The Detective's Apprentice

Chapter 1-2

The weather was getting worse as Derek inched his way down the increasingly snow-packed streets. Only an i***t would be out in this. Which would be me, I guess. I should have put off my surveillance after I heard the weather report. Hell, that punk and his friend should have postponed stealing from Mr. Edwards again, but they didn’t.

“You do this a lot?” Joe asked, breaking into Derek’s thoughts.

“What? Staking out a place? When I’m hired to, although…” Derek shook his head. “I try not to do it in a blizzard if I can help it.”

“No. I mean helping guys like me. Giving them a place to stay.”

“Nope. You’re the first one. Mostly I’ll toss a dollar or two in their cup or hat if they look legit. That’s it.”

“Then why me? And don’t say your civic duty because of the weather. That won’t wash.”

Derek sent him an amused look. “Even if it’s the truth?” He slowed down again to make the turn off the main thoroughfare onto the side street that would take him to his house. If I don’t end up sliding into the curb first.

“Is it?” Joe asked. He was leaning forward, obviously trying to soak up the warmth coming from the car’s heater. A definite odor emanated from him—wet clothing that hadn’t been washed anytime recently, body odor, slightly sour breath when he spoke. Something in Derek’s expression must have telegraphed his thoughts, because Joe pulled back into the corner of the seat with a muttered, “Yeah, I don’t smell like a rose.”

“Didn’t expect you to,” Derek replied. “To answer your question, you remind me of someone I couldn’t help. He had the same dark hair, soulful blue eyes, and scrawny build.”

“Scrawny? If he lived on the streets that’s pretty much a given.”

“He did, at the end.”

“A friend?”

“Brother, and let’s drop it, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Derek nodded while he poured every bit of his attention into driving at that point, as the street was almost impassable. If his car hadn’t been an Outback with four-wheel drive they’d have been stranded soon after he made the last turn.

Finally he saw his house, looking dark and lonely in the dim light from the streetlight on the corner of the block. He pulled into the driveway, hit the remote to open the garage door, and took the last few feet at a snail’s pace.

“Home sweet home,” Derek said when the door came down behind them.

“You live in your garage?” Joe asked with a weak smile.

“Thankfully, no. It might be heated, but it lacks certain amenities, like furniture.” Shutting the car off, Derek got out. When Joe didn’t move, he said, “You coming?”

“I thought I was crashing here.” Joe waved a hand to encompass the garage.

“I reconsidered. Don’t argue. I wouldn’t make my dog sleep out here tonight.”

As Joe slid out of the car he said, “You’ve got a dog?” He didn’t look too happy about that.

“Yep. Sherwat. Big old mutt that I rescued from the pound. Part Golden Retriever, part Shepherd, part who knows what. Friendly as can be unless I tell him otherwise.”

“Sher what?”

Derek chuckled as he unlocked the door to let them into the kitchen. “Sherwat. It’s a combo of Sherlock, as in Holmes, and Watson, his sidekick.”

There was a skittering of claws on the linoleum of the kitchen floor as Sherwat dashed in from the living room. He came to an abrupt stop when he saw Joe, c*****g his head before looking at Derek.

“He’s a friend, be nice,” Derek said. “Joe, hold out your hand.”

With obvious reluctance, Joe did. The dog approached, sniffed, and then licked it.

“Well, one part of me’s clean, now,” Joe wisecracked as he pulled his hand back.

“Put you gear over there,” Derek said, pointing to a corner of the kitchen next to the fridge. “Then I’ll show you where you can shower.”

“Uh…You don’t have to do that,” Joe replied, putting his things where Derek had said.

“If you’re going to spend the night, I’d rather not have to smell you, to put it succinctly. Come on. Oh, do you have anything clean in your pack.”

Joe stared down at the floor, shaking his head.

“Okay. Let’s start with laundry, then the shower. Get your stuff and follow me.”

Derek opened the door to the garage first. Sherwat dashed out, and through the dog-door in the rear of the garage. Then Derek led the way down to the basement after turning on the light. “Dump everything in the washer except your sleeping bag.” When Joe did, Derek resisted commenting at how few clothes there were. “Wait here. I’ll get a pair of my sweats so you can wash what you’re wearing, too.”

When he returned he found Joe standing barefooted in only his jeans. He handed him the sweats then turned around to give him a modicum of privacy to put them on. He heard rustling, then the sound of the washer door closing. Turning to look, he saw Joe reaching for a bottle of detergent. The young man frowned while he tried to figure out where to pour it. Derek opened the drawer on the front of the washer, telling him a capful would be enough. “And the same with the softener,” he added.

Joe followed his directions and stabbed the button to start the machine. Then Derek took him back up to the first floor and the small guest bedroom off the living room. “The shower’s in here.” He opened the door to the bathroom. “Take your time. Your clothes won’t be ready for an hour between washing and drying.”

Derek had the feeling Joe was overwhelmed by everything from the way he meekly nodded before going into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

If a stranger had done this for Jace would it have made a difference? Would he still be alive? Probably not. He was too far gone by the time he ended up on the streets.

Pushing thoughts of his brother to the back of his mind, as much as possible, Derek went into the kitchen to let Sherwat in again, and after drying him off, began to fix a late night meal for Joe. He’d eat with him, since he didn’t want the young man to feel any more uncomfortable than he did already.

The washer dinged to say it was finished at the same time Joe appeared in the kitchen. Without a word, he hurried down to the basement, presumably to put his clothes in the dryer. A few minutes later he was back. By then, Derek had supper, burgers and fries, on plates which he took into the dining room.

“Have a seat,” he said when Joe stood hesitantly in the doorway. The young man did, and began to eat. From the way he went through his first burger, Derek wondered how long it had been since he’d eaten.

As if reading Derek’s mind, Joe said, “I’m not really a pig, but the last thing I ate was half of a breakfast burrito someone threw away this morning.”

“I pretty much figured it had been a while.” Since he’d already finished his burger, Derek leaned back, sipping his coffee as he watched Joe slow down his eating, seemingly wanting to taste his food now that his initial hunger was partially sated. “You don’t have to answer, but how did you end up on the streets?”

Joe shrugged and swallowed before replying, “Family problems. Or, I guess, my problems with my family. My folks were, are good people. They just didn’t understand that I wasn’t my brothers. I did okay in school, mostly, but it wasn’t my thing. Neither were sports.”

“What was your thing, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Acting, and I was pretty damned good at it,” Joe replied with a bit of pride in his voice.

“Nothing you’ve said explains why you’re homeless.”

Joe took time to finish his burger. From his expression he was debating how to answer—or if he would. Derek had decided not to push it when Joe said, his words rushed together as if he needed to get them out now or he never would, “This happened at the end of my junior year. I’d starred in a school show and this man was in the audience, or so he claimed. He came backstage afterwards to talk to me. He said I was good enough that he thought he could get me a job with a film company he worked for. Because my folks weren’t there, they’d seen the show Thursday night, he took me out for something to eat while he explained that it was a new company and they were looking for young guys like me for a picture they were producing. Something along the lines of Mockingbird. I was excited, of course, and told my folks later that night.” He grimaced. “They told me in no uncertain terms it wasn’t happening. They said I was too young. That I still had a year to go before I graduated and there was no way they’d give their permission, presuming the guy was legitimate to begin with.”

Derek frowned. “He wasn’t, I suspect.”

“No, but I didn’t find out until too late. I’d given him my number and he called the next afternoon. I told him what my folks had said and he…it was Saturday, so he suggested I meet him and he’d show me the studio and all that, and then if I wanted, he’d let my folks see it, too, once I knew it was for real.”

Derek had a strong premonition that he knew what came next but didn’t state it out loud, letting Joe finish his story his way, instead.

“I knew I was being pigheaded because I didn’t like my folks trying to keep me from doing what I wanted—which was taking a chance to become a real actor,” Joe continued, his words less rushed. “I told my mom I was going to a movie with some friends and then met him at the same place he’d taken me to eat after the show. He said the studio was on the west side, which was across town from where I lived.” Joe paused before adding. “It wasn’t here. I didn’t live here. I grew up on the east coast. Anyway, we drove to this big building that looked like a warehouse. When we got inside, he took me into one part of it where there were cameras and lights and…everything. It looked real, like a movie set of a bedroom, even though no one was there filming. Then he said he wanted me to meet the director. We went upstairs to an office. The man wasn’t there so the guy asked if I wanted a cola while we waited. He got me one. I was nervous, so I gulped down half of it.” Joe’s mouth tightened and his hands clenched. “That’s the last thing I remember until I woke up naked, tied to a bed with…with a…a creep f*****g me so hard I wished I’d die. It…it was in the same studio the guy showed me when we first got to the warehouse.” His voice petered out and his eyes teared up. He wiped the tears away before burying his face in his hands.

“Take a deep breath,” Derek said quietly. “You don’t have to tell me anything more if you don’t want to.”

Joe did as he said, breathing in and out until he calmed down enough to say, “There’s not much more to tell. They kept me drugged most of the time for the first few days, except when they were making those movies. Porn of course, if you didn’t figure it out already. If I gave them any trouble they threatened to send a couple of the videos to my folks. About a week later, I guess, they moved me to a different city and it started all over again.”

Derek nodded. “Your basic human trafficking, only they weren’t selling your body to some pervert. They were using it to make their films.”

“Yeah. After a while they must have thought they had me so afraid of them that they didn’t have to drug me, although they did keep me locked in a room at the new studio when I wasn’t working. I was scared, but I was angry, too. I tried to get away. That didn’t go so well. They found me, brought me back, and did as they’d threatened. They sent a couple of the films to my family.”

“You’re sure?”

“Oh, yeah. They made me call my dad a couple of days later. I tried to explain, but he wouldn’t listen. He called me all kinds of names; a pervert, a fag, and said I got what I deserved for running away to become a porn star in queer movies. He ranted until I finally hung up when he said if I tried to come home again, he’d slam the door ‘in my c**k-sucking face’.”

“You did get away, though,” Derek said.

“You think? Yeah. I took a chance, again, and that time it worked. I met a kid who showed me how to hide so no one would find me. He thought I’d run away because my parents were abusive. Well, that’s what I told him, anyway. I learned how to survive and I earned some money…umm…using what I’d learned from…well, you know. The c**k sucking part. Anyway, I got out of town, hitched until I was far enough away that I figured I was safe. Ended up here right before winter hit. Just so you know, I work when I can, day labor, but there’s too many guys and not enough jobs, so…” Joe jumped suddenly, looking down, and said, “Damn, dog, you startled me.”

Derek smiled when he saw Sherwat had laid his head on Joe’s lap. “He’s good at picking up on emotions,” he explained. “He could tell you’re hurting and he’s letting you know he’s there for you.”

Joe stroked Sherwat’s head, yawning as he did.

“You should get to bed,” Derek suggested. When Joe nodded, stood, and began collecting the dirty plates, Derek told him to leave them; that he’d take care of them. “Go get some sleep. We’ll figure out what to do about you in the morning.”

From the look on his face, Joe didn’t like what he’d said, or at least how he’d phrased it. “You don’t have to do anything about me,” he said sharply. “I’ll leave as soon as I wake up.”

“Your choice,” Derek replied, although he didn’t think that would happen, if for no other reason than the fact that the snow was still coming down heavily from what he could see out of the dining room window. He smiled when Sherwat followed Joe into the bedroom. Stay with him until he’s asleep, pup.

Derek did the dishes and then got Joe’s clothes from the dryer, folding them before taking them into the bedroom to put on the dresser. He wasn’t the least surprised to see Sherwat lying on top of the comforter at the foot of the bed. The dog looked up at him but didn’t move. Softly closing the door, Derek headed upstairs to bed.