Page 6 of Loving Trent
TRENT
Camp Arrow was located in the forest area right on the border of Missouri and Iowa. Several hours away from where Uncle Joey lives, and the place I have called home for the past ten years. Some days, it surprises me that it’s been ten years since Uncle Joey signed me out of the hospital and drove me to his house. Up until that point in my life, Uncle Joey was someone we rarely saw. He and Josiah—my sperm donor—never got along for as long as I can remember, but I never worked up the courage to ask why. Eve—my egg donor—would allow Uncle Joey to come see us twice a year. Once for my birthday and then Betty’s birthday, but we were warned that if we told anyone, the visits would stop.
I wasn’t sure how living with him would go, but I quickly discovered I had no reason to worry. Even though it was an adjustment for both of us. More for him because I suffered from night terrors and didn’t talk about what happened. He never gave up on me. He would just sit in my room, only touching me when I allowed it, and read me happy stories until I would grow tired again and fall asleep. Yes, I was fifteen at the time, but those stories helped me forget. He never pushed me to talk; instead, he would go on and on about his day. When I wassixteen, a year after moving in, a group of boys I hung out with introduced me to drugs, and I was instantly hooked. It numbed all the pain I was going through. I thought for sure that it would be the straw that broke the mold and that Uncle Joey would send me away, but once again, he surprised me. He became my rock and got me through the mess.
He taught me how to find release through working out. At the gym and with him at his construction company. I started talking more, but not about my past or the secret I was keeping from him. He bought my first motorcycle, and we went on long rides together. Besides Maria, he became my best friend. I attended college close to home and earned my associates in psychology. I still have no idea what I want to do with it, but I loved learning about the human brain. To some, it might seem weird that I still live with him at twenty-five, but I don’t care. I went to work at his company until I took a leave of absence last week to finally set the wheels in motion to get my revenge.
I wanted to bring down Tom and Sandy.
I have to in order to finally move on.
And I will.
After talking to Maria, I promised her that I would call Uncle Joey in the morning and spent hours reading through files until I couldn’t keep my eyes open. When my alarm goes off, I shut it off and groan because I’m exhausted but have things to do. Thanks to the mini fridge in the corner of the room, I have cold pizza for breakfast. I shower again and then head down to return to the place that started it all. Behind the desk this morning is an elderly woman, and an idea pops into my brain. Changing my direction, I head to the desk.
“Good morning. I was hoping that you could help me with something?” Making sure not to scare her, I envision her as my grandmother, and a soft smile pulls at my lips.
The elderly woman, with tight white curls and sage green eyes, smiles at me and says, “Good morning. I sure will if I can.”
“I’m looking into the camp about thirty minutes outside town to the west. Camp Arrow. Do you know anything about the director, Tom, or where I could find him?” Not wanting to look overeager, I keep my muscles relaxed and lean against the counter as if this is a typical question for me.
Her green eyes darken and narrow. Just like me, she doesn’t like Tom. Interesting. “All I know about him and that camp,” she put camp in air quotes, “is that? I’m glad he finally left. I have a bad feeling about what happened there. Especially when that young boy was found out in the woods about ten years back. What is your interest in that place and that devil?”
If it hadn’t been for the years of learning how to mask my emotions, I’m sure my surprise would have been written all over my face for her to see, but as it is, my emotions stay hidden. Hearing that she remembers when I was found is shocking, but I don’t want her to know who I am. “I heard about that story. I’m doing a podcast about it, in fact. The mystery surrounding the boy is what drew my attention to the camp or school, whichever you prefer to call it. I went out there yesterday and found it abandoned. I was wondering if Tom was still around here.”
She starts straightening a stack of papers while answering me, “Nope. Thank God. The story goes that after the boy was found, the police started to look into that place, and one day, everyone was gone—all the kids and the adults. They just vanished as if they were never there in the first place.”
Nothing she says is a surprise to me because I already figured that all out. I thought about contacting the police, but figured that would create a problem for me. But talking to a local might get me the answers I need. “And the police just let the investigation go? Never checked the buildings to see if they could find anything.”
She raises her shoulders. “Guess since they were gone, they didn’t see any use in tracing down any leads. My son was on the force when they found that poor child, and Noah, my son, said that since the boy wasn’t talking to them, there wasn’t much they had to go on.”
I knock my knuckles against the counter. “Well, thanks anyway,” I say, heading toward the door.
“Wait.” Stopping in my tracks, I glance over my shoulders. “I hope whatever you’re looking for, you find and make those people pay for hurting…” Something akin to recognition passes through her eyes. “Hurting that poor boy. I know they did it. I never believed Tom’s story.”
I have to swallow multiple times to dislodge the knot blocking my air. I nod my head and resume my steps.
Hours later, I’ve gone through every single paper, and I’m no closer to finding out who Tom is or where he is. It was easy enough to figure out that Tom Bennett was a fake name when I first started my search, but without anything to go on, I’m back to square one. Sighing, I lean back in the desk chair and pull out my phone. I scroll until I see Demon’s name and hit the call button.
“Dead end?”
I sigh and run my hand down my face. “Unfortunately, all that is here are files on all the kids. Plus, some shit written in code that I have no way of cracking.” The locked drawer held nothing but files full of random letters and numbers written on sheets of paper. I’m good with a computer, but not that damn good.
“Send me a couple of pages of the code, and I’ll see what I can do with it,” Demon says.
I met Demon—not his real name, or at least I hope not—six months ago. I somehow got a virus on my computer after trying to use the dark web, and took it to a small computer shop in town. He happened to be there shopping and offered to help fix my computer. Turns out he is proficient in the dark web and asked me what I was looking for. I took a chance and told him as much as I could. I played it off that I had a friend who went to the camp, and I was looking to bring him justice. I didn’t go into much detail about what happened, but gave just enough that Demon’s black eyes burned with fire, and he offered his help in tracking Tom and Sandy down.
“I will as soon as I get back to the hotel. I don’t know what I’m going to do. There is nothing here to go on.” The thought that another kid is getting hurt right now grows in my stomach to the point that it causes physical pain. I can’t stop looking, but I’ve hit a dead end. Maybe I should take Demon up on his offer to work his magic? But why does that thought sour my stomach?
“I know you want to do this on your own, but I have a friend who might be able to help us. It actually was his job to hunt people like this down. He’s retired now, but even when he was working, he wasn’t a stranger to doing things the law would lock him away for.”
That gets my interest. Guilt at the thought of another kid suffering like I did, fights with the need to do this all alone, as Demon waits patiently for my answer. Guilt wins out in the end. Swallowing my pride roughly, I say, “Dude, I’ll take all the help I can get. I can’t keep risking the welfare of another innocent child. But I’m not handing over the reins.”
“Good. I’ll get him your information and start trying to figure out what you found. What are you going to do now?” The sound of his fingers flying over a keyboard fills the air.
“Now I’m going to destroy this place and walk away for the last time.”
“Be safe. Talk to you soon.”
