Page 27 of Lover
Rand scooted his chair a little closer to Junior. “How long were you with Pearson before the relationship became a sexual one?” He kept his voice even and low, the rough baritone hard to dismiss.
“Six months, I think. He was so gentle and attentive the first few times—his requests prior to us having sex becoming stranger each time. The longer I was there, stuck in that prison disguised as a gilded cage, the worse he made me feel. He kept this cigar box with pictures of the guys before me in it. I looked inside once and...” Junior trailed off, his face flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sure you’ve seen inside that box too.” The four of them nodded in unison.
“Can I ask you a question, Agent Cummings?” Junior turned to Blair, who nodded in response. “Am I the only one that made it out alive?”
Rand cursed softly, Junior’s eyes now trained on him. “How many more?”
“Just one,” Rory answered.
“That we know of.” Blair tried to bring Junior’s focus back to him by touching him on the shoulder. Holy hell, he fucking freaked out. Jerking away, he jumped to his feet, walking backward until the wall stopped him, eyes darting around the room like a feral cat. Rory didn’t move, not wanting to give Junior a reason to bolt. “Sorry, Mannie, I didn’t mean to frighten you. Can you come sit back down and tell us the rest of your story, please?”
Hands shaking, Junior pushed his hair behind one ear, eyes slowly starting to focus on his surroundings. Rand reached for a pen, scribblingPTSD?on a notepad on Rory’s desk. Dipping his head would have to be a sufficient response; he didn’t want to make a sound—their scared bird might fly away. Rand had a point, though. Sweat dotting his brow, pupils dilated, body trembling, the smell of fear permeated the room. One could easily assume Junior was having a flashback.
It took a little more coaxing, and Blair had to push the chair Junior had been sitting in over next to where he stood before the scared rabbit sat back down. Several long, awkward minutes passed as Junior visibly relaxed before he continued. “I was fourteen when he sunk his claws into me, almost fifteen the first time he beat the living shit out of me, and I’d just turned seventeen when I thought I could get away.” He reached for the scarf around his neck, long fingers pulling it loose. “This is what happens when you cross Bruce Pearson.” Turning his head to the side and brushing back his long hair uncovered an angry red scar that ran across Junior’s throat from just below his right ear to his Adam’s apple. “I’d show you the six-inch incision on the back of my head and the metal plate that’s holding my brains in, but I wouldn’t want to scare the pretty lady.” For the first time since he walked into the office, Junior truly smiled when he looked at Connie.
“Can you tell us what happened, Mannie? How you sustained these injuries?” Rory asked. Certain things that the serial killer—that they’d named the Columbia River Killer—had done to his victims had never been released to the press. The only body they’d found and connected to the case that wasn’t strangling or didn’t have his throat slashed and his head bashed in was the victim that was still classified as a drowning. They’d always questioned whether or not the guy that had drowned at Sauvie Island was one of their victims. But when Rand included the article with a picture in the byline in his photo lineup with Pearson back in Washington, Pearson didn’t deny the connection.
“Looking back, I think Bruce knew what I was planning and pretended to leave for work. I shoved everything I wanted to keep into a bag and left the apartment. They were waiting for me when I exited the building, Bruce and Tuan. I swear I almost had a heart attack when I saw the car idling at the curb. Bruce swung the door open and Tuan came around the car, grabbing me by the arm and shoving me into the back seat. He was so pissed, madder than I’d ever seen him before, and that’s saying a lot after spending three years in hell with those two. When he wrapped his fingers around my neck and squeezed, I actually prayed for death.” Junior raised his head, eyes full of shame. Rory tried to think of something to say, anything, but nothing that came to mind seemed appropriate, so he sat quietly, as did everyone else in the room. Allowing Junior the moments he needed to finish his story.
“The next thing I knew, I was on my back on the ground in the woods and my head was throbbing. I remember reaching up and touching the back of my neck, my fingers soaked in blood when I held my arm out in front of me. But it was the dark, looming shadow that truly terrified me. When he slit my throat and shoved the blade into my neck for good measure, he nicked my vocal cords. That’s why I talk like an old man that’s been smoking a pack a day for fifty years, why I’m constantly having to clear my throat.” Sighing, Junior slumped in the chair, letting the weight of the world fall off his shoulders.
“Would you be willing to testify in front of the grand jury in King County when the DA presents his request to indict Bruce Pearson?” Rand asked.
Junior looked at him, confused. “What good would that do?”
“It would tie him to you when you were still underage for starters. He then tried to kill you and left you for dead. I think that one’s a no-brainer, Mannie.” Rand sounded exasperated again.
“No, you’ve got it wrong, Detective. Bruce didn’t try to kill me. Tuan did.”
Chapter Twenty Four
Rand
––––––––
Contacting SeattlePD, he verified what he already knew, that Tuan Nguyen had not returned. A couple of uniforms went to Nguyen’s last known address as well as Pearson’s office and condo, and there was no sign of him anywhere. Connie fired up her computer and started trying to track the man online, going as far as hacking into a few databases to find information they’d previously obtained on the attorney, now needing it on Tuan Nguyen. The statement from Junior that Tuan was the muscle, the killer, and that Bruce Pearson was not, had caught them all off guard. Now they had to scramble to find the true murderer, and there was no time to go through proper channels as they’d done when trying to link everything to Pearson.
One side of the office was a flurry of movement, Landers and Gonzales frantically typing and murmuring to one another, jerking all the sheets with info on Pearson from the whiteboard, only able to add the notes Rory had jotted down on a sheet of paper to Junior’s picture. The other side of the office was calm and subdued, Cummings sitting with Junior, the two of them speaking softly. Rand decided to focus on Junior and hear the rest of his story, confident in the other two agents’ abilities to find the needle, Tuan, in the haystack otherwise known as the Internet.
“Hey, it’s okay, Mannie. You’re safe here....I promise you.” Blair cajoled the skittish witness. Junior looked up when Rand walked over and offered him another bottle of water. The smile was forced, his eyes still cloudy and uncertain, posture stiff.
“Thanks, Davis. Why don’t you pull up a chair?” Blair met his eyes, the younger man’s stare imploring. As soon as he dragged a chair over and sat, Rand saw some of the fight-or-flight fear that had been ingrained in Junior melt away.
“Okay, Mannie. Tell us how you survived—how you wound up in Arizona.” It struck Rand then. He’d never heard the soft, soothing tone Cummings was using on Junior, the youngest of their group of ragtag cops and agents normally far more passive-aggressive. It was almost as if he felt he needed to assert his place, prove that he was capable of standing his own ground with the three more seasoned members.
“Yeah, uh, okay.” Junior covered Blair’s hand on his knee with his own. Seeming to pull strength from their connection, the terrified young man sat up a little straighter, clearing his throat. “After Tuan knifed me, I lost consciousness for a while. I can vividly remember thinking I was dying, praying to God to forgive me and let me into heaven.” He snorted. “Everything else is choppy...blurry when I strain to recall the events of that night. Like I told you before, Bruce choked me until I lost consciousness, and when I came to, Tuan was there. And...” He trailed off, eyes glassy. Junior slammed his fist down on his other leg, eyes closed tight, face a mask of pain and confusion.
Uncertain what Junior’s reaction would be if he tried to comfort him, Rand stayed still. He’d already shared with them that he’d lost time and memories as a result of what Nguyen had done to him, most likely from a severe brain injury, given the facts. Rand wondered if the traumatized young man could remember anything solid, anything they could use.
“Easy, Mannie. It’s okay.” Blair promised. “I’d like to try a memory technique with you—if that’s okay.”
“At this point, I’d try anything short of a lobotomy.” Junior snorted again, and Rand considered which one was more irritating, the snort or the throat-clearing thing.
Rand shook his head. At least the guy still had a sense of humor, even if it did border on morbid. “Sit back and close your eyes, take deep, even breaths, and clear your mind. Now, I want you to go to that night, rewind to the moment you were pushed into the car with Bruce.”
Junior nodded, a jerky, uncoordinated head bob. “He’s so mad. I can see it in his face. His eyes...his eyes are hollow. He’s screaming at me, cursing, calling me a filthy whore and,” Junior winced, hands lifting to his neck, fingers clawing at invisible hands, “he’s choking me. I can’t breathe.”
Blair reached over and gently clasped Junior’s wrists, lowering his hands, continuing to soothe with words of encouragement. “All right, Mannie. Can you remember anything from the time you were put in the car to when you woke up on the ground?”
