Part II of III
"Finding any answers?" Art asked as Raylan stepped back from talking to Boyd, already tired of interviewing people who knew exactly what was going on, but had no interest in sharing the truth with anybody outside of Harlan or wearing a five pointed star.
"Nothing worthwhile, other than he didn't see anything." Raylan responded with a sigh as his phone rang. He hit the answer button and his world went into a tail spin. "What, when? Have there been any sightings? Was he hurt? Right, I'll be there."
Art had been listening to the conversation, watching Raylan tense up as his anger and fear became apparent. "What's going on?"
"Some guy forced the neighbor boy to get Nate to let him in the house. He was then knocked out and when he came to, Nate was gone. Lexington PD is going to head this direction with the kid and his mom. I'm going to head north until we meet," Raylan said heading towards the door.
"Take Tim with you," Art yelled. But Raylan acted as if he hadn't heard. Tim who had no idea what was going on, heard his name and saw the rapidly departing marshal and ran after him. He jumped in the car as Raylan gave him a cursory glance and peeled out from the parking lot.
"Guess I'm coming with you," Tim said.
"Suit yourself," Raylan answered as he floored the accelerator.
With the speed of both cars barreling towards each other, it wasn't long before they met the police car, siren wailing and lights flashing. They both swerved into a parking lot. The officer opened the backdoor freeing Tommy and his mother. Tommy ran over to Raylan and hugged him apologizing. "I'm so sorry, he said he was going to kill me then shoot Nate. I didn't know what to do," he sobbed.
Raylan separated himself from Tommy and knelt down in front of the boy. "Listen to me Tommy, this is not your fault, you did what you needed to do. Do you understand that?" Tommy tearfully nodded. "Right now you can be a big help. What did the man look like?"
Tommy tried to swallow a sob as he looked up at Raylan. "I didn't see his face. He came up behind me and told me to knock on the back door. Something was poking me in the back, I don't even know if it really was a gun."
"Listen to me, you did the right thing. What did he say to you?"
"Just told me to knock on the door or…or he would kill me."
Now it was Tommy's mothers turn to sob. She covered her face with her hands.
Raylan stood up and put his hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry."
"Your son is missing, mine was threatened and knocked out and this is all your fault," she cried.
Raylan felt as if he had been kicked in the gut. "Your right, you are absolutely right. This is all on me and all I can do about it right now is try and get my son back and I need Tommy to help me."
"But he didn't see anything," she cried.
Raylan ignored her and looked back at Tommy. "Tom I need you to take a deep breath. I need you to remember if Nate said anything when you walked into the house. Think really hard," he encouraged.
Tommy took the deep breath that Raylan had advised and closed his eyes deep in thought. He could see Nate's face as he opened the door and then the look of surprise as he realized what was going on. "He said something, I just can't remember."
"You can do it, Tom. Just let your mind go back."
"He said he can't," Mrs. Morton said.
Tim stepped in front of her and began to talk with her as he steered her away so she wouldn't interfere again.
"You had a great idea by closing your eyes, try again," Raylan said. Tommy did as he was told and let him mind drift. "Did Nate say anything?" Raylan asked again.
"He did say something," Tommy said trying to focus. Suddenly Tommy perked up, "he said, 'Quarles you are here for me, so leave him out of it.'"
"Quarles, he said Quarles?" Raylan asked.
"Yeah, I'm sure of it. It was such a weird thing to say, I didn't know if it was his name or what, but that's what he said."
Raylan took out his phone and made a quick phone call. Tim released Mrs. Morton who ran to her son and embraced him. Raylan hung up and looked at Tommy. "Thank you for your help. I'm going to find Nate I promise you."
"Then please tell me you'll be moving," Mrs. Morton said as she spun her son around and stalked back to the police cruiser.
Raylan sighed and motioned for Tim to get in the car. "Where to now?" Tim asked.
"Back to Johnny's bar. Boyd has got to know more than he's telling me."
"Nice place," Nate said of the cottage in front of him. "Your vacation home?" he asked as he tugged his backpack out of the car.
"I picked it just for you," Quarles said jangling the keys in his hand his arm around a bag of groceries.
"How long have you planned this?"
"Well, I figured I would need an abode out of the way in case things didn't go as planned."
"Whose house is this?"
"I just told you it's mine, let's go," he said waving the gun around to remind Nate of who was in charge.
They walked into the small living room which had a couch two recliners and a large screen TV and a tall bookcase in the corner full of cheap paperbacks. A kitchen was off to the right, a short hallway led to two bedrooms and a bathroom.
"Mmmm cozy. Set your bag down."
"What's the plan?" Nate asked as he set his backpack down.
"Well we get to know each other and then, well then I was thinking we could have a little fun."
"Why do I have a feeling our definition of fun is nowhere near alike."
"Now, you have to give it a chance. You know all those times I was with those vile, disgusting men, I hated it, but then I realized if I just let myself relax and enjoy the raw nature of it all…" he said his face locked in an odd expression. "Well sometime we just have to give in to our animal instincts. Now I have some snacks, here, I got chocolate chip cookies."
"I can't eat it."
"How can anybody not be able to eat a chocolate chip cookie?"
"Somebody who can't eat chocolate."
"Your autoimmune issue?"
"Yeah, it sucks."
"You are a lot like me." Quarles stated.
"Excuse me?" Nate asked unsure of the comparison.
"You look at life differently. I guess those of us that are damaged just do."
"Yeah I do see the world differently, constantly looking through a veil of pain makes one mature quickly…I have no delusions that everything will be alright, that things will work out or that life is fair. Life is harsh and cruel and can kick your ass any time it damn well pleases…and that can skew ones vision. I look around and study people to take my mind off my own issues…to focus on somebody else takes it off of me. Distraction is everything. You know how when people ask you how you are and you always answer fine?"
"But you're not, right?"
"Right, you say that you are, because for one moment, maybe you can trick yourself to thinking you are."
"Well I have found that the second you stop caring, is the second you start living."
"And this is living for you?"
"Damn right it is."
"When you look at your soul, what do you see staring back at you?"
Quarles remained quiet, contemplative, but in the end he just looked back at Nate and grinned.
"You know what you have to do Raylan," Boyd said looking over at Tim. "There are people who can help you."
"The federal marshals are a good start," Tim answered looking back at Boyd.
"The BOLO went out right after you called Raylan, we have a lead," Art said quietly.
"What?" Raylan asked unsure if he wanted to know what was coming.
"A man said he stopped a car earlier today asking for help with his spare tire. The car held a man and a boy Nate's age. The driver claimed his son was contagious so he was unable to give the stranded man a ride. He said the boy looked like he didn't feel good, but other than that all he could remember was he had dark blond or brown hair. He said the driver promised to call for some help but when it never arrived he hiked to the next gas station, where the BOLO had just hit the scanner. He said the driver had ice cold blue eyes."
"He came back to Harlan, why would he come back here?" Tim wondered out loud.
"To throw it in your face Raylan, he took your boy and is in your stomping grounds. He has declared himself the winner of this little contest. You know what kind of help you need," Boyd said directly to Raylan.
"I don't think so."
"Raylan, this is your son. You need somebody who has intimate knowledge of these hills and hollers as well as the people they hold." Boyd got off the barstool and went behind the bar and came back with a small card. "Call him; give him the chance to help Nate. Your boy needs this."
Raylan took the card, his face reflecting his frustration as headed back to the front door. "Raylan, where are you going?" Art yelled out.
"I can't just stand around, I'll be on the road, call me if you hear of anything!" The door slammed behind him as he strode back out to his car. Tim once again ran to catch up and had to step in front of the car to get Raylan to stop and let him in.
Raylan had already dialed the phone and was talking. "Yes it has been a long time. You know I wouldn't ask if I felt there was any other way. Please understand, this is not for me it is for Nate." There was silence then Raylan blew out a mouthful of air and nodded. "Yeah I know where it is, I drive a black Lincoln."
"Do I want to know?" Tim asked.
"No you definitely do not." Raylan assured.
The marshal's service was flying around interviewing people and checking back roads for any signs of Quarles and Nate, while Raylan pulled up to a vacant mill where an older man stood looking as if he would rather kill you than spend a few minutes talking to you. His face wore a harsh expression, an old ball cap sat on top of his head, faded jeans and button down shirt and a pair of cowboy boots completed the ensemble. And Tim suspected he was packing.
"Raylan Givens, it has been a damn long time," the man said as they got out of the car. "Still a marshal I take it?"
"Yes I am."
"Who's this?" he asked of Tim.
"A friend, who is helping me. Look Seth, you know this land and these people better than anybody, and I desperately need your help."
"You need someone who can sidestep the law?"
"I need somebody who will get straight answers from people who might otherwise be less than likely to share it with me."
"Then I'm your man. Do you have a picture of him I could see?" Raylan pulled out the last school picture and showed it to him. "He's a good looking boy." He said taking a good long look at the photo. "Follow me; the Bingo Hall is great source of gossip." He said wasting no time.
Seth jumped into his car and sped down the road at harrowing speeds, followed closely by Raylan and Tim who for the first time in many years was getting motion sickness from the break neck speeds. "We're seriously going to a Bingo Hall?" Tim asked.
"We are going to wherever he thinks he can get answers," Raylan said not taking his eyes off the road.
As they rocketed up and down hills and around curves, Tim realized these roads had no names or signage. An unfamiliar driver didn't have a chance. If Raylan happened to slip into unconsciousness Tim would have been forced to call for a helicopter and stand on the roof waving his arms while firing off flares in an effort to help them be located.
"Have you ever thought about committing suicide?" Quarles asked out of the blue.
"What, in the last couple of hours?" Nate asked.
"No, I mean ever. I used to think about it all the time when I was younger."
Nate was silent and brooding. "When I was first diagnosed I felt like I was knee deep in water, then as the symptoms continued and worsened I felt as if I was waist deep and it made me wonder when I would I take action and allow myself to simply drown."
"Where are you now?"
Nate, lost in thought, inhaled as he looked back at Quarles. "Neck deep."
"That's pretty deep." He said unsure if the depth related to the illness or the boys current predicament.
"Yes it is, but you thought of suicide many times and yet you are still here."
"I am, found a stress relieving habit."
"I see," Nate said looking around. "I take it I have been recruited as part of that effort? You only get one life to live, what are you doing with yours?"
"Trying to get home," Quarles answered clearly upset with Nate's question. He dialed his phone and yelled that he wanted to speak with a man named Theo and then was quiet again. "Theo, I want to come home, what will it take for me to come home? What? Pain and suffering? I can try. Bye." Quarles threw the phone down on the couch. "Do you think you're worth a half a million dollars?"
"The devil's far from home, huh?" Nate asked, shaking his head. "Hardly, as you pointed out earlier, I am a native son and if you haven't noticed a lot of these redneck hillbilly's don't have a ton of money laying around."
"I bet the marshals could secure a loan for one of their own."
"I hate to burst your bubble but I think if you go home they'll eventually catch up to you."
Quarles seemed to chew on that for a moment. He got up and used the key to lock the deadbolt and then put it in his pocket. "The windows are nailed shut and the back door uses the same type of deadbolt."
"Okay," Nate said watching Quarles.
"It's a big country, we have lots of places we can go," Quarles said, his gaze fixed on Nate. "I'll love you if you'll let me, and you could learn to love me."
Nate looked as if a herd of pygmy hippos had just run through the room. "Somehow, I don't think so. Listen, kidnapping and – '' Nate paused and licked his lips as they struggled to form the word he needed. "Kidnapping and rape," he began again, "are both hefty crimes, not punishable by death, but I think you might be the exception. You won't get far." Nate said thinking of some home grown retribution. "You're just repeating your pain, but it's still pain."
Quarles continued to look at Nate, his eyes blue beacons of an emotion that had no category. Finally an odd smile came across his lips and he looked as if he wanted to devour Nate. "You are just too beautiful not to have…so have you I will. I will swallow you up just like a bottle of pills."
"You don't want to do this, just let me go and all will be forgotten."
"How old are you?"
Nate's breathing was beginning to accelerate. "Eleven."
"Hmmm, a bit younger than I like, but I'm sure you will more than meet my needs. Take your shirt off."
"Why?"
"Because I told you to!" Quarles screamed, picking up the gun again.
Nate pulled his t-shirt up over his head as Quarles watched him closely. "You are too skinny."
"Sometimes I don't have much of an appetite. Plus the inflammation cause some distension and that's uncomfortable," Nate said.
Quarles looked at the boy and could see a slight swelling in his abdominal area and a scar that ran down to his waist band. "You are a sick boy. What's the scar from?"
"I've tried to tell you. I had part of my intestine removed due to chronic inflammation and bleeding."
"Hmm," he nodded, "But still so handsome," Quarles said moving closer.
** TBC