Chapter 22
The hardware store was pretty much how Hardison had described it.
Located at the end of the small town's high street, Clark & Sons looked like your typical family-run store complete with its dust-battered sign and novelty Indian porch decoration.
(Eliot must have hated that thing. He was always so proud of his mother's Native American heritage, and cheap crap like that always set his teeth on edge.)
Nate could tell already just from looking through the store's window, that the place was packed from wall to wall with shelves and display units, so tight he was surprised young Eliot had any space to grow. They seemed to stock everything, from tools and sheets of metal to convenience items like lighters and small sweets (they even had a cooler full of ice lollies in the corner). Some updating had to have been done because they had a display of phone chargers on the back behind the counter and an advertisement offering screen repairs. The niece's husband, Nate thought.
Seeing no point in delaying any further, the mastermind took a hesitant step into the building, hearing the soft chimes of a bell as he pushed on the door.
He heard a deep and gruff voice call out from the backroom stating that it would be "out in a minute," and to just "grab what you need," as he walked further into the store.
Looking around, Nate couldn't help but imagine what life was like for his friend growing up in such a place. If you could imagine the hitter's soul and personality as a building, this store was the complete opposite. Eliot was always in control completely organised and aware of his space, but this place, had no rhyme or reason, just random clutter scattered about the space. It was also really cramped, and for a boy that once suffered from claustrophobia and had the constant need to escape, this would be a nightmare. No wonder El never wanted to stay, choosing a life in the army over whatever plans his father had for him.
The walls were painted a steel grey, and the floor was just the uncovered concrete that the store was built on. It made the place feel cold, both physically and figuratively, and the mastermind pondered whether the store matched the owner. Maybe if Spencer's father had been this cold toward his son, it would make sense that the now-gown-up Eliot, might have some problems opening up to his new family.
Nate couldn't wait till he could go back home. Back to his wife and the friends that he loves, where he felt safe and needed.
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"He shouldn't have gone alone."
It had been a tough day back at the brewpub. And Sophie was finding it hard to juggle her own role in their current con, along with the responsibilities normally handled by Nate. Her husband had gotten on a flight at midday the day before and she was just now feeling the strain that taking care of Eliot put on the man.
It wasn't like the hitter was completely helpless. He actually functioned rather well for someone in his predicament, she just didn't realise how much support he needed during the course of a day.
It all started at 6:30 am when an alarm went off beside the grifter's bed. As she turned to shut the noisy contraption off, she was halted by a bright pink post-it note, giving her instructions for the day.
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6:30 – Wake up and get yourself ready.
7:00 – See if Eliot is awake yet. If not give him another hour and then take his breakfast and meds in.
8:30 – Drag Hardison out of bed so he can help with shower duty. (He knows what he's doing so don't worry too much) After that, he can pretty much handle himself but don't wander off in case he needs you.
9:45 – If you haven't already left by now, drop what you're doing and get El out of the door. He hates being late to physio, and you really don't want to have to deal with Mr Grumpy Pants all day.
12:30 – Pick up from physio. Remember to take my notebook that I keep in the bedside cabinet. It's where I keep all the info that Dr Levine and Benny give me about El's progress.
13:00 – He can make his own sandwiches but stick with him in case he starts to get tired. And DONT let him just binge on chips, even if he starts moaning that his arms are sore. (Doc Davis mentioned something about a cycle last week, "low mood leading to poor diet which then affects his mood" was what I think he said. So, we need to get more fruit and veg down him.)
From now until dinner, Eliot will mostly just hang by himself for a bit. Sometimes he'll take a nap if the physio was a bit tough, or he might work on his dexterity puzzles if he feels up to it.
18:00 – Ask El if he wants to help with cooking then just follow his lead. Don't push him into it if he doesn't want to, just make a note in my journal and I'll deal with it later.
22:30 - Don't forget to give him his night-time meds, and Hardison should be there to check him over and get him into bed.
23:00 – Relax, you deserve it.
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It was currently half one in the afternoon, and things had gone somewhat smoothly.
They were late to physio, but only by like a minute or two and the hitter hadn't seemed to notice. He'd been too distracted by their missing mastermind and the bullshit story they made to explain his sudden absence.
Now the hitter was starting the question their tale, and Sophie wasn't sure what she should say.
"It's only a client meeting. Nate just wanted to check them out before he invited them to the pub. He'll be alright, El, nothing's going to happen in the short time that he's away."
"Then why didn't you go there with him? Or Parker, she's been shadowing him on more of these trips lately." He started chewing on his lips; his roughly made sandwiches were completely forgotten for the moment. "I don't like any of us being out there on our own. Who knows what may happen." He couldn't help but look at his softly shaking hands, as Sophie winced in sympathy.
"I understand El, and I'll talk to Nate about that when he gets back. This was just a case of bad timing," she shrugged taking a bite of her own lunch before wiping the corner of her mouth gently. "The new case might be time sensitive, but Parker, Hardison and I, were all needed here for the current job."
"He could have taken me. I would have been fine on a plane. And I'm sure missing one physio appointment isn't going to set me back."
"I know sweety. Nate's just being cautious after your hospital visit last month."
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"Did you manage to find what you were after?"
Looking over to where the voice had sounded from, Nate spotted what he could only describe as Eliot Spencer in thirty years. The resemblance was uncanny, even though this man was much older and yet a little less worn.
Stepping out in a simple pair of jeans and a grey and blue shirt, Mr Clark noticed the stranger standing in his store and walked over to greet him.
"Sorry, thought you were one of the regulars. We don't get many new folks 'round here."
As he walked a little closer, Nate could see a few differences between father and son. For example, this man looked to be approximately 6ft 2 and a lot leaner than the hitter back home, and his hair was peppered with grey near the roots. But other than that, the familial link was obvious. Despite their different colours, he had the same shaped eyes as his son, which often got hidden under unruly long hair. And he even had the same soft curls that Eliot used to straighten out before his accident.
Taking a moment to re-centre himself, Nate finally remembered what he'd come for.
"Mr Clark, it's good to meet you." He offered his hand out in a friendly greeting, not at all surprised by the strong grip he felt as it was received. "My name is Nate Ford."
"It's nice t' meet ya' too, Mr Ford. How can I help ya?"
The mastermind gulped, it was the moment of truth and there was no opportunity to stall or turn back.
"I'm here about your son, Spencer Clark."
"Then I'm sorry, but you've wasted your time. Spencer left a very long time ago and I haven't a clue where that boy is now."
He started to turn away but Nate stuck his arm out to stop him.
"No, I haven't come here for information, I'm actually offering it. I know your son, Mr Clark, and I thought you might like to know how he's doing."
"Why now?" The man shrugged. "It's been years and it's not like I went anywhere. Why now is he suddenly interested in me?"
"Well..." This is going to be hard to explain. "El... Uh – Spencer doesn't actually know I'm here."
"Ok..." Mr Clark was clearly confused, and why wouldn't he be? It's not exactly normal to search out the long-distanced fathers of your best friends behind their backs, even for team leverage this was a little strange. "Why are you suddenly interested in me? You're not his boyfriend or something... are you?"
"No! God no," Nate quickly shook the thought of him and Eliot sharing a candle-lit dinner out of his disturbingly detailed mind. "He's just my friend... best friend actually, and I just want to help him. You see, your son was in an accident last year and it's been a long road to recovery. And don't get me wrong, he is recovering, faster than the docs expected. But there are some things from his past that are holding him back, and I think you might be able to help with that."
There was silence in the store as Mr Clark considered what he'd been told.
"I don't think I can help you."
What?
"Look, I understand why you came here and I'm grateful that ya' told me, but... I'm no longer a part of Spencer's life, haven't been for a long time and I really don't know the boy." He sighed as he walked behind the counter, picking up a box of new products that were waiting to be displayed. He then continued to talk with his eyes held firmly down at the case he was restocking "To tell the truth, I never really understood that kid, not ever."
"Mr Clark if you could just..." Nate tried to plead his case but he was interrupted.
"No, Mr Ford. There is nothing ya' can say to change my stance on this matter. And I know what it is ya' need for your friend, but I just ain't it."
Nate could see that he wasn't going to get any further with this man. Damn Clark's and their stubbornness. So, he bit his tongue and turned toward the door. He knew going in this might be awkward or downright rough, but for his friend he needed to at least try, and at least now he knew what the problem was.
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"We're home... Spencer, Eliot, anyone in?"
He could hear the footfall of their eldest son as he came running down the hallway, but there was no trace of their youngest.
"Mom, dad..."
"Hey Eliot, where's your brother?" Mary Clark asked as she hooked her coat up by the door. Her husband casually followed her action, before placing his keys into the small round dish that sat on the counter.
"He went out." The teen bit his lower lip nervously, the guilt radiating from him like a sinner in church.
"What do ya' mean, he went out?" His father interrupted. "Is he with friends, did that young lad from a couple doors down invite him over? Never mind," he shook his head, soft brown curls bouncing under his Stetson. "Just go fetch him it's getting dark."
Mr Clark was surprised his son hadn't come back yet on his own. Spencer wasn't too fond of the dark, so he always made sure to come home before the sun even started to set. He was waiting for his eldest boy to hurry on out of there when he heard a quietly muttered, "I can't."
"What was that?
"I said I can't. I can't go fetch Spencer, because..." The room was growing tenser and tenser still, with both his parents staring down at him, waiting for him to complete that sentence. It ended up taking far too long to find the words, so long in fact that his father's face had turned beat red, but he eventually came out with, "because I don't know where he is."
"Oh my God!" Mrs Clark suddenly turned and started grabbing for her coat and keys.
"What do you mean, you don't know where he is?" Mr Clark growled. "You were meant to be looking after him, how could you lose your little brother?"
He was starting to panic at the thought of his little boy out there alone somewhere. Spencer wasn't like him or Eliot, he was sensitive, and he always felt too much in that big heart of his. He may look the spitting image of his father, but Spencer was certainly his mother's son, with her soft kind eyes and passionate nature. He wasn't prepared for the world, he needed to be protected still.
"I'm sorry pops, but he ran off too quickly for me to catch up with him. I thought he'd come home by now, but he didn't."
"Why'd he run off in the first place, that's not like him?" He was holding his son by the arms, desperately pleading for answers whilst also trying to keep his family close.
"Well, I had some friends over, and one or two of them might have been picking on Spencer a bit because he was baking," the teen admitted before trying to argue that, "it wasn't that bad; he shouldn't be so sensitive all the time."
"Eliot Ryan Clark!" His father reprimanded. "I have told you time and again that those so-called 'friends' of yours have no place in this house if they continue to treat your brother that way."
"But..."
"No buts!" Mrs Clark had found her keys and was heading out the front door. "Now go with your mother and help her search while I stay here in case he comes back."
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Late that same night
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He heard as the front door slowly crept open and tiny feet tip-toed inside.
"Where the hell have you been?" He shouted, unsure of why he was so angry at the kid he should be consoling right now. It was like he wasn't in control of himself, his mouth and body being completely taken over by grief. Inside he was screaming that he just wanted to hold his kid and never let go, to tell him just how much he loved him and how upset he would be if he lost him. But all that came out was...
"Why'd you have to do it? Why'd you have to kill your Mum and Eliot?"
He was stunned by what he said, turning away from the sight of his son bursting into tears.
'Why did I say that?
It wasn't Spencer's fault.
If anyone in this room is to blame, it's me.
Why didn't I go out looking for him? Why did I send my wife and son out to do what was my responsibility as head of this household?
It should have been me in that car crash. If it had been me, I would have been in the truck, not that tiny little bug Mary likes to drive... liked. Oh, God! And now she left me with her boy, a constant reminder of her in those bright blue eyes.
I don't think I can do this.'