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Chapter 8 - Reading People.

It took almost two hours before Brian was done dealing with the cops. They went through the whole set up, detailing what steps the police would be taking, and explaining how they usually handled kidnappings. The police would maintain a constant presence at the girls’ house but would also have officers nearby Brian’s loft if needed. They would be intercepting all mail for all the parents. They also had to sign off on all sorts of paperwork, including waivers that would allow the police to monitor all phone lines and email accounts. Brian was told an officer would come by his loft later that day to set up the equipment needed to record all incoming communications. 

There was a lot of discussion about the advisability of complying with the kidnapper's ransom demands; Horvath warned that payment wasn’t always a guarantee that a child would be returned unharmed, but said that it was up to the parents what they wanted. Brian said he’d start doing what he could to free up enough money to make it work, just in case. It would completely clean him out, but if that was the cost of getting Gus back, he’d do it. 

In the meantime, the police would continue to do their thing and follow whatever leads they could dig up. The hope was that they could find the kidnapper before the ransom exchange and arrest him outright, although at this point that seemed unlikely. The girls said they couldn’t think of anyone who’d want to hurt their son. Brian remained mute about the nebulous warnings Justin had relayed since they didn’t amount to anything substantive. But the bottom line was that none of them had any real leads to start this investigation with.

The session ended with Horvath taking detailed statements from all three parents for the official record. They all had to meticulously account for their whereabouts for the past twenty-four hours as well as go through a lot of other personal shit. Brian was clearly chafing at all the intrusive questions. Matters weren’t helped much by Mel’s constant egging about Brian’s lifestyle choices and sexual dalliances. Justin got more than a few disparaging side looks from both the girls and Horvath during this part of the ordeal. Brian was as unapologetic as always, though, and proudly bragged that his alibi was the pair of red-headed twins he’d taken home from the baths the night before. Since the dynamic duo hadn’t left until Brian had kicked them out around four am, after a long night of debauchery, and Brian had passed out from exhaustion immediately afterwards, he asserted there was no way he would have been up in time to ambush Lindsey during her crack-of-dawn run. Justin wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or appalled by this confession, so he refrained from saying anything. Unlike Mel, who couldn’t let something like that rest without a snarky comment. Meanwhile, Justin sensed similar, albeit unspoken, emotional responses coming from the rest of Brian‘s audience. 

It didn’t help matters much when Justin - who everyone assumed was merely the follow up to Brian’s all-night threesome - was asked to confirm his own whereabouts that morning and elucidate on his relationship to Brian. Justin fumbled a little as he told about how he’d first met Brian and gave an abbreviated explanation of why he’d come back to offer help after he heard the Amber Alert. It was all rather embarrassing. But the worst part was when he was forced to admit not only his age but that his alibi for that morning was his mother. However, once it was established that Justin was merely an infatuated high school kid, Horvath basically dismissed him; from that point on, the only emotional response Justin sensed from the detective was amusement mixed with a hint of mild disapproval. At least he wasn’t being considered a suspect though.

Eventually, however, Brian was dismissed so the police could get on with their investigative work. Brian gave Lindsey a kiss goodbye, accompanied by an admonition that she should call if there was any news, and then the worried father was striding out the door with Justin trotting along in his wake. Neither of them said another word the entire trip back to Brian’s loft.

“So, I’m assuming you didn’t see or hear anything at the Munchers’ that explained your mysterious visions, huh?” Brian finally asked as he was pulling the keys out of the ignition. 

Justin shook his head sadly. “Sorry, no,” he replied. “But if it helps at all, I can reassure you that, regardless of all Horvath’s suspicions, neither Mel nor Lindsey had anything at all to do with Gus’ kidnapping. They were both being one hundred percent honest in all their answers.”

“Yeah? And how, exactly, would you know that? Or are you telling me that, on top of being a world renowned psychic, you’re also a human lie detector?”

Justin hesitated. He wasn’t sure how to go about explaining his secret skills. Brian already had doubts about Justin’s sanity. If he just blurted out some drivel about how he was an ‘empath’ and could therefore sense when people were lying, that would definitely drive Brian around the bend. But if he and Brian were going to work together to somehow find the monster who’d abducted Gus, Justin needed to be honest with him. Didn’t he?

Justin was saved from having to cobble together an explanation, however, when the driver’s side door was unceremoniously yanked open, surprising both of them.

“It’s about time you showed up! Where have you been?” The intruder demanded, emitting sharp spikes of irritability that were almost as loud as his strident voice to the empath’s delicate senses. “You were supposed to meet me for breakfast at the Diner, like, an hour and a half ago. Did you forget or are you just blowing me off again?” 

“Shit, Mikey! You think I have time for a leisurely breakfast on a day like today?” Brian griped back, his tone betraying his impatience even though his emotions were still locked down tightly. 

That seemed to be the moment when Michael glimpsed the young, blond passenger in Brian‘s jeep. “Yeah, well, it looks like you had plenty of time on your hands  to go out and pick up a trick already this morning,” Michael snarled with disgust, shooting an icy glare over his friend’s shoulder to where Justin was sitting, partially obscured by Brian’s larger frame. “Couldn’t you give your dick even one morning off? Long enough, at least, to spare a few minutes for your best friend?”

“Mikey, shit, you don’t understand . . .”

“I know, I know, something came up. Doesn’t it always?” Michael shook his head, his mouth all pursed up like he’d just bitten into something sour. “But I told you last night that I really needed to talk to you, Brian. It’s important.” That’s when Justin noticed the scroll of papers Michael held in his right hand, which he was now shaking in Brian‘s face like a pet owner about to swat a naughty dog with a rolled up newspaper. “Remember how I told you that Ma and Vic were falling behind on Vic’s medical bills? You said if we ever needed help you would step up. That’s why I asked you to breakfast this morning. I was gonna see if you had any advice . . .”

At least Michael had enough shame to drop his gaze once he realized he’d just been haranguing the man he’d meant to beg a loan from. Although, with Justin’s finely attuned senses, he could tell Michael wasn’t really as contrite as he appeared. Underneath that humble mask, Justin felt a roil of much stronger emotions. There was annoyance at the fact that Brian had seemingly blown him off again. There was a lot of judgment directed at Brian as well. But most of all there was a potent mix of anger and jealousy. And, surprisingly, a hefty portion of that jealousy was directed Justin’s way as well; which was confusing, since Justin had only met the guy a few times. 

“Mikey . . . Now isn’t really a good time. I think my money is gonna be tied up for a while . . .” Brian began to explain, since Michael obviously hadn’t heard the news about Gus yet.

Apparently, though, Michael wasn’t in the mood to listen patiently. “Come on, Brian. I’m drowning in bills of my own right now. I don’t have the extra cash to help Ma out. At least not until I get my next paycheck. Can’t you just loan me enough to get by till then? Or were you exaggerating all those times you bragged about the big fish clients you were reeling in and all the bonuses you’d be getting?”

“Mikey, will you just shut the fuck up long enough for me to get in two fucking words?” Brian exploded. “Shit, if you ever read more of the newspaper than the comics section, you’d know that I’ve got bigger problems right now . . .”

“Yeah? Like how many tricks you can fit in before lunch?”

“Gus was kidnapped this morning, you moron!” Brian screamed, finally fed up to the point that his pain broke through once again, the raw emotions flooding out so strongly that Justin gasped almost as loudly as Michael. “Somebody beat the shit out of Lindsey when she was out jogging this morning and took the baby right out of the fucking jogging stroller. So I’m afraid I can’t lend you any money right now since I’m gonna need it all for the fucking ransom!”

That finally shut Michael up. Justin sensed a rush of real shame. There was also a LOT of guilt coming through. And guilt, combined with that line about drowning in bills had the empath’s brain whirling. Wasn’t that what the wanna-be abductor in his vision had said last night? Could Michael have something to do with Gus’ disappearance? It didn’t seem likely - Michael had insisted vociferously the few times he’d spoken with Justin that he was Brian’s best friend - but the bills thing was a pretty big coincidence, right?

“Shit, Brian . . . I didn’t know,” Michael whined. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not the one who was abducted,” Brian replied, all snark on the outside, while underneath Justin could feel him fighting back the waves of fear and pain. “But I don’t have time to sit around gabbing with you right now, Mikey.” 

Brian pushed Michael out of the way and got out of the car. Justin followed suit on the passenger side. Michael trotted after his friend as they headed towards the front door of the loft building.

“Is there anything I can do?” Michael offered.

Brian used his key to unlock the door and then held it open for Justin to proceed him inside.

“Brian? Brian, wait! How can I help?” Michael repeated himself.

“Go home, Mikey. Unless you know where Gus is, there’s nothing you can do,” Brian dismissed him as he turned to follow Justin.

That’s when another surge of jealousy and antagonism hit Justin like a knife stabbing between his shoulder blades. The youth looked back over his shoulder and saw Michael glaring at him angrily. There was so much antipathy there, it was a little bit scary. And it wasn’t the sort of emotion someone would expect in the situation either. Yeah, when he looked harder, Justin could detect vestiges of sympathy and concern for his ‘best friend’, but the overwhelming emotion the dark-haired man was exuding was animosity. Justin was left wondering just how close a friend Michael really was.

Brian, though, had already mentally dismissed the importunate man still standing outside on the curb. He had bigger problems. Justin could feel the worry Brian was still struggling to control amid the myriad of other emotions that Brian hadn’t been able to stuff back down in the black hole where he usually kept them. They took the elevator up to the top floor, silent again, and Brian let them into the loft without comment. But, as soon as he’d tossed his jacket over the back of the couch, he turned to Justin with an imploring look.

“So . . . The cops don’t seem to have any fucking clue at all, nothing you saw this morning tied into your fucking dreams, and the only hope we have of getting my son back is for me to figure out how to scrounge up half-a-mil in ransom? Shit! This is so fucked!” 

Brian collapsed under the weight of his concerns, slumping down so that he was perched on the back of the sofa. He looked so dejected. It tugged at Justin’s kind heart almost as much at the pangs of despair he was sensing coming from the usually reserved man. Almost without realizing he was doing it, Justin found himself moving to sit next to Brian, one arm extending around the bigger man’s waist and his head tilted to rest on Brian’s shoulder. Justin tried to think of something reassuring to say, but there was nothing. He could only offer his quiet presence and hope it was enough. 

“What the fuck am I gonna do?” Brian eventually muttered, sounding so heartbroken it almost killed Justin. 

The young artist already felt guilty enough for having delayed coming to Brian with his warnings, but to hear the despair in Brian’s voice was too much. “We’re gonna find him, Brian. I know we will.”

“So, what, you’re a fortune teller too?” Brian tried to downplay the youth’s optimism. 

“No, but . . .” Justin hesitated but then decided to just come all the way clean with Brian. “I’m really good at reading people, Brian. I can almost always tell what someone’s feeling. And I didn’t feel any animosity directed towards Gus from the kidnapper; it was all directed at YOU, not your son. I don’t think he’ll hurt the baby as long as you give him what he wants . . .”

“. . . Reading people, huh?” Brian craned his neck so he could look into Justin’s face, as if to scrutinize the boy’s reply. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Justin shrugged. He’d never tried to put what he did into words before. It was just something he inherently knew about himself. Something he knew that nobody else would understand. Which is why he’d always kept that part of himself hidden. So, how did he explain it to a skeptic like Brian Kinney - a man who didn’t trust any emotions at all?

Taking a deep breath, fully prepared to be laughed at or derided, Justin launched into what he hoped would serve as an explanation. “I’m what you would call an empath,” he stated as confidently as he could manage. “Or, at least that’s what I guess you’d call it, although I’ve never liked that term. It sounds so hokey. Plus, all the fucking sci-fi novels about empathy have ruined the term, so . . .” He snuck a look at Brian’s face, which had gone comically blank, and sighed. “And I know you’re going to think I’m a candidate for a straight jacket, so don’t bother. But it’s true. I can read people’s emotions. I can tell when they’re sad or happy or scared or . . . Whatever . . . Just like this morning when I could tell that neither Mel nor Lindsey were lying. I could FEEL that they were being honest.” 

Brian turned away, but since his emotional shields were back up, Justin couldn’t tell what he was thinking, so he figured he’d better just plow on and hope the man didn’t decide he was delusional and throw him out on his ass.

“With the kidnapper, though, all I could feel was jealousy and envy. He wants you to be humiliated. He hates that you’ve got money - a good life - and he doesn’t. That’s what he wants. Taking Gus was just the only way he could think of to get your attention, Brian,” Justin struggled to put into words the nebulous emotions he’d sensed in his dream visions. 

“I don’t know who’s crazier,” Brian finally responded after several minutes of tense silence. “You, with all your fucking ‘empath’ drivel, or me for believing you . . .”

Justin couldn’t have held back the huge sunshiney smile that comment elicited even if he’d tried. Brian believed him. He might doubt his own sanity, but even so he believed what Justin had told him. It was a better outcome than he’d dared to hope for. 

“Not that it helps us much at this point,” Brian continued, dejectedly. 

“But don’t you see,” Justin, buoyed by the relief he felt knowing that Brian wasn’t just dismissing his gift, countered, “it does help. As long as I can still tap into the kidnapper’s emotions, we can use that to figure out who he is and find him.”

“Yeah? And how do we do that?” Brian asked, sounding genuinely interested. “Can you just dial into the creep’s psyche any time you want? Call up these visions at will or something?” Justin made a face and shook his head. “I didn’t think so,” Brian responded. “So how, exactly, do we use this supposed talent of yours, huh? Cuz my Ouiji board is out for service . . .”

“Um . . . I don’t know,” Justin admitted. “But there has to be a way. I wouldn’t be keyed into this guy the way I am if there wasn’t some connection. There’s got to be SOME way to exploit that. Some way to trigger it so I can see enough to help us find him. We just have to figure out how . . .” 

Justin fell silent as his mind spun, trying to come up with a solution, probing the limits of his gift to see if he could detect some hint of that nebulous connection to the perpetrator who’d taken Gus. But there was nothing but silence coming from his vision connection. Justin closed his eyes, scrunching up his face in concentration, and tried desperately to compel his senses outward, feeling around for some tendril of a link to the shadowy figure from his visions. Nothing came to him though. Nothing other than a spike of worried interest from the man sitting next to him. And even that pathway disappeared the moment Justin probed at Brian’s mind, almost as if the man had somehow sensed his presence and intentionally shut down his emotionality. So much for Justin’s theory that he could use his gift proactively.

Justin huffed a frustrated sigh and let his head fall sideways onto Brian’s shoulder. “I don’t know how to work it, Brian. All I know is that there has to be some reason why I’m seeing what I’m seeing. Otherwise, it makes no sense, because nothing like this has happened to me before. There’s got to be a reason we have this weird connection. There’s just GOT to be.”

“Other than the fact that you’re addicted to my cock and are using this as an excuse to get back in my bed?” Brian offered.

Justin felt himself blushing but tried to match the older man’s nonchalant snark. “Ah, yes. I arranged to have debilitating, intrusive visions of your son being abducted just so I could finagle a fuck. You caught me.”

“I thought so,” Brian replied, playing along despite the sad overtones to the situation. “Unfortunately, the grand reunion between my dick and your bubble butt is gonna have to wait.” Brian shrugged - causing Justin‘s head to slide off its comfortable perch on his shoulder - and got to his feet. “First, I need to get my accountant working on finding all this money for the fucking ransom.”

With a sympathetic grunt, Justin let himself fall backward, sliding upside down onto the seat of the sofa, then pulling his legs into his chest and lying there in temporary defeat, a little ball of helpless anxiety. 

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