Infuriating, p.20
Infuriating, page 20
Jackson’s gaze darted to Linc. He wasn’t saying anything new but hearing the words uttered out loud set off a whole new chain of emotions for Jackson. How had he let it come to this? Day had spent his entire life being used and abused by adults who were supposed to love and protect him, and he’d put his trust in Jackson to finally be the one to take that burden away from him. This was all on Jackson. If some creepy fucking pervert hurt Day… “This is my fault. I should have waited for you or taken him to the office or never agreed to go on his channel. We pushed this freak into making a move early. If he hurts him—”
“Jesus, Jackson. Enough. The only person at fault is this fucking head case who has a hard-on for Day. It has nothing to do with fault or blame. It just is what it is. You aren’t thinking with your head. We need you to be the fucking level-headed leader we all signed on to work for right now. You can fall apart later when Day is back home. No matter what happens with Day or to him, as long as he’s breathing, he has a chance. Do you want to spend valuable time snapping at your team and letting your emotions get the best of you, or do you want to find the man you love?”
Jackson took a deep breath and let it out. Fuck, Linc was right. He wasn’t helping anybody, least of all Day. He was spiraling. He needed to just breathe and think. Somebody in the other room held the solution to their dilemma. They needed to work together to figure out who had Day and why before it was too late.
“You’re right. Thanks, man.”
Linc clapped him on the shoulder before walking to the conference room and waving the others back in.
As soon as they were all gathered, Jackson said, “I’m sorry for the outburst.”
“It’s all good,” Calder said. “We’ve all been there. I did have an idea, though.”
“Me too,” Wyatt said.
“Let’s hear them.”
Calder spoke first. “Do a deep dive into Day’s past. A detailed background check. Maybe something in his history will help us understand what S-e-r might have meant to him. It had to have been important if he was willing to spend his last minutes attempting to text you instead of just hitting 9-1-1.”
Webster started typing. “On it.”
Jackson looked to Wyatt. “What was your idea?”
Wyatt blew out a huge breath and looked at Linc and then Charlie before biting his lip. They both nodded at him. “Day had his information saved on his OnlyFans account. I can easily get in.”
Jackson frowned at the hesitance in Wyatt’s voice. “Why does that sound like a bad thing?”
“I don’t know much about being a creator on OnlyFans. If I sign in, it might knock Day out of his account or alert his kidnapper in some way and spook him, which could make him do something desperate.”
“So, why is it worth the risk?” Jackson asked, keeping his voice neutral so as not to, once again, scare off the people he considered his extended family.
“Because, if it doesn’t boot him offline, I might be able to start his live feed from here, and we might be able to see where he’s being held.” Wyatt swallowed audibly. “We also don’t know what we might see when we turn the camera on…what his kidnapper might be doing to him. I don’t want to upset you.”
Wyatt’s words were like a knife through Jackson’s heart. The idea of flipping on that camera to find Day being raped or abused or…worse…might be more than Jackson could bear, but what was the alternative? But if he turned on the camera and it alerted Day’s attacker and spooked him… No. No. Linc was right. He needed to take Day out of the equation. If this was literally anybody else, any other client, Jackson would risk it. He had to risk it.
“Do it.”
“Are you—” Wyatt started.
Jackson cut him off. “Yes, just do it before I change my mind.” Wyatt nodded, picking up Day’s Care Bear phone case and punching in a few keystrokes. “Wait!” Jackson barked. Wyatt froze. “Webster. Is there a way to hook Day’s phone to the big screen? We’re going to need all eyes on the room. I don’t know how long we’ll have before they figure out we can see them.”
“Yeah, boss. Easy,” Webster confirmed.
Wyatt hit two more buttons and then handed the phone to Webster, who pushed a few buttons, and then everybody turned to the screen as it went blank.
“Look for any identifiers. Anything with a name. If there’s an open window, look for buildings with any kind of decorative detailing that might help us pinpoint his location. No matter how small.”
Charlie sucked in a breath as Day’s image came into focus. Robby and Elijah gathered close to her and Wyatt, like they could insulate them from the image before them.
Jackson was torn between relief and anguish as Day appeared on the big screen. He wore a lace lingerie set, something white and frilly. His face was made up heavier than usual, his lips overly lined, his lashes clearly fake, but the fear in his eyes seemed in direct conflict with the coquettish way he sat, feet tucked beneath him, leaning on his hand, staring at somebody just off camera.
“He looks so scared,” Robby whispered.
“He looks like a survivor,” Elijah countered. “He’s playing a part. Look at his body language. He’s trying to appease the man.”
“The room’s filthy,” Robby said, louder this time. “Like, not just dirty… Look at the walls behind the bed. Those are water stains. There aren’t any sheets on the bed, either. You can see the bare mattress under the blanket he’s sitting on. Who lives like that?”
“That’s not a house. That’s a hotel room,” Charlie said.
“She’s right,” Elijah agreed. “Look at the way the light attaches directly to the side table.”
“If that’s a hotel, it’s abandoned.”
Jackson’s heartbeat galloped. “It’s a motel. Day lived in a motel when he was a teenager. The guy there used to…” He swallowed. “He used to molest him as some kind of payment. Fuck. I should have known. How did I fucking miss that?”
“Oh, my God,” Charlie gasped. “Poor Day.”
“Webster, find that address. Now,” Jackson growled.
Webster’s fingers were flying over the keys. “I’m looking. I’m looking. Day doesn’t seem to have even popped up on the grid until he was eighteen, and the only address I have is the one he fucking lives at now. I’m not giving up.”
Day had said he had to work under a fake name until he turned eighteen because he wasn’t old enough to cam. Why hadn’t Jackson asked more questions? What had his name been? What was this Carl piece of shit’s last name? What was the motel he’d lived in? God dammit. He’d never even asked Sarah’s last name.
Sarah. Could she be who Day was trying to spell? Jackson’s organs twisted at the thought of Day trying to type out a message, knowing how he struggled with reading and spelling, knowing that he used his precious minutes to try to get a message to Jackson and not the police. It had to be something important. A clue. Maybe it was a misspelling or maybe not. He had to try every possible lead. Even if it was just a hail Mary at this point.
“Calder, get online and look for any hotels or motels that start with Ser in sketchy neighborhoods. Webster, I need you to do something illegal.”
“Shoot,” Webster said without hesitation.
“I need you to find the records of a transplant patient who died in LA from an infection somewhere around 2016.”
Webster gaped at him. “I’m gonna need more info than that.”
“Her name was Sarah. She had a double lung transplant, and she died in an LA hospital due to a fungal infection caused by that fucking hotel room right there. If we can find her records, we can find that fucking hotel.”
Webster looked to Linc and then Jackson. “Boss, I want to help, but I don’t think even I can do that.”
“You might not have to,” Calder said. “There are only four hotels that start with Ser and only one of them is here in LA. The Serendipity Motor Lodge. It was closed by the county health inspector after a girl died from an infection caused by black mold.”
“That has to be it,” Shepherd said. “That’s no fucking coincidence.”
“Does it say anything about the owner?”
Calder swung the laptop around. “No, but it shows the manager. Carl Frankel.”
Jackson’s blood ignited as he stared at a picture of the man from the still footage of the hotel. That was him. The man who had Day. The man who’d abused Day for years. Jackson was going to make sure he didn’t have the ability to so much as write his own name when he was done with him.
“Shepherd, you and Linc are with me. Calder, patch us into the conference room and turn the sound up so I can hear what’s happening in real time. Webster, call Jimmy. Give him this guy’s name and stats, and tell him to get as many units as he can to that motel, right now.”
Jackson gave one last look at the screen and at Day’s wide pool blue eyes. Hang on, baby. I’m coming. Just hang on.
“Can I ask you a question?” Day blurted as Carl attempted to join him on the soiled mattress.
Carl didn’t stop advancing; he simply knelt on the corner of the bed. He took the gun from his belt with a careful deliberateness that sent an icy finger of fear along Day’s spine. The room was hot and damp, they were both sweating, and Day couldn’t help but wonder about all the things he might be inhaling simply by breathing in the hot stagnant air of the abandoned motel room.
Carl placed the gun across his meaty thighs. “Sure. One question.”
“Why? Why me?”
Carl gave an almost impish smile that caused goosebumps to erupt along Day’s skin. “Are you asking if you were my first?” Day definitely wasn’t asking that, but Carl didn’t seem to care. He kept speaking as if Day had answered. “There have been other boys, younger boys. Sweet, innocent boys who stepped off that bus thinking they were different, better…but they weren’t. They all came to me eventually, letting me do whatever I wanted to them just so they could have a place to sleep. You were all so weak. So helpless. The others eventually gave me all of them, and then they were useless to me. They lacked principles. They lacked the courage of their convictions. But not you. Never you, Day.”
Carl seemed to be reliving some memory, his fingers fondling the gun in his lap as he spoke with fondness. “You drew a line in the sand, and you never let me cross it. I loved that about you. You were so special. You understood your worth. You told the world that if it wanted to touch you, it would have to pay top dollar. I was the only one you’d ever been with until then, but I wasn’t mad. I was willing to pay for my prize.” His smile turned into a sneer. “But then you had to go and let that man have you. I almost killed you both the night I broke into his apartment. Did you know that? I knew if I crept upstairs, I’d find you in his bed and then I’d have had to kill you.”
The casual admission caused Day to shiver despite the heat, his gaze darting away and his mouth falling open as his gaze fell on something. The laptop. Day’s laptop. How had he not noticed that before? The light beside the webcam was glowing, and people were already logging in. People were commenting, but Day was too far away to see what they were saying. There was no way Carl had started the livestream. He still believed that they were alone. Just the two of them.
“So, you would have killed me instead of claiming your prize?” Day asked, voice flirty. “That seems a lot like cutting off your nose to spite your face. I never let him have me…not like that. I do know my worth,” he lied smoothly.
“Oh, I’d have taken my prize, whether you were dead or alive. But it’s not as much fun when they just lie there staring up at the ceiling.”
Jesus. Fucking. Christ. This man was a fucking lunatic. A serial murderer of children. Day had always seen him as gross. Maybe a little sad. He’d felt sorry for him once upon a time, the way children do when they don’t know any better. But now, all he felt was revulsion. How many others had there been since Day?
“I can see you don’t like the idea of me being with others. I’ll admit I’m flattered by your jealousy. But they weren’t like you, I promise. Let me show you how much I care for you.”
When he went to turn towards the laptop, Day panicked, jerking towards him, stopping short when Carl pointed the gun at him. Day held up both hands. “I-I just…” He took a deep breath. “I just thought, maybe, you know, the first time could be just us. Just the two of us. Without my entire subscriber list watching.” Carl lowered the gun slightly but tilted his head, like he was considering it.
Day had to think of a way to tell Jackson where he was. Something more obvious than his convoluted text message.
“You know, I thought about you a lot over the years. I tell people all the time how you saved me, helped me figure out how to work around my disability, gave me a place to stay. Who knows where I might have ended up without you? I always wished I’d done more to thank you,” Day said, running his top teeth along his bottom lip before dampening it with his tongue. “I thought I’d wasted my chance. I know it seems like I’m stalling, but it’s just because I’m nervous. I’ve never done this before, and you’re so much more experienced.” Day’s stomach churned at the way Carl’s pupils dilated and he leaned in, hanging on Day’s every word. “Maybe this is fate. You and me, here, in this motel. Serendipity. Did you know that’s what serendipity means? Like fate. Here we are at the Serendipity Motor Lodge.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Day knew he’d gone too far. He couldn’t stop himself from gazing over at the laptop, and Carl’s gaze followed like a shadow, his face contorting as he realized they were live. Day’s face exploded as the butt of Carl’s gun clipped the side of his face, sending him sprawling backwards until he hung half off the bed. His mouth filled with blood, and he had this faint notion that maybe his eyeball was missing. He laughed at the thought as his head swam.
Fabric ripped as Carl yanked him back on the bed, but Day was no longer scared. He knew he was going to die there in the same disgusting piece of shit motel room where Sarah had caught the infection that killed her. There was some sort of kismet to that. Fate. Like Day had told Carl.
When Day laughed again, Carl hit him again, this time, definitely knocking out one or more of his teeth. He didn’t feel the pain. That was probably a good thing and a bad thing. They say your body shuts down the pain when things are just too horrific to stomach. Maybe that was true.
“You were never going to be my first, you fucking demented piece of shit. Jackson was my first. He loved me. I loved him. It was perfect. He’s perfect. You’re just a sick fucking pedophile and a murderer, and now, everybody fucking knows it. I might be dead but you’ll go to jail,” Day promised, blood splattering Carl’s furious face. “They love pedophiles like you in prison.”
Carl screeched like some kind of feral animal, and Day’s head exploded, making a sound like a piece of wood splintering into a thousand pieces. Then there were voices filling his head. Strangers’ voices. Carl’s weight disappeared, and he gazed up at new faces through a haze of red. Two men stared down at him. He recognized one of them. Linc.
“Let me see him. I need to see him. Day!”
Jackson. He tried to say his name but it sounded mushy. He tried again. Then Jackson was staring down at him.
“Oh, Jesus, baby. Why did you do that? Why did you taunt him like that? I was coming for you.”
“How?” Day managed. “How d’you fin me? My wor’s feel funny,” he said, lids fluttering closed briefly.
“Your text.”
“I shent it? I didn’t think I shent it. I hoped. Jackshun, is my eyeball still there?” he asked, heart floating at the idea of Jackson solving his ridiculous clue.
“Please, stop talking, baby. Yes, your eye is still there, but you’re a mess. I need you to let these men help you, okay? I’m going to be right behind you, but right now, you need to stop talking.”
“‘Kay, but one more thing,” he said, forcing the words out slowly despite the growing pain starting at his temples and spreading lower, like lava flowing from a volcano. “He didn’ toush me. Okay? Just you.”
“I’m glad he didn’t hurt you like that, but it wouldn’t matter. I love you. Jesus, you know that, right?”
Day whimpered as the pain started to overwhelm him, his head pounding and his whole mouth feeling like somebody was hammering slivers of metal into each socket. “I feel funny. Hurts,” he managed, wetness spilling onto his cheeks. “Ow. Everything hurts, Daddy,” he whispered.
Jackson’s face contorted into a pained expression that Day thought his face might make if it wasn’t the consistency of mashed potatoes. “Shh, baby. I know. They’re going to give you something to make the pain go away. Okay? They’re gonna take you to the hospital right now.” When Jackson stood, Day reached for him. Jackson squeezed Day’s hands. “Get them in here. Now.”
Once more, strangers surrounded Day, and he was being lifted, a soft collar going around his neck as he was set on a hard board. His eyes fluttered once more as he heard fabric ripping and felt things being stuck to his body. He cried out at the feel of the wind on his face. Even the breeze hurt.
“Can’t you give him something for the pain? Look at him.”
“Sir,” a woman’s voice said. “Let us do our job. The sooner we get him looked over and in the bus, the faster he gets what he needs.”
“Come on, Jackson. We need to figure out what you’re gonna tell your detective friend about Carl’s little accident.”
“An accident?” Jimmy said, his tone implying he didn’t believe it for a second.
Jackson shrugged, glancing over the railing of the Serendipity Motor Lodge to the once empty pool below that now contained the bent and broken corpse of Carl whatever-his-name-was. “I mean, I suppose he could have jumped. It was all a bit of a blur once my guys got him outside. He was fighting to get away. They said it looked like he tripped.”
