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Prison had not been kind to Mary. Not that prison was ever kind.
Three years in the big house had left shadows in her eyes and scars on her hands. Even so, sitting on the park bench beside him, she kept her chin lifted and back straight. Her hands lay flat on her thighs, nails pinching the fabric of her skirt.
“How are you?” Carter asked, then winced.
The contempt on her face was not unwarranted.
“Am I ever going to see my son again, Mr. Carter?” She turned away from him, her hair blocking her face from his view.
“Mary, you know your son is de-”
“You’re a damn liar, Mr. Carter.” She pulled her purse onto her lap and dug through it until she found a cigarette case. “My father worked with so many liars. And my husband. Can’t forget about him. World class, my Thomas was.”
Carter stared above her head at the tops of the trees scattered throughout the park. His eyes tracked the little birds enjoying the overcast weather.
She lit a cigarette with a sigh, snapping the zippo closed. Her husband’s initials carved into both the case and the lighter.
“Don’t get me wrong. I love Thomas, absolute bastard that he was–god rest his soul–and I know he loved me in his way…but lies and love can’t save you. They never can in the end. Everyone holds on to their lies like a shield. I don’t much care for it.”
Her father hadn’t either.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Truly I do, Mr. Carter. But if you don’t tell me where my son is, I might just do something to put me right back in prison.”
Carter dragged his eyes down from the birds to Mary’s face. She took a drag on her cigarette, eyes narrowed to slits. He did not doubt her ability to put up one hell of a fight. Any notion he might have had about women not being able to fight got crushed to death under Angela Weaver’s heel, and then shot by her sniper rifle for good measure.
“Killing me isn’t going to deliver your son back into your arms,” he said at last.
“It might make me feel better.”
Carter coughed to cover a laugh. He thought about offering her his flask, but sharing even a drop of that good whiskey physically pained him.
“He’s four,” Carter said instead, “and he loves the people he calls mom and dad. You want to take that from him?”
“He’s my son.” Her free hand clenched her skirt in a white knuckled grip.
“And if you love your son, you’ll leave him where he is. For his safety and yours.” That whiskey sang a siren song to him now. Hell…
She bowed her head. When she looked back up at him her face had not a trace of emotion on it.
“Alright, Mr. Carter. I guess…I guess I’ll have to play it your way.”
Yeah, Mary said that, but as he left–long before her shaken tails could find her again–he got the distinct impression he had not heard the last of Mary Weir.
Not by a long shot.The kid had spoken only in glares since Carter dragged him out of bed at four that morning. Carter probably shouldn’t have been thankful as he was. The last thing he needed was the kid being difficult while ‘Bureau’ agents sniffed around town.
Carter didn’t actually know if they were with the Bureau, but they wanted the kid and that meant trouble. It always meant trouble.
He lit a cigarette to calm down. What he really wanted was a drink, but this would have to do for now. He needed to make sure they weren’t followed.
Carter left the trailer with his shotgun, leaving the kid to either fall asleep or continue to sulk.
He’d have to make lunch soon–much too late for breakfast now–because he knew the kid would just eat a bag of chips and call it a meal if he let him. The kid hadn’t touched a stove since the Kitchen Incident, as Carter had come to call it in his head. They had a lot of incidents, the pair of them. Each one got a name in capital letters and a guilty twist in his stomach.
The early days of their official acquaintance seemed very distant now even though only two years had passed. Those days where the kid skirted around him and hid anytime he caught sight of Carter. It was good the kid wasn’t afraid of him anymore, he’d never wanted that, but a disgusting part of him missed the peace.
At least whoever was after the kid would get more than they bargained for if they ever caught up. Even if that hadn’t been Carter’s intention when he took the kid into his protection.
He stepped over some brush, keeping a sharp eye out for any wildlife that might take a bite out of his leg. God knows Australia had more than it’s fair share of dangerous animals.
Carter lifted his gaze. The flatland stretched for miles in all direction. If anyone had followed them, they’d see him and trailer without having to try to hard. But that was a double edged sword.
He saw no one and no other car. The last one he had seen passed them on the road two hours ago. You didn’t drive through these parts lightly.
He took off his hat to wipe his forehead, the sun doing its damnedest to burn through his scalp. Carter sucked in a breath through stinging lungs.
Satisfied (for now) they had no tails, he returned to the trailer for what little respite it could offer him.
The kid’s glare greeted him on return. Seeming for all that world like he hadn’t moved an inch since he’d left. The ajar supply cabinet told a different tale. Carter let it lie. The kid had a way of making you pick and choose your battles.
If they got low on supplies, their camping trip would just turn into a roadtrip. Or maybe a complete move. He hadn’t decided if he wanted to risk returning to Melbourne. The last time they changed cities had sparked the first of the kid’s wild behavior. Uprooting him always seemed to signal a change and never for the better.
He remembered looking in on him when he still lived with his adopted parents. No trace of that happy child remained. He went the way of his parents. No one would ever see him smile like that again.
Sometimes Carter thought of finding him a new family. A place where he could heal and grow. But there were just too many reasons why that just wouldn’t work. Least of all the kid himself.
Carter pulled open the supply cabinet and eyed the rearranged packages.
“Bill.” He could never quite call him ‘Will’. The kid had another name once. One his biological mom still kept close to her heart. Renaming him in the first place felt wrong, but given the circumstances, the Faraday’s choice of names for their new son felt like a bad joke.
The kid’s eyes narrowed at him.
“What do you want to eat?” Carter asked, pretending he didn’t notice the cookie crumbs caught on the kid’s green shirt.
He got nothing more than a sullen shrug.
Movement in the corner of his eyes caught his attention. He snapped his head to stare out the window, heart pounding.
He saw nothing.
Nothing but flatland for miles. As it should be.
Carter covered his fist with his hand to prevent scratching at his wrist. A dust devil had kicked up in his head. Thoughts whirled around in a dizzying spin.
“Do you want to learn how to hunt lizards?” The words sounded distant in his ears. He hadn’t even realized he had spoken them until he heard the kid say something for the first time since he told him to fuck off that morning.
“Yes,” the kid said. That single word pulled Carter back and made him tear his gaze from the view outside.
The kid sat leaning forward, trying to see what caught Carter’s attention. The glare gone, his eyebrows scrunched together.
Carter didn’t know if they’d find any lizards, but he bet they’d find some snakes.
Either way the kid might learn something about survival. His one goal since he’d gotten the kid.Kidnapping For Justice
Jun. 26th, 2018 04:46 pm
Summary: Carter can only ignore the shady activities of a secret organization for so long.
OR
The story of how Carter rescued little Weir.( Read more... )
If he concentrated hard enough he could find their ghosts.
A boy no older than eleven stood in a space of empty land. The deserted road still visible from where he was. Carter’s camper the only thing of note for kilometers.
'Uncle’ Carter himself passed out drunk inside.
Today was a familiar one. How many barren roads had seen in the last year?
Enough that he knew from experience he couldn’t walk to the next town while Carter slept off the booze. He’d tried that a dozen times with no success. Either the sun or the exhaustion got him first. That’s usually when Carter caught up to him, piping mad.
Wasn’t worth it.
He reached for his parents ghosts instead. Mom and dad, who weren’t really his mom and dad, according to Carter. He didn’t think he minded. They brought him home like they brought Katie home. He didn’t love her any less than a sister. Why should he love his parents less?
The ghosts flickered and went about lives he could just make out.
He wasn’t with them. Had never been with them. But they were alive in that other place. He might not be the smartest kid, but he could add two and two together.
It wasn’t fair.
He raised a hand, blue light coming off in ribbons. If he could just retell their story, then maybe…
A force swept him off his feet. It spun him back around and back on solid ground.
Carter loomed over him, hands gripping his shoulders.
“What the hell were you trying to do?”
“Let me go!” It didn’t matter how loud he screamed, no one would hear out here.
Carter shook him once.
“Do you have any idea what you were doing!”
“I want them back!” He kicked him as hard as he could.
Carter hardly flinched.
“You want to trade. No, Bill. You can’t bring them back.”
“Fuck you!” He tried to twist out of the grip. His face scrunched up like he was crying, but no tears came.
“How do you think they would feel? Knowing they were here and you were gone.”
“They wouldn’t remember.”
Carter’s face crumbled. If he knew how to hug the boy without thinking of Richie, he would.
He was out of his depth.
