Chapter 34 - The Terrible Twinkie Terror!
‘The Papa can take that hard plastic thing with the rubbery little sucking part on the end and shove it, along with all the horrible icky-smelling gunk inside, into his own big person diaper! I’m not going to drink that doo doo! *Pfffttt!*’ - Thoughts of Kevan Donagh Taylor-Kinney, The Terrible Binky Terror, Age 6 1/2 months.
Two more nights went by and there were still no leads on their absentee stalker.
Justin was practically climbing the walls with frustration. It had been more than three weeks now since he’d last seen Brian and he was ready to scream. If it hadn’t been his Spring Break at school, he would have been in serious trouble since there was no way he could have concentrated in class. As it was, he was not only going crazy himself, but driving everyone else he knew crazy too. Kevan, who’d been feeding off Justin’s moods a lot the past few weeks, was too stressed out to deal with his hated formula and had cried himself to sleep. Daphne had finally decided she’d had enough and moved back to her own apartment. Emmett, by default, was on Justin babysitting duty that evening, but even that full-flaming queen had been driven to the safety of the quiet guest room in the now completely refinished basement prior to ten o’clock. Even Lev and Zavi, the evening’s security contingent, seemed to be making themselves scarce.
After pacing the length and breadth of the house for more than three hours, Justin himself finally fell into an exhausted sleep just around 1:00 am.
Only to be woken up about twenty minutes later by his cell phone buzzing on the table next to his side of the bed.
“James Taggart Morgan the Fourth!” The name was screamed into Justin’s ear so loudly that there was a lingering ringing for several minutes afterwards.
“Huh?” Justin managed in a sleepy mumble before his face was practically split open by a gargantuan yawn.
“James Taggart Morgan the Fourth!” The voice yelled again, luckily a little less enthusiastically this time. “Did you hear me? We got his name. We found him, Justin. We found him!”
This time, Justin understood what Michael was yelling at him. He sat up and blinked in the darkness. He was afraid to believe it was true though.
“Are you sure, Michael? How did you . . .” Justin didn't get far with his questions however before the voice on the phone interrupted him.
“We went back down there to where all the hustlers hang out - I almost wanted to give up because, you know, we got nowhere the past two nights, but Ben said we should give it one more try at least. So we're walking around and after about ten minutes it starts to rain. Really heavy rain, too, so there's not much business for all the boys. And this one kid who'd totally blown us off the other times we'd talked to him, well I guess he was desperate or something tonight, cause he finally agreed to talk to us if we bought him dinner. And guess what? It turns out he was Ma’s ‘Twiggy’, although he goes by ‘Hunter’ instead. You should see this kid, Justin. He looks like he couldn't be more than fourteen maybe and he'd be lucky if he weighed a hundred pound soaking wet with all the clothes he owns on.”
“Michael . . .” Justin spoke up before his over-eager caller got totally derailed on this apparent tangent.
“Oh, right! So, anyway, we took him to the Diner and at first he was all, like, cautious about why we wanted to know stuff about his friend and all. I guess this Taggart is pretty nice to the rent boys and buys them food and gives them money sometimes and stuff, so they're pretty loyal. But we explained what was going on with Brian, and Ma vouched for us, so finally the kid fesses up that, yeah, he knows the guy’s name.” Michael’s voice took on a self-satisfied tone, like he'd managed something really remarkable in getting one lousy name out of a starving rent boy.
“Anyway, it turns out Twiggy . . . Er, Hunter, and your stalker had a long talk about their names one day. See, they both have the same first name - ‘James’ - and they both hate it. So then your guy tells our guy that's why he goes by his MIDDLE name. Which is why Hunter decided to go by ‘Hunter’ from then on too. So, that's how we found out the guy’s name!” Michael’s long-winded explanation finally died out leaving Justin stunned.
This was it! This had to be enough to find the guy. It HAD to be! Finally!
It took Justin less than five minutes to hang up on a still smug Michael, get himself dressed and, with the help of Rez - Zavi’s second brother, who'd been on night duty - wake up all the other adults in the house. Emmett agreed to stay and take over Kevan minding with Rez staying on guard over the two of them. Zavi and Lev, who'd both been sacked out on the couches down in the brand new basement Rec Room, agreed to go with Justin to the police. While Justin chivvied and harassed the others to hurry up and get dressed, Rez called ahead to the station and gave the sergeant on duty a quick recap, asking that Detective Horvath be called in at once.
And, by two am, Justin and his Shining Knights were out the door and on their way to rescue the fair maiden in distress, otherwise known as Brian Kinney.
Brian woke up, groaned, shuffled into the bathroom, puked into the toilet, brushed his teeth, showered and dressed. This had become his new morning routine. It was sometimes also his evening routine, depending on how much his stomach was acting up on him. During most of the rest of the day he felt fine, but mornings and evenings seemed to be the times when his body just couldn't take it anymore. Whatever it was that the psycho was giving him really was NOT agreeing with him.
“Brian? You okay, Baby?” His jailer’s hated voice spoke up from the divan in the corner.
“Fuck off!” Brian snarled and then plopped back down onto the bed.
Brian was so tired of this. He was getting nowhere with the bastard, despite trying everything he could think of. He'd tried being nice to Taggart and even playing along with some of the less creepy fantasies. He'd tried reasoning with him. Brian had offered him money, a job, anything he wanted, but it seemed like all he wanted was Brian as a permanent fixture in this stupid fucking room. Brian had then moved on to begging him and even threatening him, but nothing seemed to work. Tag seemed to actually like the begging - the sick fuck - and just acted like he didn't hear the threats. Brian was no nearer to finding out where the mother fucker was keeping Kevan than he had been that first day he'd been wholly lucid.
Taggart got up off the divan and walked around the end of the big bed to come check on Brian. Since Brian had steadfastly refused to allow Taggart to sleep in the bed with him, his ever present Watcher had taken to spending nights on the tiny and uncomfortable-looking couch. This bugged the hell out of Brian, who was not only sick of feeling watched all the time but also because it meant that Taggart wasn't with Kevan.
Since he wouldn’t tell Brian anything about where the baby was or whether there was someone else taking care of the infant when Tag wasn't around, it was entirely possible that the child was just left alone whenever the kidnapper was busy with Brian. That possibility haunted Brian. What if Kevan woke up and was scared? What if he got hurt or sick during the night? All the pleading in the world, though, did nothing. The stupid asswipe refused to leave Brian alone at night and go instead to the baby. All he'd say - over and over again until Brian wanted to strangle him - was that Kevan was ‘safe’.
Strangling the loser wasn't looking like such a bad option at this point, either. Brian was just about fed up. Since nothing else had worked, maybe he SHOULD try beating the information out of the lunatic. All Brian knew was that something had to happen - and soon - or he'd snap and probably kill the guy.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” Brian slapped away the hand Taggart laid across his forehead.
“I'm worried that you're coming down with something, Brian. You should let me take your temperature. Maybe I could bring you some herbal tea? Would you drink some tea for me, Baby?” The crooning voice made Brian's stomach threaten to turn over again.
“How about you just stop poisoning me instead, huh?” Brian snarked and rolled to the far side of the bed so that Taggart could no longer reach him.
“Don't be silly, Brian!” Tag sounded a bit peeved by Brian's ongoing allegations that he was still drugging him. “You know I wouldn’t poison you. I could never hurt you, Baby. I love you. Why don't you believe me? Why can't you ever trust me?”
“Trust you?” That was too much for the exhausted and frustrated captive to take. In a heartbeat, Brian was up on his feet, standing in front of the smaller man and glaring down into a now timid face. “You've got to be fucking kidding me! Why the hell would I EVER trust you, you worthless piece of shit? You fucking kidnapped me and my son! How do you expect me to trust you after that?” Brian raged at the man, who was now retreating one step at a time in the direction of the door.
“Our son. Our son . . .” Taggart mumbled, while he dug in his pocket for the keys.
“Fuck this! Kevan is MY son! MINE! And I want to see him. Today! Do you hear me, you stupid mother fucker? I'm through with this shit. If you don't bring Kevan to me - TODAY - then I'm out of here!” Brian yelled after the man, continuing to hurl threats and curses after him even through the once again closed and locked door. “FUCKER!” Brian added and punched the door in frustration so hard that the wood cracked.
‘Great!’ thought Brian as he sucked his split and bleeding knuckles. ‘Now I'm trapped here AND I've got a broken hand to boot. Perfect way to start the day, Kinney!’
Justin was contemplating just how bad the consequences would be if he punched out a Senior Pittsburgh PD Detective.
Not that him punching out Carl Horvath would do much good. Horvath was at least fifty pounds heavier and a couple inches taller than the slim nineteen year old. That didn’t matter though. It was the principle of the thing. Justin really wanted to punch out SOMEONE because of the ridiculous delays he’d been forced to endure and Horvath seemed as good a person to punch as anyone.
Take right now, for instance. Justin and Zavi were basically locked in the backseat of a police cruiser waiting for the next stage of this farcical adventure, while Horvath stood around drinking coffee, talking and joking with a horde of other police personnel, none of whom looked like they were at all concerned about when or even if they’d ever get Brian back from the whacko that was holding him. It was beyond infuriating. It was reprehensible. And as soon as Justin managed to get himself free from this damned car, he was going to hit someone because of it. It really didn’t matter who. He just really needed to hit someone.
“Patience, Little Taylor,” Zavi’s deep voice filled the car as he laid his five pound hand on Justin’s shoulder to try and calm his jumpy friend.
Justin turned to the much, much larger man sitting next to him and pierced him with an icy blue glare. In spite of the fact that Zavi could have physically squashed Justin like a bug with one hand tied behind his back, the big bruiser was intimidated enough by the steel in that stare that he immediately removed his hand. Justin might be small, but there was something about the boy that let you know he wasn’t to be messed with. Not if you valued all your appendages.
“Zavi, let me explain something,” Justin spoke finally, his amiable tenor voice now almost unrecognizable. “If you call me ‘Little Taylor’ one more time, or if you ever again dare to tell me to be patient, I will draw a picture of you naked and give you the smallest dick ever seen on an adult man’s body. A dick so laughably miniscule that a prepubescent boy would be ashamed to show it. And then I will take that drawing, make five thousand copies of it and post them on every street corner, every wall, every fence in the entire city of Pittsburgh. Are we clear on that?”
Zavi looked over at his coldly calculating companion, smiling at him with a look that was half grudging respect and half amusement and responded with a clipped, “Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Now, figure out a way to get me the fuck out of this car so I can go hit somebody,” Justin demanded, pounding against the shatterproof glass of the window once more, even though he knew it was futile.
Zavi rapped on the window of his own door with a knuckle and got the attention of one of the more junior policer officers, who unwittingly came over and opened the door in order to find out what their guests needed. Justin didn’t wait for anyone to even ask what the matter was. He simply climbed over Zavi’s mountain of a body, slithered out the door past a surprised Junior and ran over to the gathering of the more seasoned cops.
“What the fuck are you all standing around waiting for THIS time,” Justin demanded, wading into the midst of the ten or so cops as if he was the one in charge.
“I believe we agreed that you would stay in the car until we had the suspect secured, son,” Horvath turned to the unruly young man, talking to him like he would an unruly child.
“And that would have been fine if you would actually do your JOBS and go get the fucker already, Detective!” Justin replied, a sarcastic smile on his lips and a steely edge to his perfectly saccharine words.
“Mr. Taylor . . .” the older detective started to explain, only to be halted with a palm held up in his face.
“Detective Horvath, I’ve been waiting since two am for the police to actually get off their asses and get my missing partner out of the clutches of the kidnapper that’s had him for more than two weeks now,” Justin responded, barrelling on without giving Horvath or anyone else a chance to say anything. “I’m the one who told you in the first place who had taken Brian. My security advisor was the one who told you to get the airport security footage to prove it. I’m the one who prepared posters with the kidnapper’s picture on them so that we could identify the guy. I’m the one who sent out my own CIVILIAN friends to canvas the neighborhood and eventually found the kidnapper’s name. As I see it, I’ve done all the fucking work here so far,” Justin iterated, ticking off every task he’d completed on his fingers as he went.
“And then, after I brought you all that information - basically handing you your suspect on a fucking silver platter - what the hell have you done? NOTHING! I’ve been waiting around in offices and riding in the back of police cars for more than five hours now while the fine officers who are supposed to serve and protect me and my partner are still farting around, drinking coffee and telling jokes.” Several of the men looked a bit guiltily down at the Starbucks cups in their hands and one even surreptitiously moved his cup so that it was partially hidden behind the back of another.
“I don’t care that you couldn’t get into the database because of regularly scheduled maintenance until after four am. I don’t care that you had to wait for a warrant before you went to Taggart’s Pittsburgh apartment - where he hadn’t been for several weeks according to his neighbor. I don’t care that you then had to wait to coordinate with the West Virginia police. And I don’t care that you’re now waiting to get yet another warrant from a West Virginia judge, who’s probably still in bed, before you’ll approach THIS house. I don’t care what your next excuse will be either. I want Brian Kinney rescued immediately and I don’t care what procedures or rules you have to violate to do it. Do you understand, gentlemen?” Justin eyeballed each and every individual who was standing nearby. “Good! Now, you WILL go in there and arrest that fucker and find my partner in the next ten minutes or I’ll be filing complaints against each and every one of you with every single governmental agency I can possible find from the city planning bureau clear on up to the fucking FDA!”
Justin probably would have gone on haranguing the police force for at least another ten minutes if a new police car hadn’t driven up right at that moment and interrupted his train of thought. Luckily for all the uneasy looking cops that had been on the receiving end of the Justin Taylor Talking To a few seconds earlier, the new arrival had the official arrest warrant signed by the sleepy West Virginia judge in hand. That seemed to be the catalyst needed to excite some real action within the little group. They started to scatter like ants swarming an anthill and before Justin had to say another word, the main body of the group was headed in a pack around the corner and up the front walk of a large, well-maintained, split level ranch home situated on at least two acres.
Justin waited behind with Detective Horvath and the WVSP Commander, Captain Jonas, while the rest deployed themselves in strategic locations within reach but out of the direct line of sight near either the front or back doors. When everyone appeared to be in place, Horvath and Jonas began to walk towards the house too. Justin fell into step right behind them.
It wasn’t until they were almost to the front walk that Horvath noticed the extra set of footsteps following behind him and turned to confront the tagalong. “Where, exactly, do you think you’re going, son?” he asked, putting out a hand to halt Justin’s progress.
“I’m going in there to get my partner!” Justin announced without any hesitation whatsoever.
“No. You’re not,” Jonas chimed in, giving young Mr. Taylor his most daunting State Trooper glare, which seemed to have no effect at all on it’s target.
“Yes. I am.”
“Son . . .” Horvath intervened before Taylor and Jonas could get into it further. “You can’t come up there with us. You know that this Taggart fella would recognize you right off the bat and that might cause him to do something rash. Something that could be dangerous for everyone, including your partner. We don’t want to escalate this thing out of control if we don’t have to. We DO want to get your partner out of there in one piece, same as you. But we also want to make sure all our people are safe. And we just can’t do that if you tip off the suspect to what’s coming down before we’re ready.” Horvath put his hands on Justin’s shoulders and physically turned him around so he was facing back towards the road where all the cars were waiting. “So, this is how it’s going to play out. You’re going to wait down here by the road. Jonas and I will go up, play nice and try to get in the house without arousing the perp’s suspicions. Once we’re inside, we’ll secure the area and try to locate your guy. Then, after we’re sure it’s safe, we’ll let you in. But NOT before then.” Horvath explained with more patience than he thought this rash little troublemaker probably deserved. “And please keep in mind, if you don’t do what I say, or if you try to mess this up for us in any way, I WILL have you arrested, handcuffed and carted off to the closest jail and you can wait for your partner there. Are we clear on that?”
Justin crossed his arms over his chest, frowned and huffed an impatient breath, but nodded. Horvath smiled indulgently at the hotheaded young man. He wouldn’t tell him - at least not right that moment - but he thought this kid was a total hoot. Impetuous and stubborn but brave as hell too. If it weren’t for the fact that Justin was a loose cannon who had no respect for police authority and was intent on ruining their well-orchestrated bust, Horvath could really start to like the boy. But, even though he didn’t hate the kid, Horvath didn’t trust him to stay put either, so he quickly waved over Junior and ordered him to mind the young ‘un until somebody gave the all clear.
Justin stood there fuming with poor grace and eager anticipation. He knew they were close. Brian had to be inside. He could almost feel his partner’s presence. It wouldn’t be long now.
Taggart hadn’t been gone for more than ten minutes when Brian heard a noise that was so welcome he could almost cry. It was the sound of the doorbell ringing. He quickly leaned up against the crack of the door so he could listen in to what was happening. There was the sound of Taggart’s footsteps trotting off towards what would be the southern part of the house and then some deep, masculine voices, talking too quietly for him to hear what was being said. After a few minutes the voices started getting louder, and the tone changed. Brian could hear Taggart’s voice rising with a new and anxious tinge to it.
“Sir, we have reason to believe that you were the last person to see Mr. Kinney on the night he disappeared,” said a loud, authoritarian voice. “We have footage from the airport proving that you were the driver of the car that picked Mr. Kinney up after his flight home. So you can either answer our questions here or we can haul you off to Weirton and you can answer our questions at the police station.”
Brian held his breath, trying not to make any noise so that he could hear better, waiting to hear what would happen next. He didn’t know what else to do. He was so conflicted. Part of him wanted to yell out at the top of his lungs, ‘I’m here! I’m here!’. But then he was reminded of his deal with Taggart that he wouldn’t try to leave if the kidnapper would promise not to hurt Kevan. However, if the cops had come this far, he might not have any choice in the matter. If Brian didn’t say anything and the cops left after alerting the crazy crackpot that he was already under suspicion, then Brian was screwed anyway. In that case, there was nothing to stop Tag from taking Kevan and heading for the hills before Brian could stop him. But, if he did call out and the cops arrested Taggart, then the man’s threat not to tell them where he was hiding the baby would come into play. This was a no win situation.
“I’m sorry I can’t be of any help, gentlemen . . .” Brian recognized his captor’s muffled voice, clearly coming from at least a room or two off. At the same time, Brian heard the floorboards nearer to his door creaking. Five or six creaks later and Brian could tell that someone was now standing right outside the room. He debated with himself for about ten seconds more, but the only answer he came up with was that he had to get the hell out of there and hope that the police could help him locate his son.
Before Brian had a chance to do anything, though, Brian heard a hushed voice coming from right outside the door. “Mr. Kinney? You in there?”
“Yes! I’m here!” Brian responded, hopefully loud enough that the cop could hear but not so loudly that his voice would carry to wherever Taggart was. “You have to stop Taggart. That bastard has my son hidden somewhere. Don’t let him get away or we’ll never find Kevan!”
“I understand. Don’t worry. We’ll take care of things. Now, there’s a pretty hefty deadbolt on the door here, so it’s going to take me a minute. Just hold on. I’m going to go make sure we’ve got Morgan secured and then I’ll be back, okay?”
“Thank you!” Brian answered, and then the creaking floorboards again gave evidence that the cop was walking back in the direction he’d come from.
“Mr. Morgan,” the voice from outside Brian’s door said loudly a minute later. “I have a warrant here for your arrest for the abduction and unlawful detention of Mr. Brian Kinney. You have the right to remain silent . . .”
“What? What are you doing? I don’t understand. Unlawful detention?” Taggart’s voice started off confused but in control and then quickly devolved into a panicky wail. “That’s . . . That’s not right. Brian’s fine. We’re just fine. You don’t need to be here. You’ve got it all wrong. Brian’s my husband. He wants to be here. He wants to be here! We’re in love. We’re a family! Stop it! Stop it! Brian! BRIAN! BRIAN, TELL THEM IT’S NOT TRUE! BRIAN, PLEASE!”
While the now-captive captor was still hollering somewhere down the hall, Brian heard a new voice speaking right outside his door. “Stand away from the door, Mr. Kinney. I’m going to get you out of there.”
Brian backed away quickly. Before he was more that a meter away, there was a banging at the door as if something large had been rammed against it. A second and third thud followed and then the doorframe split apart and the door swung in, crashing violently against the wall behind it. When he looked up, Brian saw that his rescuer was a red-faced, overweight, fifty-something guy in a rumpled suit who was bent over and panting as if he’d just run a marathon. ‘So much for being rescued by a handsome prince,’ thought Brian fleetingly before the man straightened up and waved Brian out of the room.
“Are you okay, Mr. Kinney? Do you need medical services?” the still wheezing man asked between labored breaths, leading Brian down the hallway at the same time.
“No. No, I’m fine, I think,” Brian started to answer, but didn’t get much out before he heard a banshee-like screech and saw a flash of blond hair zipping past the end of the hallway a few feet away.
“Where the fuck is Brian, you motherfucking piece of shit!” the whirling blond dervish howled, flying through the air and taking out the already cuffed Taggart in a football tackle worthy of the Ironmen. “Tell me where he is! Tell me or I’ll fucking bash your head in right here, you sick fuck. Tell me. TELL ME!”
Brian and Horvath had already rushed around the corner and were standing about two feet behind where the raging blond was sitting on top of the cowering kidnapper while he repeatedly slammed the back of Taggart’s head into the floorboards.
“Um . . . Sunshine?” Brian spoke up reluctantly, sorry to interrupt the fun, but figuring that it was best to stop his berserk blond before he really did kill Taggart.
“If you hurt him, I will fuck you up so bad you’ll regret the day you were born. Do you hear me? If Brian has so much as a fucking HANGNAIL I’ll have your balls and then I’ll rip your dick off and stuff them all down your throat. Do you hear me you stupid fuckwad? Do you? Now tell me where he is!”
“Your partner is a crazy little fireball, isn’t he?” Horvath asked with a chuckle, apparently not really in much of a hurry to pull Justin off the struggling perp.
“You have NO idea,” Brian replied, huffing out his own short but affectionate laugh at the spectacle in front of him. “Unfortunately, as much as I really do enjoy seeing Justin beat the shit out of that lunatic, we need him alive. That asswipe’s got my son hidden somewhere and we’ll need him to find Kevan. So . . .” Brian took one more step forward, then leaned over and tapped Justin on the shoulder. “Sunshine, when you’ve got a minute, please . . .”
“Just a sec, Brian . . .” Justin answered distractedly and then turned to continue his verbal attack on the object of his displeasure. It took a another fifteen seconds before reality actually took hold and then, with a resounding *Whack!*, Justin dropped Tag’s head, allowing it to fall back and crack hard against the floor.
In one of the most amazing acrobatic moves Brian had ever seen, Justin then vaulted upwards off of his victim, spinning in mid-air and somehow managing to land in Brian’s arms. There was much kissing after that. It was steamy and wet and Justin seemed to have more hands and lips than was physically possible for one small blond, but Brian wasn’t complaining. In fact, he was close to being lost in the moment, reveling in the warmth of his now happy little Sunshine’s caresses and kisses to the point that he almost forgot about the scene around them.
“Let’s go!” the big WVSP trooper ordered, hauling Taggart to his feet.
“Wait!” Brian yelled, breaking away from Justin’s embrace and grabbing onto the trooper’s arm to halt him. “He’s got my son. I don’t know where he’s been keeping him, but you can’t take him away until I find out where Kevan is. Please. We have to find my son!”
“What? . . . No! No, Brian. Kevan’s fine. He’s fine,” Justin insisted, pulling his partner back towards him. “I promise you. Kevan’s at home with Emmett.”
“But . . . I saw him. Taggart brought the baby to me and I held him in my arms. There’s even a picture. I know I saw Kevan . . .” Brian muttered with confusion, looking from Justin to Tag and back. “At least I think I saw him . . . I made him promise not to hurt Kevan if I agreed to stay. He agreed. He said he’d keep the baby safe. He . . . Shit! He fucking lied to me, didn’t he?”
While Brian was still trying to work out in his mind exactly what had happened, Justin had already determined his own course of action. “You lying, crazy, fucking piece of shit! You kept Brian here by telling him you had our son? Fuck you, you sick FUCK!” Justin screamed as he once again pulled Taggart out of the trooper’s grip, growled like a wild man and, in a surge of adrenaline, picked the horrified kidnapper up off the ground, spun him in the air and then tossed him down in a pretty excellent twink version of a WWF Body Slam.
“Yep. Definitely a fireball!” Horvath commented as he and Brian stood back and let the Terrible Twinkie Terror have his way with a terrified Taggart.
“Like I said, you have no idea . . . And if you think THAT’S something, you should see him in bed!” Brian smiled smugly down at his brave and handsome prince, adding a nice little kick of his own to his former jailer’s midsection before the trooper finally pulled Justin off and carted the semi-conscious perp off.
