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safe distance. "If we don't come up with a plausible defense, then there's nothing I can do to help
you! Witnesses saw that man get into your truck. Hell, there's even a video of it, though why I
have no clue."
Sighing, Noah envisioned the notches carved into the door frame of his bar. Fifty-three young
people who'd gotten their lives back and, hopefully, gone on to make better ones. He didn't keep
track of them all, but a few had sent letters over the years, telling of their accomplishments and
thanking him for what he'd done for them. Faces and names came to mind. A kid named
Anthony was married and a father now. He'd sent Noah a Christmas card of his family. Mark had
reunited with his lover and planned to start college in the spring. There were Rickys, Bobbys,
Lukes, and Johns; some used their real names, some didn't. They'd all left the past behind like
Noah had urged them to.
Some, like Anthony, had even gotten married and had kids. Not all working boys were gay. The
media would destroy their lives if their true identities and whereabouts became known. The
thirteen whose pictures made the news were already in danger. Thankfully, Noah had read and
destroyed all the letters, so they wouldn't be found and reopen old wounds for those young men.
What was Noah's life worth next to theirs?
He reached up absentmindedly for the chain that no longer hung from his neck. It was locked
away for safekeeping. When Mary cleaned Jeremy's apartment, she'd found a small package
beneath the broken Christmas tree, with a label that said, "For Noah." The forensics team had
finally deemed it harmless and Noah was allowed his gift -- a gold Saint Christopher medal that
Jeremy, uncharacteristically, had bought new from a swanky jewelry store downtown. They
allowed Noah to see it, then it joined his other possessions locked away in a safe.
Yes, Jeremy had gotten under his skin, and if Noah named names, the one he'd fought so hard to
protect would come running, exactly like Trent wanted. Noah called and told Doc to use ropes
and chains if necessary, but under no circumstances was the kid to return to the city, especially
not with actual kidnappers still at large. Jeremy must be kept safe at all costs. In time, what the
young man thought was love would fade to be a distant memory and he'd learn to love someone
else. Noah's heart ached to think about that. Just because it was better that way didn't make it
hurt any less.
Over the years, Noah had told many that a man was defined by the choices he made. Now it was
time to practice what he'd preached. Head held high, he looked the attorney in the man's beady
little eyes and said the words that sealed his fate, "Then I guess you can't help me."
***
The Angel of 13th Street - 121
While Noah was giving his life away, Jeremy was frantically trying to save it, seeking help from
the most unlikely of places -- the Internet. He'd logged on to read the news story in its entirety,
and then tortured himself by scanning the posted comments.
Strangely, it was the disappearances posters seemed focused on, instead of the shooting. They
probably found the prospect a prostitute-killing pervert more interesting than a simple shooting.
It certainly made for more sensational headlines.
Most condemned Noah, suggesting the most creative forms of torture imaginable. Jeremy wanted
to scream. How dare they say such cruel things when they didn't know the truth? Noah was the
best man he'd ever met and didn't deserve such things being said about him! Jeremy was about to
send his own scathing comments in defense when a new message appeared.
RedtheFed: It's not true! One of the guys they're showing on TV is my brother. That man
saved him and sent him home! He gave him back to us. He's not a kidnapper or a killer!
Anyone can see that shooting was self-defense.
A moment later, another post appeared.
Geekboy12: No, he's not. One of those pictures is me. He picked me up, took me to a
hotel, but only so I could shower and change. Then he took me to the bus station. He
wouldn't even kiss me, let alone rape me and kill me like some of you seem to think!
Even if he'd never doubted Noah's words, reading that made Jeremy feel better. He had a sneaky
suspicion the poster was the rent boy he'd seen leaning into the truck the day Noah had confessed
his past.
RedtheFed: Why won't he talk? He didn't do anything wrong!
Like pieces of a puzzle, it all fell into place. Noah was sacrificing himself so these young men
could get on with their lives. So nervous he could barely type, Jeremy posted his suspicions.
anewlife3: Look guys, if he defends himself, the media will come after you. Do you
really want to read about your past on the front page of the newspaper? Noah doesn't
want that either, and he'll let himself go down rather than expose any of you.
Geekboy12: We can't let him do that! I'd be dead right now if it weren't for him!
All negative reaction was suddenly replaced by message after message of support. Finally,
Jeremy typed, "Look, guys, he needs your help. I'll understand if you don't come forward, but I
don't think I need to tell you what will happen if you don't..." Nothing could be proven without a
body, but even if all formal charges were dropped the cloud of doubt would follow Noah for
years, and probably greatly decrease any chances of success saving the lost boys out in the
streets. None of them would ever trust him again.
The Angel of 13th Street - 122
They created a private chat room and, in the end, six of the young men whose pictures were
being shown decided to come forward, and five who could have remained safely out of the
limelight agreed to make a stand, too. They chatted well into the night, and when the sun rose the
next morning, they had a plan.
***
Early in the morning on December twenty-six, Judge Jenkins stared wide-eyed as his secretary
open the door and admitted far more people than expected into his office. Following a group of
young men were two older ones. The first he knew, the second he'd seen before but just couldn't
place. Then it dawned on him. He'd backed that man in the last election! United States Senator
Marshall Dickenson had come to testify? He checked his notes again. As far as the records
showed, Noah Everett was just a small bar owner, no one of real import. For a relative unknown,
it looked like he had some powerful friends.
"Gentlemen," the judge began. "If I'd known there were so many of you I'd have offered to meet
someplace else."
The man he knew to be Dr. Benjamin "Doc" Cook, stepped forward. He'd last seen Dr. Cook
over ten years ago, during the trial for the men who'd beaten Ben Jr., resulting in the boy's death.
"That's quite all right, Judge. We won't take up much of your time. We've come to relieve your [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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