Shattered Lives (34 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE

Eureka, Missouri

             
George snapped out of it.  He spun in a slow circle, searching the faces of the people near them.  He saw who he needed several tables away and quick-walked over to him.

              “You’re FBI, right?”

              Tom Albrecht looked to his left and right and then back at George.

              “Answer me,” George demanded quietly.

              “Waukesha County Sheriff on loan to the FBI. Why?”

              George bent low so only Albrecht could hear him.

              “Mike Erickson, Stephen Bailey and Tim Pruitt are in danger.  Right now.”

              Seeing the urgency in George’s face, Albrecht hesitated only a second.  He took out his cell and speed-dialed Graff.

CHAPTER NINTY

Waukesha, Wisconsin

             
Mark had finished ordering and went into the living room to answer the door.  Mike followed. 

              Tim appeared at Mike’s side and held his arm preventing him from advancing beyond a step or two.  Mike looked up at him curiously.

              Mark opened the door and took a step back and said, “Oh . . . hello, Doctor Frechet.”

              Mike shrunk at Tim’s side. Tim took one step in front of Mike shielding him.

              “What can I do for you?” Mark said puzzled at the house call.

              “I’m sorry for bothering you this evening, but I wanted to check on Mike to see if he’s okay.  And I thought that as long as I was here, I’d give Stephen a quick physical.  I want to make sure he’s okay.”

              “Mike’s fine,” Mark said. Puzzled, he said, “Give Stephen a physical?”

              “Yes, make sure he’s okay,” Frechet said with his charming smile.

              Stephen appeared in the hallway, and Tim gestured slightly for him to stay where he was.  Stephen crouched down against the wall.  And in that moment, Frechet and Tim recognized each other.

              Tim said slowly and deliberately, “I know you!” Pointing at him, he repeated, “I know you!”

              Mark half-turned towards Tim.

              It gave Frechet an opportunity to step into the living room, drop his medical bag and pull out his gun.

CHAPTER NINTY-ONE

Eureka, Missouri

             
“Graff, this is Albrecht.  Something’s going down at . . .” He turned to George and said, “Where?”

              George hesitated and then shook his head, not knowing the answer.

              Albrecht turned back to the phone and said, “Do you know where Mike and Stephen are?”

              “Erickson house.  Eiselmann’s there.  Why?”

              “Not sure.  George said the Erickson boy, Stephen and a Tim are in danger.”

              “On my way.”

Albrecht was left with dead air.

              He turned back to George and said, “Come on,” and led him back to the table where the twins and Danny sat.

              “We need to get back to the hotel,” Albrecht said as he began walking and speed-dialing his partner.

              “Brooke, where are you?”

              “Balcony outside our room. Why?”

              Albrecht explained the little he knew and then shut his phone.

              “Guys, let’s hustle,” Albrecht said over his shoulder, jaywalking across the street.

              The boys followed in a tight group with George bringing up the rear, eyes taking in every pedestrian, every parked or passing car and wishing he had his knife with him.

CHAPTER NINTY-TWO

Waukesha, Wisconsin

             
“I saw you at the soccer game, but I couldn’t place you,” Frechet said nervously.

              Mark said, “What’s going on?”

He never took his eyes off the gun in Frechet’s hand, thankful that Jennifer, Sarah and Laura weren’t there, but worrying that they’d walk in on this.

“Be quiet and move back.”

“What do you want?” Mark asked.

‘Keep him talking.  Help is coming.’

Tim said, “This is one of the fuckheads from Chicago.  He examined us and then fucked us.”

Mark whipped his head at Tim, at Mike and then back to Frechet.  The realization hit him like a punch. 

“What did you do to my son, you sonofabitch!”

The gun in Frechet’s hand shook, but it was still lethal.  Perhaps more so because Frechet was nervous.

“I said get back.”

Mark backed up, trying to place himself between the gun and the boys.

‘You are Stephen?’

Tim saw the old man talking to Stephen who stared at him with mouth open and eyes wide.  He nodded.

‘Stay where you are.’

“Fuckhead, Mr. Erickson asked you a question.  What did you do to Mike?”

Frechet’s face was slick with perspiration.  He licked his lips, stared at Mike and said, “We had a little fun today, didn’t we, Mike?”

“Fuck you!” Mike yelled.

             
Gavin and Garrett had come up from the basement and stood in the kitchen listening to the conversation in the living room.  Frightened, Gavin motioned for Garrett to get down, and both of them crouched low.

              “Frechet, put the gun away and leave before someone gets hurt,” Mark said through clenched teeth.

              “Not without Stephen.  He and I are going to spend time together.”

              “The fuck he will!” Mike shouted.

              Frechet cocked the gun.

             
The
old man turned and stared at Tim.  His expression was sad.  There weren’t any words.  There was no direction or command.  The two stared at one another, frozen in both time and space.

             
And Tim understood what was going to happen.  And what he needed to do.

CHAPTER NINTY-THREE

Eureka, Missouri

             
“George, what is it?” Jeremy asked.

              Randy, Danny and Billy stood off to the side with Jeff slightly in front of them.  Albrecht and his partner, Brooke Beranger, stood behind Jeremy.  George had a vacant, unfocused, and glazed look on his face.  He shook his head.

              “George,” Jeremy said again.

              “Dad, wait,” Randy said.  “I think it’s his grandfather.”

CHAPTER NINTY-FOUR

Waukesha, Wisconsin

             
“Eiselmann, what’s happening?”

              Eiselmann stared out the windshield at an empty street.  The only traffic was the white Escalade that pulled up in front of the Erickson house.  He had called dispatch and had them run the plate and it came back as Blaise Frechet, a doctor.  Eiselmann figured the doctor was just checking on Mike.

              “Nothing.  It’s quiet.”

              “You sure?”

              Eiselmann twisted around in his seat, stared out the back, then out both sides and said, “Nothing.  Why?”

              “A report that something’s going down.”

              “There’s nothing, but I’ll do a once-around the house.  I’ll be in touch.”

“I’m not leaving without Stephen,” Frechet said in response to Tim’s urging that he leave.

              “Stephen, wherever you are, stay there!  Don’t come out here!  Don’t make any sound.  If you’re in the kitchen, go out the back door and find the red-haired cop that’s watching you.”

              “Shut up!” Frechet said.

              “Go up and down the street and look in each car.  Tell him a pervert has a gun, and he’s in the living room by the front door.”

In the kitchen, Gavin looked at Garrett and whispered, “That’s us. Tim knows Stephen’s taking a shower.”

              They stayed low and tiptoed out the back door, but the screen door shut a little too loudly.

              “Hear that?  Stephen’s going to find the cop that’s protecting him.  You better leave while you can,” Tim reasoned.

              Frechet licked his lips and nervously glanced out the front window. 

              “You need to leave before someone gets hurt,” Mark said.

              “I want to know what you did to me!” Mike said defiantly.

              Frechet focused on him and said, “You enjoyed it.”

              Mike started forward, but Tim held out his arm preventing him from doing so.

Gavin and Garrett stood at the end of the driveway looking in both directions, not seeing anyone.

              “Garrett, go that way.  Look in every car.  I’ll go this way.  If you see someone, a cop or somebody, tell them what’s happening.”

              As the boys turned to leave, a red-haired, freckle-faced man walked up to them.

              “Where are you boys going?”

              Graff rounded the corner and pulled diagonally to the curb, cut the engine and jogged out of the car in time to hear Gavin say, “There’s a man inside with a gun.”

              “Where inside?” Graff said.

              “By the front door,” Gavin answered.

              “Where did you come from?”

              Garrett pointed and said, “Back door.  It goes to the kitchen.”

“You’re the one that had Stephen and me kidnapped!” Mike spat.

              Frechet licked his lips.  It was taking too much time.  He wanted-
needed
- Stephen, and he wanted him
now
.

              “Stephen!  Come out here!”

              “I already told you . . . he’s outside looking for the cop,” Tim lied. “You need to leave before he gets here.”

              “You’re a sick fucker!” Mike yelled.

Eiselmann said, “I’ll take the back door.  Give me fifteen seconds on my mark.  Go!” And he took off.

              Graff looked over his shoulder, and then said, “You two, get across the street and around the side of that house.  I want you face down in the grass and don’t raise your head.  Got it?”

              The two boys took off on a sprint.

“Stephen wants me.  I came for him.”

              “You sick sonofabitch,” Mark said quietly.

              “There’s no fucking way Stephen wants you, Asshole!” Mike shouted.

              This angered Frechet. 

This was the Erickson boy’s fault.  If it weren’t for him, he’d be with Stephen now.

He extended his arm and took aim.

             
Tim knew that Mike’s father would step in front of Mike to take the bullet.  Tim couldn’t let that happen.  He shoved Mike and took a step forward in front of Mark as the gun went off.

              Eiselmann burst through the door to the living room too late to stop Frechet from firing, but he hit Frechet center-mass with four shots at the same time Graff fired three shots at an angle through a side window hitting the doctor in the chest just below the neck.

              Frechet flew back into the closed front door, dead before he hit the floor.

              Tim fell on top of Mike, and the two of them lay in a pile behind Mark.

              “You okay?” Tim said thickly.

              “Yeah, I’m okay,” Mike answered.

              Tim didn’t move. 

He lay on top of Mike, eyes shut and said, “I need to catch my breath.”

              “Tim?  Tim?”

              Mike lifted his hand, saw blood. “God! Tim! Dad, help!”

CHAPTER NINTY-FIVE

Eureka, Missouri

             
George grabbed his stomach and fell to his knees.  Jeremy went to the floor to help him, and Randy and Billy flew over the bed to help.  The two detectives didn’t know what to make of it, so they stood well back watching intently.

              “George!  What’s wrong?  What happened?”

              George recovered slowly, reaching out to Jeremy for support, looking at him with tears in his eyes.

              “What, George?  Tell me?”

              “My dream,” George stammered. “It wasn’t me.  It was Tim and Mike.”

              “What happened?” Billy asked.

              “Mike and his dad are safe.  Stephen, too.  My grandfather was with them.”

              “What happened to Tim?” Randy asked.

              George looked up at him, shook his head, and wept.