Kevin was lying in his hotel room a plate of cold chicken on a tray by his side a bottle of warm beer in his hand as the t.v. played low in the background.
He’d spent the better part of the day with Howie’s family recanvassing the area around the crime scene looking for clues to Howie’s whereabouts. The police had given up on the area days before but Howie’s mother had been having strong premonitions that Howie had been in the area so they continued to search.
Kevin had returned to the hotel late and exhausted from the long day so he was half asleep when the anchor broke in with the news……
“And now with an update on the ever evolving saga of the Backstreet Shootings is our own Dan Fortis.”
Thank you Carl. I’m here live at a local area hospital where Backstreet Boy Nick Carter has been lying in a coma since the violent shootings seven days ago leaving fellow bandmate Brian Littrell dead and Howie Dorough missing.”
Family, friends and fans have been showing loyal support for Carter with their round the clock vigils both in Florida and here at this Los Angeles hospital in hopes that he would awaken from the coma that has silenced him for a week….”
Kevin rolled his eyes, swirling the beer around in the bottle.
“Well, it appears Carl that those efforts have paid off. Moments ago it was reported that Nick Carter awakened from his coma and while we have no info on his condition hopefully he will be ready, willing and able to assist the police in their efforts to find fellow Backstreeter Howie Dorough, as well as to clear up any questions the police may have of whether or not career criminal Gus Monroe was the only shooter involved.”
“Whatever the case Carl, there is going to be more to this story then meets the eye. But for now it seems that indeed…Backstreet’s Back.”
“Jesus.” Kevin said sarcastically at the stupid Backstreet reference as he reached for the remote instantly zapping the annoying reporter away a click of the button.
The phone on the nightstand began to ring.
Shit. He knew it was going to be A.J., or Kristin, or Leighanne, or any number of people who assumed he would care that Nick was back in the land of the living. Reaching over he plucked the phone off of the cradle and slammed it back down. Then picking up the phone again he called the front desk.
“Yes this is Kevin Richardson in room 401. Please hold all of my calls.”
* * *
Nick tried to still his trembling body beneath the pale blue sheet as he glanced nervously around the sterile blandness of the room a slight scowl on his face.
Between the machines, IV poles and generic pictures on the wall he was pretty sure that he was in the hospital but why exactly he was there he couldn’t really say.
“What’s….going on?” When he spoke his voice was unusually slow and hoarse. “Can someone…. please talk to me.”
Nobody would look him in the eye.
Nobody would speak to him.
It was like being in some freaky ass episode of The Twilight Zone, as doctors and nurses moved quickly around him. Speaking to one another in hushed tones as they checked vitals twirled the knobs on the monitors and tapped at his veins before sliding needle after needle into his flesh.
Swallowing hard Nick looked to his left his mother’s face suddenly appearing in the door window. And he could tell from the worried look in her eyes that something was desperately wrong.
Holding still Nick tried to stop the room from spinning as his heart beat furiously in his chest. Pulling on the shirtsleeve of the nearest nurse again he spoke.
“I… need to know…what’s going on?” The nurse standing beside him going over the detailed notes on his chart leaned down and whispered in his ear.
“Please don’t say anything Mr. Carter until the police arrive.” Nick twitched and then froze.
Police?
* * *
Sergeant Cox made his way down the hospital corridor; Detectives Mason and Jones close on his heels. He flashed his clearance badge at the front desk continuing down the hall towards Nick Carter’s room.
He immediately spotted Nick’s mother Jane Carter standing outside of the door to her son’s room, hands on her hips as she peered impatiently through the small glass window.
At the sound of Sergeant Cox’s footsteps Jane Carter turned a most unpleasant look on her well-worn face.
“What in the hell is going on?” She spat completely oblivious to her younger son Aaron standing beside her tears rolling down his face.
“I would like to go in there and see my son but they,” she pointed to the two-armed guards standing on either side of the door. “Say I can’t see him. And do you know why they said I couldn’t see him? Because they said they are acting on direct orders given by you Sergeant Cox.” She lunged forward shoving Cox in the chest.
“Mom.” Aaron reached a hand out trying to pull his Mom back but she merely shrugged him off.
“Stay out of this Aaron, it doesn’t concern you.” She shouted pushing at her wild mop of bleach blonde hair.
“Mrs. Carter.” Sergeant Cox waved off the two guards who had stepped forward in anticipation of having to restrain the irate woman. “Our main concern right now is for the quick recovery of your son as well as the for the safe return of Howie Dorough. We feel that Nick will be able to give us vital information to let us know if we are on the right track with the investigation into the shootings and Mr. Dorough's disappearance.” Jane Carter turned away from Sergeant Cox dramatically huffing out air in disgust as she peered back through the window at Nick.
“I don’t see what me seeing my son has to do with any of that.”
“Your son has been through a traumatic experience Mrs. Carter, surviving an ordeal that left another young man dead.” Jane stiffened at the mention of Brian Littrell’s death. “We feel that it is important for us to be the first people to speak with Nick so that we can question him about what he remembers. We would like to get as much information as we can from him before it is tainted by conversations he may have with family, friends or the media.”
“You mean you want to grill him before he can even get his bearings, before he has a chance to breathe.” She glared over her shoulder at Sergeant Cox and the two Detectives.
“Whatever it takes to solve this case Mrs. Carter.”
Aaron leaned back against the wall pushing his long blonde bangs from his eyes as the tears continued to slide openly down his face.
“Son,” Sergeant Cox turned his attention to the young man, ignoring the obvious glare from Jane Carter. “The nurse who called us said that you were with your brother when he was coming out of his coma?” Aaron nodded.
“The Detectives are gong to wait here with your mom while the doctor’s finish checking Nick over. I was wondering if in the meantime if I could have a word with you?” Sergeant Cox folded his arms across his chest with a warm fatherly smile.
“Yeah….okay.” Aaron said pushing off of the wall. But before he could take a step Jane Carter’s arm flew out blocking Aaron’s path.
“My boys will speak to you and your Detectives Sergeant Cox….but not without their lawyer.”
* * *
Mo walked from the bowling alley, moving slow so as not to draw too much attention to himself as he made his way down the street towards the abandoned house, stopping on the way at a little fast food shack to pick up a greasy cheeseburger and fries for Howie.
Once back at the house he climbed through the hole in he barbed wire fence, picking his way through the overgrown brush to the back window that had been long ago smashed out. Pulling himself through the window, the bag of food in his hands he made his way around the rotted floorboards to the front entryway.
The closer he got to the stairs the louder the pounding became from the upstairs closet where Howie was stashed. Walking upstairs with a smile Mo went into the bedroom and pulled open the closet door, Howie’s legs tumbling out still bound tightly just the way Mo had left him.
Leaning down Mo set down the bag of food rolling Howie over onto his stomach before dragging him out into the middle of the room.
“I have some good news Howard.” He said ripping the electrical tape from Howie’s face before plucking out the rag that was stuffed in his mouth. “We’re almost done here my friend, our time together is coming to an end.”
“What do you mean?” Howie asked coughing into his hand as Mo unwrapped the foul smelling burger pushing it towards Howie’s face.
“Your friend Nick is finally awake.”
* * *
Nick watched silently as the doctors and nurses filed from the room one right after another like tin soldiers in a line the last one out closing the door tightly behind them. He waited a single beat before trying to sit forward, wincing at the tight pull around his stomach as he lunged forward in an attempt to snag the chart from the hook on the foot of the bed.
Grazing his fingertips off of the clipboard he lengthened his body again trying to grip his fingers around the chart when the door to the room pushed open. Sitting back Nick watched his lawyer Mr. Talbot enter the room followed by three official looking men, one of whom was wearing the much maligned uniform of the LAPD.
“Hello Nick, I’m Douglas Talbot your lawyer.” Nick nodded well aware of who Mr. Talbot was but not why he was speaking so loudly as if Nick had suddenly gone deaf or something. “This is Sergeant Cox from the LAPD and Detectives Jones and Mason. They have a few things they would like to talk to you about.”
Eyebrows arching a slightly amused smile on his face Nick shifted around in the bed trying to get comfortable as the Sergeant Cox pulled up a rolling stool to sit on and the other two men along with Mr. Talbot leaned against the wall.
“Hi Nick how are you feeling?” Sergeant Cox asked in a pleasant interested voice.
“I dunno, I guess fine.”
“Do you know where you are Nick?”
Looking around the room Nick smiled. “I’m assuming a hospital.” He said with a small laugh that made Sergeant Cox smile.
“That’s right Nick, you are in the hospital. Do you know why you are in the hospital?” Fiddling with the IV tube that ran from his hand to the poll beside the bed, Nick began to speak and then stopped.
That should be such an easy question right. Everyday people would ask him what did you do today Nick? Or where have you been lately Nick? And he’d always been able to answer them.
“Take your time Nick.” Sergeant Cox said softly, aware of the stern look of concentration on Nick’s face as he mulled over the question again.
“Do I know why I’m in the hospital?” Nick asked looking over the faces of each one of the men in the room, hoping for some sort of hint that none of their stone faces would give.
Nick’s mind turned slowly, like a rusty wheel desperately in need of oil.
“No…….no I don’t know why I’m here.” He finally answered the once slightly amused look on his face wiped clean.
“Nick do you remember getting hurt?”
Nick shook his head. “No, what happened did I get in a car accident or something?” Nick wasn’t really enjoying the game he and Sergeant Cox were playing.
“Nick you were injured and you’ve been in a coma for the past seven days.” Sergeant Cox chose his words carefully noticing the blood pressure on the monitor above Nick’s head beginning to rise.
“Seven days? What….what happened to me?” How could seven days have escaped him without his knowledge? Cox paused for a moment before answering.
“Nick, you were shot.”
Nick’s hands instinctively moved to his stomach as Sergeant Cox continued his questions.
“Nick do you remember going shopping in Beverly Hills?” The key to getting info out of a witness who had lost their memory was to keep the pace flowing. If they were unsure of a question you moved quickly to the next question never lingering for too long.
“Shopping?”
As his heart beat faster the rusty wheel in Nick’s mind slowly began to turn…………..
“Those look fabulous on you! I can’t believe you have never owned a pair of cowboy boots, it is definitely a good look for you!”
“You know that you make the clothes the clothes don’t make you.”
“I completely agree.”
“Yeah, I remember shopping. I bought some cowboy boots.” Nick’s hands fell from his middle as he locked eyes with Sergeant Cox in an effort to remember.
“Was anybody with you when you bought the boots Nick?”
The wheel continued to advance one cog at a time…..….
“Okay, you know you are never going to wear those.”
“No I don’t know that.”
“In twenty two years you have never had the need to buy a pair of cowboy boots. What would make you think you would need a pair now?”
“Brian,” Nick looked down whispering the name before looking up again. “Brian was with me.”
Sitting forward Nick smiled. “Where is he, where’s Brian.”
“Nick can you tell us what happened after the shopping trip, can you tell us where you and Brian went after buying the boots? We’re you thirsty or maybe hungry?” Sergeant Cox hit him quickly with another question, prodding him slightly with he information he had been given by Aaron.
And the wheel turned some more…….
“I want some beef jerky and a Mountain Dew.”
“Huh?”
“You heard me. I want some beef jerky and a Mountain Dew.”
“Well you know there isn’t any beef jerky in the house and the only drinks I have are Coke, water and milk.”
“So let’s go and get me some jerky and a Dew.”
“Go get yourself some jerky and a Dew you dork.”
“But we’re already in the car Bri. All you have to do is put it in reverse, back up and drive until we find someplace that has beef jerky and Mountain Dew.”
“In Beverly Hills that could take forever. We would have to go down more into the city.”
“Bri.”
“Fuck Nick you know you piss me off sometimes.”
“Oh hell Brian I piss you off all the time, why should today be any different.”
“I told Brian.....I told him that I wanted beef jerky and some Mountain Dew.” Nick pushed at his temples. “Hey where’s Brian, I want to talk to Brian.”
Sergeant Cox sat forward, his gaze shifting to the two Detectives before settling back on Nick.
“Nick, I need to ask you some more questions.”
“I want to talk to Brian.”
“Nick, Brian isn’t here.” Mr. Talbot put an arm on Sergeant Cox’s shoulder warning him that he was treading into dangerous territory.
“Well where is he, somebody go and get him now. I want to talk to Brian.”
“Nick,” Sergeant Cox looked down at the ground. “Brian isn’t here because Brian was shot too.....Brian is dead.”
And then the wheel stopped turning…………..