The Hunt - Ch. 1 (Love, Again Side Story, Patreon Exclusive)

Author's note:

Hi guys, here I am, as promised, with the first chapter of Billy's story! I'm thinking this side story as a fast-paced adventure, so please, buckle up! I hope you'll like the guy I'm sending Billy's way, too!

Chapter One – A Well-Laid Plan

“Detective Stryker?”

The rookie had to call his name a couple more times to get Robert’s attention. The folders on his desk were ceiling-high, and in the age of information, he still needed to turn toward the paper trail to find information on a guy who, for a less stubborn investigator, could easily appear as if he had never been born.

“What is it?”

He had been at it for sixteen hours straight, and the last high profile case landing on his desk, the kidnapping of a young girl belonging to an influential family, could just be the proverbial last straw. On and off, he had been searching for this mysterious man, as he had appeared as the possible perpetrator in several of the cases he had the unfortunate chance to investigate.

His tie was loose, he needed sleep badly, and he was dying for a cigarette. Too bad he had given up on that habit years ago. He still missed it.

“There is someone here to see you.”

“I’m busy,” Robert replied, without taking his eyes off the document in front of him.

“It’s about the Clark case, he says.”

Robert’s irritation was growing exponentially with each of the words leaving the rookie’s mouth.

“He says? Who is he? He could be a reporter, for all we know. Should I teach you how to do your job?”

It wasn’t fair to take it out on the rookie, who had been nothing but helpful ever since the ordeal of Florence Clark’s disappearance had begun. Robert had never been good at dealing with families in tears, but this particular case struck a chord deep inside the recesses of his soul, where he didn’t usually look for the sake of self-preservation.

Time was of the essence. Every minute now, a ransom call or note, or e-mail, or Twitter post, or who knew what else, had to appear. Robert dreaded but hoped for that moment. Legally speaking, they couldn’t even call it a kidnapping, but the Clarks had been adamant about their daughter having been taken away by a stranger.

A stranger with a modus operandi that resembled the one belonging to the man responsible for a string of unsolved cases, according to a first, second, and umpteenth look at the facts.

“Sorry about that,” he said. The kid wasn’t at fault for his frustration. “Just send him in. If he’s a reporter, I’ll deal with him.”

The rookie stepped out, and a few moments later, someone stepped inside Robert’s office.

Robert raised his eyes from the file and stared at the intruder. The first thing he noticed were the eyes. Not that there was something peculiar about their color since they were ordinary brown. No, it couldn’t be the color or anything in their appearance, but a certain way they looked at him, like their owner's full attention was trained entirely on him.

Robert couldn’t care less about other people’s attention, and therefore, the intrusion was supposed to annoy him. Yet, he found himself staring at the stranger, prey to an uncanny fascination. As much as the man’s eyes offered undivided attention, so they demanded in turn, as well.

“Yes?” he asked in a rough voice. “Rookie, don’t forget to close the door on your way out.”

“Yes, sir,” the rookie replied and hurried to obey the order.

“Billy Jackson,” the stranger said and walked toward Robert’s desk with one extended hand.

The gesture was accompanied by a huge smile, which, again, drew him in by its sheer power. What was with him and his fascination toward this stranger? He took the offered hand and shook it. “Stryker.”

“Detective Robert Stryker,” Billy completed in his stead.

“Thank you for the reminder,” Robert replied wryly.

Billy pointed over his shoulder. “That’s what it says on the door.”

Robert pursed his lips. For some reason, they wanted to curl into a smile. Who was this guy? At a closer look, he was completely average and plain. His hair was light brown and neither straight nor curly, but perfectly trimmed and combed over his head. He had an average build, neither fat nor skinny, and he didn’t appear too muscular or fit. He could be in his late twenties or someone in his thirties looking young for his age. Nothing about him was out of the ordinary.

Still, there was something in how he moved that proved that he was well in charge of his body. Robert leaned back into his chair and examined his visitor. Billy, if that was his real name, was dressed in a grey suit, matched with a grey tie, and a white dress shirt. Robert was sure that his rookie wouldn’t be able to give any particulars of the guy’s appearance if asked for details supposed to help a police artist create a portrait.

“Who are you?” If his intuition was correct, the biggest pain in the butt he could get had just walked through his door.

“Besides Billy Jackson?” The guest wiggled his eyebrows.

Was this guy a comedian or what? Despite the tiredness, Robert still had to stifle another smile threatening to emerge from who knew where. He hadn’t smiled in years, except when socially demanded by circumstances, and never genuinely on all those accounts.

“Let’s say that I don’t care for your other aliases, but it would be professional courtesy to let me know your real name, Agent --”

Billy put his hands up. “Oh, no, no, I’m a freelancer.”

Robert frowned. Was he getting rusty? Billy Jackson didn’t smell of tabloid garbage.

“I was hired by Francis Clark,” Billy explained. “He told me you could use the help.”

Robert groaned and looked at the ceiling. Just what he needed, a concerned father getting mixed up in police business because some relative of his was playing private eye. “Mr. Jackson, you know where the door is. Please, now, I have a lot of work to do,” he added, as he demonstratively opened the folder and pretended to be engrossed in it.

“I have a lead on Mr. X’s whereabouts.”

Mr. X. Such an unassuming nickname for that horrible human being. Robert pondered for a couple of seconds. Francis Clark couldn’t know the police suspected the person hiding behind that alias to be involved with his daughter’s kidnapping. No one in the entire building knew what Robert was looking for.

Except, maybe, for the rookie? That was too far-fetched. The boy had been in and out of his office, bringing him all he needed, but he couldn’t be able to say what Robert was after. The theory about Mr. X being the one to have kidnapped Florence Clark was merely a glint in Robert’s eye, so how the hell did this stranger know about it?

“I understand your confusion,” Billy said in a placating tone.

“I’m not confused,” Robert replied curtly.

“You are probably wondering how I know about Mr. X and his involvement with this case.”

“All right, let’s say I indulge you,” Robert said, closed the folder in front of him, and put his elbows on top of it. “How?”

“You told me.”

Robert blinked a few times, and his eyes thinned. “Now listen here, Mr. Jackson --”

“Billy, please.” He pointed at the folder Robert now guarded with his elbows. “The Santa Clara orphanage. 1972. Am I right?”

Robert was stunned. He could feel a killer migraine gripping his temples. What kind of dark magic was that? The folder was old, before the age when everything was computerized, and the hand that had written on its cover must have belonged to a tortured person as the letters bundled together as if they needed to take a stand against an unseen enemy.

“I prefer to run a cursory examination of any case I take,” Billy explained, but without seeming to gloat over making the detective in charge of the case lose his voice. “The MO is very similar to something I’ve met a few times in my career.”

Robert decided to tread cautiously. “So,” he linked his fingers and stared at his visitor over them, “you just assumed I would infer that this presumptive Mr. X is behind this?”

“You have an outstanding clearance rate, Detective Stryker. I was happy to see you are already ahead in this investigation.”

It was a courteous reply, but one that didn’t aim to flatter. Robert wanted to be upset at this guy who had just walked into his office and shared a hunch with him, but it was a tough task. Billy Jackson was either an incredibly likable person or a skilled sociopath who loved to play with people.

“Am I supposed to just believe you were hired by the Clarks?”

Billy offered the same huge, honest smile from before. “Of course not. You should have been informed of my coming here. I’m as surprised as you that you haven’t been.”

Robert cursed under his breath and searched for his phone under the pile of folders. He had missed calls and a clear message from Francis Clark letting him know, in few words, that he would receive a visitor soon.

“And I must disappoint you by telling you that I cannot be Mr. X. He is a man of considerable height, and while I’m being told that I’m great at disguising myself to fit any job description, making myself short or tall is something I can achieve only within reason.”

Yes, that was one of the few things Robert knew of Mr. X. Apparently, a big fan of basketball in his younger years, he had a professional player's stature. Funny that he knew such details of the scumbag’s life, but not his real name or where he could be hiding at the moment. In other words, he had only useless information in his mental file on the asshole.

Now, the real question was what Billy Jackson knew about the guy, and he didn’t. However, having a private eye as an imposed partner wasn’t something he was willing to accept so easily. After all, he needed Billy to tell him about the lead on Mr. X, and then they could part ways without ever talking again.

***

Billy observed the detective. He could tell the guy was running through his mind the possibility to kick him out the door once he learned of what he knew. That wasn’t something he was willing to live with; Francis Clark was a dignified man, and seeing him in tears over the disappearance of his daughter had made quite a dent in Billy’s confidence in humanity.

Of course, nothing was close to human empathy in Mr. X. Even the fact that he had chosen such a minimalistic nickname, seemingly reducing himself to a single letter of the alphabet, said something about his twisted personality.

The way things stood, the Clarks would be brought to ruin once the ransom dance began. And even if they sold everything they owned and gave the money to the man who had kidnapped their child, there would still be no guarantee that Florence would be returned to them, safe and sound.

Billy had learned a few things about Mr. X throughout his career. He was the kind of animal always motivated by greed exceeding any normal and even abnormal human behavior. Only recently, when Billy had been involved in one of the strangest cases he had had the chance to investigate, Mr. X had milked a billionaire for millions without delivering anything.

It had been by a sensational mix of events that Billy had managed to deliver the billionaire to the police for trying to murder a business competitor. One of the astonishing elements of that case had been a stubborn ghost who had stuck around to protect his lover. Billy had hoped he would be able to catch Mr. X while being mixed with that case, but his luck hadn’t stretched that far.

However, he had made good friends with Rhys, the ghost’s surviving lover, a famous indie musician, and Mason Knight, the bodyguard who had fallen in love with the musician and even married him.

It was because of that case that Billy now had a lead on Mr. X. The moment the scumbag had smelled that his associate slash golden goose was no longer in any position to deliver any payments, he had scurried away.

However, since he had done so in a hurry, he hadn’t been as clinical about covering his tracks as always. That meant that this time, Billy had a chance to catch the bastard.

Therefore, as much as he understood the detective’s position and dislike toward having a partner imposed upon him, and one not in an approved uniform, on top of it all, he had no intentions to let this go.

Detective Stryker struck him as a stubborn man. Billy had read a lot about him, and he knew stubbornness was a crucial trait necessary in that line of duty. His clearance rate was proof of his both natural and educated abilities. For that reason, Billy was happy to team up with him. Two brains would be better than one.

Winning over the detective, however, wouldn’t be an easy job. Robert Stryker was in his late thirties; he had no family and not even a pet. He was a loner, and past tragedies must have made him shy away from being interested in the world around him, as long as it wasn’t related to catching criminals.

It was just too bad, Billy thought. The detective had dark hair with a few silvers in it, and his strong, masculine face must have made many women fall for him over the years. He reminded him of his friend, Mason Knight, only that the detective was slimmer, and the look in his eyes made all the difference.

Billy recognized haunted whenever he saw it. It was just something about the human eye that could harbor and deliver so many emotions. Their eyes had met briefly so far, but it had been enough.

Convincing him that he was an asset for the case would be, for that reason, quite tricky. Billy could make himself liked at the drop of the dime on most occasions, but he preferred if he could like the respective person in turn.

He liked the detective, but he couldn’t yet say that the sentiment was reciprocal. Robert Stryker wasn’t a man easy to fool, and Billy didn’t have any intention to fool him, anyway. But the detective had already surmised, first that he was some agent from a shady agency, and then that he could be even the infamous Mr. X.

Billy would have done the same in his stead. Now, as much as he hated to do that, he needed to find out what made Robert tick and use it so that they could work on the case without any obstacles.

“What’s the lead you were talking about?”

The detective liked to go straight to the point, and Billy appreciated that. “Should we talk about this here?”

Taking Robert out of his office seemed like a good idea. Billy suspected that the guy was in great need of a stiff coffee and a warm meal.

“I’m buried in work, as you see,” Robert said and pointed at the files on his desk.

“Yes, and I won’t keep you long. It is worth it. And forgive me, but I’ll admit that I want to bribe you with coffee and a delicious hotpot. I know this place just around the corner.”

Robert smiled for a split second but immediately schooled his face into a frown. “Do you think it’s not safe to talk here, but a Chinese restaurant will do?”

“I assure you no one will eavesdrop on our conversation.”

Robert took a bleak look at the files.

“And I advise you to put those under lock and key.”

The detective nodded. He ran one hand over his face, already covered with a one-day stubble, and Billy wondered briefly how long Robert had been at it already. His educated guess was anywhere between fourteen and eighteen hours.

“I guess I can take a break.” He stood up and grabbed his suit jacket.

Even haggard as he was now, with his clothes in slight disarray, the detective was still an attractive man. Billy couldn’t imagine why this detail was important, but he had a knack for recognizing the good in people. In this case, the moral fiber went hand in hand with a handsome appearance.

“Let’s go,” the detective said as he put his hand on the door handle.

Billy followed but stopped for a moment to straighten Robert’s tie.

Dark eyes set on him from beneath furrowed eyebrows.

Well, it had been a pretty strange thing to do, dictated by a strange impulse, too. “They might not be tough on the dress code where I’m taking you, but still, I think you would cramp my style walking around like this.”

Ugh, such a lame excuse. Billy didn’t care about analyzing what had motivated him to act that way.

***

With some difficulty, Robert reined the urge to start devouring the various dishes placed in front of him. With only coffee in his system ever since that morning and a sandwich of questionable nutritional value, he was, apparently, way hungrier than he had thought himself to be.

“Dig in, detective,” Billy urged him as he grabbed his chopsticks and smiled.

They sat in what appeared to be an isolated part of the restaurant and not in the main room, so there was no one around them, except the servers who came and went, making as little noise as possible. For a brief moment, Robert wondered if he hadn’t been transported, all of a sudden and by magical means, to Hong Kong, in one of those fictional places made famous by movies as belonging to the Triads and serving as cover for more malicious enterprises.

Nothing appeared to be malicious in the person sharing the meal with him. Billy was obviously enjoying the food, letting out small sounds of delight each time he tried something. Robert couldn’t quite match this image of an average salaryman having a quiet meal at his favorite restaurant with that of a guy supposedly good at catching criminals. Francis Clark wouldn’t have hired him otherwise, that much he knew. Billy Jackson must have come highly recommended.

“Can you please tell me about the lead?” Robert had to keep from letting out the same sounds Billy was making, as his taste buds were regaled with what felt like the best food he had ever had.

“I know where he’s hiding,” Billy said directly.

Robert paused, chopsticks in the air. “And how come you’re not there, busting his ass, and bringing the Clarks their daughter home? It would make my job a lot easier.”

“I didn’t peg you as the type who would pass work that appears too difficult,” Billy replied.

Another bright smile accompanied those words.

“That’s not what I asked.” Billy Jackson was probably a world-class charmer, but Robert was more interested in what he knew about the case than in his pleasant company.

“He’s not an easy man to catch,” Billy said. “As you may well know.”

Robert nodded.

“According to his MO, it is safe to believe that he’s not keeping Florence at his current hiding place.”

“Okay. So, why don’t you just follow him?”

Billy took a break from taking pleasure in the food on the table. “This is a delicate case. No wrong moves are allowed.”

“Please, elaborate, Mr. Jackson. Billy,” he added as another smile and a small head shake warned him to drop the formalities.

“You’re asking why I don’t go by myself after the scumbag.”

“Yes.”

“He would know if there was a guy who suddenly appears, asking questions.”

“So? You think a police descent would work better? I have my doubts.”

“You’re correct, detective.”

Robert was about to tell Billy that he could call him by his given name, too, but managed to stop right in time. Befriending Mr. Clark’s private eye wasn’t part of his plan. “There are tactics the police can employ to get him out of his den.”

No, it would be hell to get that man, and standard procedures didn’t apply.

“And yet, you’re listing them right now, in your mind, and you’re not convinced,” Billy pointed out.

Robert looked away for a moment. As likable as Billy was, he could also be frustrating with his quick wits and the apparent ability to read people’s minds.

“An undercover mission would be required.”

“Exactly.” Billy pointed at him with the chopsticks and smiled slyly. “That’s why I already have a plan.”

Robert pursed his lips. The last thing he needed was to have a guy, no matter how brilliant he appeared to be, be in charge of what was, after all, police business.

“There’s no need for that. I will get the necessary approval from my superiors, and I will set in motion the correct procedures. You only have to tell me everything you know about this location you’re talking about. Of course, I would need something more solid than just words.”

Billy leaned back into his chair and offered another charming smile. “Are you trying to get rid of me, detective?”

“With all due respect, it is the police’s business to find and rescue Florence Clark.”

“It’s mine, as well.”

“You’re just hired help.” Robert stopped, aware of how rude his words had come out.

Billy didn’t appear bothered by his bluntness. He put up one finger. “Qualified hired help.”

Robert wanted to argue more. The warm food had dulled his usual roughness when dealing with strangers, it seemed. “First, we’ll need to check the respective location. It wouldn’t serve to go on a wild goose chase.”

Billy reached inside his suit jacket and placed a couple of photos on the table. Robert stared at his companion for a moment, and then he picked them up. That was the closest to looking at the face of that scumbag’s face he had ever had the chance. The pictures were blurry and must have been taken from a considerable distance, but some gut instinct that hadn’t let him down so far told him he was looking at the infamous Mr. X. The man in the pictures was climbing out from behind the wheel of a black SUV.

“I couldn’t get any closer. That property is tighter than Fort Knox.”

“When were these taken?”

“Three days ago.”

Robert stared at Billy. “Florence Clark was kidnapped three days ago. I’ve only been informed of this case one day ago. So how?”

“I’ve been tailing Mr. X for a while now,” Billy explained. “I also was contacted in regards to Florence Clark only yesterday. So imagine my surprise when I took a closer look at the pics I had finally managed to get of him.”

Robert picked the pictures again and frowned. It took all his training to stop a gasp of surprise. There was someone else in the car. It was only because of the angle of how the pictures were taken that a glimpse of something white appeared partially as the driver’s door stood open.

Florence Clark had worn a white dress on the day of her kidnapping. He ran one hand over his face and looked at Billy.

“I know,” Billy replied to the unasked question. “He moved her to another place. He left shortly after I took these pictures.”

“Don’t you have partners?” Robert asked in frustration. “Someone could have followed him.”

And by now, Florence could have been back home, in her family’s loving arms.

Billy shook his head. “I’m not a very trusting person, detective.”

“You could’ve fooled me, and I assure you there’s no irony in what I’m saying.”

“I wasn’t following Mr. X because it was still in my job description. That day, I was operating, let’s say, out of bounds. So trustworthy companions weren’t available, at the time.”

“Do you mind if I ask you why you were monitoring him?”

“Not at all.” Their eyes met, and Billy held his stare. “Some people are just evil. This one is motivated by money, but there’s no end to his greed. He has hurt a lot of people so far, and he will continue to do so. I want to stop him.”

Unlike the relaxed manner of speech Billy had used so far, the words were said in a determined voice. Robert understood that. “How come you’re not police, or better, Billy?”

Billy shrugged, and the same genuine smile returned on his face. “Not disciplined enough to take the necessary exams.”

“I don’t buy it.”

“No problem. This round’s on me,” Billy joked, dancing around the topic. “So, are you are ready to hear my plan, detective?”

“No,” Robert replied sharply. “It’s police business.”

Billy pondered for a moment. “So, the moment I give you the location, you will go undercover and follow Mr. X, in hope that he will take you to Florence.”

Robert nodded.

“He’s going to smell you’re a cop from miles away. You and the guys you’ll take with you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“How can you be sure he won’t? The moment the police gets in such a remote place as the one he currently calls home, you will be noticed. Are you willing to take the risk?”

***

Billy knew well that his arguments were hanging by a thread. However, he was right, and Mr. X was good at sensing when he was watched with uncanny astuteness. While Robert Stryker could conduct the entire operation and lead it to success, it was a chance he wasn’t willing to take.

“What kind of place is that?” Robert asked.

He was frowning, so it could be a sign that he was considering hearing him out.

“The kind where only vacationers who prefer extreme quiet would go. Go there with your team and you’ll stick out as a sore thumb.”

Robert sighed and pinched his nose. “Why should I trust you?”

Billy went for the kill. “Your captain will summon you shortly. She will tell you that you can. She’ll also send you on a well-deserved vacation to the place I’ll tell you about.”

“I could very well go by myself,” Robert argued.

“And draw immediate suspicions,” Billy said back. “The closest place to Mr. X’s property is a getaway for honeymooners who want to have a good time away from the madding crowd as they start their life together.”

“Honeymooners?” Robert looked stricken. “Should I get a female detective involved, then? And how would you fit in?”

Billy wanted to snap a picture of the detective’s face as he said the next words. “No one else will be involved. We’ll just have to pose as a gay couple in love, just married. Think we can pull that off, detective?” He winked, for good measure.

Robert covered his face after a short moment of consternation. “Oh, God.”

TBC

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