Grayson snapped the yellow file folder shut and placed it on the desk in front of him. Leaning back in the chair with a deep sigh, he stretched his arms out wide, arching his aching back. Twisting from side to side, he released some of the tension in his protesting muscles. Lowering his arms onto the padded arms of the chair, he stared intently at the folder. Glancing at his watch, he muttered, "Not much longer now, Peter Caine."
Sitting in this room filled with green metal file
cabinets overflowing with a wealth of information about every brat who,
at one time or another, had walked these corridors, brought memories rushing
back - memories of his failure. Hard to believe it's been two years since
my brief stay as headmaster of these hallowed halls. Hell, I shouldn't
even have been here when that Caine brat arrived, but I couldn't very
well turn down someone as influential as Aaron Bradley. He was old money
and his family wielded a great deal of influence in this town. With his
help, I could have moved up the political ladder in no time, even run
for governor in the not too distant future. Why in the hell did this particular
orphanage have to be one of Bradley's pet projects? He could still hear
him…"Oh, it's a worthy cause, Grayson. You can't go wrong with
an orphanage. Go out and help a bunch of parentless kids, people eat it
up, and they remember! It's absolutely a political gold mine, I'm telling
you. Surely, you can handle a few motherless boys for a few months. How
hard can it be? Besides, it'll do wonders for your political career. I
will owe you big time and you know how generous I can be." I almost
pulled it off, too, until the little heathen brat down the hall showed
up, spewing his cult gibberish, questioning everything I said and did.
What a mouth he had on him! He actually had the gall to tell me how to
handle the younger children. In a few short months that brat managed to
destroy everything I worked so hard to build. Well, I'm back, Peter Caine,
stronger than ever and this time retribution is mine. You'll soon be joining
the high and mighty Miss. Sarah Kainz. I took care of her and now I'll
take care of you.
A hand reached out of the darkness, gripping his shoulder. Peter Caine
swung around, ready to deliver a defensive blow, but pulled up short as
recognition registered.
"Don't do that!" he hissed.
Sporting his trademark sloppy grin, Kyle replied, "Sorry. I found
Grayson. He's in the file room. Not sure how long he's been in there,
but this is probably the best chance you are going to get to make a getaway.
Come on."
"What's he doing in there?"
"How should I know? The guy is weird. Nobody should know that better than you. Let's go."
"Where do you think you are going?"
"Well, I was…I was going..."
"No, you're not! I really appreciate your help, but you are staying right here. From here out, I go it alone, you understand?"
Kyle looked at his friend and then his gaze dropped.
"Look Kyle," Peter rested a hand on the other boy's shoulder, "thanks for helping me. You are a good friend - the best. Don't worry, I will be back long before Friday with Paul and backup, I promise. You watch your back, okay? Stay out of Grayson's way. If anything happened to you, I would never forgive myself. Remember that." Peter turned, moving down the hall on silent feet, his focus intent on the task ahead..
Kyle stood watching until his roommate disappeared from sight, swallowed up by the darkened hallway. "Take care, my friend, take care," he whispered into the quiet night.
+++++++++
Kyle fought to throw off the nightmare that held him in its bruising grip. Opening his eyes, he realized this was not a nightmare. It was as real as the hands painfully gripping his arms as they roughly hauled him up and out of bed. He blinked and squinted, his eyes trying to adjust to the sudden brightness of the room. He didn't believe he had been asleep long because he remembered lying awake for what seemed like an eternity after Peter's escape earlier in the night. The only thought Kyle managed to formulate was to be grateful that Ray, the other boy who normally shared this room with him and Peter, was not here tonight to witness his rude awakening. It meant one less person to worry about. He found himself being propelled, stumbling, down the hallway by strong, hurtful hands. Grayson pushed him into the headmaster's office and shoved the frightened teenager into one of the cold vinyl chairs. Looking up, his gaze was captured by Grayson's piercing gray eyes. He felt like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. There was barely contained fury in the man's eyes. Kyle watched the headmaster ease himself onto the edge of the gunmetal gray desk directly behind him. Quiet settled in around them as the sound of the clock ticking on the wall above the door seemed to grow louder with each passing second. Kyle jumped as Grayson's deep voice filled the room.
"Where is Peter Caine?"
Kyle's mind scrambled for an acceptable answer, one that would satisfy Grayson and protect Peter. Shit! What was he going to say? His brain searched desperately for the correct answer.
"I know he told you where he was going, Kyle. This silence only makes you an accomplice."
"Accomplice? I don't know what you mean, sir."
"Oh, I think you do. In fact, I know you do. I am going to ask you one more time." Spreading his hands, he added, "Of course, if I don't get the right answer, I suppose I can always get it from one of the younger children. Possibly little Phillip or Timothy could be persuaded to talk."
"They're just babies! They don't know anything."
Before Kyle could react, Grayson leaned forward, wrapping a beefy hand around his jaw…squeezing.
"Now, you little bastard, answer my question, or I'll drag those two 'babies' in here and you can watch me beat it out of them! I want to know where Peter Caine went and I want to know right now!"
He couldn't move. The man's grip was like being held in a vise. He was afraid his jaw was going to snap. Grayson finally loosened his grip enough to allow a semblance of speech.
<I'm sorry, Pete. You were right, this guy's
crazier than the Mad Hatter! You'll kill me if I let
any harm come to Phillip or Timmy at the hands of this maniac.>
As suddenly as he had grabbed him, the man released his grip. "Last chance."
Fighting back tears, Kyle whispered, "He went up into the mountains."
"Where?"
"I-I don't know. He just said he was going to hike up over the mountains. That's all he told me, I swear!"
Grayson stared hard at the teen. Then, waving his hand in a gesture of dismissal, he barked, "Get out!"
The boy did not need to be told twice. He almost ran back to his room. Closing the door behind him, he collapsed onto the edge of the nearest bed. Wrapping both arms around his midsection, he began to rock back and forth as hot tears streamed down his face. "Oh God, Peter, I am so sorry. There was nothing I could do!"
++++++++++
Grayson finished tightening the laces on his boots, his mouth drawn in a tight line across his face. A sharp rap on the office door told him that Gentry had finally arrived. "About time," he grumbled. Three strides and his hand reached for the doorknob. Jerking open the door with no small amount of force, he managed to startle the man standing on the other side.
"Get in here!"
"Jeez, scare the hell out of a guy, why don't you?" David Gentry moved into the room, leaving the door ajar. He spotted a dark green backpack sitting on the floor, its metal frame resting against the wall. Looking Grayson up and down, he frowned. "What the hell's going on? What's with the backpack and the hiking boots?"
"Can it!"
"You call me up in the middle of the night and tell me to get my ass over here pronto, no explanation, and all you can say is, 'Can it?'"
"Don't ask about things that could be detrimental to your health, Davey boy. There's been a slight change in plans." Grayson pulled on his jacket and walked over to where the backpack rested. Picking it up, he threaded his arms through the straps and settled it high on his back. Turning, he stared into the smaller man's face. "Listen carefully. I don't want any mistakes."
"Hey, didn't I get that Trager guy out of the way for you?"
"Just shut up and listen. I'm making a little adjustment to our master plan, so concentrate." Glancing at the clock above the door, he continued, "It's 4:00 a.m. You remember where the Tulome Peak trailhead is located, just north of here?"
"Yeah, I remember. Why?"
"I want you and that car of yours waiting for me in the Tulome Peak trailhead parking area no later than 4:00 this afternoon, understand?"
"Sure, whatever you say. I'll be there. Mind telling me what's going on? Why the sudden change in plans?"
"Just be there and if you know what's good for you, you will be on time. Don't make a move from that parking area until I arrive. You got that?"
"Yeah, yeah, I got it."
"In the meantime, stay here and keep a lid on things. You have your Social Services I.D. with you?"
Gentry patted his breast pocket. "Yeah, sure, I've got it right here."
"You may temporarily fool the staff, but someone unexpected might pop up and start nosing around." Grayson was thinking of the family he'd read about in Peter's case file. It was a bit unsettling to learn a family was nosing around the kid, even considering fostering him. The man was a police lieutenant. Although it gave him pause, he certainly did not consider the threat great enough to deter him from completing his mission. He had originally planned to get in quickly, grab the kid and disappear into the night, but now Peter had forced his hand. Instead of the quick in and out job, it had become a cat and mouse game. Definitely an interesting little twist. Oh well, either way, the kid is as good as dead.
"And keep close tabs on the Bettinger kid. He can't be trusted. Keep your eyes and ears open and don't be late to that parking area."
"Yes sir, boss, I got it."
Grayson paused, glaring at Gentry. Walking to the door, he lifted his brimmed hat from its peg and placed it on his head. Without a word, or a backward glance, he continued out the door and quickly disappeared from the other man's sight.
David Gentry sighed, feeling the tension leave his body. "Jezus, Grayson, you are one crazy son of a bitch. I don't know who you're after, but I'm sure as hell glad it isn't me."
+++++++Tuesday, 2:00 p.m.
Glancing at his watch, Paul Blaisdell began the climb to the second floor
of the 101st precinct. His preference was definitely the elevator, but
his gorgeous and loving wife had recently put him on another health regimen,
which excluded reaching the second floor by any other means than the stairs.
<I love you, babe, but I wish you didn't feel compelled to keep such close tabs on my waistline.>
Paul sighed. "But, nothing gets past Annie, so up the stairs I go." The blind chick, as Annie liked to call herself, might have been blind since the age of three months, but she could see more than any sighted person Paul Blaisdell had ever met.
Reaching the second floor he paused, absorbing some of the chaotic ambiance so prevalent at the 1-0-1 and especially in this squad room filled with detectives. Raised voices floated across to him, drawing his attention to the booking desk. Sgt. Broderick was busy pointing out the finer points of the law to some unhappy customers. It was Strenlich's voice that next assailed his ears. Frank was not only a good friend, but a family friend, as well. They shared a history together. At the moment, his newly promoted Chief of Detectives was busy imparting words of wisdom on the subject of women and the police force. He shook his head and silently hoped that his new Chief would not soon be in need of rescuing.
Today was a very special day in the life of the entire Blaisdell family. He felt as though he just might explode if he didn't immediately get the opportunity to share his news with someone. Paul headed across the room, straight for Kermit Griffin's office. A quick knock and he entered without waiting for an invitation. The fact that they not only shared a mutual history in the mercenary world, but also a deep friendship, bought them both certain privileges. Kermit, wearing his signature green sunglasses, sat leaning into the monitor directly in front of him as nimble fingers flew across the keyboard. He started to rise at his Lieutenant's entrance.
"Sit, Kermit. Anything on the Escalante case?" Paul eased himself into the chair opposite his computer guru's desk.
"No, sir, but it's just a matter of time. I'll find something sooner or later." Kermit stared across the desk at the man who was not only a friend, but a mentor and his part-time boss. Damn, if he didn't look like the cat that just swallowed the canary. The ex-mercenary felt pretty confident he knew the reason for that silly grin now pasted on Paul's face. Hell, he'd talked of nothing else for the last six weeks! "So, how did it go? Is the kid finally yours?"
"Yep, we spent the morning signing endless reams of paper. We are now officially the foster parents of one fourteen-year old boy by the name of Peter Caine. I've got a son, Kermit."
"Congratulations, Lieutenant. I'm happy for you and Annie. I know how much this kid means to you. Does he know?"
"Not yet. Annie and I are picking him up at the orphanage around 5:00." Glancing at his watch, he continued, "We'll take him out to dinner and make the announcement. He isn't expecting us, so it will be a surprise. We wanted to wait until all the papers were signed and finalized before telling the kid. Didn't want to take the chance of getting his hopes up just to have them dashed by some ridiculous technicality. There were also a few hurdles to clear regarding Annie's blindness."
"Planning on telling him before or after dinner?"
Paul grinned. "We haven't decided. If we tell him before dinner, he won't eat a bite, but if we wait until after dinner, we won't be able to eat. As you can see, my friend, it is quite the quandary." Paul took a deep breath, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "I've signed so many papers my hands are cramping, but I would gladly sign a hundred more, if that's what it took."
"Damned idiots! That's Social Services for you. They wouldn't recognize two of the greatest parents on the planet, if they walked up and kicked them in the behind, which is what I hope both of you did! Peter's one lucky kid."
Paul's manner sobered. "No, Kermit, we are the lucky ones. Lucky to have found him and now to finally, after all these months, have him permanently in our home as our son."
"Yeah, I know. He is a good kid, but I still say he is getting the better end of this deal."
"After dinner, we'll take him back to the house with us. He has plenty of clothes at our place, so there will be no need to take him by the orphanage to pick up his things tonight. I doubt Annie will allow him to bring much of that 'stuff,' as she calls it, into the house, anyway." Blaisdell again glanced down at his watch. "In fact, I do believe that my wife and the girls are at this very moment out abusing my defenseless credit cards in anticipation of his arrival."
The ex-mercenary grinned. "Well, I guess your promotion to Captain came through just in the nick of time. Considering you will be adding a male teenage kid's appetite to your household, you are going to need that big raise."
"Very funny. Although, you're probably right." Paul cleared his throat. "I wanted you to be the first to know about the fostering, Kermit, but that's not the only reason I came in here. I have been taking advantage of our friendship lately, using your office to vent my frustration with the fostering system. Thanks for your support, I appreciate it.
"My pleasure. It's the least I can do. A little payback for allowing me a temporary haven in which to lick my wounds."
"You would do the same for me. Don't you think maybe it's about time you got out of the business, before it devours you? It's a hard task master and it will show you no mercy. That's why I now pick my missions and they are getting fewer and farther between. I need the time with my family."
"I don't have a family."
"Bullshit! What about your sister and her kids?"
"She's married to a real bore, but if he makes her happy, well then I'm happy, too."
"Just think about it, that's all I ask. You know my door is always open to you and the job offer is a standing one. I could certainly use your computer skills."
"I might consider it, you just never know. Depends on what you have to offer. I'll need to know what the perks are, first. I don't come cheap, you know.
Paul chuckled and shook his head. "It's getting a little deep in here. Back to the question at hand." Blaisdell cleared his throat. "Annie and I think it only fair and proper that you be present when we officially welcome our new son into the Blaisdell clan. The girls want to make a real celebration of it, with decorations, food, cake, ice cream; the works. Tomorrow, we'll be taking our new son out to Pathways to pick up his things and while we are out, the girls will get everything ready. Oh, and I should mention that Jenny-Jo will be helping them. I would like you to be there, Kermit."
"I would be honored. What time, what do I bring, and you did say that Jen will be attending?
"Four O'clock, bring your charming self and, yes, I am sure she will be as happy to see you as you again as you will to see her. The plan is to keep Peter away from the house until 4:30. It's a surprise party so it would be best if you managed to arrive on time?" Actually, Paul was pretty confident that with Jenny-Jo's name on the invited list, Kermit would be among the early arrivals. He rose from the chair.
"By the way, if I may be so bold as to ask, when will the official announcement of your promotion to Captain of the 101 be made?"
"You know the big muckety mucks, they like to make everything into a publicity photo op. Ceremony is set for June thirteenth, but on paper it becomes official June second."
Grinning, Kermit pushed his chair back and stood. "Congratulations, Paul, or should I say, 'Captain Blaisdell, sir.' You will make a great Captain." The two men shook hands.
"Thanks, my friend."
"This has been quite a week for the Blaisdell family; adding another kid and getting a big promotion."
Paul laughed just as the door opened and Strenlich stuck his head inside the office.
"Lieutenant, there's an urgent call for you on line one. You want to take it in your office?"
"No, I'll take it in here, Chief."
Paul sat down just as the phone rang. Snatching the receiver from it's base, he barked, "Lieutenant Blaisdell. Oh hi, Terry, how's the family? Good. So, what can I do for the Porterville PD today?"
Hearing another police department mentioned, one located in a town 120 miles northeast, drew Kermit's immediate attention.
"Who?"
The computer expert watched the lines in Paul's forehead deepen. Seconds ticked away as silence enveloped the two men.
Suddenly, his Lieutenant learned forward in the chair. "Trager? What's going on?"
Kermit watched as a collage of emotions drifted across his friend's face. He saw the man's facial muscles tense, until finally a muscle in his left jaw began to twitch. He had not witnessed that reaction since their mercenary days together. His concern grew accordingly. More minutes crawled by and still, there was only silence at this end of the line. Any number of alarms were going off in his head. It was difficult, not knowing what was being said at the other end of this one sided conversation, but whatever it was, he knew it must be really bad to cause this reaction in the man sitting across from him. Paul had yet to utter a word.
The police lieutenant's next move came so unexpectedly that the ex-mercenary, known for his unflappable demeanor, cringed as Paul literally slammed the receiver home and shot out of his chair.
"Gawd Damit! Kermit, NOW!" Paul moved out into the squad room, where every eye turned to its commander.
"Right behind you." Pulling open the bottom drawer of the desk, he retrieved his Desert Eagle from its nesting place. He instinctively knew this was not the time for questions. Answers would come later on the way to wherever the hell it was they were headed. He was sure everyone in the building could hear Paul Blaisdell as he barked out orders.
"Frank, get the nearest two squad cars out to Pathways orphanage ASAP! Tell 'em to lock the place down. No one is to leave until I get there, understood?" He didn't wait for an answer, knowing his orders would be followed to the letter. "I want an APB out immediately on one Jeremy Grayson. He's got a sheet, so get his stats out to the uniforms. The man is to be considered armed and dangerous. I'll need a picture. Get it on the wires and send copies out to the orphanage. Call Annie. Tell her I'll be late, but that I will call later to explain. Don't tell her where I'm headed."
"You got it, Lieutenant." Strenlich did not yet know what was going down, but if it involved Pathways, then it probably involved Peter Caine, the kid the Blaisdells were so crazy about and in the process of trying to foster.
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