Page 31 of A River of Crows

Sloan felt the booth shift as Felicity sucked in a breath. Dylan studied the photo, his face giving nothing away.

“I’m sorry,” he said, handing it back. “I don’t remember him.”

Sloan sank back into the booth. Ridge was gone. Why was she torturing herself?

“How many boys did Eddie take?” Felicity asked.

Dylan rocked in his seat. “I only knew Logan, but there were others who would come and go.”

“Come and go?” Felicity asked.

“It's not like in the movies where we were chained up in some dungeon.” Dylan drummed his fingers against his coffee cup. “The chain was heroin for me. For some boys, it was arcade money. For others, it was fear he'd hurt their family.”

“I read a few nights ago that Logan Pruitt was riding his bike home from Movie Time Rentals when he was abducted,” Sloan said. The image was seared in her mind. The Huffy bike turned sideways on the street; a plastic VHS case opened beside it. “So, did Eddie just look for opportunity, or did he seek out certain boys?” Sloan was more comfortable asking questions now. The alcohol was doing its job. Giving her courage. She wondered how Dylan could tell his story without the help of it.

“Opportunity, I assume. He seemed to go driving a lot, looking for kids.” Dylan let out a hard sigh. “When I was twelve, someone in a Luke Skywalker mask assaulted me on the way home from trick-or-treating. He told me he'd come back and kill me if I ever told. I never told. But he still came back.”

“It was Eddie?” Felicity covered her mouth.

“Yeah.” Dylan glanced behind him to ensure the empty booth next to theirs hadn’t been filled. “Four years later.”

“How old are you now?” Sloan asked.

“Just turned thirty-two.”

“We're the same age,” Sloan said. She didn't have to do the math to determine the year they turned twelve. Halloween 1988. The week before Ridge disappeared.

“But you two didn’t know each other from school?” Felicity asked.

“We moved here when I was eleven, and I went to Saint Christopher’s,” Dylan said.

“Oh, so you’re Catholic?” Felicity put her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand.

“No, just painfully shy. Mom figured a private school would be easier for me.”

Felicity opened her mouth again to speak, but Sloan beat her to it. She needed to steer the conversation back on track. “So, after that Halloween, you didn’t see Eddie again for four years?” she asked.

“No, not till I started on the white stuff. Got hooked by a friend, and Eddie was his dealer. He seemed like a cool guy. After my dad kicked me out, I met him to get a hit. He offered his couch for the night.” Dylan bent his neck, letting shiny strands of hair cover his eyes. “I got in his car, and it was the car from that Halloween night. It all came back. I panicked, he hit me with something, and I woke up a few hours later in Eddie’s attic. Logan was there. He’d been there a long time.”

Sloan shuddered. “What did Eddie look like then?” she asked, still trying to recall the face of the man who grabbed her in the drugstore.

“Like he does now. Just a little thinner and with more hair.”

They stopped talking as the server approached with their food. Sloan had stared at Eddie’s mugshot on her computer last night, and it had produced no memories. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t put his face, or any face, on her attacker. “I have this memory,” Sloan said once the server left. “Of someone trying to grab me at the store.”

Dylan rubbed a sugar packet between his fingers. “In my eight months, I never saw a girl. Eddie liked boys.”

The vodka sloshed around in Sloan’s stomach. She needed to eat her chicken fettuccine but had lost her appetite.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you, Dylan,” Felicity said.

“Thank you. The whole reason I’m speaking out is that there are other victims. I want justice for them. I want justice for your brother. Just because I don’t remember seeing him doesn’t mean Eddie wasn’t behind it.”

“Was Eddie a Satanist?” Felicity’s eyes widened. “That was the talk after Logan’s kidnapping.”

Dylan smirked. “I think Satanism was the talk of the eighties. But no. No rituals or anything like that went on. Not surprised people assumed that, though. My old man swore every tape I bought had secret satanic messages if played backward.”

“Oh gosh, I remember.” Felicity giggled. “My grandma made us stop using Proctor and Gamble because she was sure their man in the moon logo was a horned devil with 666 in his beard.”

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