Page 45 of Pax

“Medical expenses?”

“Yes, his hospital and doctor bills?” he asked.

“We couldn’t get healthcare because of his illness. Everything had to be paid in cash, and even with our business doing well, we struggled at times and had to beg for debt forgiveness from the hospitals.”

“Did you owe them money at the time of his disappearance?” asked Hex.

“Yes. A great deal of money. We haven’t paid any of it because, of course, our son is gone, and they’re partly responsible for this. Their refusals to pay for any of his care forced us to seek other therapy. In the end, it forced our son to seek therapy he knew wouldn’t work.”

“Did you have a life insurance policy?” asked Luke.

“Yes, but the hospital took all of it. The hospital and the doctors. We were left with nothing except our son’s ashes.” Eric reached for her hand, squeezing.

“We’re going to try and change that.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Bogey and Benji took the opportunity, with the others down south, to meet with the owner of the boat business where Marvin worked. It was locally owned, although boasted serving five neighboring states.

“We’re terribly sorry to hear about Marvin. He was a great guy and really helped us to find a boat that would meet our purposes.” Bogey smirked at his old friend, amazed by the ease at which he was able to lie.

“Yeah,” he nodded, shuffling some papers around. “Marvin was great, but he liked to talk too much, and talking too much will get you killed.”

Bogey and Benji stared at the man, then looked at one another.

“Sorry, we understood that he took an overdose,” said Benji. The man looked up at them, closing the folder filled with unsigned contracts.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course, that was what the cops said, but he was always talking too much about clients’ business. One thing I always tell my sales boys, never divulge information about a buyer. They buy the boats without their wives’ approval, maybe for a girlfriend or something they don’t want the whole world to know. Or maybe they’re taking trips they shouldn’t. I don’t give a shit. It’s their business.”

“You’re going to have to be a little more detailed for me. What exactly do you mean?” asked Bogey. “We talked to him a while. I’d like to know if he could be trusted.”

“Well, I’m not sure you could say that he was trustworthy. He knew a good business deal when it hit him in the face,” he smirked. “That kid knew how to make money no matter what. This isn’t exactly the economy where people spend forty, fifty, sixty grand on a luxury boat. Somehow, he was always able to convince them to do it.

“Problem was, he also watched and listened. Too much. He would see them with their girlfriends on the boats while their wives were home taking care of the kids, and he’d make sure he mentioned it to the buyer. Or if he knew they were running things across the border, he somehow made sure he was getting his cut of it.”

“You knew this, and you employed him?” asked Benji, feeling the fire within rise up, boiling at his neck.

“I had to. He was my wife’s nephew,” he frowned.

“What sort of things did he know about other than cheating husbands?” asked Bogey. He looked up at them and stood from behind the desk.

“You’re asking a lot of questions for two guys who bought a boat and are expressing condolences. Maybe you’re here for something else.”

“You sent a liar and cheat out there to sell boats to people, knowing he would try to blackmail them. I’d say you’ve got answers to give,” said Bogey. “Maybe we start with the fact that your boats were used to chain groups of disabled Mexicans, Central Americans, and South Americans and then sunk off the coast of San Diego.”

“We’re done,” he said, charging around the desk. Benji smirked at his friend and rammed into the man, knocking him flat to his desk.

“We’re done when we say we are. Who are you selling these boats to?”

“I-I don’t know! I swear I don’t know. It’s a company, and they’ve bought eleven boats from me. I don’t question that. It’s my business.”

“Your business? Is it your business to kill innocent people who can’t swim, can barely walk, have rare diseases, and only want hope for cures? You’re a sick fuck who feeds off people’s hopes and dreams, destroying them.”

“What do you want?” he asked, gasping for air.

“I want names. Names of the company, the CEO, finance guy, all of them.” Bogey placed his knee against the man’s groin and pushed. His face turned a sickly purplish gray, and he coughed, shaking his head.

“I don’t know!”

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