More pieces of the puzzle did not make the picture any clearer. Bennett knew now that Santiago had not been delusional. The kid knew who he was. A dead father, mother in the wind, and step father on the run left little in the way of those close to him to find.
The knock at the door cut through the ringing in his ears.
Bennett glanced at his phone again, still no word from Jack.
Silently he made his way to the living room peering out the window to catch a glimpse of the figure at the door. Bennett grunted in annoyance as he swung the door open. “He called you.”
“You look like hell.” Said Peter.
“I’m fine.”
“Clearly you’re the pinnacle of mental health and that's why you haven’t been coming to meetings.”
“I haven’t been drinking.”
“Haven’t been sleeping either.” Said Peter.
Bennett scratched absently at the irritated skin on the back of his neck. The rash had spread out across his shoulders in angry hives. It never truly went away, sometimes it was a small splotch of discoloration or it would flare up and stretch across his back. A fitting reminder of the gas attacks during the gulf war.
“What did Jack tell you?” Said Bennett.
“That you needed to talk.” Peter said, planting himself on one side of the two chair dinette table.
Bennett was not avoiding his sponsor per se. Still he was not actively looking to rehash the past few weeks. Not with all that was left to be done. He did not need Peter trying to dissuade him. Bennett knew well enough from their years together that the man was not leaving without an explanation.
“Varney’s dead.”
“I heard about that.” Peter replied solemnly, “Robbed before he even made it to his cruise.”
“I found him.” Bennett said, “He’d been dead for a while. Multiple stab wounds. Blade snapped off in him.”
“Christ, Bennett, I’m sorry.” Peter’s brow furrowed, “You called it in?”
“No.” Bennett sighed, “I broke into his place and found him.”
Peter crossed his arms staring at him. “Who else knows this?”
“Jack and yourself.”
Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. It was obvious this was not the direction the old vet expected the conversation to go. “Why?”
Why?
Now that was a loaded question.
Why did he break in? Because he needed to get the footage that could have given some answers about Santiago and where he had gone.
Why was Sean Varney killed? He was paid off to get rid of evidence and he was a loose end that needed tying up.
“This is all connected to that kid.” Peter's eyes widened in disbelief, “Things are going off the rails Bennett you sure this isn’t best left to the police.”
“The ones who murdered him in the first place.” Said Bennett.
“Fair enough.” Peter clicked his tongue. “The one that signed off on the kids transfer should know something about where he went, right?”
“He won’t fess up. Legal reasons.”
“You think that’s legit?”
“For his sake, he better hope that’s true.” Bennett growled.
Peter leaned back in his seat, “I know this is important to you Bennett, but it’s not an excuse for backsliding—”
“I’m fine—”
“For now.” Peter said curtly, “You need to stick with the program. Fixating on this and forgetting to check yourself is going to undo all the work you’ve been putting in. It doesn't matter how many years you have under your belt Bennett. It takes one bad day and you’re back at square one.”
Bennett had his share of bad days.
He would be celebrating his ten years of sobriety come December.
Bennett had spent twice as long spun out on anything he could get his hands on after his contract had finally ended. He came back home like so many others, broken.
In the beginning it was to kill the pain. At least that is what he told himself. Pain likely would have been better than the numbness that settled in his bones. There were mornings when he woke up unable to move his limbs.
Mostly it was to forget, if only for a little while. All the horrors that were seared into his memories more vividly than the world around him at times. Sometimes it becomes impossible to separate the past from the present.
“I know.” Said Bennett. “I can’t walk away from this either. I will stay above water and if I feel like I am slipping I will call.”
Peter frowned, saying nothing for a long moment. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“I know you will.”
“Jack did give me something else.”
Bennett raised a brow curiously.
“He found a name. When the kid was in the morgue someone came to collect his belongings.”
“His mother?”
“No.”
Another piece of the puzzle that was bringing Bennett one step closer to finding Santiago.
----------------------------------------
Large windows allow natural light to flood the room. The walls were plastered with educational posters and charts illustrating scientific principles and formulas. The large computer monitors were polished and sleek. The instructors desk had well-organized piles of textbooks. Models of molecules and circuitry decorated its surface.
The interactive smartboard provided ample space for the teacher as they explained concepts, dragging up filled and stretching out diagrams with a few taps.
Mrs. Bell was youthful in appearance for a teacher with an energetic aura that was captivating. She had a soft voice, with a clear and light laugh not unlike her namesake. Always in some sort of floral smock that flitted about her knees as she paced across the classroom.
While planted in the seat Santiago was far from present. He was still stuck in the night now days ago listening to the old woman’s trembling voice as she told him that Gudaelupe was dead.
It was his fault. She had told him to go. Begged him to.
He did not and everyone but the bastard that deserved it ended up dead.
“Santiago. Santiago.” Mrs. Bell called on the boy who did not respond.
From behind a boy kicked at his chair, he caught himself quickly cursing under his breath.
“Kevin, that was inappropriate. Apologize.” She chastised.
“Sorry.” Kevin mocked.
Mrs. Bell deflated the petite woman did not have an ounce of sterness in her.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
Santiago shrugged it off so she moved along with the lecture. With a flick of the screen a scramble of letters and numbers of an equation appeared on the board.
“Alright so can anyone name the thermal dynamic process that this equation calculates?” Mrs. Bell chirped, her bright eyes searching the rows of confused faces. “A hint is that these processes can also be calculated through isothermal processes.”
Only the dull hum of the heater filled the room. “Anyone?”
Santiago sighed, “Entropy.”
“Yes!” She lit up, her hands clapped together. “That is correct Santiago. Someone’s been doing their reading.”
Santiago ignored the mumbling and snickers behind him, giving her a polite nod.
Crossing the cafeteria he made his way out to the courtyard toward his usual place beneath the tree seeking the small slice of solitude it brought. Abruptly one of the boys talking in a group he was passing turned colliding with him.
The tray of food ended up smashed all over the front of his jacket. Santiago was not upset over it at first, mistakes happen.
“Oh man, I’m so sorry. Now you have food all over your shirt. I promise I’ll pay for it. How much do you need five dollars, ten? ” Scott motioned in mock sincerity, he looked back at his friends. “How many pesos is that?”
The boys behind him cackled on cue.
If Santiago had to guess the boy from earlier was among them, not that he would know the difference. Between the dirty blond cropped haircuts, navy blazers, and an abundance of khaki shorts there was no way he was holding a name to any of the plain faces.
Santiago threw the tray in the nearby garbage can and the boy was going to go along with it if Laura had not swooped in like the bluebird pinned to her chest.
“Goodness Santiago, let’s go get you cleaned up.” She pressed her palm between his shoulder blades guiding him along. “You boys behave.”
Santiago bundled his soiled jacket and shirt into the plastic bag. Exiting the restroom he grimaced at the faded loaner shirt in her hands. “Ain’t no way I’m wearing that.”
“You can’t go around school like this.” She motioned at the boy in a plain white muscle shirt. “It’s not appropriate.”
“It’s not appropriate” Santiago echoed mockingly, “Do I look like I care about appropriate?”
Laura’s mouth opened as though she was about to say something and simply shut it again.
“I got to go to the gym anyway. I’ll just wear my P.E shirt. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” He grumbled as the door swung shut behind him cutting off her indignant shouting.
Physical Education was no longer a requirement for him but they had a weightlifting class listed for an elective so he was quick to get in. It was one of the many they had on campus. With his grades he could have got into any he wanted.
Santiago preferred it because he could dial up the volume as high as the headset could handle and tune out the rest of the world for an hour.
Though no marks could make up for his lack of talent in magic. It was still a part of the curriculum. With what he had seen of the ordinary classes here he could only imagine the kind of things they were taught.
Magic was like a golden ticket back home. Only some schools offered formal education. If you had a gift a kid might have a chance of getting whisked off across the bridge or up north.
He used to hope for that as a kid. A winning lottery ticket that could take them away to place without leaks, creaks, or freaks.
It felt like another lifetime.
None of it felt real anymore. When he died that night he was not sure all of him came back. Ever since he had felt hollow like a piece of him was missing. Now he knew why.
Santiago flicked through his phone to queue up the music. It was time to quiet the noise in his head. The music blared as he set up for some reps.
The weightlifting room was more well-equipped than any gym he had paid for downtown. Mirrored walls span one side of the room, reflecting the wall across with more of the endless motivational posters and slogans.
A variety of equipment was neatly arranged throughout the room. Sturdy racks and benches holding an array of dumbbells, barbells, and weight plates of various sizes. Resistance machines and cable stations offer options for targeted strength training, while squat racks and power cages were set up for more advanced exercises.
Gulping down the bottle he refilled it again at the purified water pump built into the wall of the gym. The audible complaint from his stomach whose hunger pains he had been pointedly ignoring grew louder.
“Go grab a bite Santiago.” Coach Russel barked, standing well over six feet the towering man pulled the weight plates of the bar to rest in a neat pile on the floor. He had a muscular physique emphasized by his form-fitting workout attire made exclusively of moisture wicking shirts and leggings. Not a hair sat atop his cleanly shaven head except for a thick pair of brows that matched the dark and well maintained beard. “There’s a burger joint up the street.”
“I got to be at my next class in like fifteen minutes.” Santiago slung the sweat rag over the back of his neck.
Russel laughed gruffly, he pulled a money clip from his wallet and handed him a couple of bills. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell them you're helping me out.”
Never look a gift horse in the mouth, words Santiago took to heart as he jogged up the street. The cool air felt good on his bare arms giving off visible steam in the chilly air of the coming fall. The thin fabric of the tank top clung to his sweat soaked skin.
Santiago groaned as he bit into the juicy burger. Bacon with the right amount of crunch. Patty fresh off the grill. The fried egg gave it a bit of richness and a dash of hot sauce for some kick. Motioning pointedly he called to the cook in the back, “Damn, that’s a good burger, man.”
He could hear the thunderous laugh of the older man in the kitchen.
In the parking lot he watched the four boys climb out of the ivory tesla.
“Great.” Santiago shook his head, turning back to his food. Stuffed the last pieces into his cheeks puffed up like a rodent hoarding nuts. Wringing his hands with a napkin he tossed his garbage before leaving.
Outside his schoolmates had yet to make it to the restaurant he could hear their boisterous laughter out by the rows of cars cloistered around a girl.
“If you’re new here I’d be more than happy to show you around, babe.” Scott leaned against the hood of his jeep. “We have a championship match at the Tacoma Dome next weekend. We can get you some tickets.”
Kevin threw an arm around his friend's shoulder, “Tristans throwing a party at his place tonight.”
“It’ll be a hell of time, booze, swimming, and we can take my dads boat out on the lake.” Tristan chirped.
A derisive laugh came from the girl as she pushed past them, “Then tell your daddy to call me.”
The gaggle of clowns continued to pursue her whining like puppies for attention.
Santiago breath hitched, the dark heavily lidded eyes locked onto him behind feathered lashes. Features that were both sculpted and soft. The same could be said for her curves. The type of bombshell beauty you see in photoshopped magazines.
“Hey, we’re not done talking!” Kevin called, catching her by the upper arm.
Her head spun towards him so quickly her bleached blonde wig whipped against her cheek. A look was enough, the boys gripped slackened as she eyed him with disgust.
“Everything good?” Santiago called, as he ambled over hands tucked into his pockets.
Scott spat at him, “This ain’t got shit to do with you beaner.”
Santiago smiled darkly. “We ain’t in the schoolyard boys. You best watch your mouth.”
The boy took a tentative step back towards his friends. “You think we’re scared of you, there’s four of us and one of you. Or are you as dumb as you look?”
With an amused grin the girl replied. “Cuatro gallinas al lobo no es más que una cena.”
“What?” Said Scott.
“She says, ‘you’re fucked’.” Santiago sneered charging headlong slamming scott into the side of the black Wrangler.
Their hands pulled at his arms wrenching him off Scott. Once free Scott readied to swing back only to hit his knees as Santiago’s foot collided with his solar plexus.
Despite Tristians grip on his right arm he dragged the boy forward to grab Kevin around the throat. Reflexively the boy released Santiago’s left arm to grasp at the hand now clamped around his windpipe.
Releasing Kevin, he swung back with Tristian enough to get momentum for a left elbow straight to Kevin’s chest.
The boy hit the floor rolling about wheezing.
Bryce, who had been the one landing flimsy blows on his back while the boys had him pinned, realized the fight had not turned out of his favor and ran.
Tristan noticing his friend had abandoned him, crestfallen he released Santiago’s arm. Backing away Tristian swallowed to clear the lump in his throat. “Look, I’m sorry—”
Santiago jab hit his face so quickly when the boy hit the ground his arms were still stiffly locked with his palms up.
He looked around for the last one, the pretty girl appointed manicured nails at the car in the next row.
Santiago sauntered over, peering through the window he could see the back of his shirt where he tried to lay flat under the seats of the Tesla.
“Bro, are you serious right now? I can see you.” Santiago knocked on the window, he rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
“Three out of four isn’t bad.” She shrugged, “Not great, but you tried.”
Santiago laughed dryly, “You think I should break in his windows. He ain’t worth all that.”
“On that we can agree, but as my father always says, work smarter not harder.” She waved the black remote in her hand.
Santiago smiled, “No, that is not—”
She tapped the button, the car chirped and the locks clicked open.
Bryce flailed about in the back seat in a scramble to lock the doors.
Santiago opened the backseat, “Scotty let’s have a chat.”
“I’m Bryce—” The voice cut off by the door closing the two boys behind the tinted windows.
A few passersby were headed to the restaurant eyeing the rocking car as the boy hollered in pain.
The girl laughed and waved. The couple hurried along faster.
Santiago exited the car to applause, he gave an exaggerated bow. “Great?”
She scrunched her nose, “Good.”
“You’re not easy to please.”
She smiled. “You have no idea.”
His phone alarm chimed in his pocket. “Damn, class. I gotta go.”
“I wouldn’t want to keep you from your education. Clearly peers of this caliber are not to be kept waiting.” She nodded sagely.
“She’s funny.”
“She is.” The girl agreed.
“I’m Santiago by the way.”
“Santiago,” She purred, his name rolled off her tongue in a way that sent a shiver down his spine. “Have fun at school.”
“You gonna tell me your name?” He called after her.
“No.” She said as she walked without a glance back.
“Will I see you again?”
“Yes.”
Santiago smiled.