Scavenger

By C. R. Alvarez

Two wealthy men playing their own unimaginable version of a Scavenger Hunt, send Trey Sullivan on a harrowing race across the country to save his own son. Trey's values and belief system are broken as he kidnaps his own victim on his quest. At every stop to get his new clue, the young father faces danger, other opponents, and even death. As the game gets tougher with time running out, Trey doubts he will ever reach his son before he disappears forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781667805320

Book preview

chapter 1

He was six years old. Sean felt his father still treated him like a baby, but finally, he was allowed to jump off the bus and walk the two blocks to his apartment. Flipping a nickel, that he had found, into the air and catching it, he hopped, skipped and jiggled down the street of his complex. A horn beeped behind him, and the boy quickly moved onto the sidewalk where he was supposed to be walking. No good getting dead on the first week of being a big boy, he thought and squared his shoulders with pride.

Running the last thirty yards to his neighbor’s door, he banged on the wood and yelled at the same time. I’m home Mrs. B.

The door opened and a black woman, her hair askew, a baby on her hip, smiled down at Sean. Good boy. You go in and start your homework before your dad gets here.

Sean nodded and went to his door. Lifting the silver chain that held his key from around his neck, he inserted it into the knob. With a push, he entered the quiet apartment and threw off his backpack, watching it skid across the room. The door clicked behind him and he whirled around, staring at a tall, dark-haired man.

WWWho…Whoooo are you? Sean stuttered and backed further into the entryway.

Your father sent me.

No…No he didn’t. He would have told me.

Well, it’s an emergency.

What’s the password then. Sean didn’t like the looks of this man. He had lots of sticky stuff in his hair and his teeth were yellow and pointy. The smell of stale tobacco and alcohol seemed to reach out for the boy as the stranger approached. He stumbled backwards, tripping on the step down into his den and landed hard on his butt.

Well now, aren’t you a smart little shit.

You gotta leave. Get out. Sean could feel tears filling his eyes as he scooted like a crab on sand away from the approaching man.

Not without you.

Sean jerked his head around looking for something to hit the man with, but there was nothing. He scurried backwards with each advancing step the man took until his back was against the wall and he slid upwards. Balling his fists, Sean took the stance his Dad had taught him and raised his chin in defiance.

I ain’t going with you. His voice quivered as he lifted his tight hands like a boxer.

Aren’t you just stupid. The evil man laughed and slowly took out a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. Shaking one out, he touched it to his lips and then flicked a lighter open that had magically appeared in his hand.

You can’t smoke in here.

Your daddy tell you that too?

Yeah it stinks. And you stink. Sean said with defiance in his voice.

This made the stranger chuckle again as he sucked on the lit cigarette. He exhaled right into the air the boy was breathing, and Sean swiped at his face as the smoke burned his eyes. In that second, when the boy was distracted, the man grabbed his two thin arms and yanked him off his feet.

Sean screamed and struggled, kicking out his feet trying to catch the man in his groin where his father had also taught him to hit. The boy could not reach the stranger and hung in midair like a rag doll.

What do you want? Sean whispered, the tears starting to run down his cheeks.

I’m not going to hurt you boy, but you are coming with me. The fetid breath whispered in his ear.

Sean lashed out with his feet a few more times to no avail and then hung limp, crying openly. The man puffed on his cigarette a few times and slowly lowered the child to the ground. As soon as the boy’s feet touched the grey carpet, he tried to take off. The reeking stranger was ready. His whipcord arm snagged the child around the waist, and he hoisted him up under his arm like a half-filled gunnysack. Sean struggled a second longer and then sagged.

Taking a cloth from his shirt pocket, the man pushed it against the boy’s mouth and nose. A nauseating, sweet smell filled Sean’s nostrils and he writhed with panic as the odor closed his eyes, darkened his senses and sent him into unconsciousness.

The thin man adjusted the limp child to a position with his head on his shoulder and moved to the front door. Taking out a single sheet of paper from his pant’s pocket, he flipped it open with one hand, pulled the adhesive covering off the back and stuck it to the wooden door. Making sure it was secure, he juggled the boy one last time and then left the apartment.

Without pausing or even checking his surroundings, he moved purposefully to his Lexus, touched the back trunk and it swished open. He lowered the boy into the deep well and quickly pushed the button, the lid slowly coming down and clicking closed. Now, the dark-haired man looked around. He sucked on his cigarette another deep breath and watched his surroundings like a feral cat waiting on a mouse to come from its home. There was no one around. It was a cold, November day. It was too early for workers to be finished with their day and late enough for school children to be doing homework before playing. All was quiet.

He stood for a long moment taking the last drags on his cigarette before squishing it like a bug beneath his heavy boot. Then, he slid behind the wheel and pulled the door closed. For a moment longer he waited, listening and scanning for an alert that might come from his kidnapping. All was silent. The game had started.

chapter 2

Trey Sullivan lay his head on the steering wheel of his ten-year-old truck and drew in a deep breath. Holding it for a long second, he exhaled and closed his eyes with exhaustion. Friday night and he was not going to a bar, not going out to eat, not going on a date. His life was work and raising his son. It was a decision he made six years earlier when his boy was born. Trey had been sixteen at the time.

His parents had helped him when Sean was an infant and until Trey had graduated from high school. Then, they had set him up in an apartment, helped him get a construction job as a framer and told him good luck. It was what they had promised him they would do when he made the decision to keep his son. His girlfriend wanted to put Sean up for adoption at birth, but Trey could not have lived with that. It was his son.

So now, he needed to raise above his tiredness and make dinner, select a movie for Friday night and then collapse into bed. Luckily, the weather had been good this fall and the housing development was not too far off their completion deadline, so he had the weekend off.

Sean was full of energy and would want to go hiking or biking tomorrow. Sunday they always spent at his parents. They loved their grandson, and it gave Trey a day to relax, watch sports, eat a home-cooked dinner and get their laundry done.

Some days, he missed the social life, the bars and dating. But his decision to raise Sean had never altered. His son shaped his life and Trey never wanted anything different. Just some days were longer and harder than others. This Friday night, he was tired.

Slowly, he pushed open the car door, grabbed his wallet, keys and phone and headed toward the apartment. After working hard for the last three years, he had hoped his savings would show a little more cash. He really wished he could save enough to buy a house with at least a small yard for Sean, but everything just got more expensive. Trey just needed to be patient a while longer. It was not like they were living in a tenement. The apartment complex in Toms River, New Jersey, was well-maintained and did have a community swimming pool and small park area for playing catch or throwing around the football. It always felt like a waste to throw money away each month on rent.

He pushed the key in the door, but paused as the doorknob turned without resistance. Sean had forgotten to lock the door when he had returned from school. Trey sighed in exasperation and readied for his lecture about safety he would once again have to give his boy. Parenthood was hard, repetitive and exhausting, but then he smiled because he just wouldn’t have ever changed his decision. He would have to determine what chore Sean would need to do to punish him for leaving the door unlocked. Probably clean the toilet, Trey chuckled with that thought. If nothing else, Sean wouldn’t want to do that and might remember the next time to lock the front door.

Sean? He shouted as he entered the dark apartment. A frown creased his forehead as silence greeted his call. There were no lights on, no television blaring, no dirty plate in the sink. The tiny hairs along the back of his neck rose in a heightened state as he entered the apartment further.

Sean? Where are you? A fear curled like a wisp of smoke around his throat and he quickly started his search.

He tripped over the backpack on the floor and picked it up, unzipping it to glance at the school books and worksheets left untouched inside the bag. Laying it on the table, he moved into the den, flicked his eyes around and saw nothing out of place.

Sean? If you’re playing hide and seek, I’m giving up already. I’m too tired for this game right now.

There was no answer. No giggle from a dark closet. Trey’s stomach churned with foreboding distress, making him swallow back the nausea that was rising like a flood against a low wall. He stuck his head into the bathroom, then entered both bedrooms, bending down to look under the beds, throwing open the closet and pushing apart the clothing. His son was not in the apartment. Where was he? What the hell had happened?

Trey edged back to the kitchen and turned in a slow circle to see if anything was amiss. It was then he saw the paper on his front door. With feet made of clay he stepped toward it and peeled it from the wood.

Good evening Mr. Sullivan,

Your son is safe. This is an invitation to join us at 8:00 pm at 1378 Cabernet Ct, Toms River. Please dress for a formal occasion. It is not wise to include anyone else in this meeting. Again, your son’s welfare depends on it.

Sincerely,

Clayton Williams, III

Trey’s legs gave way, and he sank down on a kitchen chair, the paper

crinkling in his hands. Rereading the simple paragraph, he gasped for air and touched the writing as if it would change. He pulled his phone from his pocket and touched 9, 1, and then paused. If he called the cops, would this man kill his son? The letter forbade it. Flipping to his internet, he typed in the name, Clayton Williams, III and was awed by the numerous websites for the name. Wikipedia even had information on this man.

Scrolling down, he touched the website and started reading. After five minutes, Trey lay his phone gently on the table and stared through the kitchen window into the black night. The man was a billionaire; his wealth was old money. His great grandfather had succeeded in construction in New York City, then invested in several pharmaceutical companies and finally bought out one of the largest. The money had flooded the family as this single company had touted the first medicines for AIDS. From there, the family had continued to prosper, accumulate wealth and squash anyone who dared to stop an acquisition. From his reading, Clayton Williams had not added to the family wealth but had reaped all the benefits. Now, this man had his son.

chapter 3

A long time passed as Trey sat in the dark. Worry and fear wiggled in his gut like a nest of poisonous snakes. Every time he tried to move, one of the imaginary snakes would bite him and he would gasp as if he really had been struck. Terror snapped and froze him in the chair. This man had his son. The repetition of this thought bit and chomped him into small pieces of fear and incredibility. Why would he target Sean? Why had he kidnapped his child? What could he do? Who should he call?

Finally, Trey snapped out of it and, where fear had been, anger exploded into his blood. He slammed his fist onto the table, the pain radiated up his arm and awakened him from his frozen state. Standing up with such violence, the chair went flying across the floor, he grabbed the edge of the table and flung it into the counter, screaming with the agony of his impotence. Someone had taken his son. How dare this man. He would kill him. He would get Sean back. So help all that stood in his way. This was his child!

Trey shuddered one last time and then took a gulping breath of air. He crumpled the paper and stuffed it in his pocket . This man messed with the wrong parent. Screw your wealth, your untouchability, your high and mighty attitude. Trey would get Sean back and never think twice what he did to this monster.

Bending to pick up his phone, he flicked the screen to light it and saw it was already seven o’clock. Formal attire was what the letter said. He laughed with bitterness and anger as he glanced at the dusty jeans and tee shirt he wore from the construction site. This is how he would enter this man’s house. He would show Clayton Williams what he thought of his requests and strength. This rich man had stolen from the wrong guy.

Trey pulled his keys from his pocket and left his apartment, never bothering to close the door. Hopefully, one of his neighbors would be alerted to this anomaly and call the cops. He would not call them, but Trey was sure help would come his way. Hitching his lean body into the cab of his truck, he put the Cabernet address into his phone and waited for Google maps to give him directions. It was less than a ten-minute drive from his humble apartment to a mansion off Old Freehold Road. In that eight miles, two very different worlds were going to collide and Trey was ready for this fight.

He sat for a moment more and glancing up to gaze at the hard grey eyes that stared back at him from his rearview mirror. There was still a hint of fear in them, and he took his hand and wiped it across his face as if cleaning that terror away with a washcloth. His eyes glinted back, hatred replacing any anxiety he had been feeling. He was getting his son back.

Trey drove without thought. His mind wandered back to the memories of times with Sean. The nights without sleep, the first tumbling steps, the first words; all fresh in his mind as if yesterday. Trey never regretted his decision to become a father and the love he felt toward his boy was beyond words. It bubbled up in his throat now and brought hard tears to his eyes. Suffocating love made him swallow hard and gasp as if he was choking. I’m coming Sean, Trey thought with intensity.

I’m coming, son. He whispered out loud, gripping the steering wheel hard as he made the last turn into a fairy tale development.

The houses grew larger as he drove down the tree-shrouded street. Spires like castle turrets sprang from the roof of one mansion, followed by a brick-faced colonial with not two floors, but three, across a half acre of manicured grass.

The voice in his phone told him his destination was 100 yards ahead. He pulled to the side of the road and turned off his truck. Reaching up to the light on the roof, he clicked it off and opened his door. Sliding from the cab, he gently pulled his door closed without letting it make any sound. Trey stood for a long minute and turned his head in all directions to check his surroundings. Crickets chirped, a distant dog barked, a faint motor of a car whined, but that was it.

He walked forward, staying in the shade of the trees, away from the streetlights. As he approached the driveway, he saw it was fenced in. Large brick columns held a high, metal gate with a small voice box extending from the driver’s-side column. Trey kept walking. The red-brick wall extended beyond the columns, all the way along the sidewalk for at least another seventy-five yards. Then the wall turned the corner of the property and continued as deep as he could see in the dark. Turning around, he quickly walked back toward his truck.

Sliding into the vehicle, he sat for a long time in the dark. His choices were limited. He would have to enter through the driveway. There was no element of surprise and no way to get an upper hand. The options were not to his advantage. Sliding the key into the ignition, he sighed with defeat and then started his truck.

Pulling away from the curb, he thought one last time of ramming the gates, but then felt it was not going to help his cause to get Sean back safely. He lowered his window, rolled up to the gate and pushed the intercom button

Mr. Sullivan to see Mr. Williams. His voice cracked with the anxiety that squiggled in his stomach.

No vocal response came, just the clicking of the gates as they laboriously opened, as if they were there just to antagonize him. Finally, they were far enough apart. He gunned his engine and flew into the unknown. The driveway was paved with a red, wavy design of lines and circles and shadowed by huge trees, bare of their leaves. After at least one hundred yards, the lane arched around a large water fountain, and Trey pulled to a stop on the far side of the white marble stairway that elegantly ran to the front of a huge white-columned entranceway.

Pulling in one last bracing breath, Trey got out of his truck and slammed his door with all the force of his anger. He jogged up the stairs and then just stood before the door. This man knew he was here. He would wait for them to bade him entrance.

A minute passed, then another. Trey waited. He didn’t fidget, didn’t fix his light brown hair, didn’t tuck in his dirty t-shirt. Standing tall at his six-foot two frame, he simply waited.

Finally, after more than four minutes, the door opened and a slim woman in a black dress offered him entrance. Trey stepped into a cavernous hallway, lit brightly by a crystal chandelier overpowering the tall ceiling. The walls were void of pictures, the floor a checkerbox black and white like the old saddle shoes from the 1950’s. He waited as the woman sniffed her disdain at his disheveled appearance.

I will get you appropriate clothing for the evening.

Trey almost laughed at this absurd comment. He turned and stared hard at the slight woman, with perfectly coiffed black hair and makeup.

I’m not here for an evening. He snipped tightly. Just take me to your boss so we can clear a few things up and then I’ll get the fuck out of here.

The woman did not appear fazed by his biting words. She merely turned around and walked away. Trey watched her retreating back and stayed exactly where he had entered. This was a game of wits he decided, and he would play it as long as his son was the prize at the end. Again, he simply waited. This time the minutes crept by at a snail’s pace and he wondered if the household had forgotten he was even present.

Finally, the woman returned. Over her left arm was draped a black suit and behind her stood two very large men. Their attire, black suits with an addition of bulges beneath their jackets, acknowledged that they were hired muscle. Trey thought he had fallen into some mobster movie and then shook his head at the insanity of the whole situation.

These men will escort you to a powder room to help you change your clothes.

Fuck you. Trey spit and narrowed his grey eyes as the men approached him.

The fist in his gut came before he even realized the men were close enough to hit him. He doubled over as the air gushed from his mouth and nose. Two beefy hands grabbed his upper arms and dragged him forward. Just as he gathered his feet beneath him he was bodily thrown into a room and the door slammed behind him.

Trey slowly regained his strength and stood back up, his right hand rubbing his abdominal muscles where the punch had caught him. The black suit lay on the floor at his feet and he realized his only choice to get answers was to change his clothes. The absurdness of it all was not lost on him as he pulled his t-shirt over his head.

I’m trying to get to you Sean. He whispered as he started buttoning the white-collared shirt. So many emotions were swirling through him like a kaleidoscope picture dancing before him. He