Lunatic - Necessary Evils #6 - Ch. 15 (Patreon)

Chapter 15

Archer

By the time they made it back with the food, the sun was already setting, painting the sky in oranges and pinks that looked like something out of a movie. They skipped eating in the small kitchen and instead opted to sit around the coffee table where they watched Noah eat like a man who’d just been found on a deserted island.

After dinner, they called Calliope back, to finally get the scoop on Boseman.

“What have you got?” Mac asked, directing his question to the phone in the center of the table.

Archer now sat on the small sofa, Mac’s head in his lap. Adam and Noah still sat on the floor, while Noah picked through the leftovers happily humming when he found something that had previously escaped him.

Calliope made a disgusted sound. “After a deep dive into this guy? Probably something I’ll need a decontamination shower and a shot of penicillin to get rid of. He’s trash. The literal worst. A flaming bag of shit. He deserves to go down a slide made of razor blades into a vat of alcohol. I hope his genitals get infested with mag-.”

“Focus, C” Adam said. “What did you find?”

Noah smiled at Archer. “A razor blade slide into alcohol. I should text that to Avi, he’d get so excited. I bet Aiden would help him make one.”

Archer nodded, smirking at Mac’s raised brow. He clearly wasn’t familiar with Calliope’s particular level of professionalism or Avi’s gruesome excitement over new and exciting torture devices. He was certainly getting a crash course.

“I don’t even know where to start with this guy,” Calliope said.

“Start with the basics,” Mac said, giving a low hum of approval when Archer began to comb his fingers through his hair. Archer smiled, watching Mac’s lids flutter shut, realizing he had freckles even there.

Archer knew Noah and Adam were smirking at the two of them, but he didn’t care. Someone wanted Mac dead, three someone’s really. Possibly more. Archer knew better than anybody that there were no guarantees in life and that even once they figured out what was going on, it didn’t guarantee them any kind of safety. The thought made Archer break out into a cold sweat. It made him want to cling a little tighter.

He’d also never felt this level of contentment before. He ‘d spent his whole life looking for the next endorphin rush, looking for something he could tease himself with, a long con where the chemical payoff would hold him over until he needed another distraction. Now he had Mac and their weird push and pull was all the payout he needed. He’d traded epinephrine for dopamine and serotonin and was already hopelessly addicted.

He dragged his thoughts back to the task at hand. None of this would matter if they didn’t figure out what the fuck these people were up to.

There was the familiar sound of nails on keys and then Calliope said,“Buckle up, buttercups. Mel Boseman. Age fifty-one. Literal used car salesman. Five children. Two ex-wives. One current wife. First wife died under mysterious circumstances after she attempted to divorce him and take their three daughters with her.”

“Any info on that case?” Noah asked, sucking the meat off of a chicken wing he’d stolen from Archer’s forgotten plate. He had no idea where Noah put all that food he ate.

“Officially?” Calliope asked. “The cops cleared him, but since his brother was the police chief, I think it's safe to say nobody considered it was a legit investigation. Gotta love small town justice.”

“Any reason to suspect foul play other than she was in the middle of a divorce and statistically speaking, the husband likely killed her?” Archer asked.

“She accused him of molesting their daughters, but she disappeared before anything further could be done with the case. By the time her body turned up it was far too late to determine cause of death. The daughters continued to live with Boseman until he married his second wife who apparently didn’t like competing for the man’s affections and forced him to send the girls away.”

“Away?” Adam parroted.

“Yeah, away. One of them went to live with the dead wife’s mother but the other two were handed over to family friends,” Calliope said.

“Weird,” Mac said, frowning. Archer found himself petting over the creases that formed on his forehead until the tension disappeared once more.

“Ominous would be a better word,” Calliope countered.

Archer frowned. “Do tell.”

Calliope’s voice grew cold. “Boseman comes from a long line of militant racist dickbags. A very long line. We’re talking about civil war era racists. His grandfather started one of the earliest and deadliest chapters of the KKK to ever exist. His whole family are loud and proud nationalists with ties to any number of hate groups.”

“I mean, considering the guy works for Egan, is that really so strange?” Noah asked.

“That’s not the strange part,” Calliope said. “The strange part is that he has five children, two of whom are adopted, none of whom have any contact with him.”

“Why is that weird?” Adam asked, moving to sit behind Noah to better cling to him.

“Yeah, there are a lot of adopted kids who don’t speak to their adopted families. We know first hand how bad the system is for placing kids,” Noah said.

“It’s not weird they don’t speak to him. It’s weird they were adopted in the first place. Because those children were adopted from Guatemala and Colombia,” Calliope said, voice grim.

“So the card carrying KKK member adopted two brown children?” Noah asked, his face going pale.

“Yep,” Calliope said.

“Maybe the wife wasn’t a piece of shit and wanted children bad enough Boseman was willing to overlook his hateful viewpoints? There’s a lot of men who will go to great lengths not to piss off their wives,” Mac reasoned.

“I don’t know if we’ll ever really know,” Calliope said.

“I mean, we can infer. The two children who were sent to live with family friends were the adopted children, right?” Noah asked.

“Yes,” Calliope confirmed.

“So the wife’s mother didn’t want the two adopted children, just her daughter’s biological child. I find it hard to believe that the woman’s viewpoints could be that altruistic considering her husband’s viewpoint on non-white people,” Noah said.

“She did try to flee with all three girls,” Calliope said.

“Because she thought he was molesting them,” Noah said. “I don’t know if that makes her a hero or her family less racist.”

“I’m not calling her a hero,” Calliope said gently. “I’m just saying, she could have left them behind, but didn’t. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

“And what about the other two girls?” Mac asked. “Who were these family friends? I find it hard to believe Boseman had decent people who would take over the care of two small children out of the kindness of their hearts.”

“You’d be correct. I believe family friend is code for ‘re-homed to strangers’,” Calliope said.

“Re-homed like Asa and Avi when they were kids?” Noah asked.

“Yeah, something like that,” Calliope said.

“How do you re-home a child? They aren’t stray animals,” Mac said, expression pinched. “Once you adopt a child, they’re yours, right?”

“No. Once a child is adopted, nobody gives a fuck what happens to them,” Noah said. “At least in foster care they had to at least pretend they were checking up on us or that they cared about the abuse we were suffering from on the regular. But adoptions? That's a free for all. Sign on the dotted line, a couple of cursory home visits later and boom, nobody ever looks at you again.”

Mac shook his head. “But…they must have to advise…somebody that they are giving these children up, right? I don’t understand how you go about giving away your child without the law stepping in?”

“They have groups,” Noah spit.

“What?” Mac asked, horrified.

Noah swallowed audibly. “They have social media groups where they list off children’s looks, temperament and attributes like they’re papered German Shepherds. They like to use words like docile, obedient, quiet.” He looked at Mac. “I’m sure you can guess what kind of person would find those traits appealing.”

“Child rapists,” Mac muttered. “Do you think that’s what’s happening here?”

Calliope cleared her throat. “I don’t know much about the people who adopted the girls from Boseman. I can tell you they don’t appear to know each other in any way. They don’t communicate on social media, they don’t work together or attend the same church. There’s no ties between them. The only thing that connects them is the two girls they traded.”

“Are they still with these new parents?” Mac asked. “Do you have proof of life?”

“They’re alive,” Calliope confirmed. “One is sixteen and the other eighteen. The sixteen year old does not live with her adopted family but with the eighteen year old sister. The eighteen year old dances at a strip club a couple of towns over. The sixteen year old works at the local Dairy Queen.”

Archer frowned. What the fuck were these assholes up to? Boseman didn’t have the visibility that Egan or the other two had, but he seemed up to his eyeballs in whatever the fuck was going on. Was he the weakest link? Did they just need to apply the right kind of pressure?

“Where’s wife number two? Still on this side of the veil, I hope?” Mac asked.

Archer temporarily lost his train of thought when Mac threaded their fingers together, but Calliope’s voice brought him back. “She fled to live with her family in Poland, and took her two children with her.”

“I’m surprised he let her leave,” Noah muttered.

“Oh, I don’t think he did,” Calliope assured him. “She appears to have run to Poland while he was away on business. Though I can’t imagine being a car salesman has a lot of call for travel, but what do I know? Since she’s a Polish citizen, and her children have dual citizenship, there was really nothing he could do to get her or them back once she made it safely there. Poland doesn’t extradite, especially when dealing with domestic matters.”

“Well that’s good, I guess. No more children for him to mess with,” Noah said, reaching for another biscuit, glaring at Adam when he slapped his hand away. “What? I’m still hungry?”

“I’m starting to think you have a tapeworm,” Adam muttered.

“I do. His name is Grover. He’s how I keep my girlish figure,” Noah taunted, rubbing his stomach like he was pregnant.

Adam rolled his eyes, but beamed at him nonetheless. Still, he said, “And they say I’m the crazy one.” Noah snagged the biscuit once more, deflecting Adam’s attempt to disarm him and stuffing the entire thing into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously, before showing Adam the contents of the massacred dough.

They were both adults but still played like children. Part of Archer envied them. Even as a drunken gambler, he’d always felt old in his soul. It was part of what he liked about Mac. Despite their age gap, they both seemed equally content with being boring. Well, as boring as two people in charge of a cohort of psychopaths could be.

“You’re going to make yourself sick,” Adam chastised, sounding like somebody’s mother. “You’re stress eating.”

Noah continued to chew for a comical amount of time, before finally swallowing. When he saw Adam’s pissy look, he deflated against him. “Ugh, fine.”

“You were saying, Calliope,” Archer prompted, shaking his head.

“Something’s bothering me…” Calliope said, trailing off for a moment. “I was going through the pics of the church. The ones I found on their Facebook page. I’m sending them to your phones now. The guy in the denim on denim ensemble is Boseman.”

Archer freed his burner phone from his pocket and opened the attachment, making sure Mac could see the images. At first, nothing stood out to him. It was just a candid photo of people standing in the parking lot of the department store turned church.

Boseman stood out. He was tall and doughy with gray hair, a ruddy complexion and an intimidating presence which made what Noah had done yesterday even more impressive. He stood next to a slender woman wearing a denim dress that went to her ankles and blonde hair that clearly hadn’t been updated since the early 2000’s.

He scanned the picture looking for what had caused Calliope’s concern. It was just a sea of nondescript pasty people in all manner of dress, from fancy church clothes to blue jeans and flannels. It wasn’t until Noah gasped softly that Archer narrowed his gaze, scrutinizing the photo closer.

That’s when he saw her. Standing behind Boseman, half hidden by his wife’s skirt, was a waifish little girl with long chestnut hair, huge brown eyes and deep umber skin. She was half hidden behind the woman’s skirt. She looked clean, but her clothes looked baggy, like she was wearing an older sibling’s hand-me-downs. She had her hands folded in front of herself as she stared down at her pink sneakers.

“Did he adopt another child?” Noah asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Not on paper, no,” Calliope said.

Archer watched the color drain from Noah’s face. This was going to be hard for him. It was far too similar to what Holt had done with him. He met Adam’s gaze, relieved when he saw Adam was connecting the dots as well. Sometimes he didn’t give his brother enough credit.

“Could she just be standing close by?” Archer asked. “Do we know that she’s with them?”

“I can’t be certain, but in the few images where I’ve spotted her, she’s never far from them,” Calliope said. “My gut tells me, there’s something fucked up going on over there. Something more than trying to jump border crossers and murdering ICE guys in the desert.”

“Can we just torture this guy already?” Noah snapped, the day obviously starting to get to him. “Like lets just force him to talk. If nothing else, he dies and we can find a way to get that girl somewhere safe.”

Archer wasn’t against the plan necessarily, but once they pulled the pin on the torture grenade, the clock was in free fall. Even though Boseman didn’t have a high profile like the other three, the major players would notice. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing. Maybe they needed to realize that Mac had the full weight of the Mulvaney name and fortune behind him?

“How? I’m all for torture if that’s the safest bet, but once Boseman goes missing, the alarm’s been sounded. Especially if we kidnap a small child as well,” Archer said, playing devil’s advocate as ideas swirled in his head.

“If nobody knows he had her, they won’t know she’s missing,” Adam countered.

“But they’ll know Boseman is missing,” Archer said.

Adam scoffed. “So what? Why are we handling these low budget yokels with kid gloves. Fuck ‘em. Let's just nuke them all and be done with it.”

“I have another idea,” Mac said.

“Which is what?” Adam barked.

“Which is maybe we try to get answers from someone who’s experienced Boseman’s tricks first hand,” Mac said, sitting up and turning to face Archer. “Let’s go talk to the eldest girl. The dancer. I bet she’s got a lot to say about him.”

“She hasn’t been around him in seven years,” Calliope said.

“Do you think she forgot what he did to her?” Mac asked, not to Calliope but to Noah.

Noah grimaced. “No. She remembers. I just don’t know if what she knows will help us connect the dots to Boseman, Egan, Dunnigan or Rapke.”

“So we go visit her tonight. See if she knows anything. If she doesn’t, we take out Boseman and go with the torture, kill, and kidnapping a small child plan. It will take some time to get a kill room ready anyway.” Besides, if we take that little girl, we’ll need some place to put her. Calliope?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said, voice grim.

“What if she tips off Boseman?” Adam asked.

“I can’t imagine she has any loyalty to the man who molested and sold her,” Mac said. “Right?”

Archer’s mouth formed a flat line. “You’d be shocked at how hard it is for some people to let go of their abusers.”

“So you think we should scrap the idea and go with torture?” Mac asked.

Archer looked to Adam and then Noah. Noah shrugged, “Fuck it. Let's talk to the girl first. If nothing else, maybe she can tell us the best way to catch the piece of shit off guard.”

Adam grinned. “So…the four of us are going to a strip club…together?”

“So it seems,” Mac said, sitting up and swinging his feet to the floor. “I think I can risk being seen there. I sincerely doubt anybody will recognize me and you over Adam and Noah.”

Adam grinned. “We need to stop at an ATM.”

Archer frowned. “Um, what for?”

Adam looked at him like he was stupid. “Uh, cash dude. This is the closest any Mulvaney has ever gotten to a bachelor party.”

“You don’t even like girls,” Archer reminded him. “Do you?”

Adam looked at Noah who snickered, “He likes boobs the same way I like Squishmallows. He thinks they’re fun to squeeze and play with. He’s just not allowed.”

“Well, don’t get your hopes up, kid,” Mac said. “If you try to use a dancer as a squeaky toy, she’s gonna punch you in the face.”

“I’ll be respectful,” Adam promised. “I’ll treat it like a fine art museum. All looky. No touchy.”

“Christ. How do you tolerate him?” Archer asked Noah.

“Vodka,” Noah said, patting Adam on the cheek.

“And that good dick,” Adam said proudly.

Noah snorted. “It’s alright.”

Adam’s eyes went wide and he gave Noah a knowing look. “That’s not what you said when you were beg-”

Noah slapped a hand over his mouth. “Enough. You win.”

Archer rolled his eyes, then glanced at Mac. “I need a shower. You interested?”

“Always happy to scrub your back, Katniss,” Mac said, dropping an arm ove4r his shoulders.

“I think I’m going to gag,” Adam said around a laugh.

Archer gave him the finger. “Here’s hoping.”