I Know What I Saw Read online

  Copyright © 2019 by SE Cunningham

  I KNOW WHAT I SAW

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  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales or actual events is entirely coincidental.

  Prologue

  There was something about the way the lad was sleeping.

  He was surprised no one heard him. Well, not quite. That big ass ugly dog started barking almost waking up its owner. Luckily, the meat he gave to the dog with those sleeping pills and melatonin mashed in it did the trick.

  Now the sleep trick had to do the same for the boy. All because he wouldn't stop trying to be a hero.

  Did he actually think he would get away with it? He couldn't have thought that.

  What made him believe they didn't know what he was doing? Saw him even? Stupid kid.

  Carefully walking around the clothes tossed on the floor, he made it to the boy's bed and stood there staring at him. The boy's arm dangled off the side of his bed while he lay flat on his stomach, his face engulfed in several pillows. The man gave him a sly half-smile. He scanned around his darkened room, save for his tablet that was on playing a Youtube video, he made out several posters on the walls. The Cure, Alice Cooper, Bauhaus, and many others. Thinking back to when he was a boy his age, carefree in the world, coming of age. Yes, those were somewhat happier times. Until those awful things happened. Pushing the thought in the deep dark depths of his sick mind, his smile disappeared. Shaking his head, he wished for a few seconds that he could tell the boy to leave town, go back to his father, but that would be the old him.

  The new him, the evil him, covered the boys' mouth with his big rough gloved hand. In it, he held a cloth soaked with chloroform. The kid stirred for a bit, turning his head and putting his face down into the pillow. The man stood calmly, not even taking a step back. When he turned his face, the cloth stayed underneath his nose, giving the boy an extra dose of the chemical.

  He didn't even bother to grab the coat for him he saw hanging on a hook on the back of his door. Besides, he appeared to have fallen asleep in his hoodie and sweats. He did put shoes on him though. After a few minutes of seeing the kid was knocked out cold, the man simply swooped the lanky kid up over his shoulder. Going down the still dark hallway, he boldly stopped by a door that was several feet away from the boy's room. He knew who it belonged to. His heart pounded with a heavy thump as he stood for a few beats, daring them to come out of the room.

  When they didn't he shrugged, proceeding to walk quietly down the stairs, the boy's head bopping up and down against his back with each step. His arms dangled against his sides making a slight flapping sound. He still didn't wake up which was a good thing for him. He wouldn't want to have to end things right there and explain to his partner what happened. Shaking the thought out of his head, he rounded the corner, going past the dining room and through the kitchen and stepping right over the knocked out large dog. He walked right out the back door, the same way he came in as if he belonged there.

  Placing the kid in the back of his car, he looked around the property to make out what he could see in the thick dark night. The moon shone on the still lake providing some light for the animals that lived in the thicket of woods. The boat sat idly as if waiting for two old guys to hop in and go fishing in it. The bonfire pit seemed as if it enjoyed its share of campfire stories from annoying chatty teenagers. Probably even roasted marshmallows, sneaked to drink light beer and shared first kisses. He sighed out loud. If he lived a normal life, especially from his youthful days in the past, this would be it. But he didn't do normal. Normal was taken away from him when he was fifteen like this boy's age. He shrugged, adjusted his wool cap, got in his car and drove off down the winding pathway from the house without a care in the world.

  Chapter One

  After driving for almost an hour, the kid was still knocked out. He did stir a little in the backseat but didn't wake up. The man kept driving, not caring if the kid did awaken. The doors were already programmed with a touch of a button on the car to stay secure until he opened them from the driver's seat.

  Approaching the path to his location was a bit challenging due to the lack of light. Down this roadway leading to the house, it was always blanketed in darkness, even during the daytime. If it weren't for the bumpiness of it, the man wouldn't have been able to tell where he was going. The bumps played a sort of bump-crunch-bump cadence until it ended, meeting a thick patch of grass all the way down to a sprawling colonial-style home.

  Reaching his destination, the man stopped the car, parked and got out of the car. He checked his watch. It was very early. He couldn't wait to toss the kid to his handler so he himself could get some sleep. He figured he had a few hours before he was sent to go get whatever it was teenagers ate these days. His wild guess was candy bars and soda. He looked at the kid through the window. He was sleeping soundly. "Mountain Dew," he said to himself. "I bet he likes those crazy wacky flavors with too much sugar," the man muttered. He sighed heavily, looking towards the house. A light was on in the house on the top floor bedroom. He could see a shadow move away from the curtains in the window then turning the light off.

  "Numbers," the man said in a low voice. He turned away from the window and quickly went to go grab the kid. He was still asleep but the man didn't want to take a chance of him waking up swinging. So he did as he did before. He swooped him up and hung him over his shoulder and walked around the side of the house. The grass beneath his black Timberland boots crunched loudly in the thickened ice caked across the lawn. The man didn't care. This kid was not getting up until later that afternoon.

  Especially with what Numbers had cooked up for the kid.

  Opening up the door in the back of the house, he effortlessly walked down the steps, the boy's head bopping against his shoulder as it did earlier. Even with that soft touch, the man could not bring himself to say 'stop, this is wrong, let me take him back home'.

  No, he wouldn't have that. Too late anyway. Besides if Numbers went down, that meant he went down, too. It was for the best for everyone involved. What Numbers' plan was to do with him, he didn't know. Whatever it was, he seemed too anxious, giddy even, at making sure the kidnapping was a quick clean snatch. And that it was.

  The man lowered his head as he walked down the hallway and towards another set of stairs. This time, it would lead to a basement. Soon as he made it down the basement stairs, he sniffed in the air. It still smelled like copper. Oh well, he thought, at least the kid can lay it down. Numbers would take care of the rest from this point forward.

  Turning on the lone lightbulb in the basement, he plopped the boy down on a thin mattress with a thud, the boy's head bouncing up then back down. He didn't even flinch, just stretched out his arms and curled himself up into a ball, hugging his knees up to his chest. The man turned around.

  Numbers was standing right there.

  The man didn't jump. He took his hat off and stuffed it inside his black Carhart coat pocket.

  "What say you?" Brennan Hill asked Numbers.

  Numbers cocked his head to
the side, trying to look around Brennan's tall frame. He stepped back so Numbers could see the boy. He didn't miss the evil plastered smile on Numbers' face.

  Without taking his eyes off of the boy, he answered. "You will soon find out. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this moment." He rubbed his hands together in a grubbing kind of way.

  Brennan kept his eyes on Numbers and grunted. "I see. Well, he's all yours now. Whatever else you need me to do, just let me know. I'd like to get some sleep before I go online to see if this is going to make the news today or not."

  Numbers cackled out loud. "Man, are you kidding me? His aunt is some special NYPD detective. One of the baddest to ever do it. Little does she know, so am I," he said seriously.

  His ice-cold blue eyes showed no emotion. "I don't care what they say. This kid is mine. Let his family see what it's like to have everything taken away from you."

  Brennan stared blankly at Numbers. "I understand Numbers. Believe me, I do." He waited for a beat before sighing. Remembering that he still had his gloves on, he took them off and put them inside of his other pocket.

  Numbers nodded. "Yes, that's why we work so well together. Anyway, with him gone from home, the evidence in our possession, we can concentrate on getting our money from Andrei's crew. They have made an offer," he said in glee.

  This made Brennan's eyes dance for a bit. He got a rush whenever they made money. He ran his hands across his bald head, letting out a small whistle. He grinned.

  "I like how that sounds Numbers. You know when I got here and dropped that load over there down, my intent was to take a shower and go to bed. Now at three in the morning, I'll be sharing in the excitement of our third biggest sale of the month!"

  Numbers nodded again excitedly. "Oh, yes indeed! In fact, let me show you how much your cut will be. Besides, you did all the work this time. I am proud of your hacking skills." Numbers slapped Brennan on the back and grinned. He walked him over to the staircase so they could leave. Before they went up, Numbers went back over to the boy. He saw a thin old blanket at the foot of the mattress. He went to cover the boy up all the way to his neck. The last thing he needed was for this boy to get sick on him. He stood over him, the stillness of the room drawing him closer. Placing his index finger on his temple and his thumb underneath his chin, he knew something was missing. Just like that, it came to him.

  He looked at a chain that was looped through a hook on the cemented wall. It held an attached clamp on it. Numbers took the clamp and tossed the blanket off just to expose the boys' feet. Harshly yanking his feet down from the curled position, Numbers took the clamp and closed it tightly around his ankles. It made a loud click sound throughout the wide basement. The boy still hadn't moved. Numbers then put the blanket over his feet and even patted them. He chuckled to himself, still standing with his back to Brennan. He still couldn't believe his luck.

  "What are the odds B? What are the odds?"

  He turned around to see Brennan staring at him.

  "I don't know but I can't wait to find out," Brennan replied, eyeing his friend and partner suspiciously.

  "Oh yes, you will. In fact, let's drink some coffee to this one. We're going to have to pull an all-nighter."

  Numbers walked ahead of Brennan, not waiting for a reply, signifying they both needed to leave. Turning off the light, he turned to get one last look at the now snoring boy.

  "See you later Rodney. We have lots to discuss later on," Numbers said sinisterly over his shoulder at the sleeping teen.

  He walked up the stairs thinking about all the fun he was going to have torturing the youngster.

  Chapter Two

  I woke up to Moxy barking crazily as if there was someone in my house. Turning over in my bed, I winced over at the growing winter sunlight peeking its way through my sheer curtains dressed on the bay windows. It was time for me to get Rodney up to walk Moxy, make Rodney some breakfast, and fix my morning coffee.

  Feeling slightly groggy from the pain medication, I stretched out my entire body, my arms spilling out from underneath my down comforter. I tossed it back, staring around at the empty right side. I don't know why I always did that. No matter where I went, Mateo was not coming back. And that was all my fault.

  Trying not to relive the past, I swung my feet over out of my bed, placing my feet in my warm brown Bearpaw moccasin slippers. I went into my bathroom, still hearing Moxy barking.

  "All right Moxy! Calm down, I'm coming!" I yelled out to her. She was downstairs probably waiting for one of us at the back door.

  Before getting in the shower, I stared at myself in the mirror. I rubbed my hands across my face, stretching open my hazel-green eyes with my fingertips. I frowned at myself, yawned again and threw some cold water on my face. Looking back at myself in the mirror, I tried not to think about these past few months and why I was in my cabin home in Oswego. The one no one but me liked to come to. And Mateo. When he was home. I sighed deeply pushing our happier moments away.

  "That was then, this is now," I said out loud, shrugging.

  Grabbing my hair in a bunch from the middle, I pulled my long auburn curls into a ponytail with a Scrunchie that was on the counter. I ran my fingers through my ends, mentally reminding myself I needed a new trim from Sally at her salon. I had to admit, it was hard keeping up with myself and Rodney. As a person with no biological children of my own, I never knew it would be this hard.

  My nephew Rodney was a laid-back teen coming into his own, but one could tell he was troubled. He was always distant, always wore all black even on his fingernails and the music he listened to made me cringe at times. While I liked listening to both old school hip-hop and pop, he was the biggest fan of goth rock and sometimes grunge. Whatever. I just wanted him to get back on track and not worry his father so much. And his grandmother, my mother. She had enough worrying about my other brother Matt as it was. My father, too. Although she didn't say it but I knew she wished he didn't work so much. She would be calling any moment now considering the holiday winter break just started and the students were out of school.

  Just as I finished brushing my teeth, my phone rang out. I scrunched my face at the sharp pain in my shoulder as I carefully put my arm through my red cable-knit sweater. I then rushed over to the phone which I always kept on my nightstand. I didn't even bother to look at the screen.

  "Hello?" I answered.

  "Good morning Nina Belle. How's it going?" That was my mother Agnes Perkins. She was the only person who called me by my first and middle name. I actually liked it when she did that. Just not in front of my colleagues whenever she was in town to meet them.

  "Oh, it's going Mom. How are you? The usual hot beautiful sun overlooking your beach house?" I answered her, holding my phone to my ear. I started to make my bed, feeling on it for my earbuds. I usually used hands-free so I could multitask in the house. Or when I went running.

  She chuckled. "You know it. And you could be enjoying this warm weather, too. Along with Rodney. As a matter of fact, where is he? I tried calling him to chat it up for a bit, but he didn't answer. I guess he's still asleep, huh?"

  "Mm-hmm. You know that boy is just like his father. He doesn't play when it's time to get his rest," I replied with a laugh. Pulling my covers back, I fluffed my pillows. I turned my attention to Moxy barking.

  "Wow, Moxy's going off this morning, isn't she? What's wrong with her? Does she need to be outside before eight? The older she gets, the more impatient she is. I know how that is though," my mother said laughing.

  I couldn't find my earbuds, so I walked down the hallway toward Rodney's room. I didn't want to disturb him so early, but I figured I would at least have him walk the dog while I cooked breakfast for us. I wanted to tell him about this new local rock group playing at the rec center tomorrow. I am sure he would enjoy that. He needed to get out some and learn the new town.

  While my mother talked in my ear about her plans for the day, I noticed something about Rodney's room door. It was opened
. That was strange. This kid was so private he never liked his room door open, even when he left for school.

  I stepped inside. An eery feeling swept over my body. I don't know why. Perhaps it's the detective in me. My father always told me I had this sixth sense.

  "Mom-" I said cutting her off before she could speak again. "Rodney is not in here." I marched quickly into his room, stepping over the thrown clothes he had on the floor. I noticed something right off the bat. His tablet was still on and charging. He never did that either because he knew I didn't want to hear the music all night. I checked his closet but was met with a mountain of his clothes at the bottom of it.

  "What do you mean he is not in the room?" my mother asked. "Maybe he's in the bathroom." I turned around, rushing out of the room and further down the hallway to his bathroom. I knocked frantically. I shifted the phone away from my ear forgetting my mother was on the phone.

  "Rodney are you in there? Rodney?" I yelled out, banging on the door. I knew he wasn't in there because the water wasn't running.

  "Calm down some Nina Belle. I'm sure he went downstairs to grab some cereal or orange juice," my mother said in her usual soothing voice.

  I went inside the guest room, but it was so quiet in there. I checked the walk-in closet, but the only thing in there was my hunting gear. I left out and walked towards the other end of the hallway going to the ceiling door which led to my attic.

  "Nina, has Rodney ever done this before? You don't think he's using again, do you? Oh dear, I hope not. I wouldn't want his father to be disappointed again," she said sadly.

  I didn't answer my mother. She would know the answer to that by my silence. For now, I wanted to see if Rodney was in the attic. Pulling the string attached to the door, I pulled down the accordion-style folded ladder and hobbled my way up. Standing at the top of the stairs, I switched on the light, hoping he was curled up in a corner with some bud next to him. I wouldn't even be mad at him if I did catch him like that just as long as he was in this house.