by Jeff Ross
Grady grabs my hand, pulling me with him toward the far wall. As he’s passing the second chair, he stops, leans down and picks something up from the floor. Suddenly, his lips brush my ear as he whispers, “If it’s not him, we’re right beside a door.”
“How will we know?” I whisper back. The flashlight beam grows in both size and strength.
“Wait,” Grady says. The beam shifts, and we hear an endless stream of numbers and letters pouring from what sounds like a police radio. It grows louder before falling silent.
“Cops,” I say. Grady opens the door, pulls me through and silently shuts it.
We’re on the other side of the warehouse and have to double back around. As we turn the corner, I spot a police car parked beside the neighboring building.
“There’s a cruiser,” I say, grabbing Grady’s arm. We hug the wall of the warehouse until we can be certain no one is inside the cruiser. I slide back into the shadows, bringing Grady with me. “Don’t they usually work in pairs?” I say.
“There’s likely another one around here somewhere.”
We move around Dumpsters and garbage bags, staying away from the few remaining lights as much as possible. I begin to run toward the car, and one of Grady’s too-big shoes slips off my foot. I trip and go down. It seems as if I’ve barely hit the ground before I feel Grady’s hands beneath my arms, lifting me back up.
“You okay?” he says.
I glance down at my knees, which seem fine. “I’m okay.”
He lets me go, and we cover the rest of the distance to the car. Grady stops on the passenger side and opens the door for me.
“How did anyone know we were there?” I say.
Grady gets in the car, starts the engine and backs out into the lot.
“That couldn’t have been random,” I say. “Why would the police patrol this area?”
“I doubt they would,” Grady says. “This would be rent-a-cop territory, if anything.”
Rocks ping off the tires, and to my ears it sounds like a fireworks display. Instead of retracing our route past the warehouse, he drives around the back to a service entrance that connects to the next set of buildings.
“Have the police questioned you?” Grady asks.
“I spent all of yesterday with a detective. Why?”
He glances down at my hands; I’m rubbing the sides of my cell phone again. “Have you had your phone with you all the time?”
I think back through everything that’s happened. “Every second.”
“Did you ever leave it anywhere?”
I think again and remember leaving the phone in Detective Evans’s car when the two of us walked to the school, looking for Ben. I’d set it on the seat while I juggled the food and coffee, and in my hungover haze had forgotten to retrieve it. “I left it in this detective’s car,” I say. “Detective Evans.”
“Let me see it,” Grady says. I hand my phone over to him, and he flicks through it, keeping one eye on the road.
“Maybe you should pull over while you do that,” I say.
He slows almost to a stop and hands the phone back to me.
“Right here,” he says.
On the screen is an app called trackme.
“It can be hidden,” he explains as we pull back out onto the street connecting the warehouses with the highway. “It’s mostly for people who are paranoid about losing their phones and parents wanting to virtually creep their kids.”
“She had this installed on my phone?” I say in disbelief. “Why would she do that?”
“She must believe you know where Tom is and aren’t telling.”
“But that’s illegal, right? The police can’t track anyone they like.”
“Very illegal. But unless you saw her put it on, you can’t prove that she did,” Grady says. “On the other hand, they can’t ever admit to having put it on either.”
There is a gas-station complex just before the highway ramp. Grady pulls in beside the little store, parks beyond the reach of the neon lights and brings the laptop out from the backseat. “Let me see that again,” he says.
I hand him my phone. He looks back and forth between the two screens, typing madly on the laptop while flicking through screens on my phone.
“She didn’t know about the Tom connection until…” I begin, and then I remember how Detective Evans had been texting someone as we walked back to the cruiser. And how she’d been asking me questions about Tom at the same time. There’s every chance that she had the other officer go into her cruiser and install the app on my phone. I never password-protect my phone because I hate having to type something in every time I use it. Of course, with her penetrating stare, she would have noticed me forgetting it in her car.
“There, that’s better,” Grady says, turning the laptop toward me. “You’re now hurtling down the highway away from town. If they are tracking you in real time, we should see the cruiser go past any minute.”
“How’d you do that?”
“These programs are easy. Whoever installed it used a password, so it might take a few minutes to crack that when we want to remove the program.”
“I didn’t see it at first,” I say, staring at him.
“See what?” He looks all innocent and timid.
“That you’re a giant nerd,” I say, laughing.
“I told you, when I get interested in something, I learn all I can about it.”
“And you’re interested in hacking?”
“I’m interested in computers. Hacking is the devil on your shoulder. The apple of knowledge. The—”
“Okay, okay, I get it. With knowledge comes power, and you have to decide how to use that power.”
“There’s the cruiser,” Grady says, pointing at a set of headlights. “See if you recognize the driver.”
I squint at the cruiser as it passes but can’t make out the driver through the tinted windows. “It’s a regular cop car,” I say. “Detective Evans was in an unmarked one.”
“She sent her lackey,” Grady says. He’s typing on the keyboard again. “You want me to remove that app now?”
I think about this for a second, then say, “You can do that whenever, right?”
“Sure.”
“And with the laptop, you can make them think I’m somewhere else?”
“Wherever you want to be.”
“So let’s leave it. This could be fun.”
Grady laughs. “Now who’s the degenerate?” He tosses the laptop into the backseat and pulls a book out of his pocket.
“What’s that?”
“It’s the book your brother was reading last time we were at the warehouse.” He holds it up. It’s called A Confederacy of Dunces. “I found it on the floor near the door.”
“That means he was there recently, right?”
“Not necessarily. He might have forgotten it at our last jam session.”
We both look at the book.
“Where the hell are you, Tom?” Grady says under his breath.
FOURTEEN
There’s something strange about the front of my house.
At first I can’t tell what it is, but then a bit of motion catches my eye. The curtain is blowing in the breeze. The problem is that it’s blowing outside, because most of the window is no longer there.
“What’s going on with your window?” Grady says, shutting off the engine.
“I don’t know.”
“It wasn’t like that before?”
I stare at him. “Yeah, this is how we leave our place all the time.”
“Want me to come in with you?”
I consider saying no.
“Yes,” I say. “Yeah, that’d be good.” I open the door and say, “Mom?”
“I flick the living room light on and stand in the hallway, listening. Grady is right behind me.
“Should she be here?” he asks.
“She is. But she takes these pills for her migraines that totally knock her out.”
I step into the living room and find a brick on the floor, lying amid the broken glass. I bend over to pick it up, and Grady stops me.
“Leave it. In case there are fingerprints. Look, there’s a note.” He bends down, pulls a pen out of his pocket and flicks a piece of paper that is tied to the brick.
Tell us where he is, it reads.
“Any idea who would have done this?” Grady asks.
I say, “Ben’s stepbrother JJ is convinced Tom took Ben.”
“If that app on your phone means anything, that’s what the police believe as well.”
“As well as the news reports, which mention Tom by name.”
“Yeah, those don’t help.”
“Did you turn off the misdirection for that app?”
“It reverts back to the phone’s true location eventually.”
“Let me check on my mom, and then I’ll call the police.”
Grady rubs at the back of his head and inhales deeply.
“Don’t worry,” I tell him. “You can leave before they get here.”
“It’s not like I’m a criminal or anything. But with the car and the plates and…”
“Don’t worry, I understand.” I walk down the hall to my mom’s room and open the door. She’s fallen asleep with her light on. I get close enough to listen to her slow, shallow breathing.
“Okay,” I say to Grady when I return to the living room. “You’re free.” I pull out my cell. “But you’d better get going. I have a feeling it won’t be long before the good detective arrives.”
“Yeah, for sure,” Grady says. He gives me another genuine smile. It’s adorable.
“Well done,” I say.
“What?”
“That was an awesome smile. It felt real.”
“Oh, thanks.” He steps out the door. “I’ll text you if I can think of anywhere else your brother might be.”
“Won’t you need my number for that?”
“I already have it,” he says. “Be careful where you go with that app on.”
“What if I need to get a hold of you?” Suddenly, I don’t want him to leave. I’ve only just met him, but I feel somehow safer with him in my life.
Grady reaches into his pocket, pulls his phone out and hits a few numbers. A moment later my cell buzzes.
The text reads Grade-D.
“Nerd,” I say.
“For life,” he replies, making some kind of hand gesture I don’t understand.
I call 9-1-1 as I watch him drive away.
Detective Evans arrives within ten minutes, with a uniformed officer in tow.
“Do you have any idea who would do this?” she asks, kneeling beside the brick. The army of crickets camped in our front garden is chirping. The noise is eerie as it floats in the broken window. The officer looks around the room like he’s come to an open-house showing.
“By the note, I guess it would be someone who believes Tom has something to do with Benny’s disappearance.” I sit on the couch and cross my arms. Detective Evans removes an evidence bag from her pocket and hands it to the officer.
“Get the lab to check for fingerprints.” The officer bags the brick, then stands there as if more evidence is suddenly going to jump out at him.
“I’ll go take a look outside,” he eventually says, leaving Detective Evans and me alone.
“Was there anyone home when this occurred?”
“My mother.”
“Where is she now?”
“Sleeping,” I say.
Detective Evans raises an eyebrow and leans to look down the hall. “Through all of this?”
“She takes medication for severe migraines, and it totally knocks her out.”
She opens her notepad. “And where were you?”
“Out,” I say. “Are there any leads on Benny?”
“Not at the moment, no. Where did you say you were tonight?”
“I didn’t.” I can tell she’s waiting for me to lie to her. “Have you considered letting the public know that Tom had nothing to do with Ben’s disappearance? Maybe he’s just scared because he figures the police are out to get him.”
“We need to talk to him, Lauren.”
“Then stop putting his picture on TV next to Ben’s. You know how it looks. And other people have obviously gotten the wrong idea as well.”
“That decision is out of my hands.”
The door opens and the officer steps back in. “Detective, I have some footprints out here. Should I get CSI to come and take some molds?”
Detective Evans stares at me. “You have no idea who could have thrown that brick through your window?”
“No,” I lie.
Detective Evans inhales slowly. “No one has spoken to you about this situation?”
I could tell her I think it’s JJ. But I know it won’t do any good. She already showed her allegiance to the Carters when she didn’t step in between JJ and me earlier. I would look petty, I’m certain, and if she ever approached JJ with this accusation, he would make up some lie about me. Something I’d said or done that proves I’m not to be trusted. So I just shake my head.
“Okay,” she says to the officer. “Let’s get a mold.” The officer tips his hat and closes the door. “Maybe we should go over this again, Lauren. When did you last see your brother?”
“Saturday.”
“And where was that?”
“He stopped by the park where Ben and I were playing.”
“Did he say anything to Benjamin Carter?”
“He would have said hello. I don’t remember anything else.”
“Think, Lauren. Think about where you were standing when your brother approached. Where Benjamin was.”
No one calls him Benjamin. I want to scream at Detective Evans every time she does. “Benny was on the platform of the play structure,” I say. “I was at the bottom of the slide. Tom came from the road and walked across the sand.”
“Okay. And what did he say?”
I close my eyes. “Hi.”
“And then?”
“We talked about—”
“No, tell me what he said. Exactly,” she says sharply.
“How am I supposed to remember that? It was days ago. It was just a conversation.”
“Try for me, Lauren. It could be very important. If you have to, put yourself above the scene. Try and see it like it’s a movie playing. Or you’re a bird looking down on it.”
I give that a shot. It feels ridiculous.
“He said, How long have you guys been here? and I said, Half an hour. Then Ben came down the slide and Tom said, Hi, Benny, how are you doing today? And Ben said, I’m well. Thank you for asking.”
“That’s exactly what he said?”
“Yes.”
“Does Benjamin always talk like that?”
“Yes. His mother is crazy about his manners. In a good way.
”
“And your brother calls him Benny?”
“Anyone who really knows him does,” I say, feeling a sense of familiarity with Ben that Detective Evans will never have. “His friends.”
“Okay. Go on. What happened next?”
“Benny went back to the structure.”
“And what did your brother do?”
“He asked me—”
“What were his words, Lauren? Exactly what he asked,” she says, way too sharply.
“I don’t know!” I yell. “I can’t remember everything exactly. This is like a nothing moment in my life. Tom was walking by, he saw us, he came to say hi. He asked what I was doing that night, and then he left. He kept walking.”
“Why did he ask what you were doing that night?”
“Because he’s my brother? Because that’s what people do?”
“You told me before that you two were not close. That you didn’t have much to do with one another. That you ran in different circles. You said all these things.”
“Oh my god, that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t stop and talk to me.”
“Where was he coming from?” Detective Evans asks.
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
“Where was he going?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know any of this. That was the entire encounter!”
“Okay, Lauren. Okay. I’m sorry you are so upset.”
“Sorry? Really? You think my brother has, like, abducted a kid. That he’s some sick pervert who—”
“We don’t necessarily…”
“—is going to do weird things to him. You think he’s this giant freak. Why? Because he was in the neighborhood that night? Because he once asked some kid about a sand castle? Because he doesn’t have a cell phone? You think you have him all figured out, but you don’t know him at all. You have no idea.”
“You’re right, Lauren, I don’t know your brother. I’ve never met him. I’m going on what I have. There’s some kind of a connection here between Tom and Benjamin Carter. The closed-circuit videos from the grocery store have us asking a lot of questions. What was Tom doing there? Why was he connecting with Benjamin? Why not talk to Erin? But the biggest question remains, what was Tom doing outside the mayor’s house the night Benjamin disappeared, and where did he go? We need to talk to your brother about all of this. Just talk, Lauren. Nothing more.”
