A story based in the real world. For some reason, a high school boy named J.J. went to sleep and didn't wake up for nearly 3 years. Someone else was awake in his place ...

		Sacrificial Alter Chapter 10 of 13 The Picture on the Poster by **Sigh** Copyright© 2017 plaintivesigh All Rights Reserved.

The next day, Becky was back at her house preparing for the special home session that Dr. Rama had arranged with Detective Castro. They were all to arrive within the hour. She and Bob had spent half the night readying J.J.'s room for the session; moving all the storage out and replacing the bed and shelves and posters as it had been when the boy had gone missing. Now Becky was exhausted, and her feelings ran the emotional gamut – exhilaration and hope at what they might be close to learning, and trepidation that the truth would destroy her child and by extension her family.

She needed someone to talk to. Bob was in the middle of his workday. Most of her friends sympathized with her, but not with J.J.; everyone in town pegged him for Missy’s murder. She was going crazy. She called Grandma Lizzy, but got only her voicemail.

Grandpa E – voicemail. Same with her sister. She decided to call J.J.’s older brother Dustin, even though she knew she’d get voicemail – and he’d never respond, as usual. She dialed the number despite the futility of the action.

Then, amazingly, he answered. “Yo, Mom. What do you need?”

“Dustin! Thank you for answering. I miss talking to you-“

“Sorry Mom, I’m in a pretty big traffic snarl. I won’t be able to stay on long.”

“Dustin, just listen for a second. J.J.’s back.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, then “WHAT! OH MY GOD! J.J.? That’s GREAT! When? Is he okay? Where was he? Did the police finally track him down? Where is he staying?”

“It’s a long, complicated, twisted tale, honey. There’s no way I could cover it all in a quick phone call. He was … mentally ill, pretty badly. We had to put him in the psychiatric hospital here.”

“Oh God! That’s - that’s horrible! Is he getting better?”

“Yes, son – but there’s been things done to him that – well, let’s just say his life is changed forever. I wish you were here in person. He could really use a visit from you.”

“Mom, believe it or not, right now I’m about 30 minutes away from Kissimmee! I dropped a load off at Port Canaveral and was headed back to Tampa; I’m entering Orlando’s outskirts in a few minutes. How about I take a detour and come over; then, if visiting hours are still in effect, maybe I can see him in the hospital?”

“Oh! Dustin, that’s fantastic! Just come to the house, honey! The doctor is bringing him here for a special one-time session in his bedroom where all of the bad stuff happened, to see if we can stimulate his memory. We all need to know what really happened the night he disappeared. The police will have a car or two outside, but maybe we can have them bend the rules so you two can share a hug. Heck, Bob’s even trying to get off work early for this, so we would have our whole family back here for the first time in years!”

There was prolonged silence from Dustin’s phone. “MOM – J.J.’s going to be in the house – and Dad’s going to have access to him? And the cops are going to be there, but not right inside with him?”

“Well, that’s the plan, as I understand it. Why are you sounding so concerned?”

“Mom. Just listen to me with an open mind. J.J.’s in danger. Don’t let him physically be around Dad!”

Becky’s mouth dropped. “What? W-what do you mean?”

“Mom, there is stuff that Dad does – and has done. He did it to me, and I’m sure that he’s done it to J.J. Why do you think I hardly show my face over there anymore?”

“What – what do you mean, son? What kind of ‘stuff’?”

“GOD, Mom – SEX STUFF. It’s hard to even talk about it, okay? Just KEEP J.J. AWAY FROM DAD.”

“Son, if this is so, why haven’t you told me before?”

“You don’t think that after J.J. disappeared I didn’t kick myself every day, knowing I should have done more to protect him? I left as soon as I turned 17; J.J. was still 12. I guess I thought he was safe, since Dad only seemed to target me. Then when that Missy girl was found stabbed, and J.J. gone, I knew Dad was the cause – he probably screwed J.J. over – literally – so much that something snapped. Dad knows J.J. can finger him for part of this – and who knows what Dad will do to make sure that doesn’t happen?”

“I – I find this hard to believe. I’m going to confront your father!”

“MOM, NO – aw, nuts – Mom, that will just put you in danger too! Tell the police what I said, and then you just protect J.J., ok?”

“Dustin … what do I do? They are probably on their way over here with J.J. already. Bob may be on his way too!”

“I’m about 25 minutes from you now. If I can get there before Dad does, I’ll handle him. Believe me, I’m big enough now that I can stop him. But if the police get there with J.J., tell them to be on the lookout for that creep I used to call “father”. If Dad gets there before the cops do – Mom, do you still know how to use the shotgun you guys keep in the gun safe?”

Becky’s head was spinning like a cyclone. “I – I haven’t used it since the firearm classes we took ten years ago.”

“Well, if I were you, I’d re-acquaint myself with it ASAP. Be there in 20. God keep y’all safe.”

Marcus Finlandt, detective and bounty hunter, was frustrated. For the last 24 hours the feed from the Evarist house was nothing but snow on the screen.

I’ll bet it’s a faulty relay unit; the primary transmitter I used is super-reliable. Unless they found it and got rid of it or snapped the power cord. If it’s just the relay, I’ll be able to pick it up if I get within 100 yards of the home. But I’ve been monitoring the conversation in the home, and it’s all benign. The parents seem clean. I’ll chalk up my gut feeling to paranoia and quit this little side adventure. I just need to discretely retrieve my unit. The wife is probably home alone; I can ask her if I can come in, and when she’s not looking I’ll snag my transmitter.

He brushed the remnants of some potato chips from his chin, grabbed his laptop computer/monitor, and trotted out to his black GMC SUV. As usual, he was packing his Glock pistol and stun gun. He jumped in, started the engine, and screeched off down the 11-mile trip to the Evarist house.

Unnoticed by the hunter was a man straddling a motorcycle on the side of the road. This person wore jeans and a buttoned denim jacket; fairly hot attire for Florida in the summer. Peeking out from the lower edge of the jacket was the handle of a baseball bat; the rest of the bat was hidden. This man watched with binoculars as Finlandt came out of the house and entered the SUV. He made note of the long coarse hair pulled into a low ponytail, the handlebar mustache, and the dark sunglasses.

As Finlandt took off down the road, the motorcyclist fired up his hog and followed.

Found you, thought the biker. Now you give me what I want or you’re a dead man.

Ten minutes later, a patrol car rolled up to the Evarist house and parked in the front. Detective Castro, Doctor Ramamurthy, and patient J.J. Evarist exited the cruiser. Castro had a firm grip on the child’s thin, feminine upper arm as they approached the front door. Becky opened the door as the trio approached; her eyes focused in on her offspring.

“Welcome home, son of mine,” she stated in spite of J.J.’s lithe girlish appearance. “Even if it is just for an hour.” She tried her best to hide the panic building in her.

Castro barked out the rules. “I’ll keep an eye on you guys from my car. After 60 minutes I need a phone call for an update. No one – NONE of you – leave the house by any opening except this front door, and even then not without calling me first.

“I’ve got a unit with police lieutenant Mike Chan parked in back just to make sure we’re watching you from as many angles as we can. Believe me, you don’t want to get caught by Chan; he will take you down hard. I get suspicious about anything, and I am calling this off and you go back to the locked unit at the psych ward,” he said glaring at J.J.

“Roger that, sir,” smiled J.J.

Becky whispered in Detective Castro’s ear. “I need to speak to you and Dr. Rama right now – and out of earshot of J.J.”

Castro shook his head. “That would mean leaving this fugitive,” he pointed to J.J., “alone. No can do, even for a second. Tell the doc here, and I’ll stand in the far corner of the room with the suspect. Then we’ll switch places and you can tell me.”

Becky gave Dr. Rama the quick run through of what Dustin had just told her. The doctor was shocked.

“Becky. I am stunned. Do you believe Dustin?”

“I – I don’t know what to believe anymore. I feel totally lost right now. I’m looking to you, Doctor. What should we do?”

Rama frowned in concentration. “We’ll take all accusations with a grain of salt – but also, take them seriously. At least until we’ve proven that they are false. I will tell Detective Castro; he’ll take care of this. Thank God the police are here. Now you take J.J. from the detective and stand in the far corner where we both can see you while I relay this information to him.”

Becky watched the two men talk, and saw Det. Castro’s eyes grow wide with disbelief. She felt a tapping on her shoulder. It was her beautiful son/daughter, J.J., with a look of concern on his/her face.

“Mom? What’s going on?”

Becky saw no alternative but to confront the new concerns.

“Sweetheart, I’ve got to know something. I’ve just talked to Dustin, and he’s told me some horrible information. He’ll be here in less than half an hour to be with us and help me protect you. He also told me that your father probably … molested you when you lived with us before you disappeared. Please be honest with me. Has anything bad ever happened between you and your father?”

J.J.’s eyes were closed, and his chin was on his chest. He did not respond – until about 30 seconds later. He began humming: “NNNnnnNNNNnnNNNnnnNNNnnn…”

Becky gasped. Oh my God! He’s switched to Kitty!

She looked around the living room they were in; yes, Dr. Rama had brought the poster board from yesterday’s session. Running and grabbing it, she returned to Kitty’s side. Dr. Rama, seeing what was going on, now silently approached the two women and nodded to Becky to proceed as they had discussed.

“Kitty, this is Mommy. I love you, and am here to protect you. But I need you to help me. You told Dr. Rama that on this board was a picture of the person who raped you and killed Missy. I need you to point that person out to me. Would you do that for me, please?”

Kitty opened her eyes and looked at the pictures on the poster board. Her arms were contracted, and her hands balled up like fists under her chin. But a finger uncurled from her right hand and pointed towards the big picture in the upper right hand corner of the poster.

Dr. Rama silently gasped. Becky started to weep. She pointed her own hand to the picture, touching it, to make sure she understood Kitty.

“K-Kitty (sob) is the bad man in this picture?”

Kitty nodded her head emphatically.

It was a 5-year-old photo of her husband Bob, standing out in their front yard.

To be continued tomorrow.

Thanks for reading! **Sigh**