Scavenger (eBook)

chapter 3

A long time passed as Trey sat in the dark. Worry and fear wiggled in his gut like a nest of poisonous snakes. Every time he tried to move, one of the imaginary snakes would bite him and he would gasp as if he really had been struck. Terror snapped and froze him in the chair. This man had his son. The repetition of this thought bit and chomped him into small pieces of fear and incredibility. Why would he target Sean? Why had he kidnapped his child? What could he do? Who should he call?

Finally, Trey snapped out of it and, where fear had been, anger exploded into his blood. He slammed his fist onto the table, the pain radiated up his arm and awakened him from his frozen state. Standing up with such violence, the chair went flying across the floor, he grabbed the edge of the table and flung it into the counter, screaming with the agony of his impotence. Someone had taken his son. How dare this man. He would kill him. He would get Sean back. So help all that stood in his way. This was his child!

Trey shuddered one last time and then took a gulping breath of air. He crumpled the paper and stuffed it in his pocket . This man messed with the wrong parent. Screw your wealth, your untouchability, your high and mighty attitude. Trey would get Sean back and never think twice what he did to this monster.

Bending to pick up his phone, he flicked the screen to light it and saw it was already seven o’clock. Formal attire was what the letter said. He laughed with bitterness and anger as he glanced at the dusty jeans and tee shirt he wore from the construction site. This is how he would enter this man’s house. He would show Clayton Williams what he thought of his requests and strength. This rich man had stolen from the wrong guy.

Trey pulled his keys from his pocket and left his apartment, never bothering to close the door. Hopefully, one of his neighbors would be alerted to this anomaly and call the cops. He would not call them, but Trey was sure help would come his way. Hitching his lean body into the cab of his truck, he put the Cabernet address into his phone and waited for Google maps to give him directions. It was less than a ten-minute drive from his humble apartment to a mansion off Old Freehold Road. In that eight miles, two very different worlds were going to collide and Trey was ready for this fight.

He sat for a moment more and glancing up to gaze at the hard grey eyes that stared back at him from his rearview mirror. There was still a hint of fear in them, and he took his hand and wiped it across his face as if cleaning that terror away with a washcloth. His eyes glinted back, hatred replacing any anxiety he had been feeling. He was getting his son back.

Trey drove without thought. His mind wandered back to the memories of times with Sean. The nights without sleep, the first tumbling steps, the first words; all fresh in his mind as if yesterday. Trey never regretted his decision to become a father and the love he felt toward his boy was beyond words. It bubbled up in his throat now and brought hard tears to his eyes. Suffocating love made him swallow hard and gasp as if he was choking. I’m coming Sean, Trey thought with intensity.

“I’m coming, son.” He whispered out loud, gripping the steering wheel hard as he made the last turn into a fairy tale development.

The houses grew larger as he drove down the tree-shrouded street. Spires like castle turrets sprang from the roof of one mansion, followed by a brick-faced colonial with not two floors, but three, across a half acre of manicured grass.

The voice in his phone told him his destination was 100 yards ahead. He pulled to the side of the road and turned off his truck. Reaching up to the light on the roof, he clicked it off and opened his door. Sliding from the cab, he gently pulled his door closed without letting it make any sound. Trey stood for a long minute and turned his head in all directions to check his surroundings. Crickets chirped, a distant dog barked, a faint motor of a car whined, but that was it.

He walked forward, staying in the shade of the trees, away from the streetlights. As he approached the driveway, he saw it was fenced in. Large brick columns held a high, metal gate with a small voice box extending from the driver’s-side column. Trey kept walking. The red-brick wall extended beyond the columns, all the way along the sidewalk for at least another seventy-five yards. Then the wall turned the corner of the property and continued as deep as he could see in the dark. Turning around, he quickly walked back toward his truck.

Sliding into the vehicle, he sat for a long time in the dark. His choices were limited. He would have to enter through the driveway. There was no element of surprise and no way to get an upper hand. The options were not to his advantage. Sliding the key into the ignition, he sighed with defeat and then started his truck.

Pulling away from the curb, he thought one last time of ramming the gates, but then felt it was not going to help his cause to get Sean back safely. He lowered his window, rolled up to the gate and pushed the intercom button

“Mr. Sullivan to see Mr. Williams.” His voice cracked with the anxiety that squiggled in his stomach.

No vocal response came, just the clicking of the gates as they laboriously opened, as if they were there just to antagonize him. Finally, they were far enough apart. He gunned his engine and flew into the unknown. The driveway was paved with a red, wavy design of lines and circles and shadowed by huge trees, bare of their leaves. After at least one hundred yards, the lane arched around a large water fountain, and Trey pulled to a stop on the far side of the white marble stairway that elegantly ran to the front of a huge white-columned entranceway.

Pulling in one last bracing breath, Trey got out of his truck and slammed his door with all the force of his anger. He jogged up the stairs and then just stood before the door. This man knew he was here. He would wait for them to bade him entrance.

A minute passed, then another. Trey waited. He didn’t fidget, didn’t fix his light brown hair, didn’t tuck in his dirty t-shirt. Standing tall at his six-foot two frame, he simply waited.

Finally, after more than four minutes, the door opened and a slim woman in a black dress offered him entrance. Trey stepped into a cavernous hallway, lit brightly by a crystal chandelier overpowering the tall ceiling. The walls were void of pictures, the floor a checkerbox black and white like the old saddle shoes from the 1950’s. He waited as the woman sniffed her disdain at his disheveled appearance.

“I will get you appropriate clothing for the evening.”

Trey almost laughed at this absurd comment. He turned and stared hard at the slight woman, with perfectly coiffed black hair and makeup.

“I’m not here for an evening.” He snipped tightly. “Just take me to your boss so we can clear a few things up and then I’ll get the fuck out of here.”

The woman did not appear fazed by his biting words. She merely turned around and walked away. Trey watched her retreating back and stayed exactly where he had entered. This was a game of wits he decided, and he would play it as long as his son was the prize at the end. Again, he simply waited. This time the minutes crept by at a snail’s pace and he wondered if the household had forgotten he was even present.

Finally, the woman returned. Over her left arm was draped a black suit and behind her stood two very large men. Their attire, black suits with an addition of bulges beneath their jackets, acknowledged that they were hired muscle. Trey thought he had fallen into some mobster movie and then shook his head at the insanity of the whole situation.

“These men will escort you to a powder room to help you change your clothes.”

“Fuck you.” Trey spit and narrowed his grey eyes as the men approached him.

The fist in his gut came before he even realized the men were close enough to hit him. He doubled over as the air gushed from his mouth and nose. Two beefy hands grabbed his upper arms and dragged him forward. Just as he gathered his feet beneath him he was bodily thrown into a room and the door slammed behind him.

Trey slowly regained his strength and stood back up, his right hand rubbing his abdominal muscles where the punch had caught him. The black suit lay on the floor at his feet and he realized his only choice to get answers was to change his clothes. The absurdness of it all was not lost on him as he pulled his t-shirt over his head.

“I’m trying to get to you Sean.” He whispered as he started buttoning the white-collared shirt. So many emotions were swirling through him like a kaleidoscope picture dancing before him. He wanted to cry with anguish over the disappearance of his child, scream in defiance to get him back and laugh at the stupidity of him dressing up in a formal tux to talk to the man who kidnapped his son.

Trey leaned on the sink counter and stared at his haunted face. He flicked at his ruffled brown hair and then ran both hands over his narrow face. It was time to meet this stranger and ask what he must do to recover his boy. There was no money in his bank...