A/N: Hello faithful readers! So I've had a writer's block but I think I'm sorted now... at least, I hope so. I know this seems sinfully short but it seemed a good chunk so I left it at that. Keep reviewing!
Chapter 13:
Liam looked around wearily. He should not have brought those people to their hangar. It was like placing luminous, blinking sign posts for the cops who had not bothered checking that huge and dangerous depot yet.
He watched Lorelei talk with Tristan. She reminded him of his own mother, with the dark hard and pretty smile. The boy shook the feeling and looked away. He didn't like remembering. The rest of his gang was also watching the newcomers quite suspiciously. They didn't like strangers and they most certainly didn't like adults.
Liam heard a cough behind him and twirled around. The girl with the long blondish hair that had so scarily snapped at him before had his journal in hand. Liam used the old notebook to keep track of their stocks and to jot down information on relevant stores and other places where they could fairly easily get what they needed.
"May I ask you what the hell you think you're doing, going through my stuff?" he snapped at the girl whose name he couldn't quite remember.
Paris looked at him with her infamous icy stare. "You're the supposed leader of this… erm… masquerade?"
Liam took a deep breath, upset that richie-girl was having a go at him and his friends. He could have hit her, but she was a girl.
"I'm just wondering you know. Because your notes lack a lot of information. Do you even know how many people rely on your stocks? How can you prevent stock rupter if you can't establish proper statistics that can warn you when you're running low?"
Liam was sure if he let her, she would change everything around into an elaborate accounting business. Louise, however, chose that moment to intervene.
"Get off his case Paris, he probably hardly knows how to read and write, nevermind make statistics, as basic as they may be."
The black-haired boy tensed his shoulders and his eyes shot daggers to the two Chiltonites.
"You think because we live on the streets we are stupid? You think people like me are necessarily illiterate, useless, worthless bums who reek of alcohol and smoke the ends of your cigarettes? If that's your opinion, please do enlighten me as to why you attend your pathetic charity parties, why you set up associations, why your school gives food away. Is it for your ego, your image or your conscience? Or maybe all three?"
He was nearly shouting now and with his ragged clothes and his hungry eyes, Paris and Louise were starting to see him as downright scary. He had started to walk away when something else struck his mind.
"I don't think Tristan is very different from me. And even if next week he's back to driving a Porsche to school, he'll still be someone who had to live on the streets at some point. So much for being an illiterate, useless alcoholic, eh?"
"You have to see a doctor", Lorelei tried to say for the tenth time.
Tristan shook his head. He was fine, he didn't want the police or his father to find him. He looked over at Ria, who was avidly listening to Rory and Madeline. He had a feeling that he was up against the wall. Whatever he would do wouldn't save either of them. Who did he think he was? Running away was useless. It was only buying him time. He knew everybody here was buying time. Most of them were most probably researched. Most of them would be back in their families or homes quicker than they thought.
"Talk to me Triscuit!" Lorelei's singsong voice finally reached his brain. He looked at her with a neutral expression.
"Tristan, I can't help you if you don't tell me what happened and how you feel. I don't think your friend would have ratted you out if it wasn't important."
The teenager snorted in disbelief and focused his eyes on the truly fascinating ground. Lorelei sighed and looked around. She was a bit freaked out, in all honesty. Not only was she in a part of Hartford she would never have thought she would visit but she was there with a whole gang of street kids that she still couldn't quite believe existed. She had doubts before but now she was truly wondering what were the police doing. Hartford elite suddenly seemed Heaven. She promptly smacked herself for her last thought and smiled sweetly at Tristan who was looking at her like she was truly bonkers.
"Tristan, tell me why you ran away from Stars Hollow. You really scared us all."
He sighed a shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I'm sorry," he eventually muttered.
"Don't be sorry hun, just explain it to me."
"I don't want them to take Ria away."
At first, Lorelei wasn't sure that she had understood properly because he spoke so softly but it made sense. Everything suddenly seemed to fall into place.
"They would send you to live with other family members; they wouldn't separate you two."
The boy sighed. "My grand-parents are dead. My mother's brother lives in Japan and already has four children. My father was an only child. As for the rest of the Dugrey clan, they hare not related to us closely enough to have any obligation or interest towards us. As a matter of fact, it was already a hassle for them to spawn heirs, so I doubt they'll want to bother with children they don't need."
He had a point, she knew it. She knew how elite families functioned, she knew all too well that most of them didn't exactly have tight family bonds. But she was set on leaving this place with two more kids than she had arrived with.
She was deep in reflection when she heard his fit of coughs. It was sure as hell as scary as Liam had said. He tried to subtly wipe off the specks of blood with his sleeve, but the dark-haired woman had seen anyway. She yet again changed strategy.
"Okay Kiddo. You are scared, you are possibly angry and you don't want anything to do with me. However, now I'm going to grab your arm, get you into the keep and to hospital. IF you get away, I'll call the cops and tell them everything I know. About you, and about everybody here. Got it? Excellent."
Before he could react or even process her worlds, he was in the car, Ria next to him holding Rory's hand and Paris in the front seat. Now that the drama was mostly finished, Louise and Madeline ad quickly departed, the atmosphere of the depot being too heavy and miserable for them. Paris had rolled her eyes but she had been genuinely surprised when the two girls had expressed their concern about her and made her promise to call them soon with news.
The rest of the kids watched them leave gladly. Except for Alex, who was already missing her little friend and Liam, who was turning the whole story in his head over and over again.
Night had settled down on Hartford. It didn't mean the city was less busy. It only meant that even though Charles Dugrey was straining his eyes to see outside the window, he couldn't discern anything but the imposing gate of his property.
"Mister Dugrey."
The voice was patient but he could recognized the well-trained intonations of someone whose job necessitated such skills. Just like him. Nothing was supposed to show through it. It was plain, sure, patient. Not too soft, not to strong. It was sickening.
He focused on the carvings of the gate. He didn't want to acknowledge the voice. Even though he knew he would eventually have to. That kind of voice never gave up. It would get what it wanted from him. It was only a matter of time.
"Mister Dugrey, I know this is a hard time for you, but we need answers to these questions."
He finally turned around to face them. All of them with their trained voices. The two cops and that woman who was staring at him intensely. Social services, she had said when she had shaken her hand. She had looked at him suspiciously from the beginning. Evaluating his every move and word. But he was trained too. He could fool her with a charming personality. Two could play a game.
"You have children, Miss? Do you actually know that it is a hard time? Or is it one of these well-rehearsed psycho- babble sentences that you learn off by heart during your training? My kids are lost."
He nearly smiled. He was good. He was really good.
"Mister Dugrey, you have to understand that I need to gather this information. It is the normal routine in such a case. I will also need to have a look at the kids' rooms, in case there is anything there that could help us."
"Look, I do not know why my children ran away. My son has been quite disturbed since his mother's death and yes, maybe, maybe I was all too willing to put it on the account of teenage angst. Maybe I didn't take it seriously enough. Maybe I didn't manage to communicate with him well enough. But for crying out loud, shouldn't you be out there looking for them instead of bothering me with administrative garbage?"
He knew the social worker was slowly but surely losing her patience. And it kind of amused him. It was like poking at his employees. Shoving their mistakes in their faces and that kind of stuff and playing with their nerves. It was a quite satisfying activity.
She suddenly slammed her folder on the marble table in front of her. He slightly jumped at that. He wasn't expecting it. He thought she'd be smoother about the whole thing, to try and corner him. It's what she had been doing and he was sure he had her strategy worked out.
She stood up and pointed to the blue folder. "Do you know what this is, Mister Dugrey?"
He shook his head, at loss.
"These are the accounts of your neighbours. They said they heard not so nice things coming from here. Shouts, furniture crashing. Kitchen ware and ornaments breaking. And don't tell me it's the television, it's a trick older than you."
The aristocratic man could feel the colour drain from his face. He had the impression his cheeks had gone pale white, frozen. His brain started to reel. He was thinking about the alcohol in the cabinet, about Angela, about how his life had crashed down one snowy winter night years ago. He felt the cops staring at him but he couldn't care anymore.
The woman sat back down. "Of course, we do need confirmation of such events from your children but I don't think you will be able to see them for a while after we find them. This situation needs sorting out. They will be placed in temporary families until the case is brought in front of a judge."
She stood up and wiped invisible dust from her perfectly pressed skirt. "Good night Mister Dugrey. I shall meet you again very soon I expect."
He watched them leave from his spot at the window. He hadn't moved since she had showed him the folder. He couldn't move. Everything seemed a blur, a nightmare. What was to happen now? Where was Tristan? What would he say to the social services? What would Victoria say? He needed a drink. A very strong drink. He also needed to call his lawyer. Nobody would take his son away. Angela would never have allowed it. Ever.