Hostage Zero

CHAPTER FIVE

For not being hungry, Jeremy Schuler faked it well. The way he wolfed down the mac and cheese, he was lucky he didn’t lose a finger. Ditto the baked beans and the orange pound cake. Skinny thing that he was, he scarfed more calories in a single sitting than Harvey consumed in an entire day. Clearly, he was a kid who didn’t go wanting very often. In Harvey’s experience, people who understood scarcity ate with more appreciation.

“That was really good,” Jeremy said as he licked the last of the cake from his fingers.

“Glad you liked it.”

“Is there more?”

“Not tonight.” As he spoke the denial, Harvey was half prepared for an argument, and surprised when it didn’t come. The kid merely nodded, and put his plate on his lap.

Harvey picked up the plate and poured some boiling water onto it from the pot on the burner. With the water balanced in the center, he used a ratty dish towel to clean it off. Through it all, Jeremy said nothing. But he stared a lot, and that was annoying.

“You got something on your mind, son, it’s best to get it out,” Harvey said.

The observation seemed to startle the boy. “I want to go home,” he said.

“I imagine you do,” Harvey said. “Where is home?”

“I go to a school in Fisherman’s Cove. I live there. It’s called Resurrection House.”

Harvey had heard of the place. It was affiliated with St. Katherine’s parish, the very one that had given him tonight’s dinner. Except he’d always thought it was an orphanage. “Well, let’s take that on in the morning. It’s a long walk, and I don’t have a car. It’s even longer in the dark.”

“But what if they come back for me?”

Now that was the panic-inducing question, wasn’t it? “I wouldn’t worry about that,” Harvey said. “They’ve had all day to come back for you. If they were coming, they would have come then.” Maybe if he said it definitively enough, Harvey would believe it himself. The simple truth of the matter was that Jeremy wasn’t yet ready to make that kind of trek.

Jeremy thought for a while before asking, “Don’t you want to know what happened?”

“Of course I do. But only if you want to tell me.”

“I got… kidnapped,” he said. He stumbled on the last word, and in the uneven glare of the lantern, Harvey could see Jeremy’s eyes glistening.

“A bunch of men crashed into my room.” Jeremy struggled to keep his tone even. “They tied up Anthony, and then they…” His voice trailed off, but then he settled himself with a deep breath. “And then they killed Mr. Stewart.”

A knot formed in Harvey’s belly. “Who’s Anthony?” he asked.

Jeremy covered his eyes. “My roommate,” he squeaked.

Harvey’s head swam. This was worse than he’d thought. “A bunch of men came into your room and took you away?”

Jeremy let his hands fall away, and nodded as he pulled his legs up into the chair Indian style.

“And who is Mr. Stewart?”

Jeremy answered to his lap. “The janitor. He was my friend.”

“Why would someone do that?”

“They took other kids, too,” Jeremy said. “At least one.”

“Are you sure?”

As he sat there in the camp chair, Jeremy seemed to shrink, as if growing younger and smaller. His shoulders slumped, and his head drooped. For a few seconds, Harvey thought maybe the boy had fallen back to sleep.

But then he looked up again. He drew a huge breath, and he told his story.