Shattered Lives (32 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT

Eureka, Missouri

             
He was distracted, maybe frustrated.  George couldn’t tell and didn’t know why. 

He and the others spent most of the hot afternoon at the St. Louis Zoo.  George, not used to the humidity, was uncomfortable.  All of them got sunburned except for George, who just got darker.  Jeff and Jeremy had retreated to their room, while the boys ended up at the motel pool.  Danny, Randy and Billy swam while George sat on a lounger and watched them.  The yelling, screaming and splashing made napping impossible.  He felt restless, like he should be doing something other than sitting.

              George had easily picked out the two undercover agents.  It wasn’t hard because either they didn’t care if he knew or they weren’t very good.  He first noticed them at the zoo trailing at a discreet distance: a male and female, trying too hard not to look like they were watching them. 

She was tall and had long black hair.  She carried a small bag, and George knew that was where she kept her gun.  He was about the same height, muscular and a lefty.  The left foot drag told George where his gun was and confirmed the fact that they were cops.  They acted like they were married or dating, but seldom held hands. George didn’t care.

Something was going to happen soon.  George could feel it.  He just didn’t know what.  Or to whom.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE

Waukesha, Wisconsin

             
Pete had called and had shared his hunch.  Having worked with him in Chicago and having watched him in action, Jamie knew Pete was good at what he did, so he trusted Pete’s hunches.

And Jamie was frustrated.  The West Bend PD couldn’t get a hold of Tim or his family, so he couldn’t verify the information Brett had given Pete and Chet.  He had called the Pruitt residence twice and left his cell, office and home phone numbers with a message to call as soon as possible. 

              While he waited, Jamie ran Frechet’s driver license and enlarged it.  He placed it with the rest of the photos and emailed a copy of it to Pete for him to check with Brett.  He conference-called Pete and Chet and gave them the license number, address and phone number, along with the address and phone number of Frechet’s medical practice.  They were going to get it to Billias and have him do some quiet digging.

              He shared the little he knew about Frechet.  Frechet was one of three principals in a medical practice specializing in pre-teen and teen youth.  He name was listed second, and it employed a total of fourteen individuals: three doctors, one physician assistant, seven nurses, one receptionist and one accounts clerk.  It was hugely successful and took up the entire first floor of a corner red-brick, two-story building kitty-corner from Waukesha Memorial Hospital.  

Not knowing what else to do, Graff picked up the manila folder holding the glossy eight by tens, his keys, and backed up too quickly, knocking his rolling desk chair into the bookcase.   He turned off the light and slammed the door behind him.

              Eiselmann and O’Connor had tailed the Bailey and Erickson families to Frame Park for Stephen’s and Mike’s soccer game, so Jamie decided to visit Frechet. 

CHAPTER EIGHTY

Waukesha, Wisconsin

They ended up at the Erickson house.  It had taken some convincing, but Garrett sat on the couch in the basement dueling Gavin on Wii Sports.  They laughed, elbowed each other and trash-talked like they had known each other forever. 

              While Mike showered, Stephen and Tim talked quietly, and even though he wasn’t supposed to, Stephen told Tim about the undercover cops watching him.

              “He was at tennis, my goalie training and the soccer game. He said there were two of them, but I haven’t met the other guy.”

              “Does Mike know?”

              Stephen looked away, licked his lips and said, “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone.”

              Tim smiled and said, “Then we better not say anything, okay?”

              Stephen nodded. 

              “Who were those two guys at the game . . . the two with the soccer balls?”

              Stephen laughed and said, “Probably the two best soccer players in the state.  Seriously.  They’re our age, but they play up an age group.  They’re in ODP, the Olympic Development Program.”

              Garrett turned around and said, “Mario Denalli and Cem Girici.  They go to my school.  Mario’s from Italy, and Cem’s from Turkey.”             

“Is his name Jim or Gem?” Gavin asked.

Garrett laughed and said, “You spell it C-E-M, but the C sounds like a J.  His last name is spelled G-I-R-I-C-I, but the G sound is hard.”

“You said he’s from Turkey?” Gavin asked. “I thought he was Italian like the other kid.”

“No, Mario is from Italy, but Cem is from Turkey,” Garrett answered.

“You know how moms and dads and some friends came to our game?” Stephen said.

              Tim nodded.

              “Well, when they play, everyone shows up . . . not just parents and friends.  This summer they had coaches from North Carolina, Duke, Creighton, Indiana and UCLA.  Honest.”

              “Seriously?” Gavin asked.

              “Truth!” Garrett answered. “Mario scores at least once in every game. 
Every
game.”

              “And damn, is he fast!” Stephen added.  “He can do stuff with a soccer ball that most guys only dream about.”

              Gavin laughed and said, “Yeah, we saw.  Two of those guys got a really close look at what they can do,” he said with a laugh.

              “I’ve heard him say there are three things he cares about in the whole world.  His grandmother, soccer and his guitar,” Garrett said in awe.

              “His grandmother?” Gavin asked.

              “I don’t know the whole story, but he lives with his grandmother.  I don’t think his parents are around, and he doesn’t have any brothers or sisters . . . I don’t think he does anyway.”

“Who were those other guys?” Tim asked.

              Garrett blinked at Gavin, Tim and Stephen.  He put his controller down, stared at his hands and then sighed.

              “I go to school with them.  Murphy, Henderson, and Douglas.”

              Tim waited patiently.  Garrett shifted uncomfortably.  Gavin and Stephen remained silent, but were interested.

              “My coach is in jail, so our soccer team dissolved.  He . . . the guy I turned in . . . did stuff with me and some of the guys on my team.  He had porn . . . videos, pictures . . . sick stuff.  Word got out about him doing stuff, and some of the guys blamed me.”

              “And if you wouldn’t have said something, Mike would be dead and Stephen and me and the other guys would be locked up doing all the crap you did with that pervert,” Tim said firmly.

              Garrett looked doubtful.

              “Look, Garrett.  Calling Randy and Jeremy took guts.  And what you did with that pervert?  I did that shit for more than two years.  Every day, all day, all night.  Anything you can think of, I did.  I saw guys whipped, branded, and dragged away in handcuffs.  We . . . I . . . never saw them again.  I even had to do stuff with the guys . . . my friends.  So if anyone says anything to you, remember you saved almost thirty of us.  Mike would have lasted
may
be a day or two longer.  And then, they would have hung him up, whipped the shit out of him in front of us and then they would have taken him away in handcuffs and no one would have seen him again.  I know it because I’ve seen it.  I can give you the names of other guys, and you can call ‘em and ask ‘em yourself if you don’t believe me.”

              Tim shook.  He didn’t realize it, just like he didn’t realize he was crying either.  Angrily, he wiped his eyes with the front of his shirt.  Stephen reached out and held Tim’s arm gently. 

              “So . . . why did this Mario guy and the other guy defend you?” Gavin asked quietly watching Tim and Stephen.

              Garrett couldn’t bear to look at any of them. 

Finally, he shrugged and said, “I don’t know.”

Mike bounced down the steps two at a time, hair still damp, and asked, “What did I miss?”

CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

Waukesha, Wisconsin

             
At the soccer game,
Frechet had overheard the boys talking about spending the night at Erickson’s house.  He hadn’t exactly worked out the details of how he’d get Stephen.  Maybe take them for ice cream and then offer to give him a free physical. 

He knew deep down, Stephen wanted to be with him.  He knew Michael enjoyed the office visit.  Michael was more special than he had imagined.  But he knew Stephen was going to be even more special than Michael.

He packed a duffle bag with enough clothes for one night.  He stuffed a syringe and the vile of medicine into his jacket pocket along with a loaded .38 and grabbed his medical bag.

Frechet turned off the house lights, locked his front door and got into his white Cadillac Escalade, backed out of his driveway, and drove down the street and around the corner.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO

Waukesha, Wisconsin

             
“Mark,” Jennifer said as she came into the living room. “Sarah, Laura and I are going grocery shopping. We’ll be back in an hour or so.”  She gave him a kiss and added, “You have the boys.”  She gave him another kiss and said, “If they get hungry, you can order pizzas.  There’s a coupon on the counter near the toaster along with two twenties.”

              Mark hugged her and buried his face in her stomach.

“Stop,” Jennifer said with a laugh.

“You make me horny when you give me orders,” he said hugging her tighter.

“A change in the barometric pressure makes you horny,” Jennifer laughed.

“The point is I’m horny.”

“Mason is at Miranda’s house, and Morgan and a group of his friends are at a Chad’s house, and the boys will be downstairs, so we’ll have the upstairs to ourselves.”

He gave her a kiss and said, “I guess my horniness can wait a little while longer.”

She kissed him back and said, “You know, it’s nice to have a house full of kids.”

“Did you notice Mike’s not stuttering?  A little soccer and a lot of Tim and poof!”

She nodded and said, “I noticed.”

“I wish we knew what the hell happened.”

“Me, too.”  She kissed him again and said, “Gotta run.”

Jennifer went back into the kitchen, yelled “Bye”, and she, Sarah and Laura left by back door, got in the Erickson van and backed out of the driveway.

“We have a van leaving the Erickson house.  Heads or tails?” Eiselmann said into his radio.

“I’ll take it.”

Pat O’Connor was slightly built, on the tallish side, had a narrow face, and wore his brown hair to his shoulders.  He looked like any guy with rough edges who lived on the dangerous and questionable side of life.  He had partnered with Eiselmann since joining the Waukesha County Sheriff Department, but the two of them were more than partners.  They were best friends.  He’d work undercover, while Eiselmann worked control because his red hair and freckles made him stick out too much. O’Connor blended in.

The two of them had been on loan to the FBI and had headed up the team that had freed the boys in Long Beach.  Graff had arranged through his captain and the Sheriff’s department for them to keep an eye on Stephen and Michael and their families.

O’Connor waited until the van reached the corner and then pulled out and followed, keeping a block behind them.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE

Waukesha, Wisconsin

             
Had Graff arrived just thirty minutes earlier, he would have found Frechet climbing into his Escalade.  As it was, he rang the front doorbell three times and gave up on the idea that the good doctor would come to the door.  He walked down the driveway and peered into the garage through the window on the side of the house. 

No vehicle.

              The backdoor was locked.  He walked around the house, peering into windows looking for anything suspicious, anything that would give him probable cause to enter the house.

              Nothing.

              He pulled out his cell as he walked back to his car.

              “Eiselmann.”

              “Where are you?” Jamie asked.

              “A couple houses down from the Erickson house.”

              “Where’s O’Connor?”

              “Following Mrs. Erickson, Mrs. Bailey and Mrs. Pruitt.  They took off about twenty minutes ago.  Mr. Erickson is baby-sitting the boys.”

              “Wait . . . did you say Mrs. Pruitt?  Is Tim Pruitt there?”

              “Yeah.  His mom, Tim and another boy arrived late this afternoon.”

              Jamie pounded the steering wheel.

“That’s why they never called me back?”

              “What?” Eiselmann asked puzzled.

              “I’ll be there in less than fifteen minutes.  If the boys try to leave, stop them.”

              Eiselmann was left holding a silent cell phone.