words passing between his brothers and this man were mostly lost on Craig because he was trying too hard to remember the connection. He had a connection to him, he felt glad to see him, or the shadow of him, and he wanted to move closer to him, to see his face and be able really remember him.
Then the words seemed to penetrate the fog that his brain had fallen into. The man knew Bobby, he knew Harris. He was talking as if he was the reason they were all there at that moment. The words passing by him finally seemed to sink in and penetrate the fog of the past that he'd fallen into. He put the words together, a dawning of reason sinking in slowly; and it was then that he knew, with no doubt in his mind, one very important fact. The man standing in the shadows was Jessup Winston.