Chapter 13

"Rudy, look at me. Look at me, okay?"

Jay was kneeling down in front of the bathtub, frowning as he tried to get Rudy Seaberg's attention while she stared straight ahead, seemingly oblivious to the tears running down her face. But, she did meet his eyes, as frightened as she was. And, Jay couldn't blame her for being frightened given the madman who'd taken over her home and had her unconscious mother tied up on the living room floor.

He hurt my dad," Rudy whispered. "I think he dropped him in the lake after he made me get off the boat."

Jay opened his mouth, ready to tell her that she shouldn't worry. That he was sure her dad was fine... but he couldn't. Couldn't bring himself to say it to her, because he seriously had his doubts.

"We're going to get out of here," he said instead. "D'you think you can help me?"

Rudy seemed to consider the question, and the look on her face was so similar to Jay's sisters that it almost broke his heart wanting to reassure her.

"What should I do?" Rudy asked.

"I need you to untie my hands," Jay told her, standing up, even as he struggled with the rope that bound his hands behind his back so tightly that he was certain his fingers were turning blue.

"But I can't," Rudy pointed out, shifting her own bound hands.

"Then turn around," Jay ordered.

Confused, but obedient, Rudy stood and turned around, getting a better grasp on the plan when Jay kneeled behind her and went to work on the binding around her little wrists with his teeth.

"He's gonna be mad if he sees. You shouldn't."

The whisper came from Oliver, and it annoyed Jay just enough to make him stop and look over his shoulder at the third party in the room, who was sitting in the middle of the small bathroom floor, watching them, also tied up. Like Jay and Rudy, Oliver had managed to force the cloth gag from his mouth.

"Will you shut the fuck up?" Jay hissed. "He's doing this to you, too. So get pissed off and make yourself useful already."

Oliver frowned, but at least looked curious. "How?"

Jay let out a breath. "Listen at the door. Let us know if you hear anyone coming."

Oliver looked between Jay and the door for a moment, looking uncertain before he finally scooted across the door and brought his ear to the exit's surface to do what was asked of him. "I don't hear anything, Jeremy," he decided a moment later.

"Just tell me if you do," Jay replied. He continued to study Oliver for several moments as the other boy went back to listening at the door. At the moment, Jay wasn't sure what to think of him. Only moments earlier he'd been wondering the best way to knock Oliver out, worried that he'd call out to his father if they tried to escape. But, that could have been the way Oliver didn't resist the older man's embrace when he'd forced the two of them into the house. Or, because he hadn't seemed as bothered as Jay had by Mrs. Seaberg, who was unconscious on the living room floor. In fact, Oliver hadn't even objected when they'd been tied up and forced into the bathroom. So it didn't seem unreasonable that Jay was suspicious of him. Or, at least it wasn't unreasonable that Jay thought the kid was a complete nut. But for now, he decided that as long as he wasn't going to start yelling out for his dad anytime soon, he'd leave him be. Because for some unfathomable reason, Frank Seaberg seemed to think that Oliver Martin was okay, and since Jay had a feeling that the current worst-case scenario would be Frank Seaberg ending up in the bathroom with them, there was no way he wanted to deal with Brian Martin and a pissed-off Frank, who would definitely be pissed if he did anything to hurt Oliver. Necessary or not.

"Jay?" Rudy whispered, drawing his attention.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think we can really get out?" she asked.

"It'll be okay," he insisted. "Your brother should be on his way here... He'll see something's wrong, and... We'll be fine."

She nodded, and Jay went back to his attempt at untying her bound hands with his teeth, wishing that he could believe his words as much as Rudy Seaberg seemed to.

...

"Breathe, Frank... Frank, breathe."

Frank tried doing just that, although, it wasn't entirely clear to him when he'd stopped in the first place. But more baffling to Frank than sudden respiratory problems was that David seemed so calm at a time like this. When he was supposed to be dead.

But, then, he wasn't dead. Frank stared at David Martin again. It wasn't anything different from what he'd been doing for the last few minutes, but at least now he was beginning to form clear thoughts. David wasn't calm, he finally decided. He was exhausted, and stunned, and while it wasn't entirely obvious, Frank could see signs of uncertainty in his expression, too. But that was all that he had time to see as he suddenly gasped when the heat of the lighter reached his thumb and dropped it, cursing himself as everything went dark again.

But, the dark seemed to be a good thing. At least, it was an encouraging thing as Frank finally got moving. "Are you alright?" he finally asked David, but the silence he received in return told him just what a stupid question that was. "I mean... let's get the hell out of here, alright? Can you stand?" Frank reached for David in the dark, meaning to help him up. He hadn't suspected that his hand as it came against David's arm would be unwelcome, but the way Oliver's twin lurched back suggested otherwise.

Frank was quick to pull his hand back, stunned. But, while he couldn't see David, he seemed to understand. It was something about their last encounters. It had been in David's posture, in his voice, and given what he'd been through, it should have been no surprise that David was reacting to him this way. So Frank said the one thing he thought David needed to hear as he reached for the other boy again.

"You can trust me, David... Come on. I'm just gonna help you up."

"Okay," David said quietly, a noticeable tension entering his voice. But, this time when Frank reached for him, he reached back to accept the assistance. But as Frank moved an arm around him, pulling David firmly against his side as they headed for the ladder, Frank noticed that Oliver's twin seemed to be dragging his feet, and as the dim light from above struck his profile, he seemed to be looking up at their exit with a certain amount of trepidation.

"We're leaving," Frank said, as if that would answer everything. "David?"

"Who else is out there?" David suddenly demanded, nothing but suspicion in his voice.

"What?"

"What's going on? Why are you here now?" David suddenly pulled away, catching himself when he tripped over his own feet. "You're helping them."

"What are you talking about?" Frank responded, beginning to feel nervous. But, despite his sudden impulse to back up, he advanced on David instead. "Look, the only person I'm helping right now is you. Are you coming with me, or am I going to send someone else back here to help you?"

Frank watched in awkward silence as David looked longingly at the ladder. It was as if he were afraid to reach for it, believing that the moment his fingers touched the cool metal someone would snatch it away from him like a cruel trick. Frank had never before met someone who had no trust in anything, and while he now believed that David Martin had every right to feel that way, he had no idea where to start trying to understand it. And it might have been cold, but the fact of the matter was that he didn't have time for it. He needed to get David back to Jay and Oliver before the Martin parents returned. And that was assuming that Jay had waited for him.

"Okay, David," Frank said decidedly, and then before the other boy could react, Frank reached for his hand and brought it to the ladder before stepping back to wait. "We can go now."

David stared at his hand on the ladder, his harsh breathing growing steadier as his grip tightened, and when his gaze slowly shifted to Frank, something decisive in his expression changed. The frightened, alone boy became a determined one, and with Frank right behind him, he crawled out of the hole.

...

David felt as if he couldn't get enough air. Not just air, fresh air. He took it in deep gulps until his blood had rushed to his head. He felt like he was drowning, and as he tasted blood on his lips he wiped his fingers under his nose, pulling them back to discover it had started bleeding. He watched for countless seconds as a few of the light raindrops falling from the clouds washed it away, and Frank... David didn't know what to think of Frank. But then, he never had. But what he did think about Frank at that exact moment, was that his neighbor from across the lake was currently his only ally. Personally, David would have picked someone a little taller for whatever waited ahead of him, but Frank would do. After all, the guy was giving him the shirt off his back just so he could clean up his nose. Never mind that a little blood running down his chin didn't make much of a difference at this point.

"Here," Frank said. "Try to slow down."

David brought the shirt to his face, shaking his head blankly. He didn't know how to respond. He didn't know how to respond. Explain. He didn't need to slow down. It was like he needed to catch up. Everything was spinning around him, moving quickly. He could feel it in his lungs, on his prickling skin. But inside everything was slow. He felt like he was processing one thought at a time, everything repeatedly until he got it, and even then, he didn't get it. He felt like he was chasing something and wouldn't be satisfied until he was right on top of it, but if he didn't stop...

"David!"

Frank's voice followed David Martin as he blacked out, and a few moments later as David sank slowly back into reality, Frank was next to him, holding him up--or rather, trying to get him to sit down.

"You can't walk like this," Frank stated. "You'll have to stay here. I'll come back with help..."

"No." David wasn't sure how he managed it, but he held himself upright and managed to appear sober for a whole second. "No," he repeated. "I have to..."

He had to stop them. He didn't know how long it had been since he'd last seen his mother, but he remembered clearly that she was planning something. To leave? Good riddance. But Oliver... the thought of his brother was rubbing David the wrong way. It was a new feeling directed towards his twin, but still, he wasn't ready for Oliver to disappear, too.

"You have to what?"

David's eyes suddenly cut in Frank's direction. "You said somethin' about my brother. We'll go to him."

Frank was quick to start shaking his head. "No, David, I left him back at your place with... a friend. Look, they could be there waiting for us, or they might have gotten out of there before your parents came home. They would have gone to my place, and either way... I don't think you can make it that far. If you drop, there's no way I can carry you so I think it's better if you just hide for..."

David didn't bother interrupting Frank's explanations and demands. He wasn't about to spend what energy he had arguing. By that time he was already too busy keeping his focus on putting one foot in front of the other. And he was learning that Frank was very good at keeping up. He also seemed to have the sense to not argue when he wasn't going to win. And he seemed relentless when it came to keeping close, which quickly became uncomfortable for David. Frank Seaberg was like a shadow in his blind spot, and while David considered him an ally at the moment, he wasn't sure he liked that Frank was so close, even when Seaberg once again saved him from tripping over his own feet.

"I really think you should..." Frank started, but checked himself when David yanked his arm away and kept moving.

"They're gonna do something," David mumbled through his heavy breathing. "Oliver has to get out of the house."

"David...."

"He wouldn't let me out," David said as if he'd just realized it, his pace slowing. "Oliver knew where I was. Wouldn't let me out." David looked at Frank, catching something unreadable in the other boy's eyes. "What, Frank?"

"It's not Oliver's fault. Your parents lied to me, and I believed them. Look, it's complicated, David... But Oliver did try to tell me where you were. I'm the one who didn't get it."

David stopped altogether. "Didn't get it?"

"I didn't think you even..."

"Existed," David whispered, when it became clear that Frank didn't want to say it. Not after their last conversation.

"I'm sorry... but I didn't realize it until I ran into Jay--Jeremy Flaskis--and... well, I put it together, okay?... It wasn't Oliver's fault, David. I know I haven't known him that long. I haven't known either of you that long, but I know that this wasn't his fault, and that when I walked away from him tonight to come looking for you... I wasn't afraid of anything more than that when I saw him again, I'd have to tell him you were gone."

David stared at Frank hard for a moment, not giving away anything that he might be thinking. He stared until his head started to spin and his eyes narrowed, and when he finally spoke, it was decisively, sternly. "Oliver left me in there," he said, and then before Frank could respond, "Jeremy's not a friend. You better hope he hasn't touched my brother."

Confused when it came to whether or not David was actually angry with Oliver, Frank frowned as he continued to follow the other boy through the woods, deciding that now wasn't the time for talking, anyway. There seemed to be a lot to sort out, and there was no way he was going to get anywhere with it under current conditions. Besides, something about David's demeanor was disconcerting to Frank, and his instincts warned him to use caution.

As for David, he was feeling particularly cautious himself as he decided that Frank Seaberg was trying to figure him out. He didn't care for it. A sideways glance told him that Frank was holding back questions. Suspicions. And while David didn't know what provoked him to do it, he shot Frank a look that invited him to say something.

"Why do you say Jeremy's not a friend?" Frank asked, but the way he said it suggested that he knew more than he was willing to give away. "Oliver said... I mean, he was talking like he was afraid that you were going to give away some big secret or something. Did you know Jay was snooping around?"

David shrugged, and then winced before rotating his shoulder. "The guy's not as subtle as he thinks he is."

"So were you going to?"

"Going to what, Frank?"

"Tell him a secret... like the one you were going to tell me."

David's steps faltered, but he managed to catch himself before Frank had the chance to, and he kept walking as if it would change Frank's mind about asking that question. It didn't.

"David, what were you going to tell me that night? When you called... if I'd gotten there sooner, what would you have told me?"

"I don't remember calling you. Maybe it was..."

"Don't play games with me!" Frank snapped, surprising both himself and David with his tone, who finally stopped walking to look at Frank as if he were ready to ward off an attack. "You called me. You. You asked me for my help, and I get that I fucked it up then, but now's different. Tell me what you would have said if I'd gotten to you. Please, David."

David snorted, and then used Frank's shirt to nab some more blood from his nose. "I don't know," he finally responded, managing an obnoxiously sarcastic tone. "Maybe I would've told you that my family's completely fucked, and that you should stay away unless you wanna get hurt, since Oliver clearly couldn't manage to stay away from you. Or maybe I would've told you to start talking about it to people who wouldn't ignore the truth, get me and Oliver out... or that if you didn't bad things would start to happen, like my mom going psycho and trying to kill me!"

"Or maybe you were going to tell me what happened to Odetta Grover."

Frank's interruption might have taken David off guard, but he did a good job of hiding it, his mind going blank as it fought for a response for only seconds before he shook his head. "What does that old bitch have to do with anything?" He had to be careful. Things had changed drastically in the last fifteen minutes, because before then, he'd been damn sure that he was dead. But now he was free, in more ways than one, he realized. If he could keep things together. He had to keep things together. He had to think. Think about anything, except for a recent confession he'd made to his mother, and one he had no intention of allowing her to repeat.

"According to Jeremy, a lot," Frank replied, moving around David to better face him. David frowned. With the whole forest to escape into, Frank made him feel trapped. "Look, I might have been a little slow about some things, David, but I know that if you were just going to tell me your parents were hurting you, you would have done it when I asked you--you wouldn't have told me to look deeper unless there was something bigger... maybe something you weren't so sure you wanted to tell me. Oliver said that there were things no one could know, 'cause you'd get in trouble..."

"And if that was true what makes you think I'd tell you any of it?" David snapped.

"I don't know... maybe you needed to... Maybe, it was too much to keep carrying around with you. David, is there something you need to say, but you're afraid you'll be in trouble if you do?"

David looked over Frank from underneath downturned lashes, remaining silent until Frank appeared to be as uncomfortable as he was. "Can I trust you, Frank?"

It seemed like a funny question. To both of them.

"I could say yes," Frank replied carefully. "But I don't think it would matter. You would never let anyone decide who you could trust for you."

David's attempt to laugh was quickly smothered as he choked on his own coughing. "I think we should keep moving," he finally said, but Frank didn't move.

"Odetta Grover called Jay's house the night she died," Frank said. "Any idea what he heard?"

"Wouldn't have a clue."

"She was scared. Thought someone was trying to hurt her."

David's posture stiffened as he turned away from Frank again. "What d'you want from me?"

"I don't know," Frank admitted. "I guess I just... I want to know what I'm dealing with here. What your parents did to you--they're not going to get away with it, David. After tonight, they'll never hurt you or Oliver again. They'll pay for it... but I think maybe, there something else your dad should be paying for. Did he kill Odetta Grover, David? Or are you too afraid to say anything about it because someone else did?"

If David wasn't too busy going numb inside, he might have noticed how nervous Frank suddenly seemed, as if he'd just done the exact thing that he didn't want to do. But David certainly didn't notice. Couldn't. He felt like the world was going blank in front of him, everything gone except the fact that he wasn't going to let anyone lock him up again as he searched for clarity.

No. His parents would pay. It didn't really matter what they paid for at this point, either, as far as David was concerned.

"My dad did it." He'd said the words so calmly that it was as if it hadn't really left his mouth, but the look on Frank's face told him otherwise. Frank looked... relieved. "I didn't see it happen... but she was dead when... when..."

"It's okay, David," Frank insisted, gently reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. David looked at that hand for several moments. Frank Seaberg. Now he remembered why he wanted Oliver to be friends with him in the first place. The guy was actually a friend. Nothing like David had ever known. He actually cared. He cared about Oliver, and he'd believe David. David was pretty sure Frank Seaberg would be a friend to anyone who he thought was being wronged... but his dad had known it, too. David had tried to do Frank a favor by telling Oliver to stay away from him, stay away from things that could get Frank hurt. That's why David was rather certain that when the time came, Frank Seaberg would do him a favor, too.

"She was already dead when he made Oliver and me put her in the boat, make it look like an accident. Oliver doesn't know. When things scare'im, he forgets. He won't know if you ask him."

"But you know. You've gotta tell, David... If your dad made you help him, no one's going to blame you. Please just promise me... David?"

Frank found himself grabbing the other boy's shoulders once again when David started to stagger, as if his legs had suddenly decided that he'd been on them too long, and Frank became increasingly worried as he tried to decide if David's face was a shade paler than it had been a moment before.

"I want to keep going," David said quietly, and this time instead of thinking it over, Frank gave a decisive nod and allowed David to lead the way through the forest.

...

Brenda Crook lifted the still-warm batch of muffins from the top of the stove and brought them to her nose, inhaling deeply. She loved the smell of muffins. Muffins or cake. Actually, she loved the smell of anything that came out of the oven. She often claimed that the only time she could ever drown out the stench of her husband's cigars was when she was baking. Brenda Crook baked a lot.

Using a newly manicured nail, she stuck her finger into one of the warm muffins to dig out a plump blueberry, which she promptly popped into her mouth. Using that same fingernail, she picked her teeth, taking a few moments to contemplate the last time she'd eaten corn before her attention turned elsewhere.

She could hear her husband's boots clanking away on the front porch before he even entered the house, and by the time he had one foot in she was standing in front of him with her arms crossed, her interrogation ready to commence.

"You stupid old drunkard!" she snapped at his red, weary face. "Where on earth have you been? Do you have any idea what I've been putting up with from the sheriff's station? I warned you when you volunteered Howard! You'd have your duties! And do you remember what you told me? Easy as pie, Brenda, easy as pie! Well, you fat, lazy..."

Howard dismissed her with a wave of his hand as he hung his hat and ran a hand over what was left of his greasy hair. "Don't bother with dinner, Brenda. Had it at the club. Where's dessert?"

Mary gaped at him as he passed her by before she looked down at the oven mitt, conveniently hanging from her right hand, and she threw it at him. "There is no dessert! And you have to get up to the lake. Now, Howard, or I'll call all your friends and tell them you're neglecting your responsibilities again. D'you really want that getting around town?"

Howard huffed more than he sighed as he turned to face his... well, that woman. "What're you going on about already?" he demanded. "Can't you see I'm tired here?"

"Well be tired later. You've gotta get out to the lake."

"You already said that woman! Now get on with the point!"

Brenda turned her head for a moment, making a point to look offended. But, when she decided that it would get her no sympathy--which it never did--she simply looked put out as she crossed her arms and returned her gaze to her husband. "Mary Martin called here sounding funny."

"Funny?"

"Funny. I think that husband of hers has been beating on her and the kids. You know the man's no good, Howard, everyone does."

"Don't you start making accusations, you know how I feel about you and your gossip; and if I find out you've called up anyone..."

"I'm not finished, Howard."

"Oh, for the love of..."

"And just a little while ago," Brenda continued, "I got a message forwarded from the emergency number from that Flaskis boy. He was going on about Odetta Grover..."

"Odetta Grover?"

"Claims he can prove she was murdered. I know he took her death rough, but obviously..."

"Did he say anything else, Brenda?"

"Something about the Martins being involved. Oh, and something about waiting for you with the Seabergs. And I'm pretty sure he said something about one of the Martin boys disappearing... or maybe he said that one of them was with him. The people out that way are so strange, you know. Except for Mr. Dron. A sweet man, that one. I asked him to check up on Mary since I couldn't reach you, but when I tried to call her up about twenty minutes ago there was no answer. When you go see her, will you bring her some of my muffins?"

Howard clenched his teeth as he went back to the door and retrieved his hat. If he rolled his eyes, she'd see it, and then he'd never get out.

"Don't wait up, Brenda," he said as he left their house. "I think it's gonna be a long night."

"Hold on a minute, Howard, the muffins!"

...

"Hurry up, Rudy," Jay insisted, fidgeting against his bound hands as Rudy's small ones attempted to free them.

"I'm trying," Rudy insisted. "The rope's really tight."

"You have to pull it through that loop. There."

Jay glanced over his shoulder to find Oliver standing next to Rudy, and wasn't sure if he was disturbed by this or not, but still, he gave Rudy a nod. "Try it."

"It's still too tight," Rudy insisted, but never once stopped trying. "I don't want him to hurt my mom, Jay."

"Don't think about that right now," Jay insisted, and then looked back at Oliver again. "Are you sure no one's coming?"

Oliver nodded.

"Will Frank be here soon?" Rudy asked. "What if he gets tricked, too? Then who'll come?"

"Stop thinking about it, Rudy," Jay said firmly, just as he felt the bindings around his wrists loosen enough to pull one hand free. Bringing his hands in front of him as he cracked his knuckles he turned to face his fellow hostages, focusing on Oliver. "I'd better be able to trust you," he remarked, and then ordered, "Turn around, I'm gonna untie you."

Oliver frowned uncertainly, but did as he was told, and found himself wishing that Jay's knot-untying skills were better than Rudy's. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be the case, and it was unclear whether Jay or Oliver was more frustrated by it.

Rudy suddenly turned, her attention focused on the door, and Jay's attention snapped to her as she moved towards it. "Rudy," he hissed. "Get back here."

"I just wanna see if we can get out," she replied. "My mom's out there..."

She stopped in front of the door, her little hand reaching for the knob before Jay abandoned Oliver and managed to pull it back just before her fingers reached it. She jumped, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Just be patient," Jay told her. "We'll find out in just..."

A muffled sound moving down the hallway caused Rudy's fingernails to dig into Jay's hand as he pulled her away from the door. "Get over here," he whispered as they moved past Oliver.

"He's coming back now," Oliver said quietly before looking at Jay. "You're gonna be in trouble, Jeremy."

"Shut up, and get down, Oliver," Jay retorted as he and Rudy reached the bathtub, where he led her to sit on the edge beside him. She was quick to follow his lead as he moved his freed hands behind his back. "Rudy," he said quietly, "listen to me, alright? If he comes near us, I want you to get in the tub and stay down, got it?"

She nodded slowly, her eyes focused straight ahead. Jay wasn't even sure if she'd understood anything he'd said, but there was no time to repeat the question as the obstruction holding them inside the bathroom was suddenly moved and the door swung open.

Brian Martin shouldn't have looked so normal. A normal man. A husband, a father, a guy who liked to go hunting and fishing with his sons... it was all sick, Jay decided as he stared back at the man standing in the doorway, the man smiling at him before looking over the rest of his captives.

"Everyone comfortable?" he asked, before laughing to himself in a way that suggested he expected everyone else to do the same. He placed a hand on the door, as if to close it, and determined to keep that from happening, Jay spoke up.

"You should let us go now," he said, surprised by how calm he sounded. "This isn't something you'll get away with... I know about your wife. Someone's going to find out what you did to her and come looking for you."

Brian's eyes widened comically, his tone as innocent as could be. "A tragedy, isn't it? It's too bad no one will feel sorry for her; I mean, after they find out she killed her own son... poor David. His brother missed him so much--that's why you did it, right Oliver? Your mother took your brother away from you, and that's why you got angry. I'm sure they were arguing when she said something that made him snap. Must have strangled her without realizing it."

On the floor, Oliver's eyes widened as he looked up at his father, the image of his own fingers touching the bruises on his mother's neck still fresh in his mind.