TnT Ch. 04

"Wow. Hickville, USA," June remarked. "Not where I would think our boy came from."

"People can surprise you," Riaz said as he parked near one of the trucks. He cut the engine, propped open the door, and stepped out. June did the same.

The front door of the house opened, revealing a slender woman in late middle age. She gave a somber look to the two detectives as they approached.

"Yer the cops, right?" she called, her country accent adding a lilt to everything she said.

Riaz nodded, setting foot on the short set of wooden steps leading up to the door. "Thank you for seeing us."

The woman looked back, blank-faced. "Got some fresh-brewed iced tea and finger sandwiches," she said. "Come on in."

Riaz gave an acquiescing smile. "I appreciate the gesture, Mrs. Richards, but that probably won't be necessary."

She stared hard, aged grey eyes stabbing into him. "This ain't gonna be no short conversation," she said ominously. "Not if yer here 'bout Talon and Thorne. Least I can do is offer some simple comforts."

Riaz nodded, smiling courteously as he stepped up before the woman. "Well, again, thank you for seeing us."

She shot him a dark look. "Don't you go thanking me yet."

* * * *

At some point in the distant past, the original single-wide trailer had been expanded to become the foundation for what proved to be an impressive, if simply built, house. The living room was larger than Riaz's own apartment, with a stone hearth fireplace occupying one wall and broad floor-to-ceiling windows along another. Every bit of remaining wall space was positively covered with various framed photographs, revealing men, women and children at various stages in life.

Riaz and June sat upon an aging brown leather couch, facing Mrs. Richards across a glass-topped coffee table upon which had been laden a pitcher of iced tea and several glasses, as well as a tray of various sandwiches composed of thinly-sliced bread. The ghostly, gospel sounds of Johnny Cash filtered from a nearly antique stereo system.

"So, you came asking 'bout the boys," the woman prompted.

Riaz nodded. "Yes, Mrs. Richards. Anything you could--"

She stopped him with a raised hand. "Now, hold on there," she said with a tired smile. "I done brought you in my house, offered you homemade iced tea and food. Least you can do is call me Patty."

The detective smiled in admonishment. "Of course. Thank you, Patty, for your hospitality."

She beamed. "Now that's proper," she said. "Go on. What they done?"

Riaz cocked his head. "You don't seem to be surprised that we're here."

"That's 'cause I ain't," Patty said simply. "I always knew them boys would do something ungracious someday."

"Well, I suppose you knew them best."

Patty scoffed. "Only one who knows those boys is the Devil himself. Me, I just kept 'em out of trouble long as I could."

"They could use that now," June muttered.

Patty shook her head. "Soon as them boys was old enough, they left me behind. Truth be told, I was glad to be rid of 'em. It was like the light shining on the cross again."

"What was Talon like, growing up?" Riaz asked.

"Now, get one thing straight," Patty said with all the stern authority of a schoolmarm. "You can't talk about one without including the other. Them boys never did anything on their own. They's one spirit in two bodies, and it ain't no proper spirit. I swear, if I ever laid a bible on them boys' hearts, it'd probably burst into flame."

Riaz studied the woman's face, reading faint memories of pain and fear and disappointment. "Were they ever violent at home?"

Patty inhaled, looking across the picture-covered walls. "Not . . . directly. Not in this house, anyways."

"But there were incidents," Riaz deduced.

Patty nodded, sadness crossing her face. "Mainly fights with other kids," she said. "They was real Hell raisers. Don't think they ever had no real friends; mainly others they bullied into hanging around with them. But it came to me right quick that they didn't ever want no friends. They couldn't do it."

"What do you mean, they couldn't do it?" June asked.

Patty worried her hands. "They just couldn't be friendly. I mean, they'd go through the motions when it was necessary, putting on airs and such when out and about. But it was always an act. Even when they was older and started talking to girls, they never looked at them romantically. They always looked at them like . . . well, like they did their dog."

Riaz's brow furrowed at the tangent, waiting.

"See, after the boys came here, Frank and I got them a dog. This was when they was four. Oddest little animal you ever seen. Part basset, part dachshund. Looked like a big 'ole head with legs. That's what they called him: Big Head. That damn dog followed them everywhere. Grew up with them. Eight years they had that dog. Then one day, they go out playing with Big Head and they come back without him."

Riaz and June exchanged a look, with an obvious sense of dread on June's face.

Patty continued: "We asked them, 'where's Big Head?' But they didn't want to say. Frank got all uppity with them, demanding to know where the dog was. But the boys just clammed up, staring back at Frank like they was daring him to get the strap. So Frank sends the boys to their room and goes out looking for the dog. Spent all night looking, and when he finally comes back, he's got . . .a plastic bag.

"I never seen Frank look so ashen in my life. I didn't want to look, but I did. Could hardly tell it had once been a dog. Seems the boys had taken a hammer and hatchet to it. Turned my stomach."

"Jesus," whispered June under her breath. She reached for the glass of tea before her.

"Did they say why they did it?" Riaz asked.

Patty's face was dark. "They claimed the dog done went rabid. They was just defending themselves, they said. Bullshit. There wasn't a damn thing wrong with that dog, 'cept for maybe being stupid. After that, we didn't get them another one. I just knew . . . I had a feeling if we did, the same thing would happen."

Riaz shifted on the couch, feeling uncomfortable. The thought of two twelve-year-old boys being so savage, especially with a pet they had known for most of their lives . . . the terminhumancame to mind.

"We just sort of let it go," Patty went on. "Weren't nothing we could do to the boys to punish them. They was getting bigger, and Frank was getting older. I don't think it'd be unfair to say we lived in fear of those boys, just a little. We couldn't wait for the next six years to pass, so they could get their money and scoot out. And they wasn't too keen on waiting, either."

Riaz cocked his head in interest. "What do you mean, 'their money?'"

Patty reached for one of the sandwiches. "From the settlement, of course."

Riaz and June looked questioningly at one another. "I think we've missed something," June said.

Patty let her hand fall to her lap. She looked both annoyed and surprised. "Don't you know what happened with their momma?"

"To be honest, we didn't find much, other than her name on the adoption papers. Christine Tolomeo."

Patty chuckled ominously. "Well, then, let me tell y'all a little story." She took a bite from the sandwich, a sip of tea, then straightened. "Christie was my cousin, my Aunt Clara's only daughter. Pretty little thing, but none too sure of herself. She was always looking for someone to tell her how pretty she was. She was mighty popular in school, if you know what I mean.

"She shacked up with some boy after high school graduation. They both went to work with his dad at the flea market. Her living in sin with a boy didn't sit well with her folks, but there wasn't much they could do. Anyway . . . .

"One day, we get a call from her folks asking if we knew where Christie was. Seems she'd gone missing somewhere between her apartment and the flea market. Well, we hadn't seen her, of course. Turns out she was kidnapped. Taken right off the road."

Patty took another bite, another sip. "Police couldn't find her. They even called in the FBI. Nothing. Three months goes by." She fixed Riaz a look. "This was about twenty-four years ago. You look like yer old enough to maybe remember what happened around here back then."

Realization slowly dawned upon the detective. He breathed in deeply and let it out with a confirming nod. "I had just started on the force," he said. "It was all over the news."

"What was?" June asked, prodding her partner. "What are you talking about?"

"The Rattlesnake Man," Riaz said, looking to Patty as he said the name. The old woman nodded.

June was still confused. "Who's the Rattlesnake Man?"

"A real-life boogeyman," Patty said. "I think the official total was nine women?"

Riaz nodded again. "Think so. So Christie Tolomeo was the one. How the hell did I not see that?"

Patty addressed a still-bewildered June. "See, about thirty-five years ago, a girl goes missing. She's gone for about a month before her body turns up. Then it happens again, and again, and again. This goes on for five years. Girl goes missing, nobody has a clue, then suddenly, her body shows up on the side of the road somewhere. And every time, there's a dead rattlesnake wrapped around her neck. So they started calling him the Rattlesnake Man."

"When I started at the academy, we had one of the lead FBI agents on the Rattlesnake Man case give a lecture," Riaz added, addressing his partner. "They had literally invested millions of dollars looking for this guy. Then, suddenly, the kidnappings stopped. Everything went cold. Until six years later."

"Yep," confirmed Patty. "But this time, the girl – my cousin Christie – got free. They found her walking on the side of the highway, naked as a jailbird, about sixty miles away. Couldn't talk for days."

"If I remember correctly," Riaz interjected. "She didn't cooperate with the FBI."

"No, she surely didn't. Didn't want to tell him where the Rattlesnake Man was. But they found him anyway."

Riaz ran his hand over his face. "The agent in the lecture told us he and his team had made a classic mistake, and were looking too closely in this area. They never considered the abducted women would be taken so far away. Once they started looking where the last victim – Christie Tolomeo – was found, it didn't take long to find out where she had been kept."

"So, they caught the guy?" June asked.

"Not exactly," Riaz said. "They found him, cornered him, but he jumped into a pit of rattlesnakes he had on his property."

"I guess maybe he thought he was being poetic, dying that way," Patty said disdainfully.

"So who was he?" June queried.

Riaz shook his head. "I can't remember the name, now."

"Mundy," Patty informed. "PeterNoahMundy. I stress the middle name 'cause it's the same both his sons have."

Riaz and June both stared, understanding instantly. "Talon and Thorne are the sons of the Rattlesnake Man?" Riaz asked.

"They surely are," the older woman said. "Christie didn't want to tell nobody. She stayed hidden in her folks' house 'til she delivered. Pretty much kept them hidden from the world for four years, too. Then one day she takes a kitchen knife into the bath and cuts her wrists. The boys found her. Guess maybe that's why me and Frank took pity on them."

"So you adopted Talon and Thorne," Riaz said. "Why didn't Christie's family take care of them?"

"'Cause they was scared of them boys. The sons of the Devil living in their home? Maybe Frank and I should've listened when they said to put the boys into foster care. But we're good Christians. We take care of our blood, even if it's mixed with the oils of evil."

Riaz sat back, absorbing everything he had learned.

"Anyway, before she killed herself, Christie's folks sued the government. Got a pretty hefty settlement, too. Christie didn't want none of it. She locked it away in an account for the boys. They got it all when they turned eighteen. Best day of my life, really. They took off and didn't look back, and, honestly, I didn't want them to.

"So," Patty said after another bite of her sandwich. "Now you know why I ain't exactly surprised that them boys have done something bad."

* * * *

They faced each other across the coffee table, bottles of beer before them. The apartment was quiet, the lights dimmed. The only sound came muted through the windows, the sounds of the city outside.

"So, how are we gonna do this one?" Thorne asked.

"Well, we'll need to be in serious paranoia mode," Talon suggested.

"Right. Act like the cops are watching us wherever we go."

"Which they might be."

"Rental car?"

Talon shook his head. "We'd have to use a credit card. They can track that."

"Right. Steal something, then."

"That could work." He took a sip of beer. "We'll have to wear gloves."

"And long-sleeved shirts."

"Do something about our hair."

"Yeah. Wear it back, or--"

"Hats."

"Bingo." Thorne eased back with his beer in hand. "Should probably wait a day or two, I'm thinking."

Talon nodded in agreement. "Definitely. I was thinking we should change it up, too. The first two were chicks. Maybe we should do a guy."

Thorne grinned. "Oh, that would really screw up the cops. Yeah, break the pattern. Different way to do it, too. Maybe use a knife this time."

Talon's eyes flashed with inspiration. "Nah. More brutal than that. Something to really shock people when they hear about it in the news."

Thorne studied his twin's face, then slowly smiled in understanding. "I know what you're getting at."

"Of course you do."

* * * *

The precinct house was quiet when Riaz headed up to his desk in the Robbery/Homicide division. After stopping for a late dinner at a drive-thru – not that either he or June had much of an appetite after Patty Richards' revelations – he dropped his partner off at home. The thought of yet another lonely night at his spartan apartment was not appealing, so he looked for something to occupy him.

Thankfully, a file awaited him upon his cluttered desk. The criminal records department had apparently been confused about his request concerning Talon N. Tolomeo, and had sent up what they had on both of the brothers. In light of what he had learned from Mrs. Richards, he was glad for the mix-up.

"Son of a bitch," he breathed as he flipped through the files. "Might as well be looking at one rap sheet."

"Talking to yourself, Riaz, or you got a new invisible friend I don't know about?"

The detective half-turned toward the voice behind him. "You ever sleep, Captain?"

The older man chuckled, shuffling closer on tired feet. "How's that Bon Jovi song go? I'll sleep when I'm dead?"

Riaz grimaced. "Except, he was talking about sex, not being a cop."

The Captain indicated the files Riaz held with a nudge of his chin. "How's the case going?"

Riaz sighed. "Complicated," he said. "I'm thinking I've got two perps on my hands. Twin brothers."

"Dropping the serial killer angle, then?"

"Actually, no," Riaz said, making his captain react with arched brows. "Well, not exactly. I don't think these two are serial. I think they're sociopathic. They're doing this for kicks."

"That's a hell of a kick," the Captain mused. "Why do you think it's both of them?"

"You remember that little thing we used to rely on, back before computers did all our work for us?"

"Ah. You mean ahunch. Didn't think they made those anymore."

"Well, mine's a bit rusty, but the gears still work."

"Gonna need hard evidence," the Captain warned.

Riaz nodded. "I know. That's why I haven't had anyone in the interrogation box today. I'm not putting any cards on the table until I know I've got an ace."

The Captain smiled. "I'm guessing those are the rap sheets?"

"More like rapsheet," Riaz corrected. "Whatever one got collared for, the other did, too. Most of it's petty stuff, like misdemeanor theft, assault, public disorderly. Seems one of them punched a cop at a rodeo once, but their lawyer talked it down to misdemeanor resisting. These guys are your original bad boys, and they never,ever, do anything alone."

The Captain stepped closer, hands in the pockets of his deteriorating slacks. "You know, the DA's getting antsy with this one. Don't know if you've seen any of the press conferences, but this could turn into a big deal. It's an election year, you know."

Riaz soured. "And you know I don't give shit one about that," he growled.

The Captain nodded. "I know. Just . . . make sure you cross your Ts and dot your Is."

"I always do."

The Captain turned. "Yeah, I know," he said as he shuffled away.

* * * *

The air in the bathroom was fragrant with vanilla and currant. The only light was cast from a pair of large flickering candles set upon the porcelain edges of the twin sinks. Frothy bubbles streaking along toned flesh, Talon and Thorne alternately grappled and caressed one another in the soapy bath.

They kissed heatedly, passionately, Talon cupping his brother's damp face and staring into eyes that may very well have been his own. Their skin, normally so cold and pale, was heated by the bath and their own arousal.

"No matter what, we'll always be together," Talon whispered, his lips mere inches from his brother's.

"No matter what?" Thorne asked, showing that rarest of his sides, vulnerability.

Talon nodded. "We've never let anyone take us apart," he said, smoothing back Thorne's wet hair. "And we're not about to start."

"I love you," Thorne said suddenly, his grip tightening upon his twin's ass beneath the water. He stared into his brother's eyes.

Talon was touched. He caressed Thorne's face. "I love you, too, brother," he said, then kissed him fervently, moaning into his twin's mouth. Breaking the kiss, he eased back, rocking slightly in the tub as their swelling genitals rubbed together. "I'll never let them take you from me."

"And I'll never let them take you from me, either," Thorne vowed.

Talon suddenly grinned. "Fuck me?" he queried hoarsely.

His brother grinned. "Do you have to ask?"

Talon stood from the tub, then lifted one foot onto the porcelain edge. He lifted the other, elevating himself to a squat above his brother. His engorged cock, dripping with foam, thrust out toward Thorne.

Thorne hooked his heels onto the far end of the tub and lifted himself up, slipping a hand down to lift and hold steady his own stiffened penis. It prodded against Talon's puckered pink anus.

Talon relished the contact, feeling the nerves come alive around his sphincter. He concentrated to make the muscles relax, and slowly pushed down against the firm yet spongy head of his brother's cock. The oily water helped immensely, and he groaned as he felt the aperture of his anus open and spread around his brother's penis. Thorne suddenly pushed up, trying to shove himself inside.

"Slow," Talon said, gazing with a mixture of lust and love upon his brother. "Let me do it."

Thorne's aggressive need was evident upon his face, but with his brother, he was willing to temper it. He kept his hips elevated above the waterline of the tub, his cock jutting straight up with his fingers about the base. He loved the sight of his brother's smooth, hairless testicles dangling beneath the shaft of his erection.

Bracing his hands upon the edges of the tub, Talon pushed down slowly, rocking his hips a bit as the head Thorne's dick began to penetrate him. He gasped when he felt the head pop past the ring of muscle, then groaned loudly as he pushed against the invasive shaft. A mixture of pleasure and pain rippled across his features as he steadily filled his bowels with his brother's cock.

"Fuck," growled Thorne, punching up just a little, driving home that last inch.

Talon trembled, flexing his anal muscles. He loved the way his brother felt inside him. For several moments, he relished the sensation of being so completely filled, before slowly moving up and down.