Chapter 39

 

Saturday Evening, December 18th, 1993

    

    

     Bayside Center was alive with blinking lights of red and green and white.  Wreaths hung from every door, including those of the in-patient residents.  A fat round evergreen decorated by a number of the residents stood in the expansive foyer in gay greeting.  Another tree, this one over twelve feet high, was in the center's main conference room. 

 

     Being held in that main conference room tonight was the annual Christmas party the staff threw for the current patients, both in-house and out.  There was music, door prizes, a skit performed by the doctors, and more food than ever got eaten.  It was an informal evening that did not include the patients' families.  It was intended to be a fun time for all.  No one was pressured to behave a certain way, or to be anyone other than who they were.  It was not a night to discuss treatments or progress or diagnoses, which is why family members of patients were not among the invited guests.  

 

     A young woman still in graduate school and serving her apprenticeship with Clay Burrows knocked on A.J.'s closed door. 

 

     From within she heard his succinct, "What?"

 

     Jennifer McMillian's long flaming hair entered the room before she did as she leaned forward and around the door she opened halfway.     "Aren't you going to join us for the party, A.J.?"

 

     A.J. was sitting in an overstuffed recliner with an open book in his lap. "No."

 

     "Come on.  We're having a great time.  You'll have fun."

     A.J. shook his head in the only answer he deemed necessary. 

 

     Jennifer sighed in frustration before closing the door and leaving A.J. to his privacy.  Ten minutes later another knock sounded, only this visitor didn't wait to be granted permission before entering.  Clay Burrows thrust his upper body into the room.

 

     "Hey, A.J.," Clay greeted with cheerful exuberance.  "Come on and join the party."

 

     A.J. took a deep breath that was meant to control his temper over this second unwelcome interruption.  "No.  I'm not interested."

 

     "Everyone else is there.  They're all wondering where you are."

     Since A.J. did not speak to anyone other than the few staff members he was forced to, he highly doubted ‘everyone’ was wondering where he was.  Most of the patients only knew him as Dr. Burrows' patient who doesn't talk, or as the blond guy who swims laps in the pool every morning and massacres the gym's punching bag every night.

 

     A.J. returned his attention to his book.  "I'm not interested."

 

     "I was really hoping to introduce you to my wife."

 

     A.J.'s eyes rose to meet the doctor's.  "Why, Clay?  So you can show her the new freak you're trying to cure?"

 

     "A.J.--"

 

     "I don't want to attend.  I already told Jennifer that, and now I'm telling you. If you send anyone else down here to get me, I'll tell them the same thing."

 

     "All right,” Clay sighed.  Have it your way.  But you're missing a heck of a party."

 

     A.J.'s reply was dripping with sarcasm.  "I'm sure I'll survive the disappointment."

 

     Clay shook his head in frustration as he shut the door.  He supposed he should look at the positive side of things.  A.J. had said more to him in that short exchange than he'd said in a month.  Unfortunately, discussing whether or not to attend a Christmas party was hardly going to get either one of them anywhere. 

 

     After Clay left, A.J. sat his book aside and walked over to look out the wide picture window.  Small white lights adorned the trees in front of the center.

 

     For some reason the last Christmas party A.J. had attended came to mind.  It had been the one held on Christmas Eve at St. Jude's Shelter For The Homeless.  It hadn't been fancy.  A.J. supposed compared to the one going on down at the other end of the building it had been downright shabby.  But just like the humble stable the Christ Child was born in was enough for his parents, that humble shelter and the people who were a part of it was enough for A.J.  Malachi had grown to become his best friend, and Dominique...well, she had become his lover.  And others who resided in Beulah Land like Will, Cal, and Shorty, had grown to become his friends, too.  Maybe they had even grown to become his family.  A family who didn't pressure him to talk about things he didn't want to.  A family who didn't care about his comings and goings.  A family who didn't try to control him by telling him what he could and couldn't do.  A family who looked out for him, in the same way he willingly looked out for them. And they had sure liked his cooking.  They were always saying, "Boy, you gotta eat at St. Jude's, man.  They got a guy there by the name a' Jack who can take Spam and make it taste like the pot roast your mama used to make.  The dude don't say much, but I'm tellin' ya', man, he sure can cook."

 

     The more A.J. thought about it, the more he knew where he really belonged.  It would be so easy to get there.  All he had to do was go home, pack the coveted knapsack Dominique had given him, and take off in the Camaro.  Once he got to San Francisco he'd sell the car he had just purchased in early April.  He didn't need it.  And the shelter could use the money he got out of it.  Eventually, he'd give his family instructions to sell his home, too. 

 

     As A.J. threw his clothes into the large zippered sports bag his mother had secreted in her trunk the day she and Rick left him here, he thought briefly of his family.  How would they feel when they found him gone?  He supposed it would hurt them for a while, but they'd get over it.  Hadn't he and his mother gone on with their lives after Rick chose to take off on that damn motorcycle of his shortly after returning from Vietnam?  Yep, overall they'd managed just fine and so had Rick.  Just like A.J. would now manage just fine.  He'd give them a chance to adjust to his absence, and then call home to let them know he was okay.  Maybe on Christmas Day.  Or New Year's Day.  Or soon thereafter.  Deep down inside the last thing A.J. wanted to do was cause them more pain, but eventually they'd come to see that his leaving was the best thing for all of them.  Eventually they'd come to see that was the only way he could keep them safe.

 

     As A.J. gathered up his razor, toothbrush, books, and what few other personal belongings of his the room contained, a part of his mind begged him to reconsider what he was doing.  But another part of his mind, the part that still suffered the residual effects of brainwashing despite Clay's months of therapy, called forth the image of Dylan Reed being carried through overgrown grass in a body bag as shown on the TV news.  

And when A.J. thought of that, he was carried back to all those long months in Agilar's basement. 

 

     "If you ever tell anyone, anyone at all, what was done to you or who you are, I will derive great pleasure from killing both your brother and your mother. I will derive great pleasure from torturing them, as I have tortured you."

     A.J. chased the cold cruel voice from his mind.  He looked around the room one last time to make sure he had everything.  As A.J. opened the door and peered out into the hallway, he thought of how much easier life was going to be as Jack. 

 

_________________________

 

    

     Escape from Bayside Center hardly required any effort at all.  The main entrance/exit doors were only locked after ten p.m. at night, and were reopened again at nine in the morning.  It was not intended that Bayside keep anyone against his will.  If a patient was so inclined as to walk out, the staff tried to reason with the person as opposed to agitating him further with bars and locks.  So, had the party not been going on, A.J. would have simply sauntered out the front doors.  But too many people were loitering about in the lobby.  The last thing A.J. needed was Clay Burrows running after him in an attempt to prevent his departure through pleas and false promises.  And for all his well-intentioned efforts, Dr. Burrows would ultimately fail, of that A.J. had no doubt. However, A.J. also knew the first thing Clay would do after he was out of the doctor's sight, was pick up the phone and call Rick.  And A.J. knew the first thing Rick would do, was make good on his threat of gaining power of attorney and medical guardianship.  Then Bayside would have the right to lock A.J. in.  The blond man vowed to himself that would never happen.  Agilar had held him against his will for six months.  No one else was ever going to do that to him again.

 

     Therefore, instead of walking toward the main entrance, A.J. turned left and headed down the winding maze of corridors that held the twenty-five rooms for in-house residents.  There were three emergency exit doors, one that led out onto the front lawn, one that opened onto the back, and another that opened onto the south side of the brick center.   Based on the orientation he'd been given on his first day as an in-patient A.J. knew these doors could only be opened by a staff member using a key that would disengage the fire alarm.  Otherwise, if one simply pushed the heavy handle the door would indeed open, but the fire alarm would sound in a piercing wail throughout the building and the sprinkler system would engage.  As well, an alarm was activated at the local fire station.

 

     A.J. had no desire to announce his departure in a style quite that grand.  In addition to that, setting off a false fire alarm was a felony.  Therefore, neither did he have a desire for a warrant to be issued for his arrest.     

 

     Bypassing the alarm that was wired to the heavy metal door was child's play for the detective.  He'd been doing this kind of work for almost twenty-five years now.  Ever since he'd first been hired to work summers while still in college for a now long-retired San Diego private investigator by the name of Neil DeBell.

 

     Because the party was in full swing at the other end of the building the resident halls were deserted, meaning A.J. didn't have to worry about keeping watch over his shoulder.  Two minutes after he'd set to work, A.J. slipped quietly into the night.  The blond man only had to walk five blocks before he was moving out of the quiet residential area that surrounded the center and onto busy sidewalks lined with shopping malls, gas stations, and restaurants.  He hailed a passing taxi.  He had plenty of money in his wallet.  Obviously, in the past month, he'd had nothing to spend it on. 

 

     The blond detective gave the driver his address on the Grand Canal.  As he leaned back against the seat A.J. smiled for the first time in weeks.  He was going home.

 

     Home to San Francisco.

 

 

 

Chapter 40

 

Saturday Evening, December 18th, 1993

    

    

     Because A.J. had no idea as to how much the neighbors knew in regards to where he'd been during the past four weeks, he had the taxi driver drop him off a block away from his home.   He didn't want the sound of a slamming car door to draw anyone's attention to him.  Though he thought it was highly unlikely any of his neighbors were aware of the circumstances surrounding his sudden departure, he wasn't about to take any chances.  Rick was crafty.  There could be the remote possibility some neighbor or the other had been asked to keep an eye on A.J.'s house, and in the event A.J. should return to it, that same neighbor may have been asked to give Rick a call.

 

     The neighborhood was quiet, just as it had been an hour earlier when Rick and Cecilia had arrived in it.  A.J. encountered no one as he walked toward his home, not even a passing car.  Mr. Gorman's house was dark, which was a good sign.  If Rick had asked anyone to keep an eye on A.J.'s place, it would have been nosy Mr. Gorman.

 

     A dim arc of light shone through the stained glass of the kitchen door.  That didn't cause A.J. any concern.  His mother had told him she'd set his automatic timers.  He knew once he entered he'd find his bedroom lit up as well.  That would be to A.J.’s advantage.  It wouldn't be necessary to turn on any other lights.  Everything he intended to take with him was in his room.  Nothing much in the way of material items really mattered to him anyway, except that blue knapsack.

 

     A.J. dug in the front pocket of his jeans for his keys.  Even from outside he could hear the distinct click of the deadbolt lock as it released. The blond man opened the door and stepped inside.  His hand was still on the knob when he looked straight ahead into the living room.  It took a second for it to register with A.J. that his mother and brother were sitting stiffly on the sofa with their backs to him. 

 

     How the hell did they know? Someone must have seen me leave the center and tipped off Clay.  Maybe one of the cars that passed me while I was walking was driven by a member of the staff.  I never thought of that.  Damn!  I should have known better.  I should have cut through backyards.  How stupid could I have been to stroll right down the middle of the sidewalk as if I didn't have a care in the world?

 

     Although only a few brief seconds had passed since A.J. had opened the door, he was beginning to wonder why his family still hadn't turned around.  They had to have heard him enter.  He certainly hadn't tried to muffle his movements.  No matter, their temporary paralysis would serve him well.  Without saying anything, A.J. whirled around with the intention of fleeing through a succession of backyards until he could hail another taxi.  He hadn't seen his mother's car or Rick's truck parked anywhere nearby, which meant Rick would lose ground in the chase.  And as far as a footrace went, well ever since he'd turned sixteen A.J. had been able to outrun his brother.  He'd get a flight out of Lindbergh Field and arrive in San Francisco in a matter of a few hours.

 

     Before the blond detective had a chance to do more than formulate his plan in his mind, Eduardo Agilar stepped away from the wall that had been blocking him from A.J.'s line of vision.  He stood in front of the waist high counter top that allowed one to see into the living room. 

 

     "I do not think I want you to leave yet, my old friend.  After all, the party is just beginning."

 

     A.J.'s eyes grew wide with shock and disbelief.  His breathing sped up, and the sports bag slipped unnoticed from his fingers.  It made a gentle 'thump,' as it hit the kitchen floor. 

 

     Agilar walked over and placed the muzzle of the Browning against Rick's skull.  "Close the door, Andres.  Now."

 

     When the shell-shocked A.J. did no more than stand there, Agilar rammed the gun into Rick's skull. A small patch of the detective's scalp was torn.  Warm blood trickled freely down the back of Rick's head and stained the collar of his shirt red. 

 

     "I said now, Andres!  If you do not do it I will put a bullet through your brother's head!  Your mother will be next."

 

     A.J. swallowed hard and closed the door behind him. 

 

     Agilar looked down at Rick.  With triumph he crowed, "I thought you said your brother was away on vacation, Senor."

 

     Despite the burning sting of his torn scalp Rick returned dryly,  "He was.  He came back early."

 

     Agilar laughed.  "Sometimes I very much enjoy your sense of humor, Simon.  I am going to miss it when you are no longer around to entertain me."

 

     Agilar's attention returned to A.J.  As though he was the headmaster of a school maintained by rigid discipline he ordered, "Come here, Andres."

 

     Rick kept waiting to hear his brother tell Agilar to go to hell.  But the words never came, instead only silent compliance. 

 

     Agilar motioned A.J. to stand in front of Rick and Cecilia.  It was the first time they were able to look at him.  When Agilar had heard someone coming up the wooden walkway he had ordered them to remain sitting with their backs to the door.

 

     All color was drained from A.J.'s face, leaving him a chalky shade of gray.  His breathing was rapid and uneven, his eyes wide and filled with terror.  Neither Rick nor Cecilia missed the tremors that caused his hands to shake.  Cecilia was certain he was going to pass out.  Rick was wishing he would. That unexpected happening would catch Agilar off guard and give Rick a chance to overpower the man, despite the handcuffs that still circled his wrists.  If nothing else, Rick would yell for all he was worth for his mother to run.

 

     Agilar slowly circled the blond man like a buzzard circling a dying, defenseless animal in the desert.  "So, my friend, you have returned from your...vacation.  That is good.  That is very good, because I did not want this family gathering to take place without you."  Agilar's hand shot upward and grabbed A.J. by the jaw as he'd done earlier with Rick.  His tone changed from mockingly sweet, to cold and authoritative.  "What did I tell you, Andres, that you must never do?  What did I warn you about?"

 

     When A.J. didn't speak the man became more enraged.  He squeezed the blond's face and screamed with spaced emphasis,   "What...did...I...tell...you?"               

 

     A.J. began to shake his head and Agilar let his hand drop.  The man's tone did another drastic change.  This time he sounded like a caring father trying to convince his son the truth would hurt him far less than a lie. 

 

"What did I tell you?"

 

     "I didn't," A.J. beseeched as he frantically shook his head back and forth.  His eyes pleaded with Agilar.   "I didn't."

 

     "You did not what?"

 

     "I didn't tell anyone.  I didn't."

 

     Agilar looked at Cecilia and Rick.  He wore the smile of a lion that has trapped a mouse.  "And what was it you were not supposed to tell?"

 

     A.J. replied like a dutiful student who had long memorized his lessons.   "What happened to me.  Who I am."

 

     "And what events did I tell you would occur if you did reveal those things?"

 

     "That...that...that...that..." A.J. couldn't seem to bring himself to finish.  "That...that..."

 

     "That what, Andres?  Do not stammer like the idiot I have told you many times you are.  Tell me."

 

     A.J.'s eyes followed the man's circular path that was growing ever tighter around him.   "That you would kill my family."

 

     Rick and Cecilia exchanged glances.  Never, in their wildest dreams, had they imagined this was how they'd discover what A.J. hadn't been able to talk about all these months.

 

     "And so what, Andres?  Did you not believe me?"  Agilar snared A.J.'s arm and twisted it until it came to rest between his shoulder blades.  Rick fully expected to hear the bone crack.  He shot off the couch.

 

     "Agilar!   Leave him alone!"

 

     Eduardo pointed the Browning at Cecilia's head.  "Shut up, Simon, and sit back down.  It is not you who I am talking to right at the moment."

 

     Rick's jaw clenched in rage as the threat to his mother forced him do what the Salvadoran ordered.

 

     Agilar returned his attention to A.J.  "Now that your brother is done interrupting us, Andres, I will ask my question again.  Did you not believe me when I told you I would derive great pleasure from raping your mother for days and nights on end?  Maybe even months on end before I finally kill her in such a slow way she will be begging to die?"

 

     A.J. bit his lower lip as his breaths came in harsh pants.  He didn't answer the man, though Rick didn't know if that was a result of the pain he was in because of his arm being held in a position arms aren't meant to be held in, or if it was because A.J. was incapable of answering the man.  

 

     Agilar smiled, reminding Rick of Biblical pictures he'd seen depicting the serpent in the Garden of Eden.  The man's dark eyes were small and danced with evil.  His thin lips formed a straight flat line against his handsome face.   "Or did you not believe me when I said I would enjoy torturing your brother until his brains are the consistency of porridge?"  Agilar waved his gun toward Rick.  "Look at your brother, Andres.  Look at him!"

 

     A.J. did as commanded.  His eyes met Rick's.  For the first time in all the years they'd worked together, Rick could not read his brother's intentions by looking into those blue eyes.  Because A.J.'s eyes were frighteningly empty.   Because even without the help of a bullet, Rick feared Eduardo Agilar had already killed his brother.  

 

     Agilar screamed, "Are you looking at him?"   

 

     Without allowing his eyes to leave Rick's face, A.J. nodded.

 

     "No!  Do not nod your head as though you are retarded, it makes you look like a fool!"  Eduardo twisted A.J.'s arm a fraction of an inch higher.   "Now say it!"

 

     Rick's heart couldn't stand the humiliation his brother was being subjected to and neither could his mother's.  Tears were streaming down Cecilia's face.

 

     Rick knew this degrading humiliation done in front of an audience was a form of brainwashing, and could now easily imagine all A.J. had been forced to endure during his months of captivity in the Agilar household.  It was amazing he'd come out of it as well as he had. 

 

     "Say the words, Andres!" 

 

     Despite the pain he had to be in, A.J.'s voice was wooden and devoid of feeling.  "Yes, I'm looking at him."

 

     "Your brother is a proud man, Andres.  Very proud.  I can see it in his eyes, and in the way that he sits there so straight and tall like a preening peacock.  What a shame to turn such a proud man into the same kind of babbling fool I have turned you into.  Though I admit, the thought is intriguing."  Eduardo smiled.  "And I can see your brother's courage.  A courage you lack, as I have often reminded you.  But your brother has the courage of a lion, Andres, and right now I can see that he wants to kill me."

     "No, Agilar," Rick growled,  "killing would be too good for a miserable bastard like you.  All I want is to be alone with you in a room for five minutes minus that toy gun you hide behind.  That's all I need, pal.  Believe me, that's all I need in order to show you who it is that lacks courage around here."

 

     Rick's words did not entice Eduardo as he fully expected them to.  As he hoped they would, so that the man would release A.J. and come after him instead. 

 

     "So you do not think your brother is a coward, Senor Simon?"  Agilar asked Rick.  "You do not think he is an idiot like I do?  You do not think he is an embarrassment to your family?  A...retard, as I believe you Americans refer to those with minds that are not quite...right, shall we say?"

 

     Rick made sure he was looking into A.J.'s eyes when he made his firm reply.  "No, I don't think any of those things.  I never have, and I never will, because they're not true.  And even if they were, it wouldn't matter to me."

 

     As abruptly as Agilar had seized A.J.'s arm he now released it with a downward jerk.  The sudden movement caused the blond to cry out in pain.  He leaned forward at the waist while cradling the injured appendage.  The Salvadoran grabbed a fistful of A.J.'s hair and yanked him back to a standing position. 

 

     "Stand up straight until I tell you otherwise!  Have you forgotten that you do nothing unless I tell you to?"

 

     A.J. shook his head no to indicate he hadn't forgotten.

 

     "That is better," Eduardo crooned as he caressed the side of A.J.'s face.  "Much better.  See, you are not so stupid after all."

 

     "Okay, Eddie,” Rick said, “you've had more than your share of fun for one night.   Whatever else is on the agenda let's get it over with 'cause ya' see, it's gettin' late and I'm not as young as I used to be.  A whippersnapper your age can party all night, but an old fart like me - well by eight I'm pretty bushed.  By nine I've usually gone to beddie-by."

 

     Again Agilar laughed.  But he didn't do what Rick wanted him to. He didn't move away from A.J.   But when he did...when he did Rick was going to launch himself at the man's midsection.  Although his mother wouldn't want to, Rick felt certain she would have the presence of mind to run.  As far as A.J. went...Rick looked up at his brother.  The blond's eyes were now glazed over, and it was evident A.J.'s mind was no longer in the room.  Maybe no longer with him at all.  Rick glanced at Cecilia to see she was observing the same things in her youngest.  Therefore, Rick hoped that when he threw himself on Agilar his mother would grab A.J. by the hand and run for all she was worth.   If luck was with them A.J. would run right along with her, regardless of whether he knew what was happening or not.  And if luck stayed with them, Rick could engage Agilar in a struggle that prevented him from getting to the trigger of his gun for at least a half a minute.  His mother might no longer be young in years, but she was thin and fit, and wearing shoes with no heels.  Thirty seconds ought to give her and A.J. a good head start in the dark neighborhood.  A neighborhood Cecilia knew and Agilar didn't.          

 

     Agilar circled the blond man again.  "You have made me very angry, Andres, did you know that?  Because of you, Senorita Reed began sticking her nose where it did not belong.  But no matter.  I have taken care of her, just like I plan to take of you.  Though only after you and I have spent much quality time together again.  And after I have killed your family first, of course.  After I have killed them while you watch, as I told you would happen if you betrayed me."  Agilar moved closer and spoke softly in A.J.'s ear, but not so softly that Rick and Cecilia couldn't hear his every word.  "After I have raped your mother until she begs me to kill her.  Until she hates you for what you have caused to happen to her.  And after I have turned your brother's brain to mush.  He will no longer be the proud, courageous man you see sitting on the sofa.  He will be a weak, broken, sniveling man, and he will come to hate you as well, before he dies."

 

     A.J.'s upper body crumpled at the waist.  He brought his hands and arms up to cover his bowed head as though he was protecting himself from physical blows.  "No, no," he begged in a child-like whimper.  "No, no, no."

     A.J.'s knees gave way and he sank to the floor.  His back came to rest against the easy chair.  The blond man remained in a seated position, curled in a protective ball.  "No, no, no, no."

 

     Agilar poked the blond's shoulder with his gun.  He looked over at Rick and Cecilia.  His chin jutted forward and his chest puffed out, as though he was proud of himself.  "See there," he smiled.  "He is of no use to either one of you.  He has betrayed both of you.  He is an idiot and a coward."

 

     Cecilia was openly crying now, not for herself or what she feared was in store for her family, but for her youngest son. For the way Agilar was hurting him.   She was A.J.'s mother.  No matter how old he was, it was her job to protect him from people like Eduardo Agilar if he was unable to protect himself.  Only she couldn't go to him.  She couldn't take him in her arms and offer him love, and comfort, and protection, because Agilar would surely kill him if she tried.

 

     "No, no, no, no."

 

     A.J.'s cries had changed to a babble that sounded like a baby trying out his first words.  "No, no, no, no."  He began to rock his body back and forth like a toddler who's trying to offer himself solace after a particularly trying day.   "No, no, no, no."

 

     Despite the steel cuffs, Rick Simon's hands were clenched in fists.  He didn't attempt to mask the hate and fury in his eyes, or on his face. 

 

     Before this is all over with I'll kill you, Agilar, I swear I'll kill you.  Or I'll die trying.

     And all the while Rick could not block out the heart wrenching sounds that droned on in the background. 

 

     "No, no, no, no."

 

     Agilar kept his gun trained on Rick while keeping a watchful eye on both him and his mother.  Like he had done back at Cecilia's house, the Salvadoran pulled his flip phone out of his pocket and summoned Juan to pick them up at the door.

 

     "No, no, no, no."

 

     Through the arms he was clutching loosely to his head A.J. saw Agilar's attention was riveted on Rick and his mother, and not on himself.

 

     "No, no, no, no."

 

     He quieted his nonsensical babbling so he could hear what Agilar was saying into the phone.

 

     "No, no, no, no."

 

     A.J.'s words grew even softer, while still maintaining the rhythm of an old steam engine chugging up a hill. 

 

     "No, no, no, no."

 

     He saw Agilar's feet cross in front of him.

 

     "No, no, no, no...Nooooo!"

 

     A.J. shouted loud and long in as much of an effort to divert Agilar's attention from his family, as in an effort to let Rick and Cecilia know what he was doing. 

 

     The blond man's body flew out of its crouch.  He launched himself at Agilar's legs.  His grip of steel around the man's knees brought Agilar crashing to the floor.  The Browning landed with a soft 'plunk' in the thick carpeting just out of Agilar's reach. 

 

     Although A.J.'s attention was on the struggling Agilar who was clawing his way to the gun, the blond man commanded his family, "Run damn it run!  Run!"

 

     Cecilia did run, though not with the intention of leaving the house.  She threw the dead bolt in place on the kitchen door, then jammed a chair from the nearby table underneath the knob.  Her methods might not keep Juan out for long, but if nothing else they'd buy time.  She crossed the small room to the phone and punched out 911.  Frantically she said who she was, what address she was at, and what the situation was, making sure she told the dispatcher the assailant was Eduardo Agilar.  While that last bit of information probably meant nothing to the woman on the other end of the phone, Cecilia knew when the first radio calls went out it would mean a great deal to the patrol officers and detectives who heard it.  Cecilia also told the dispatcher to contact Abigail Marsh.

 

     While Cecilia was doing her part to keep her family safe, A.J. was doing his.  He and Agilar rolled and struggled and fought on the floor.  Just as the Salvadoran was about to grab the Browning, Rick kicked it out of his reach.  Despite Agilar's violent attempts to free himself, A.J. maintained his hold on the man while cleanly sweeping up the weapon that slid his way.

 

     A.J. pressed the muzzle to Agilar's temple and yanked the man to his feet by his shirt collar.  He savagely drove the Salvadoran into the wall that was adjacent to the French doors.  The gun was repositioned under Agilar's chin. 

 

     "So you think I'm an idiot, do you, Eduardo?  So you think I'm a fool, is that it?"

 

     A.J.'s eyes never left Agilar's.  For the first time ever he saw fear in the brown orbs.  Now Eduardo Agilar was going to find out what it was like when Andrew Simon was in charge.

 

     "What's the matter, Eduardo," A.J. hissed in the man's face, "cat got your tongue?"  A.J. threw the man's head back against the wall.  It made the same sound a ripe melon makes when being thumped by a persnickety housewife.  "When I tell you to talk, you idiot, you'll talk!"  A.J. roared. "Are you reading me, Eduardo?"

     The man frantically nodded his head.  "Si¢."

     "That's right.  Si′.  When I tell you to say it, you damn well better say it!  And when I tell you to shut your mouth, you damn will better do that too!"

 

     By this time Cecilia was off the phone.  She rounded the snackbar.  "Rick..."

 

     Rick didn't take his eyes from the scene playing out before him between his brother and Agilar.  He shook his head at his mother.  "Stay back, Mom," he ordered quietly without turning around.  "Just stay back."

 

     Cecilia changed tactics.  "A.J...please.  Please."

 

     A.J.'s left forearm rammed itself into Agilar's Adams apple.  "Do you hear that, Eduardo?  Do you hear my mother begging me to spare your life?  Begging me to spare a piece of worthless shit like you for no other reason than because she's a good woman."  A.J. exerted pressure, taking Agilar's air supply to the bare minimum.  "And you would have hurt my mother without blinking an eye. You would have killed her without thinking twice about it.  Well, let me tell you something, Eduardo, no one," A.J. rammed his arm into Agilar's throat again, causing the man to fear his windpipe was about to be crushed.  "No one hurts my mother or threatens to hurt her.  No one!  Do you hear me?"

 

     Because A.J.'s arm was preventing him from speaking, Eduardo was forced to give his head a tight nod.

 

     "Don't nod your head like the stupid fool you are!  Answer me!"

 

     Agilar's, "Si¢," came out in a barely audible croak.  The man's lips were beginning to turn blue from lack of oxygen. 

 

     "A.J.," Rick finally intervened much to his mother's relief.  "That's enough now.  Let him go."

 

     A.J.'s hand returned to its former grip on the man's shirt collar.  "And do you hear that?  That's my brother asking me to allow you to live.  That's the man whose skull you planned to crush in a vice.  I know, Eduardo, because I'm not as dumb as you think.  I never have been.  I remember things.  Lots of things.  As a matter of fact, I remember everything you ever told me, and everything you ever did to me.  And I'm gonna have a helluva lot of fun doing each and every one of those things to you."

 

     A.J. spun the man's body around in a circle, then threw him against the wall once more.  The gun came to rest under Agilar's chin again. 

 

"It's too damn bad I don't have a basement though.  That would make our game even more realistic, now wouldn't it?  But my mother has a basement.  Maybe she'll let me borrow it for oh...let's say about six months time.  I hope it turns out to be as much fun for you as it was for me."

 

     With that every memory A.J. had pertaining to his captivity was slammed to the forefront of his mind.  He grabbed Eduardo Agilar under the chin and began viciously throwing his head back against the wall in an effort to purge the demons that resided within himself. 

 

"Maybe I won't feed you for five or six days and then keep snatching the plate from you when I finally do give you food!"  A.J. shouted.  He was completely oblivious to his mother's pleas and his brother's commands to stop.  "Or maybe I'll make you go without water for days on end, then leave a nice refreshing glass of it just out of your reach.  I bet you'll like that one!  You certainly seemed to enjoy it when you did it to me!  Or maybe I'll stick a needle in your vein and make you wonder what the hell it is I'm giving you!  Make you wonder if you're going to end up an addict, or have any mind left when the day comes I finally let you out of that stinking basement!" 

 

     The back of Agilar's skull was torn open and bleeding now, but the man was still conscious.  Police sirens pierced the quiet of the neighborhood as A.J. finally released him.  Agilar's body slowly slid down the wall. 

 

     "Or maybe I'll let you live," A.J. said quietly.  He stood over Agilar with the Browning hanging loosely at his side.  "Maybe, despite what you did to me and my family, I'll let you live because I'm not like you.  Because my mother raised me to care about people, and not to hurt them."

     As the first police cars pulled into the driveway A.J. sat the gun on the counter top.  He gave Agilar one last glance as he stepped over the man's legs.  Without a word to his family, A.J. opened the French doors and walked out onto the deck.

 

 

Chapter 41

 

Late Saturday Night, December 18th, 1993

    

       

     For the next two hours A.J. Simon's house swarmed with police personnel.  While Abby took A.J.'s statement out on the deck, another detective questioned Cecilia at the kitchen table, while yet another talked to Rick in the living room.  A police photographer was present and taking pictures of the crime scene.  The majority of the remainder of the officers weren't necessary.  Eduardo Agilar had immediately been taken into custody.  His accomplice, Juan, had been about to turn into A.J.'s driveway when he heard the sirens.  He fled in the black Mercedes, but had been detained at the Mexican border where he, too, was taken into custody.  

 

     Abby tried to clear the house of unnecessary personnel on several occasions, but finally gave up her efforts.  The Simons had a lot of friends within the police department, and had grown to be given the same loyalty and respect one cop gives another.  Therefore, when the call went out that Eduardo Agilar was holding the Simon family in A.J.'s home practically every off-duty cop showed up at the scene, aside from the nearby on-duty patrol officers who answered the dispatcher's summons.             

 

     It was close to midnight before things began to wind down.  The photographer had already left, as had the officers who had to return to patrol.  The remainder of the Simons' friends and acquaintances began to leave in groups of two's and three's until Abby was the only one left.  She walked out on the deck to say a final goodbye to A.J., then returned inside to do the same with Rick and Cecilia. As the two women stood talking quietly, Rick made his way outside.

 

     The two porch lights that were mounted on the house above the deck had been turned on at some point after the cops arrived.  A.J. sat quietly at the table bathed in their yellow glow while he looked out over the dark water.

 

     Rick pulled out the chair next to his brother's and sat down.  "Everybody's gone but Abby.  She thinks it would be a good idea for you and me to stay with Mom tonight.  Although she's not anticipating any more trouble, she's gonna have patrol cars watchin' my place, your place, and Mom's place for the next couple of days.  Besides, Mom's pretty shaken up."

 

     For the first time since he'd entered the house that evening A.J. responded to his brother.  He made a little sound that was a cross between a snort and a laugh.  "Mom's a little shaken up?"

     "Yeah," Rick chuckled.  "I hear ya', believe me.  We're all a little shaken up.  So is that okay with you?  That the two of us spend what's left of the night with Mom?"

     "That's okay with me.  But aren't you going to take me back to Bayside?  Eventually Clay will be calling you. I went AWOL, you know."

 

     "I kinda figured that when you walked in the door this evening,"  Rick stated dryly.  "And Clay already did call."

 

     The phone had been in constant use since the police had arrived.  Having remained out on the deck the entire evening meant A.J. hadn't paid any attention to it the various times it rang, and had made no move to answer it.

 

     "Oh," was all A.J. said now. 

 

     "To say he was surprised to hear about our little...adventure tonight, would be an understatement.  I told Clay you'd tell him more about it in a few days."

 

     A.J. cocked an eyebrow at his brother.  "A few days?"

     "Yeah.  Whenever it is you see him again."

 

     "So you're not taking me back?"

     "What would be the point?"  Rick shrugged.  "You'd only bypass the fire alarm and slip out the same emergency exit you got out tonight."

 

     A.J. knew he'd left no evidence of how he escaped behind for Clay to find.  "How do you know that's what I did?"

 

     "Because that's how I woulda' done it if I was so inclined."

 

     Again, all A.J. said was, "Oh."

 

     Rick leaned back in his chair and shifted in his seat until he was sitting sideways on his left hip.  This position allowed him a clear view of his brother's face.  "A.J., where did you plan on going when you left Bayside this evening?"

 

     "Where do you think?"

     "Up to San Francisco.  Back to Malachi and Dominique."

 

     "Yes," A.J. nodded.  "That's where I planned on going."

 

     "Why?"  Rick asked, though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

 

     "To keep you and Mom safe.  To keep the two of you out of Agilar's clutches."  A.J. gave an ironic smile.  "Only I walked right in on what I was trying so hard to avoid."

 

     Rick chuckled quietly.  "Boy, did you ever.  Talk about lousy timing."

 

     "I don't know," A.J. shrugged.  "Maybe it wasn't so lousy after all."

 

     "No," Rick was forced to agree.  "I guess it wasn't so lousy after all, was it?" 

 

     Rick thought back to the way the evening's events unfolded.  In his mind's eye he could see A.J. standing before him and their mother, his complexion a pasty gray, and to all intents and purposes in shock and unaware of what was happening around him.

 

     "A.J., can I ask you something?"

 

     "Sure.  I think by now you've come to learn that if I don't want to answer you, I won't."