Free The Gillespie Five (A Political / Conspiracy Novel) - Book 1 (42) by T.K. Harris

He's got a closet full of gu-"
    " Ben ."
    "Sorry.  Anyway, it just sort of might explain things."
    "What things?
    "Well Tommy's sudden disappearance just a few days after this happened."
    "If you thought so, why didn't you go to the police about this weeks ago?  And why are you coming to me now?"
    Immediately the boy's shoulders came back up.  He glanced around quickly.  Finally he said in a near whisper, "I wanted to.  But I was afraid."
    "Afraid?  Why?"
    "Because the same night Tommy disappeared my friend's dad disappeared too."
    Ben's words seemed to echo surreally and Ken tried to absorb them but couldn't.  The thought that his son might somehow be involved in something that would bring the FBI down on him just didn't seem possible.  Nor could Ken believe that it would have happened like that, with the FBI just swooping in and snatching someone in the middle of the night.  The FBI just didn't work that way.  The kid had to be imagining things.
    "You're sure about this?"
    "Yes, sir."
    "What's his name, your friend's dad?"
    "Wayne Bevels, sir."
    "Have you told anyone else?"
    "No.  Matt would kill me if he knew I were here."
    "Is Matt the kid whose dad's computer you used that night?"
    Ben nodded.
    "Do you know what this site was?"
    "No sir."
    "It might still be on Mr. Bevel’s computer."
    "I don't know.  You see, it disappeared the same night he did."
    Just like Tommy’s, Ken thought.
    Out loud he said, "Someone needs to go to the police about this."
    "Not me.  I don't know what's going on, but I don't want to go to the police and neither does Matt."
    Ken tried to squash the surge of irritation that rolled through him.   
    Ben shifted self-consciously in his chair, obviously picking up on Ken's irritation, and Ken remembered that Ben was just a kid.  He took in Ben's hunched shoulders and the fact that his eyes kept darting to the door but he didn't leave.  In fact, he had worked up the courage to come here in the first place. 
    "Why not?"
    The boy’s words came out in a tense whisper.  "Because I don’t want to disappear too." 
    Sighing, Ken said, "Okay.  Do you remember anything about the website or how Tommy got to it?  Even a few words, something?"
    "No.  It all looked like garbage."
    "How about Matt?  Do you think he remembers anything?"
    "I doubt it.  Even if he did, I’m not sure he’d talk."
    "How about this then.  You talk to your friend, tell him that we're looking for anything that might help us find Tommy and, maybe, if there is a connection, his dad.  Maybe the two of you can remember something if you try together.  I’ll give you my number and my email.  Tell him if he, or you, can remember anything, please just call or email me.  Anything.  Okay?"
    Ben nodded his head.  "Sure.  I'll see what I can do.  You're not going to tell the police about me though, are you?"
    "Not if I don't have to, Ben.  But I am going to tell them about Matt's dad.  They need to know about this possible connection.  You understand that right?"
    "Yes, sir.  I do."
    Ken walked over to grab a pen and pad off the kitchen counter and quickly wrote down all of his information.  Tearing off the sheet, he handed it to Ben and said, "You give it to Matt and tell him what I said.  And you can contact me any time as well.  No matter how late or early, if you have anything else you think might help us with Tommy, you call okay?" 
    Ben nodded and Ken pushed the pad and pen toward him.  Softly he said, "I'd appreciate it if you gave me your number as well.  Can you do that?"
    Ben looked at the pad and pen, the door, and back at Ken.  "I don't know, Mr. Moore.  I'd really rather not."
    His jaw tightening, Ken gave a curt nod.  "I understand.  You have my information."
    "Yes, Mr. Moore.  And I'm sorry I didn't come forward sooner.  I'll see what I can do, getting you that information."
    Ken nodded and turned to walk toward the front door, Ben hurriedly following.  "Mr. Moore.  I don't blame