He could easily imagine his Mends chained to the wall in some dungeon like room within that monstrosity, but it didn't feel right to him. He had no doubt that there were things within that building that were equally horrific, that he would prefer not to know about or see, but he didn't think Chuck and Danna were there, and for that he was grateful.
Where did he think they were, then?
His gut instinct was that they were gone, that they had left Bonita Vista, either on their own or via some forced evacuation, and though he had no evidence to back him up, he told Jeremy his feeling.
'I've been thinking that, too,' his friend admitted. 'They drove Dylan off, and they might've done the same to Chuck and Danna; although what could have happened between bedtime and morning that would make them just pack their things and go, without telling any of us, is a mystery.
I personally think it's more likely that they were kidnapped or dragged off or somehow forced to leave. But you're right. The association probably wouldn't want to keep them here. Their goal would be to get rid of them.' He paused. 'Get rid of us.' 'Maybe Lupe's right,'
Barry said. 'Maybe you two should go back to California. Before something bad happens to you.'
'I hate the idea of letting them run me off.' Jeremy looked over at him. 'Besides, we came out here to help you.'
But he didn't rule out the possibility.
They walked the rest of the way home in silence, each lost in private thoughts, 'I still think the best way to attack them is with lawsuits,' Jeremy said as they reached the driveway. 'Because even if they win, it's a nuisance. They have to hire a lawyer, have to make the effort to fight the allegations. It takes time and money and resources, and maybe it takes the pressure off the people here a little bit.'
'It might also give us other ideas and help us find some chinks in the armor.'
'That, too.'
They were halfway to the house when Mike pulled up in his pickup. He got out of the truck, leaving the engine running, and handed Barry a large manila envelope. 'I was told to give this to you.' He held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. 'I'm just the messenger here. I
don't know what's in it.'
'Told by whom?' Jeremy asked.
'I'm just the messenger.' He shrugged, gave Barry an apologetic look, and retreated back to his pickup. Maureen and Lupe were coming out of the house, walking down the porch steps, and before anyone could say anything more, Mike drove off without another word.
'What's that?' Maureen asked, walking up.
'I don't know.'
Barry spread open the clasp and opened the envelope's flap, pulling out an eight-by-ten sheet. It was a photograph. A photograph of a dark-skinned man being tortured by unseen assailants. The picture had clearly been taken in Bonita Vista--the sweep of pines leading south to the canyon lands could be seen in the background--and had been taken fairly recently: there was the hood and front end of a new Honda Accord visible on the left half of the photo.
The man was being flayed alive.
Barry stared at the picture in horror. A section of the mans shoulder had been peeled away, and the deep flowing crimson beneath a perfectly square flap of exposed musculature contrasted horribly with the dull darkness of his skin. The man's eyes were wide and crazed, his mouth open in a twisted, agonized scream, and there was blood dripping from his lips.
All of his teeth had been knocked out.
The only signs of the individuals performing this atrocity were two pairs of gloved hands holding the victim's bare arms and the blurrily silhouetted head and shoulders of another man facing away from the camera and holding up an exceptionally long pair of shears.
Barry's salivary glands had stopped working, his mouth was cotton dry.
Both Jeremy and Lupe looked sick.
He turned the picture over. Stamped on the back in red ink was a description of the photo: 'Punishment Administered for Violation of Article IV, Section 8, Paragraph D.'
Lupe started crying.
Jeremy rushed to put his arms around her.
'I'm sorry,' she sobbed. 'It's just... I'm sorry.'
'It's okay,' Maureen reassured her. 'We understand.'
'I guess I'm not as tough as I thought.'
'It's okay,' Jeremy told her. 'Don't worry.' He glanced over at Barry. 'Sorry, dude. The war's won. We're leaving, we're out of here, we're gone. And if you're smart, you'll do the same.'
The Bonita Vista Homeowners' Association Covenants, Conditions, and Restrictions Article IV, General Provisions, Section 8, Paragraph D:
Non-Caucasian individuals, due to their propensity for engaging in crimes against both person and property, are not allowed to reside or stay within the boundaries of Bonita Vista.
Jeremy was good.
He and Lupe had left midmorning, and by early afternoon, he was calling Barry from his cell phone on his way back to California, telling Barry to expect a visit from the FBI. While Lupe drove, he'd been making constant calls, cashing in favors, exploiting contacts, all the time filled with the white-hot rage that had become Barry's second nature and that only the homeowners' association seemed able to elicit. He'd convinced the FBI to investigate not only Dylan's, Chuck's, and Danna's disappearance but also local law enforcement's unwillingness to even look into the situation.
'Now for our ace in the hole.'
Unreasonably, Barry felt a surge of hope and optimism. 'What?' he asked.
'Your boy Kenny Tolkin . He wasn't talking out of his ass, he really was a player. I've learned that there was an article in the Times this morning about how he was A.W.O.L. and quite a few big-name celebrities were worried. He was apparently supposed to meet with Madonna last week but he never showed, something that was totally unlike him. Tom Cruise was stood up on Monday, and there's a quote from Tolkin's L.A.
office where they admit that they haven't heard from him and can't seem to get in touch with him. You have to read this.'
'We get the Times. We still subscribe. It just comes in the mail two days late.'
'Too long to wait. I'll fax it to you as soon as we get back. Suffice it to say that when someone of this stature is missing, no effort is spared to find him. The bigguns'll be coming down on Bonita Vista.
Hard.'
'Good.'
'I'm also going to fax you a questionnaire that I want you to fill out and, if possible, get notarized. What I'm going to do is use it as part of a packet for the law enforcement agencies working onTolkin's case. With your testimony as to probable cause, they should be able to obtain a search warrant for the open lands in Bonita Vista.'
It was not like Jeremy to be so explicit over the phone. His enthusiasm was overriding his usually overcautious phone habits, and this time it was Barry who had to shoulder the paranoia. 'You know this is not a secure line,' he said.
'Shit! You're right, dude. I'm sorry. I just got carried away. I'll fax you the rest of my ideas along with the article. Any news at your end?'
'No.'
'All right then. Expect to hear back from me in a couple of hours.'
There was a pause.
'What is it?' Barry asked.
'It may be nothing, and I don't really want to worry you--'
