Page 73 of The Burnt
Declan cast his mind back to that day. “He was still sobering up. He was a mess. I don’t think he was there more than ten minutes.”
Declan sat down on the bed and looked at the photo again.
“I spent the last ten years trying to get some justice for Freddy. My career was built on that kid. Whenever I was ready to give up,I thought of him. Now I find out that Freddy is alive and it was all a lie.”
Charlie put his hand on Declan’s shoulder. “You didn’t become who you were because of Freddy. You did it because of what happened to him before you thought he died. And right now we need to find out what really happened. Are you going to be all right?”
Declan took a deep breath. “How I’m feeling doesn’t matter right now. We need to get to Mrs Keough’s house and find out what’s going on.”
Chapter Thirty-One
The questions the detectives had asked at the restaurant had unnerved Milo… No, not Milo. It was time to undo the past—to correct the lies. At work he was Mark. At Mrs Keough’s he was Milo, but over ten years ago, he had been Freddy.
He looked at the tattoo on his leg and remembered what had led to Freddy becoming Milo.
It had started ten years ago when Freddy’s father Archie had been drinking a lot. Freddy had come out of the bathroom after showering. He had only been wearing a towel when Archie had seen his tattoo and asked what it was. Freddy had decided to tell his father the truth—that he was gay, he was in love and he was seeing another boy. His father had mocked him, and said that Freddy didn’t know what he was talking about, and that no son of his was going to grow up to be a faggot. When Freddy had shouted back that it was too late, Archie had taken off his belt and told Freddy he would beat the gay out of him.
Freddy had tolerated the first beating, but after two weeks of trying to avoid his father and encountering his fists several nights in a row, he decided he’d had enough. Freddy had gotten in touch with Milo and told him that he was going to run away from home. To his surprise, Milo had told him that he was thinking of doing the same thing. The relationship with his father had deteriorated, and Milo had discovered something terrible. His father had killed someone. Milo had said that he had evidence that proved it. He’d told Freddy that they could run away together and explained that he had some money and knewwhere to get his father’s car keys. Milo would come and pick Freddy up.
They never really thought it through. There was no firm plan, just an idea and the naivety of youth. Freddy had suggested they meet at an industrial park not far from his house. It was a place that wouldn’t have many people around at night. The thought of it had been exhilarating. They were both going to be free.
Things hadn’t gone according to plan from the beginning. As Freddy had begun to pack, his father had come into his room and started toward him. Freddy had run out of the house with little more than his wallet and a few clothes. He hadn’t had time to grab the picture of him and Milo that he’d hidden beneath his mattress, nor the teddy bear that they had won at the Stampede. Freddy was upset, but there was no going back now.
Things had seemed better when he got to the industrial park and Milo was there in his dad’s fancy car. Just as Milo had stepped out of the vehicle and waved, another car had pulled in to the far end of the lot. Milo had signalled Freddy to stay where he was, then he’d reached into the car, grabbed his pack and thrown it behind a nearby dumpster. Milo had looked one last time at Freddy before the other car had screeched to a halt and a man had gotten out of the driver’s seat. He was angry. In the headlights Freddy could make out that the man was well-built and he had the face of a boxer…someone who had taken more than a few punches.
Milo had approached the man. It was clear that he knew him by name. It was Tom, Milo’s bodyguard. Freddy had heard stories about him from Milo, most of them unpleasant. Tom had asked where Milo was going. Milo had told him to fuck off. Tom replied that Milo had made a big mistake in stealing his father’s car. Milo had said that it didn’t matter. It was nothing compared to what his father had done…killing a man. And he’d added he had proof, then said that he knew that Tom was involved. Tothis day, Freddy didn’t understand why Milo had gone so far, but he understood what was going to happen next when Tom had lunged at Milo, picked him up and started to shake him. Then he had thrown Milo to the ground…hard. Milo had stopped moving. Tom had lifted Milo by the collar and had shaken him again. Milo was like a rag doll. This had infuriated Tom further and he had punched and kicked until his fury was done. It was clear that Milo was gone. Freddy wanted to run, but he was paralysed with fear and grief.
When Tom realised that Milo must be dead, he had made a quick call on his phone. Then he’d found some wooden skids and some paper from a nearby dumpster and started a fire. The wood was dry and old, and before long the fire was crackling. He had thrown the body in the middle and piled more wood on top. While the fire burnt, Tom had checked the inside of Milo’s dad’s car, but it was clear that he didn’t find what he was looking for. He had screamed with frustration and slammed his hand on the roof of the car. Then he’d started to laugh. “Liar,” he’d shouted out to the fire. “You fucking little liar. You didn’t have any proof! Now look what you’ve done.”
It was only a few minutes until two other men arrived in a truck. One of them got into Milo’s dad’s car and drove it away. The other followed. Freddy had watched Tom make sure that the fire was ablaze and had done its work. Tom had taken one last quick look around, then gotten into his car and driven away. The lot was empty once more. Freddy was left alone shivering in the cold.
After everyone was gone, Freddy had looked to see if he could put out the fire, but it was too late. He had to do something. He’d remembered Milo’s bag and went to where it had been thrown. Inside he had found a lot of cash and clothes…and a USB key.
Instinct took over. Milo was dead. Freddy had taken Milo’s bag. He’d looked at his own knapsack. There was nothing ofvalue in it, so he’d left it behind and had run away from the lot, away from Milo and toward the downtown core of the city.
In time, Freddy had managed to walk to the bus station. He had cash in hand, so he’d bought a ticket on the next bus leaving town. He’d told the ticket vendor that he was travelling north to visit his aunt. They’d asked if he would be accompanied, and he’d told them he wouldn’t, and that his mother had dropped him off. Maybe the ticket vendor had run away themselves in the past. Maybe they were kind. Or maybe they didn’t care. Whatever happened that night, Freddy had gotten a ticket to Jasper.
He had landed in town early the next morning and found himself at a diner. An older waitress served his table. He could tell she’d seen the bruises on his arms, and she had said that he didn’t seem very well dressed to be in Jasper in the winter. She’d asked if he was in some sort of trouble.
Freddy had told a partial truth. He’d explained that his father had been beating him, and he had run away. He had put some distance between them, but he hadn’t figured out a plan beyond that. She had introduced herself as Mrs Keough, and had offered him a place to stay in exchange for doing some chores until he landed on his feet. When she’d asked him his name, he had lied. He’d said “Milo. Milo Binns”. The last name was his mother’s maiden name.
Freddy—now Milo—had laid low and avoided being out in case he had somehow been followed. That was when he’d seen an article in theCalgary Heraldabout a grisly find in an industrial park near Forest Lawn. The police had identified the victim as a young runaway by the name of Freddy Whitcher. He had debated going to the police, but if he told the truth, the man who had killed Milo would likely come after him. These were mobsters. Tom had killed Milo and now that Freddy’s packhad been discovered at the site, he suspected that Tom might be looking for him.
Freddy had decided to stay in Jasper. The landlady had taken a shine to him and told him he could stay as long as he wanted. She’d offered to homeschool him and arranged for him to get a part-time job at the diner as a busboy. He’d worked ‘under the table’ for cash, a common practice at many of the restaurants that often hired foreign students who didn’t have access to things like bank accounts or social insurance numbers. He liked the work and he liked Mrs. Keough. When people asked, she had said that Milo was the son of a cousin who’d come upon hard times and she was simply helping out.
Before Freddy knew it, a year had gone by. Nobody had come after him. And what would be gained by Freddy going after the mobsters? Everyone called him Milo now, and he decided that was who he would be. He would start his life again.
In time, Milo had found some friends who’d helped him with things like getting fake ID which had allowed him to open a chequing account at the bank. He’d found a way to beat the system. The money from Milo’s pack, which he had hidden away in various places around his room, was slowly deposited month by month into his account. He’d made sure to let Mrs Keough know that he was capable of keeping his room tidy, even doing his own laundry, so there was less of a chance of her stumbling on his stash of cash. He truly felt like he had established a new life in Jasper.
Then, a month ago, he had seen the pictures of the real Milo’s dad’s house in theRocky Mountain Leisuremagazine. Had Simon Griffin ever thought of his missing son? Had his henchman, Tom, told Simon that his son was dead? And if so, did his father even care? The grief and pain returned, as had something new—rage!
Freddy had made a plan. He had talked to the friends who had helped him with fake ID. They were able to help him secure a gun. He had waited until Mrs. Keough was away for a week visiting her sister in Edmonton, then borrowed her car, making his way down to Banff, Canmore and Calgary…twice. He’d wanted to start making Mr Griffin and the man who had killed Milo squirm. He’d wanted them to know that someone knew what they had done.
* * * *
Freddy sat at his small kitchen table. Minx jumped up in his lap.
“You’re not helping, you know.”
