Story Notes:
This is a story that has been rattling around in my head for quite a while now, but probably would never have seen the light of day, and certainly not have been posted here, without the criticism, encouragement, bullying and downright awesomeness of Cate and Jo-Lyn. And a huge thank you to JL for helping me with the summary :D you are the best.
Author's Chapter Notes:
To Jo-Lyn and Cate, I can never thank you guys enough for giving me the confidence to let this see the light of day.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Or in English, they aren't mine, but if they were I would be the happiest woman in the world
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Or in English, they aren't mine, but if they were I would be the happiest woman in the world
Santa Clara, CA June 2011
“Where’s it at?!” The burly cocoa skinned man demanded to the battered man hanging from his wrists from the ceiling of the dingy warehouse. After several heartbeats of silence, the interrogator accentuated the command with a vicious left hook to the jaw.
“Who did you give the damned thing to?!”
“Pl...please....” the captive man, a middle aged golf course superintendent named Roger Righte begged futilely, “I....I don’t....remem--” his thready response was halted by another fist to the face.
“We can make this real easy like on you if you just tell us what we need to know,” the other man piped up with a gap toothed grin. Despite the smile, his eyes were completely devoid of warmth, causing Roger to shudder in alarm. The man was as tall as his partner in crime was short, thin and as fair as the other man was dark...at least he would be if it weren’t for the thick layer of grime that seemed to permeate every pore on his body. “WHO did ya give the painting to?”
“I do...I don’t reme...remember,” Roger insisted weakly. “It was too many years ag--” once again his denial was stopped by a beefy fist, this time deep in his gut. Limply he hung there, struggling desperately to catch his breath, hearing snippets of conversation, but his oxygen deprived brain only registered the words “Rind” and “Rye” before his head was savagely yanked up.
“TELL US WHAT WE WANT TO KNOW!!”
“All...” the superintendent cleared his parched throat and attempted to wet his spilt and swollen lips before beginning again. “There was this...ki...kid...”
“What do ya mean, kid...” Rind demanded the same time Rye crowed, “See, told ya he knew what we was talking about...”
“A young man who...was working at...the res...resort I was...managing...he...he was....I believe....a gol--”
“Spit it out already!!” The lanky man, Rind bellowed, all semblance of patience gone.
Cringing instinctively in anticipation of another blow, Roger continued, “worked fo...for...four days...as a...gol--”
“Don’t make me ‘persuade’ you to give us the information faster!” Rye ground out, taking a few menacing steps forward. “His NAME, what was his NAME!!”
“It was....uh, Sean.....no. Sha--Shane...no, maybe....Sam??” The superintendent started to panic, blurting out names that were in the correct vicinity to the one that was just out of reach. Flinching when the larger of the two thugs advanced on him again, he squeezed his eyes shut and exclaimed, “Shawn!! His na--name was.....SHAWN!! Yes, he wo--worked for the Ho--Horse Thief Resort and....he saw the pai--painting in my office and remarked...on it. When he...he was let go, I ga--gave him...the painting...” Falling silent when his rush of words caused him to run short of breath, he let his eyes drift shut.
“Hey!!” Rind blared while mercilessly jabbing the semi conscious man in the ribs with the barrel of his Colt 1911 45 caliber pistol. “What’s the guy’s LAST name!! You know how many Shawns there are?!”
“I do-don’t remember, but...the resort--” Eyes springing open in shock when the Colt was suddenly shoved under his chin, the injured man continued, “The resort, they...would have the records--”
“What year!”
“2005...summer...” Wearily he ventured on, “I....can find a wa--” Rendered silent with a sharp backhand across the face, Roger sank down, defeated.
“Not needed,” the lanky man said calmly. With a long speaking glance to Rye, Rind pulled a phone out of his black leather jacket and sauntered over to the corner while he dialed.
It was forty minutes, and a few heated conversations later, before Rind re-emerged from the far end of the building, his demeanor inscrutable.
“Did ya get the name or not?” Rye demanded after several seconds of silence.
Rye flashed him an insidious grin before responding. “I can do you one better. I got a location...”
Patience all but gone, the burly man resisted the urge to throttle his companion. “Well?! Where IS he??”
“Santa Barbara.”
Chapter End Notes:
Since this is still a work in progress, I am going to shoot for updating once a week until I get the rest of it written. I have over half of it written, so hopefully there won't be any kind of hiatus where I run out of finished material. I have over 20,000 words written, so it gives me plenty of cushion….though, I know, famous last words.
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