Page 20 of The Doctor

12

BOYD

I watched as Martin wiped the blood off his cheek. Mary Bayers’ body slumped to the right, blood pooling onto the ugly floral couch.

“What the fuck did you kill her for? You’re like a trigger-happy asshole.”

Though I sensed I knew what the problem was. Martin grew frustrated that the woman claimed to know nothing. Not only that, we’d walked in with no masks and she could easily describe any of us, the longer she spent with us. I had no intention of her surviving the ordeal. But I had plans to make her talk first. She had to have some idea of where her grandson went.

The truth was, Martin was panicking. He was the one to pull the trigger on both Bill and his wife. Asshole owed me money. He’d been selling my goods to the students at the school and he’d thought he could stiff me.

Bill knew how things worked. He grew up on the same streets as me. He knew what Garth Folsom was like. He knew I’d have to report his failure to pay, to the boss. We were arguing about just that earlier that day. I had hoped my visit earlier that day had scared him enough to get it all together. Steal from his wife if he needed to. It was only when his kid interrupted us to say hewas ready to go home that I stomped out of his office and called Folsom.

I should’ve gone into the house myself to make sure no one fucked up. Instead, I let them go in, and trigger-happy Martin put a bullet in each of their heads.

I didn’t know if the kid had seen anything. According to my men, they didn’t see him. But he obviously saw or heard them. Hence, the protective custody. I had no idea Bill had other children, too. A long time ago, we were friends. Three of us. Bill, Boyd and Sam. Now Bill was dead and even my relationship with Sam was questionable. Martin was Sam’s brother, though. I had to consider that.

How hard could it be to find a teenager, a toddler, and a baby in San Francisco.

“My contact said the cops are not divulging any information.” Martin kicked the feet of the dead body. “If they know where the kids are, they’re not saying anything.”

Well, they probably suspected they had a leak. There really was no other way to explain how we knew where they were in Burlingame. The men in blue weren’t stupid, and the ones who couldn’t be bought were a pain in the ass.

Footsteps sounded on the staircase as Jeffrey made his way to us. “There is no one in the house. No evidence the kids have been here recently, either. Some kid gifts wrapped and stored in a closet, but that was about it.”

Dammit. “Where else would they go? They have no other family. A teenager hauling around two small kids would stand out.” I look between my two partners. Merrick, the fourth member, was outside in the truck. “We need to find that kid.”

Even if he didn’t see anything, he might have heard our names or something that could help identify us. I needed to make sure that kid never saw the inside of a courtroom. Without him, no one could link me to the janitor and the teacher.As it was, I needed to stay away from the school while the investigation ran its course. All the users in the school knew who the janitor was and how he fitted into my operation. They just didn’t know who I was.

Jeffrey glared at Martin. “The old lady may not have known where they went, but she might have known something that could help us.”

“And if she screamed?” Martin was just as frustrated as the rest of us. “Then we still would have had to shoot her and we wouldn’t be able to search the house to see if the old woman was lying.”

He had a point. “Okay, genius. Where do you suppose we look?”

Martin’s eyes widened, no doubt he was surprised I took him seriously. He quickly shook it off, though, and shrugged. “Attic or basement. My Mom used to keep our photos and other sentimental crap in the attic.”

That was not a bad plan. “Jeffrey and I will start in the attic then search the top floor. Martin, get Merrick and search the basement and the first floor. If they went somewhere familiar, there would be a clue in this house.”

There was no way the old lady knew absolutely nothing. Maybe she didn’t realize she knew something. Maybe she didn’t think it was relevant. Either way, she was never going to give us anything, and now we couldn’t use her to draw the kid out. The only thing we had was searching the house before the cops got wind that we were there.

Jeffrey and I made our way up to the first floor then climbed the small ladder into the attic. The smell of mold and mothballs clung to my nostrils. I coughed uncontrollably for a good minute before my throat could handle its surroundings.

There were boxes stacked in the center, and the mold against the wall indicated why. The roof had a leak. There were alsosmaller boxes along the other wall. One by one Jeffrey and I started unpacking the boxes. Clothes. Most of it was clothes. Some of it was disintegrating and they were definitely from a different era. If it weren’t for the fish moths and the mold, I had no doubt we could get a pretty penny for the stuff. As it was, that was not why we were in the attic. There were some baby clothes in a bag marked Dorian. That was the old lady’s son. The teacher’s first husband. Apparently, he had died a few years earlier and she married my scumbag friend before she got him a job as a janitor at the school she taught at.

Each box we opened told us more about the hoarding old woman and nothing about where to find that kid. It took us just over an hour to go through every box there was in the attic before we made it to the top floor.

The old lady loved her florals. The master bedroom had a bedspread that was likely as old as the white go-go boots I found in the attic. The room was overrun by faded orange florals with lots of frills. Carefully I searched the drawers of the antique furniture. The woman’s clothes hung neatly and in color order. Her shoes were also arranged according to color. All the drawers were neatly packed, too. I had no intention of rooting through her clothes. I was looking for something that was out of place. Something that made no sense. Or maybe it made sense and we overlooked it. I only knew if the old lady had known something, we would find evidence of it.

I pulled out a box. A shoebox, judging by the size, covered in blue paper. Photographs. I could easily identify the ones that were of the old lady. I also found a few with Bill’s wife. She really was beautiful. I assumed the man with her was her first husband. I found a photo of the couple from a little over fifteen years ago. They were at a party and judging by the background, it looked like an office Christmas party. The woman wore a formfitting green dress that showed off every curve. The photo was labeled.Last Christmas on our own.

I scanned through more photos. They weren’t in any particular order. The old woman’s son and all of his birthday parties. The wedding. Someone’s fiftieth birthday. A photo of the couple at home with their baby in March. The photo was labeled.Bringing Dom home from the hospital.I looked at the year on the back of the photo. Also, fifteen years ago.

“Jeffrey.” My friend turned to me, frowning.

“Tell me you found something.”

I dug through the pile looking for the photo of the woman in the striped bikini. “Look at this.” I shoved the photo in his face. “Does this look like someone who is five or six months pregnant.”

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