Chapter 11

Thanks to Jim for editing!

The air was getting cooler as a hint of a late afternoon storm clouded the sky and Jay picked up his pace again, trying to ignore the way that his lungs were beginning to burn from running. It was all he could do to keep up with Frank, who'd seemed to be hit with an unmatchable rush of adrenaline. Jay didn't know where he was going, but he knew he couldn't lose him. Frank did know something; although, somewhere during their conversation, Jay had lost track of what that was. But, Frank wanting to go to Oliver worried him. If Frank planned to warn the guy that they were onto him and his family, Jay wasn't exactly willing to let that happen.

"I going to call the police!" Jay shouted from behind him, but Frank didn't slow his pace, or object like Jay suspected he would.

"Go ahead," he called back.

Jay groaned, pushing himself harder until he was on Frank's heels. "Do you wanna tell me what's going on?"

"I have to get Oliver away from his parents... he'll be home by now."

"Why? Can't we just call someone first... Frank!" Jay came to a stop, placing his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. "Frank, if they had anything to do with Odetta..."

Frank stopped just ahead of Jay and looked back, his face flushed from running. "Look, Odetta's been dead for, like, a year. I'm pretty sure she can wait a little while longer. I need to find out what happened to David before the same thing happens to Oliver."

Jay frowned. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.

Frustrated, Frank shook his head and kept running. "Keep up and I'll tell you everything."

"Frank, wait!"

"What?" Frank shouted, spinning around again.

"Can we at least take my car?" he replied. "It'll get us there a lot faster, and there's no way I'm running all the way around the lake."

"How could you possibly fall for that?"

"Will you watch the road!" Frank snapped, pointing out the front window to the road ahead of them as Jay swerved recklessly over the gravel. He hadn't really been in danger of hitting anything. Frank simply wanted to avoid answering the question since he'd been asking himself the same thing and couldn't quite come up with an answer that didn't make him feel like the world's largest idiot. "It was believable... and Oliver talks to himself--I mean, he talks to David, when he's not even there. Look, it doesn't really matter now. The point is, the Martins are trying to convince him that David doesn't even exist... probably because they don't want anyone to figure out what they did with him."

"What do you think they did with him?" Jay asked.

Frank swallowed against his dry throat. "I don't know," he said. And he certainly didn't want to speculate. The sudden silence in the vehicle suggested that neither of them did, since it was difficult not to think the worst.

"Okay," Jay said calmly. "The last time I saw David... it had to be about two weeks ago, when he went to see the boat. So, we know he was okay then, right? Unless it was Oliver--sometimes it's hard to tell, unless one of 'em's talking."

"It wasn't Oliver," Frank said. "He wouldn't be near that boat... I think it scares him."

"Okay, so sometime in the last two weeks..."

"Nine days," Frank cut him off.

"What?"

"Whatever happened, happened exactly nine days ago."

"How do you know?"

"Because that's the last time I talked to David," Frank explained. "I got this weird phone call... He said he was going to tell me something, but before he got the chance the line went dead... I went over there and they had Oliver locked up under their house. That's when they fed me that story." Frank paused, releasing a shaky breath. "Fuck, and I bought it all... I've been seeing it like... God, I've probably got Oliver's head as fucked up as his parents do. He just wanted me to listen to him and I..."

"Hey. Like you said, that's not what's important right now. "We need a plan, Frank. These people are dangerous; if you wanna get Oliver we can't just walk right in there..."

"I can get him out," Frank said confidently. "I mean, if his dad isn't home yet... I can get him out."

"And then what?"

Frank sighed. "We can get the oars from my house and go to the police... but I don't really know if that's going to be enough proof, Jay. Our best bet is to prove something happened to David."

Jay nodded. "That won't be as hard as you think if he's really missing, Frank. No one really saw much of Oliver and David, but we knew they were there--both of them."

Frank sighed, looking out the window. He wished that someone would have mentioned that before. Hell, he wished that he would have paid more attention to what Oliver was trying to tell him. At the very least, listening to his own instincts about the Martin parents would have been helpful. Now, Frank felt like it was too late. At least, for David. For Oliver, it was a different story, and Frank swore that as soon as he got to him, the Martins never would again.

Jay took the road to the Martins' house slowly as they came closer and both boys took a good look around. It had just started to sprinkle, and as the small water droplets hit the windshield things appeared to be quiet.

"I don't think Brian's home," Frank said, finding that he was whispering, even if it wasn't necessary. "I'm just gonna knock on the door... we probably shouldn't let Oliver's mom suspect anything just yet."

Jay nodded his agreement. "Okay," he said as he turned off the engine and pocketed the key to his car. "But I'm gonna go with you."

Frank frowned at that idea. "I don't think so."

"Look, I'm not gonna freak out if that's what you're worried about. I do have some control over my temper."

"You scare Oliver," Frank said bluntly.

"I'll be nice."

"Jay..."

"Fine, I'll stay here... but as soon as something doesn't look right, I'm coming in."

Frank studied the other blond for a moment. "Thanks."

Jay only nodded, and Frank left the car, heading towards the Martin house. Outside of the vehicle the raindrops felt particularly cold on his warm skin, and he found himself approaching the front steps more quickly than he cared to. Shaking inside and out, Frank wasn't sure how he was going to keep up pretenses with Mary Martin after everything he'd just learned. And, while he was more confident when it came to handling her than Brian Martin, he didn't underestimate the woman for a minute. She'd been the only one there the night that Frank had found Oliver in the basement. He didn't doubt that she had something to do with David's disappearance... although, remembering how Brian had mysteriously run out in the middle of the night was worth worrying about now, too. For all Frank knew, Brian's errand could have consisted of the disposal of a body. David's body. Trembling, Frank didn't want to think about it. He felt like he was putting the pieces together a little too quickly, and didn't quite care for the picture they were creating.

At the door, Frank knocked. He waited, telling himself he'd make it quick. Mary would likely answer; he'd tell her he needed to tell Oliver something, grab him, and they'd run. At least, he hoped it would be that simple. Maybe it would have been, if Mary Martin had answered the door. If anyone had.

Frank glanced back at the car to find Jay watching intently. It was a comfort having him there, even if a small one, and Frank knocked again, louder this time. When no response came again, he frowned to himself, and reached for the doorknob, looking back at the car again, this time to make sure Jay saw what he was doing. Apparently, Jay didn't miss anything, because before Frank even swung the front door open, Jay was standing next to him on the porch.

Together they looked into the Martins' living room cautiously, their eyes adjusting to the darkness of the house slowly. "Hello," Frank whispered, as if he didn't really want anyone to hear him as he slid his hand against the inside wall in search of a light switch. He found one, flicked it on, and yanked his hand back as if the lid to the cookie jar was about to close on it.

Silently, Frank looked into the orderly living room, wondering if Mrs. Martin was going to pop out at them at any given moment. He opened his mouth, deciding that he should call out again, but before he followed through with that, Jay's hand was between his shoulder blades, pushing him forward.

"What are you doing?" Frank demanded.

"Go in," Jay urged.

"You go in!" Frank hissed.

"Sure... I'll be right behind you."

Frank rolled his eyes, and forced himself to take the first step into the house. Since the last time he was there, he didn't notice anything different, or strange... but then, he wasn't sure if he was supposed to. It wasn't as if the Martins would be hiding their secrets, or the body of their apparently missing son--if there was a body--in plain sight.

"I don't think anyone's home," Jay said, following Frank in. "Maybe we should just go."

"No," Frank stated. "Oliver's gotta be around here somewhere."

"You don't know that."

Frank looked back at Jay, frowning. "He has to be, because I'm not leaving here without him."

The clanging sound of a pan dropped somewhere in the house caused them both to jump, Jay going so far as to grab hold of Frank's arm. "Okay, someone's definitely here," Jay admitted, leaning forward to sniff the air. "And I think... something's burning."

"Kitchen," Frank whispered, and together they headed towards it. But, before they got there, Jay paused to unplug a table lamp before he lifted it up, and Frank stopped to regard him with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. "What are you doing?"

"Self-defense," Jay informed him and nodded for Frank to continue.

Frank frowned at the reminder that they might actually have to defend themselves, but didn't ask Jay to put down the lamp as they continued slowly towards the kitchen, each of them attempting to keep their footsteps as silent as possible. But as soon as Frank reached the kitchen, and saw who was making the noise, he turned and grabbed the lamp right out of Jay's hand, feeling that it was a reasonable precautionary measure before he stepped past the hallway, placed it carefully on the floor, and looked over his surroundings.

"Oliver? What are you doing?"

It was a good question. Looking around the kitchen, Frank found it, unlike the rest of the house, in disarray. The refrigerator door, cabinet and drawers were open, cans of non-perishable items opened, littering the counters along with an assortment of chopped vegetable and raw meat. There were pots and pans smoking over the stove, the empty bottoms burning as Oliver stood over the kitchen table, appearing to be setting it, adding the forks next to the plates. He seemed slow in noticing that Frank was even there, and when he did look up he seemed pale, his eyes dark and heavy.

"Hi, Frank."

"Oliver... what are you doing?" Frank asked again as he walked around the table to get to him, while Jay took it upon himself to go to the stove and turn off the burners.

"I have to cook dinner, Frank."

Frank frowned, knowing that he wouldn't think this was strange when it came to Oliver if he wasn't aware of the fact that Oliver did know how to cook without causing the kitchen to explode.

"More like destroying it," Jay remarked, and Oliver spun around, looking alarmed like he'd just noticed Jay was there. He backed up until his shoulder was touching Frank's.

"Jeremy Flaskis's in my house," he whispered.

"It's okay," Frank told him, reaching for his hand. "He's gonna give us a ride. Come on, we've gotta get out of here."

Frank headed towards the door, but when he tried to take Oliver with him, Oliver yanked his hand back, looking unreasonably upset. "No! I have to cook dinner, Frank! I have to cook it for my mom!"

"Oliver, listen," Frank responded. "I know about David--I know the truth. I'm sorry I didn't believe you, and I want to talk about it some more, but right now, I'm worried about what'll happen if I don't get you out of here. Please..."

Frank held out his hand, and as Oliver bit at his bottom lip when it began to quiver, he stared down at the offering. But, he didn't take it. Instead, he turned back to the table, rotating the plate in front of him. "I have to make dinner," he said again, his voice sounding uneven.

"Hey," Jay said roughly, moving towards him. "What kind of idiot..." he was silenced when Frank placed a hand on his chest and placed himself between Jay and Oliver.

"Oliver, please," Frank said. "If you're mad at me right now, I really can't blame you... I would be, too. But we have to go now. We'll get help, alright, like we talked about before... we'll tell everyone David's real."

Oliver slowly shook his head as he lifted his eyes to meet Frank's. "But he's in so much trouble now, Frank."

Frank bit at his tongue, reminding himself to keep his words calm. "I know... your parents did something to him, didn't they?"

Oliver sucked in a breath, choked on it. His hand slid over the plate in front of him and it fell from the table, shattering on the floor and causing everyone to jump, and as Frank lifted a hand to steady Oliver, Jay stepped away, frustrated.

"Frank."

"Hold on, Jay," Frank gritted out.

"No--fuck this," Jay snapped. "I'm gonna find a phone and call for help... then I'm outta here, with or without you. I swear it, Frank."

If Jay had intended to provoke a reaction out of Frank that would get them out of there faster, he was soon disappointed as he came to conclude that every bit of attention Frank had was on Oliver, and frustrated, he left the room, wishing he'd never agreed to go there first.

"Oliver, do you know what happened to David?" Frank asked, giving him a gentle shake to draw his attention. "I think you do... where he is? What happened to him?"

Oliver defensively wrapped his arms around himself. "I don't know, Frank. He stopped talking to me!" Oliver suddenly knelt down, his hands shaking as he struggled to pick up the larger pieces of the broken plate, even as Frank followed him, grabbing his hands to stop him. "I have to make dinner now!" Oliver snapped. "I have to! It has to be my job now! I can't... I can't talk about David anymore. I don't know why..." Oliver frowned, wiping his face on his sleeve before he looked at Frank again. "I don't know why he won't talk to me anymore."

Frustrated, Frank pulled Oliver to his feet, wondering if he should use a more forceful approach. But, as he took a moment, and Oliver's words sunk in, his eyes slowly widened in realization. "Oh god..." he whispered, studying Oliver closely for several long moments before he swallowed hard and tightened his grip on the other boy's hands. "You already told me, didn't you?"

"... and if you idiots are going to have an emergency line, then at least one of you lazy sons-of-bitches should be around to answer the damn thing!" Jay concluded irritably. He was running out of people to call. That was the third time he'd called the police after being unable to reach his parents, or even Jenny and her parents. Frustrated, he slammed the phone down on the receiver, cursing as the force caused it to fall.

Habit caused him to bend down to pick up the mess, but as he reached for the phone, he paused as the rug at his feet caught his attention. The corner was turned up: nothing that seemed out of the ordinary. But there was a small detail there on the carpet beneath that had him forgetting about the phone as he stepped aside and slowly pulled back the rug. Cocking his head, he stared at the stain on the floor curiously. A rusty-looking ring, it wasn't very large, but still, there was something about it that had the hair on the nape of his neck prickling, and his instincts knotting his stomach as he slowly reached out and touched it with two fingers.

The carpet was soft, and as he looked closer, he could see that the stain looked smudged. The place had definitely been washed. Again, nothing so out of the ordinary. Accidents happened. People cleaned them up... But, then he was reminded of last winter, the evening his father and grandfather returned from their annual hunting trip to Colorado with an antelope that would help feed their families, and others in need over the next months. His dad had taken a break from cleaning the animal, walked into the house to use the restroom, and was promptly scolded by his mother halfway across the living room when she realized that he'd stepped in part of the mess outside and tracked it across the floor. They'd discovered that blood wasn't the easiest thing to get out, and despite numerous cleanings, his mother had finally given up and thrown down a rug until they could replace the carpet. The Martins hunted, but he doubted that the stains on the carpet had anything to do with it. When it came to these people, Jay was most definitely one to jump to conclusions, and the fact that Frank had told him he'd received a call from David before he disappeared was all he needed to suspect foul play. If he was right in his assumptions that David was going to give up a few family secrets to Frank, and one of his parents found out, then Jay could easily picture him being attacked from behind before he got around to it.

"Hey, Frank, come look..." Jay paused as he looked up, his eyes getting a clear shot down the hallway.

He could have kicked himself. Silently, slowly, he moved back against the closest wall, annoyed and terrified that they had made the mistake of not making sure that Oliver was the only one in the house before they'd become distracted. Leaning forward, looking back down the hall, Jay stared at what had rattled him. Hanging off the visible corner of a bed was a foot: small, dressed in a white shoe. He'd hoped that it had been nothing more than his imagination, but there was no mistaking it. Someone was in the back room.

Jay supposed it was lucky that he and Frank hadn't been discovered, even when he'd raised his voice to call out only moments ago... and that was weird. Too weird.

Jay reached for the phone to call for help again, only to remember that it wasn't going to do him any good until someone got his messages. He paused for a long moment, breathing deeply as he looked towards the kitchen. He wanted to call for Frank again, but no longer had the nerve to. He could go get him. It was a good idea. A reasonable idea. Cautiously, he stepped away from the wall, meaning to head towards the kitchen, but with his eyes trained down the hallway, Jay's feet carried him in another direction.

Jay had always wondered what he'd find inside of the Martin house. He'd always imagined it to be a little home of horrors, but then, that could have been wishful thinking on his part. There were still several times in the past when he was tempted to find out, though. Maybe he would have, if Jenny hadn't drawn the line at breaking and entering. She put up with a lot from Jay, but had always been the first to stop him short of any major illegal activity. He wished she was with him now to tell him to go back to the kitchen, not to get any closer to that bedroom, because he wasn't stopping on his own. Not until he reached the bedroom door where he had to stop, his body falling heavily back on the door frame as he forced himself to recover from the blood rushing to his head as a result of what he was looking at.

Jay'd only ever seen one body before. And even then, seeing Odetta Grover being pulled out of that lake wasn't the clearest of memories. The image had been distorted by tears before his father had pulled his face against his shoulder and repeatedly ordered him not to look. He wished he had his dad's shoulder now, and it was strange, because the sorrow he felt didn't feel genuine.

Jay didn't know Mary Martin. What he did know, he didn't like. But the parted lips still open from her last breath, and lifeless eyes focused somewhere far away, were like Odetta Grover all over again. His arms flailed and caught the edge of the bed near Mary Martin's feet as he forced himself forward around the bed until he was looking down at the delicate features of her face. He avoided her eyes, finding that had he had to resist the urge to close them, even as the idea of touching her at all made his skin crawl.

Stepping back for a moment, he held his breath as he rubbed his hands over his face, forcing himself into detached concentration before he looked again, this time focusing on Mary Martin's throat, and the cause of her death, which Jay would have said wasn't an accident even before he'd found the proof.

He wasn't sure how long he looked. It couldn't have been for too long. The discovery had him wanting to get out of there even more than he'd wanted to upon stepping into the house. But, he was feeling strangely calm as he walked out of the Martin parents' bedroom, pausing at the end of the hall to frown at the front door, still wide open. He didn't feel safe with it like that all of a sudden, but at the same time, he feared feeling worse if he closed it. The back door, he decided. He'd get Frank, and they'd go out the back door. They simply couldn't wait for help to find them. They needed to get to it. Only now, as Jay headed back to the kitchen, he began to think of Oliver. The boy was a problem.

Jay no longer wanted to bring him along. Leave him here. Let the law deal with him. He could be a murderer. After all, Oliver was the only one there in the house. He was acting strangely, even more so than usual. He obviously knew there was a corpse in the back room. The question Jay had was whether or not Oliver had put it there.

The thought frayed his nerves, and he found himself moving faster, wanting to get to Frank. He was disappointed when he reached the kitchen and didn't find what--or more specifically who--he was looking for.

Confused. Numb. Terrified. These were all familiar feelings for Oliver Martin, but feeling them all at once, so strongly that it shook him, made it difficult to determine if he wanted to run away, or hide where he was. And he was so alone. He wasn't exactly sure how it all had happened.

He was supposed to be at Frank's house. He'd wanted to believe that Frank was right; that it would be safe. If Frank said it was okay to ask Mrs. Seaberg for help, then Oliver wanted to believe that. He wanted things to go back to the way that they were before, when David's bed had been in their bedroom, and they could talk whenever they wanted. Before Oliver wasn't allowed to call David his brother anymore. He'd believed that Frank could fix it... but then everything got messed up again.

Oliver remembered being with Frank, when they were supposed to make everything okay again. But then he was afraid. Bad things would happen if he told. He'd known they would, but hadn't listened to his instincts, so when he saw his dad outside of the Seaberg house waiting for him, he'd run. He had to. He had to get home and prove that he could be good. Bad things would happen.

But then, they did happen. Blackout. It was like hitting his head every time that it happened, only without the pain. Like walking towards an open door, only to hit a wall once he got there. And it was unsettling. To not know. Minutes unaccounted for, but worse, more often than not it was hours. Before, he'd always had to trust his family to account for that lost time. He'd counted on David to reassure him that everything was alright, that nothing was amiss. That he should smile and move on. You have nothing to worry about, Oliver. David had said those words on more than one occasion. But, this time was different.

The last time it had happened, Oliver had woken up in the dark with Frank at his side. At the time, things had seemed so distorted in his mind, and he'd been unable to recall exactly what the last thing he remembered before the blackout. But images had began to flash in his mind during his lonely moments. David, like the ghost their parents had been saying he was. That night seemed to be coming back to him in small pieces, but he couldn't put it all together. He didn't want to. Too scary. Oliver didn't like scary.