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While I hate how much this probably scared him – both the shooting of his bodyguard and theCreature From the Black Lagoongear I’m sporting – I’m simply grateful he’s still alive.
Andhopefullyunharmed.
Removing my facial equipment is done prior to cautiously announcing, “I’m not here to hurt you, pal. I promise.” I opt out of moving closer to further reiterate that and keep my bright blue eyes planted on his shaking frame. “Is your name Gentry by chance?”
At that his tiny head full of chestnut brown hair moves to meet my gaze on a small nod.
“Nice to meet you, Gentry.” My southern accent seems to lower his tense shoulders. “I’m Wahl.”
No reaction.
“Do you know your last name?”
“Timbers.”
“Are you three-years-old?”
“Four!” he feistily corrects like I hoped.
“Good. Can you show me that many fingers?”
He does, which allows me to spot inspect that he stillhasall his digits, meaning the tiny fingers mailed to our client belonged to another child.
A child, I unfortunately wasn’t hired to find or save.
Shoving down the sadness the thought conjures is swiftly done to verify I have the right target. “Great job, Gentry. I’m much,mucholder than that. I don’t quite have enough fingersor toesto show you though.” His tiny snicker inspires a brief smile. “Do you know your daddy’s name?”
He hesitates to nod.
“Is it Gilbert Timbers?”
The next happens with no vacillation.
There’s more excitement.
Enthusiasm.
It’s full of life and light and all the indicators that I’m not too late.
That he probably hasn’t been touched in the way they were swearing he has.
That the disgusting insinuations, like the mailed fingers, were just a bluff.
“That’s great, big guy, because Gilbert is a good friend of mine, and I’m here to take his youngest son, Gentry, home.”
Huge lie.
I mean, I am abso-fucking-lutely here to take his kid home, but we’re not friends.
I’dneverbe friends with a piece of shit like that.
It’s bad enough that I get paid to work for douches like him.
And just to be clear Itakecases for assholes like him for two reasons, the first being to save an innocent child and the second being that they pay well enough that when those with less money empty their life savings to hire us to recover their kid, I still have more than enough funds to buy the expensive tequila I like versus the cheap shit.
I merely chose the word friend because it’s the most appropriate and comforting and will dissipate any lingering fear the kiddo might have regarding the rescue situation. I need him to be compliant and calm, not stubborn and skittish.
“Ready to get out of this place?” I warmly ask, open palm extended his direction. “Maybe go take a nap in your own bed?”
