The Dark (A Detective Alice Madison Novel)(65)

“Boys, I want you to listen to me, and listen good. Say yes.”

Nobody spoke.

“Say yes.”

Three faint voices did as they were told.

“This is a message for your daddies. I want you to remember it. The message is: it’s not personal; it’s business. You got it? Repeat it.”

The boys could barely get their voices out. Gilman paced back and forth between them, and yet Ronald noticed that he kept an eye on the blond kid.

“Repeat it.”

“It’s not personal. It’s business.”

“Again.”

“It’s not personal. It’s business.”

“Hey, little guy. You heard me, right? You want to go home?” Gilman strode up to the boy tied to the first tree—the shortest and youngest, it seemed—and screamed right into his face. The kid’s voice was caught in his chest, and he could hardly breathe, let alone speak.

Ronald Gray thought of the money they would be paid and the down-payment on the car he wanted. By tomorrow at the latest the kids would be found. No harm, no foul, message delivered. He pretended to ignore the fact that Vincent had frozen as if Gilman had been screaming at him.

Gilman yelled, the boy shrank against the tree, and Ronald missed nothing—like the fact that while he was putting the fear of God into the little one, it was the other kid Gilman eyeballed every few seconds.

Finally, the little kid yelled out the words, and Warren sniggered. “Ooh, this one got a set of lungs on him.”

“Good job. Now, we are going to let you go home in a while, but I want to be clear about something: you ever, ever tell the cops about this, and I’m going to come back and get you. You ever tell anybody at all about this, and I’m going to come back and get you, and I will hurt your mom and dad, too. You understand? You saw nothing, and you heard nothing. You just pass on the message to your daddies, and everybody stays alive. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“See if you can get louder than that, you little girl.” Suddenly there was a blade in Gilman’s hand, and he slashed at the boy’s arm.

“The hell are you doing, man?” The words left Ronald’s lips before he could call them back.

“Shut up. Don’t make me do this, boy. Let’s hear it.”

The boy yelped as the blade cut his arm again.

“Hey,” Warren said to no one in particular. He was a coward and a fool, but even he could sense that this was moving into a whole new direction and that it meant bad news for yours truly.

“Get into the van, and shut the fuck up,” Gilman said calmly.

“C’mon man, let’s get out of here,” Ronald said.

“What are you doing?” It was the blond kid’s voice, and Ronald could have sworn—man, he would have bet all he had in the bank that there was a dark delight in Gilman’s eyes as he turned to the boy.

“Leave the kid alone. Let’s go,” Ronald repeated.

“Don’t make me do this, you little shit. Let’s hear it.” He cut the boy again.

“Stop it!” The tall kid was straining at the ropes.

“What did you say?” Gilman moved toward him.

“He’s just a little kid. We’ll do what you want—just stop hurting him.” The boy sounded out of breath.

“If you want to go home in one piece, boy, you’re going to have to shut up right now.”

It happened right then: one second the blond kid was okay, the next he couldn’t catch his breath. Under the grimy rag they had used as a blindfold, he was straining to get air into his lungs.

“What’s wrong?” Warren said.

“He’s not breathing. Cut him loose.” Ronald stepped forward.

“Don’t touch him—he’s going to be fine.” Gilman put out his arm, the blade of the knife pointed squarely at Ronald’s chest. “Touch him, and I’ll cut your hand off.”

“There’s something wrong with him,” Vincent whispered.

“We can see that, you moron. Cut him loose,” Warren said.

“No.”

The breathing was fast and shallow and becoming fainter by the second.

“Dave?”

“Dave?”

That was all that Ronald could register, the boy’s name as his friends called out to him and Timothy Gilman as he stood with his knife out, staring each man in the eye and meaning their blood should they come closer.

Then, the longest silence. The kid had slumped against the ropes, his head hanging forward.

“We’re done here,” Gilman said.

“What happened?” the little one cried out.

Warren started to work through the ropes, loosening them. “This shit we didn’t sign up for.”