Page 53 of Loving Trent
“The courts deemed that what she was going through was just shy of what gave them the right to press charges against Josiah and Eve. However, the judge did grant her wishes. She moved out of her parents’ house, and from what we found, she hasn’t returned. She’s currently living with April, the same best friend.”
“Why did she never look for Trent?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out. Jackson never found anything to suggest that she was worried about her brother. I assume she bought the story she was told,” Dad says as he passes a slow-moving truck.
I flip to the following stack of papers. They’re all about Trent’s father. His bank statements, going back… “Holy hell, how did Jackson get statements going back twelve years?”
Dad chuckles and says, “I don’t know, and I know better than to ask.”
“Have you ever met this Jackson guy?”
“Nope, but Leon has, and that’s good enough for me.”
I close the folder because there is too much information for me to go through, and we’re almost to our turnoff. “What are the cliff notes that I need to know?”
“Twelve years ago, Trent’s father, Josiah, took out five thousand dollars around the same time Trent was sent away. Then, around the same time that Trent was found, and the Camp was thrown into a tailspin, another big withdrawal happened. But also, bigger deposits have been made throughout the yearsthat don’t add up with his income as a preacher. Along with multiple withdrawals. Jackson’s friend Nick matched some withdrawal dates with the known dates of two camps closing and relocating.”
“Okay, so we think he paid Tom to take Trent, and then what? He funded his move after Trent was found?”
“Yes. Also, we think the big deposits are from other camps.”
“So, what, this fucker found out what a good money maker these camps were and decided to get in on the action?” Dad takes our exit, but the sights of my hometown don’t hold the same appeal as they did just days ago.
“Maybe. There’s more, though.”
“Okay,” I draw out the word. Dad’s look of disgust raises the hair on my arms and flips my stomach.
“Twelve years ago, Josiah was investigated by the police as a suspect in the kidnapping of a young boy and the attempted kidnapping of another boy. The van that was used in the kidnapping was registered to him. The kidnapping happened in a small town in Arkansas where he was for work. Josiah claimed the van was stolen the night before the kidnapping and had the police report to prove it. There was no evidence to prove he was lying.”
“Do we know what story they gave anyone about where Trent had gone?”
“Boarding school.” Our conversation ends when Dad pulls alongside a single-story brick home. “This is Betty’s house.” He shuts the truck off and turns to look at me. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
I look directly at him and open my door. “Absolutely.” Stepping outside, I wait until he rounds the back of the truck and follow him up the walkway. I will follow his lead with Betty, and I’m sure we will take it easy with her, but Trent’s parents…God, I’m praying that’s a different story. Dad raises his hand and knocks politely on the front door.
“Coming,” a feminine voice calls from inside. The locks click, and the door opens inward to reveal a woman who looks just like Trent. I mean more than her hair and eye color. She has light brown hair and dark brown eyes, and she’s dressed in what looks like men’s jeans and a black men’s tank top. Her arms are covered in black and gray tattoos. She is shorter than Trent but still on the tall side—I’m guessing around five feet eleven inches. She has an eyebrow ring, nose ring, and multiple ear piercings.
“Can I help you?” She asks.
“We are looking for Betty Anderson,” Dad says.
“Well, you’ve found her. What can I do for you gentlemen?” Betty asks in what I think she hopes is a polite way, but I hear the undertone of apprehension.
“Who’s at the door?” Another female voice comes from inside, but no one moves to look toward it. Betty’s gaze bounces between Dad and me while we focus on her. The owner of the voice comes into view, and she is the complete opposite of Trent’s sister. She is even shorter than Betty. Where Betty’s body easily tells everyone she works out, the new woman is shapely with glorious curves. Yes, I'm gay, but I can admit that a curvy woman is beautiful. Her hair is dyed a light pink and hangs in long waves over her shoulders. She is wearing a simple sky-blue flowy dress and has no tattoos or piercings, as far as I can see.
“I was just about to find that out,” Betty answers.
I step forward and extend my hand. “Nice to meet you, Betty. My name’s Shawn, and this is my dad. We’re here to talk to you about your brother.” Betty’s eyes grow wide at my statement, but she quickly cools her features before she can give anything else away. “Can we come in?”
Betty doesn’t move back, but I didn’t think she would. “How do you know my brother? Is everything okay?” Even though she tries to hide her emotions, I see worry flickering in her eyes.
I don’t even argue with myself about giving her the truth. “I’m Trent’s boyfriend, and as for everything being okay. We’re not so sure. We’re hoping you can help us answer that question.”
“Since my fiancé is being very rude, I will introduce myself. My name’s April.” April slides her hand into mine. “Come on in.” April places her hand on Betty’s shoulder and spins her around. Dad and I follow them down a little hallway into a small but charming kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thank you,” I reply.
“Please have a seat,” April points at the small dining table shoved into the corner of the room.
