Find You There

by Brianna Bennett

  “Lasagna’s almost done,” Yvonne announced. Their grandmother was elderly but not frail by any stretch of the imagination. Pale skin lined with indigo veins and laugh lines showed the number of years she’d been alive, but her eyes still had the youth and playfulness of a child. Bill had been injured in a car accident, which was why he used a cane, but he showed no evidence of his age either. Marjorie had taken a seat at the table, pressing an ice pack to her face to help with the swelling.

  “I hope you boys don’t mind sharing Billy’s old room. We put Margie’s old bed in there when we upgraded the guest room,” Bill told them. The brothers shared a look and smiled. Just like old times.

  “That’s cool, Gramps,” Rider answered, and Marjorie temporarily lowered the ice pack.

  “How’s Billy doing?” she asked. She and her brother had been estranged for as long as Luca could recall. He had never liked their dad, and Luca couldn’t exactly blame him.

  “He’s doing well. He and Toby got married and they live together in South Dakota. They just adopted a baby girl from . . . oh, Bill, where was it? China? Japan?”

  “Taiwan,” Bill answered, and Yvonne snapped her fingers.

  “Oh, that’s wonderful!” Marjorie smiled, grimacing only slightly from the pain. “I didn’t know they got married,” she said sadly. “I wish I could’ve been there.”

  “It was a small ceremony, and, well, you know Billy. He didn’t want to inconvenience you,” Yvonne said, though the look Bill shot her way told a different story entirely. “Maybe we’ll FaceTime them while you’re here,” she added, apparently ignoring Bill’s stern expression. The oven beeped then, and Yvonne busied herself getting their dinner out. Distracted by freshly homemade lasagna, no one spoke for a while, but breaking news suddenly filtered in from the living room.

  “This just in: newly announced presidential candidate and United States Senator Richard Sherwood has reported his wife and sons missing in a press conference. Let’s listen in.” The screen switched to a familiar scene, Dick standing at the podium, Henry beside him. Bill wordlessly turned up the volume as Marjorie, Luca, and Rider stared at the screen in disbelief.

  “I can only ask for privacy in this trying time. My family means everything to me, and—” He actually had the audacity to sound choked up. He cleared his throat. “Pardon me. I—I . . .” He made eye contact with the camera. “Marjorie, Rider, Luca, please come home. I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to.” Rider jerked his head away in disgust, stabbing his lasagna with enough force that the fork squealed against the ceramic plate. Luca’s dinner turned to ash in his stomach, and he glanced at his mother. Would she really go back to him after this? he wondered, and as he did, Marjorie’s cheeks turned pink, quickly devolving into mottled red.

  Luca and Rider made sure to help their grandparents with the dishes after dinner, especially when their mother went to the patio to make a phone call. Likely to Henry or even their father to give them a piece of her mind. Luca wished he could listen in, but he didn’t want to upset her even more by eavesdropping on a conversation she obviously didn’t want them to hear.

  “Grams, go sit down. We’ve got this,” Rider told Yvonne with exaggerated patience.

  “Oh, all right.” Yvonne reached up and gently pulled Rider’s head toward her so she could press a kiss to his temple. “Thank you. Both of you.” She kissed Luca’s cheek and made her way to the living room, where Bill was watching some sort of police procedural. “Ah, I’ve seen this episode!”

  “Well, I haven’t, so don’t say anything else,” Bill grumbled, but it lacked heat, and his eyes shone affectionately.

  “If I ever find someone to put up with all of my baggage, I’d want them to look at me like Gramps looks at Grams,” Rider confided in Luca from their spot in front of the sink. Luca smiled and passed Rider a clean plate to dry. They continued to clean the dishes in silence, except for the TV, at least, until the front door opened and Marjorie came back in. Luca craned his neck to look at her, and his heart broke at the evidence of tears all across her face.

  “Mom?” he said, and she glanced at him, offering a watery smile.

  “Don’t worry about me, honey. I’m a big girl. I’ve given your father more than enough second chances.” The false bravado reminded Luca so much of Rider that he had to remind himself that his brother was right next to him.

  “Stay focused, space cadet,” Rider whispered, and Luca hip-checked him in response. Marjorie joined her parents in the living room, and if they saw her tearstained face, they didn’t comment on it. Eventually, Rider and Luca finished the dishes and made sure to wipe down the kitchen table. They even polished the countertops.

  “I’m not tired enough for bed yet,” Rider told him as they carted their duffel bags to Billy’s former bedroom. It was a small space, about the size of an average dormitory, yet managed to be cozy as well. Their beds sat in opposite corners, with a medium-sized window in the middle that looked out onto the street below. Under the window, there was a single six-drawer dresser that the brothers opted to share rather than live out of their duffels. “D’you think Grams and Gramps have any MCU movies?”

  “Let’s go downstairs and find out,” Luca replied, and Rider grinned.

  He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand it. The guilt was eating him alive. He hated keeping secrets, but what else was he supposed to do? If he told her what he’d done, she’d be devastated. She wouldn’t be able to look at him anymore, and he wouldn’t blame her. But if he kept it to himself, he feared that he would end up in a nuthouse. He randomly remembered reading the Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe in high school and snorted at the irony. His secret was like the heart under the floorboards, just waiting for him to slip up and confess his crime.

  “You may be the amateur detective, but it doesn’t take a sleuth to figure out who’s responsible—who’s been responsible—from the very beginning!” Lyric’s lower lip wobbled with a mix of anger and heartbreak, and she sucked it into her mouth to stop it. “What was the plan, Luca? Seduce the tutor, destroy her art, and then break her heart to top it all off? Is this fun for you or something?”

  “Lyric, you’ve got to listen to me,” Luca pleaded. “What would I have to gain from destroying your art?” He took a careful step toward her, and she grabbed a small knife from the tool cart, holding it out defensively. He put his hands up placatingly, his vibrant green eyes meeting her tear-filled ones.

  “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “Because I didn’t do it!”

  “Oh, and I should just believe you? You said yourself that politicians live by loopholes!”

  “If I recall correctly, you were the one to tell me that I wasn’t a politician, and that by extension, those same rules don’t apply to me!” Lyric sniffled and turned away from him.

  “I need you to leave. Please. Please, just go.”

  Lyric shot up in bed with a painful gasp. She’d been prone to lucid dreaming before, but never like that. She shifted so that her back met the wall, folding her knees so they were under her chin. Don’t criminals like to involve themselves in a case? They get some kind of sick thrill out of it? She recalled numerous 3M podcast episodes that had detailed that exact occurrence. Luca wouldn’t do that, though. She considered what she knew about him—well, more accurately, what she didn’t know. Would he?

  She was walking to Rhythm’s room before she thought about it, and a quick glance at the hallway clock said it was just after 2:00 a.m. He’s probably still awake, knowing him, she thought, silently opening his bedroom door.

  A midsized room stared back at her, the double-sized bed with a blue plaid comforter tucked into the corner. Opposite the bed was Rhythm’s expansive computer setup in all black, with two monitors and two hard drives stacked on top of each other.

  Very few pictures decorated the walls, drawing your attention to the blankness between those photos. He should probably freshen up the paint job in here at some point, she thought, recalli
ng her own violently fuchsia bedroom. I don’t even hate pink; I just don’t like it as much as I did when I believed in unicorns and the Tooth Fairy.

  Her older brother sat in front of his computer, right arm moving frantically to control the mouse while his left typed code far faster than a typical person could do one-handed. He must have seen her in the reflection from his screen, because he turned in his chair and lowered his headset so it sat around his neck.

  “Peanut? What’re you doing up?”

  “I had a nightmare,” she said, and Rhythm stood up, giving her the kind of hug only a big brother could.

  “So, tell me about it,” he encouraged, and she bit the inside of her cheek, sitting pretzel-style on his unmade bed. He watched her patiently, eyebrows drawn with concern. The words came out slowly at first, but once the metaphorical leak was unplugged, the words came rushing out. She kept the details about movie night to herself, letting him draw his own conclusions. He sat there and digested the information for a few moments before speaking. Lyric found herself glancing around the room for something to look at only for Rhythm to jerk her attention back to him when he spoke. “Are you sure he’s innocent?”

  “What?”

  “Are you sure that Luca’s innocent? It just seems awfully convenient for him to offer his help so soon after your art was destroyed, and for free.”

  “People can be good without ulterior motives,” she replied, shifting uncomfortably.

  “Sure they can, but consider who his dad is. The apple probably didn’t fall far from the tree.” Lyric opened her mouth to respond, to defend Luca and tell Rhythm that he was nothing like his father, but she found that she couldn’t. Unfortunately, he makes a good point. She swallowed around the lump in her throat. I really don’t want to think that Luca has been behind this all along—the thought makes me want to throw up—but I don’t have enough evidence to rule him out either. Rhythm squeezed her shoulder, shooting her a half smile. “Go back to bed, Leer. Nothing is getting resolved tonight.”

  “You’re right,” she agreed.

  “I know,” he quipped, and she rolled her eyes.

  “Thanks, Ry.”

  “Anytime.” He turned back to his screens, and Lyric yawned before making her way back her own room and blissful sleep.

  “I left the sanitarium AMA,” Rider stated when he and Luca were a fourth of their way through the first Thor movie. Chris Hemsworth’s face froze in place, and Luca turned to face his brother. Their grandparents’ basement was dark, so Luca couldn’t see his expression, but his mind’s eyes gave him a pretty good idea of what he looked like. “Against medical advice,” Rider added as the silence stretched out. The lamp next to Rider clicked on, and Luca shielded his eyes from the sudden brightness.

  “That’s why you were so tense yesterday. You thought they were going to chase you down and shove you into a straitjacket, didn’t you?” Luca didn’t want to laugh, but he couldn’t help it. The image his imagination produced was too funny to ignore. “You know that only happens in the movies, right?”

  “Sure, but I didn’t know what Dad had paid those people to do.”

  “You’re over eighteen, Rider. They have to let you go if you aren’t a danger to yourself or others.”

  “I know, I know. It’s just . . . I wish Dad would get his head out of his ass.”

  “You and me both.”

  “I know I don’t say it enough, but . . . I’m glad I have you by my side.”

  “I love you too,” Luca told him, and resumed the movie before Rider could rib him for being too sensitive. “Chicks dig sensitive guys,” Rider had told him once, what felt like decades ago. Luca let himself get swept up in the action of the movie, and they fell asleep on the sofa once the credits started to roll.

  “Absolutely not! I won’t let you go back to that house!” Luca opened his eyes and found Rider doing the same, the sound of their grandfather’s agitated voice coming from above. Their mother's voice was too soft to hear, but they could easily connect the dots, especially once Bill’s voice rose. “It’s not about permission, Margie! It’s about your safety! The boys’ safety! Rick has already hit you once. What’s stopping him from doing it again?” Luca and Rider shared a look and darted up the steps.

  “What’s going on?” Luca asked once silence fell between father and daughter. They stood on opposite sides of the kitchen counter, Marjorie with her back to the refrigerator and Bill with his back to the dining room table. Yvonne was nowhere to be seen, but Luca doubted she was still asleep. Where’s Daisy? Does Grams have her?

  “Your mother has proposed going back to Claymoor on Monday. I am trying to talk her out of it,” Bill answered, and Marjorie sighed.

  “I can’t rely on you and Mom indefinitely! I’m well past the age where it’s socially acceptable to be living with my parents!”

  “It’s not indefinite, Margie.” Bill’s voice softened. “I won’t see him hurt you again. I won’t do it.”

  “We’ll go,” Rider said abruptly, drawing all eyes to him. “Luca and I can make the trip back to Claymoor and get some more of our stuff. You stay here with Grams and Gramps, Mom. We’ll take care of this.” Pride edged its way into Bill’s expression, but he didn’t say anything else for the moment.

  “Sweetheart, I can’t ask that of you,” Marjorie replied, though her body language all but begged for them to follow through with it.

  “You’re not asking. I’m offering. Besides, worst-case scenario, Luca can use his Jiujitsu training, even though I don’t think Dad would risk the press seeing him confront us.”

  “He makes a good point,” said Bill, his arms crossed over his chest. “It’s been so long since your mother and I got to spend extended time with you . . . .”

  “No need to lay on the guilt trip, Dad. I’ll stay.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “So, tell me about this passion project of yours.” Luca raised a curious eyebrow at his brother. “You know! The investigation into what happened to Lyric’s artwork.”

  “Oh, that. Well, we found a piece of glass that we think has dried blood on it. The police must’ve missed it when they were cleaning up the crime scene. Problem is, we don’t have anyone that could test it for DNA.”

  “Wasn’t Gramps a state trooper? Maybe he still has connections and could get it tested for you off the record.” Luca’s brow furrowed. How could I have forgotten that Gramps was a cop? he demanded of himself, but of course he didn’t get an answer.

  “That’s a great idea!” Should I text Lyric about this, or should I just wait until I see her in a little bit?

  “You’re just sorry you didn’t think of it, aren’t you?”

  “Shut up.”

  “That’s a yes.”

  As they approached town, Luca and Rider decided to split up. Rider went back to their house while Luca met up with Lyric to update her.

  “I’ll also head over to Carrie’s place so she’s not left in the dark.”

  “Good call. Oh, by the way—you have my blessing.” Rider shot him a confused look. “Don’t play dumb. I don’t mind if you date Carrie,” he explained, and then Rider did something that Luca had never seen before: he blushed. “Awwww. You lurveee her,” he teased, and Rider flipped him off in response. “Very mature.” Luca laughed, and they temporarily parted ways.

  Lyric and Luca met up in the center of town. Mother Nature had apparently decided to give them a break, so the weather was relatively cool compared to how it had been for the first half of the season. She allowed herself to trace his veins with her eyes, recalling how he looked without a shirt. The more time I spend with him, the more I want to touch him—the more I want him to touch me. Flustered at the trajectory of her own thoughts, she stared at her lap, fidgeting nervously.

  Luca told her the Cliff Notes version of what had caused their mother to pack them up and flee across state lines. I’m weirdly grateful that Dad never attacked Mom. Not to say he’s any less of an asshole, but in the grand scheme of t
hings, he could’ve been way worse.

  “I wanted to ask you if you’d be interested in spending the weekend at my grandparents’ place.” In the few months she’d known him, Luca had only been obviously nervous around her twice: movie night and now. Her heart fluttered at the thought. I can’t recall Shawn ever being nervous around me. At the time, I thought it was attractive, but now I’m not so sure. I shouldn’t compare him to Shawn, because they’re two different people, but he’s the only reference I have.

  “I, um . . . Can I think about it?”

  “Sure. Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “My gramps is actually a retired cop. He might have some connections in forensics that could test the glass we found.”

  “Really? That’d be awesome!” Their investigation had stalled, and Lyric would be lying if she said she wasn’t feeling dejected. Granted, she’d also been distracted by the prospect of a romantic relationship with Luca, but still.

  “I haven’t asked him yet, so don’t get your hopes up too much, but Rider reminded me when we were driving here, and it makes sense.”

  “I should send him a fruit basket,” Lyric joked, attempting to lighten the mood, but Luca didn’t take the bait. Instead, he reached across the table and curled his fingers around hers, caressing her knuckles with his thumb. Sparklers exploded from where his skin touched hers, and warmth catapulted up her neck. He chuckled under his breath, and she narrowed her eyes at him, unable to stop herself from smiling.