“Smart lady, your mom,” Remy said with a small smile. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Josh was shaking a long, cylindrical tube with gusto, listening to it rattle as he fiddled with the tape on the ends. “I wonder what this is.”
The tape finally came free to reveal a poster made from a photograph. It was one Evan had taken shortly after Josh had moved into the house the previous summer, featuring all three tenants sitting on the porch. Sam was smiling, tapping Josh on the shoulder as Remy sat next to him and chuckled. The moment was forever etched in a smaller photo that sat on the mantle near the old fireplace in the living room, and Josh had loved the image from the moment he saw it. “Wow, thanks Rachel! Now I need a frame to put it in!”
“Open this next,” Evan said, handing Josh a large flat parcel. The younger man tore through it to find the frame he’d just mentioned, a plain black one with protective glass to keep the image from fading.
“Great!”
Rachel had been quietly opening her own presents—a new frying pan from Josh, a t-shirt from Remy that said “my students love me…just ask the ones I live with,” and the new earrings from Sam—when she realized that everyone had opened their presents. “All set?” she asked.
“Looks like it,” Remy said, sifting through the pile of paper at his feet. He was holding a CD of eighties classics in one hand as his fingers searched the floor underneath him.
“Hey, here’s one,” Josh said, holding up a small square box with red-and-gold ribbon.
Sam’s foot nudged something at his toe. He reached over to find it, locating a larger box with similar wrapping to the one in Josh’s hand. “This one too. Whose name is on it?”
“Evan’s,” Josh replied. He looked at the box in his hand. “This one’s unmarked.”
“I know who it goes to,” Evan said. “I’ll take that one, Sam.” He hefted the parcel as he took it from Sam’s hands, feeling the weight of the object inside. “It’s not a paperweight, is it?”
“Open it up and find out,” Rachel said.
Pale eyes peered into the box. “Wow,” he said, pulling out the pocket watch. He opened the silver cover to see the old-fashioned face and marveled at the mechanisms for telling the date and weather. “This is…this is…”
“A good replacement for that old wristwatch?” Rachel asked. She smiled, rose from her chair, walked over and kissed her boyfriend.
“Better than good. It’s perfect.” He gazed up into Rachel’s green eyes, taking in her pale face and wavy red mane. “Thank you. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas.”
“Hey, there’s this little one,” Josh said.
“Give it to Rachel,” Evan said. “It’s hers.”
Puzzled, Rachel took the small parcel. She opened it to find a black velvet ring box inside. She carefully opened the ring box to find a wide silver ring inside. Around the top was an inscription: find the right piece, and the picture becomes whole. There was a blank space on top. “Evan,” she said, her voice breathless. “What…”
“Probably not the best way to do this, but here goes,” her boyfriend said. “Rachel Colosanto, there is no one else I’d rather spend the rest of my life with. I’ve found the right piece, and my picture is whole. Would you consider, possibly, becoming my wife?”
“Oh, my God,” Rachel said, her throat thick with tears. “Yes, Evan. Yes, I will!”
“Wow,” Remy said, a surprised smile on his face.
“Cool,” Sam said. He too had an impish grin.
“So you guys are getting married?” Josh asked, a mixture of confusion and smiles.
“Yep,” Evan said. “We are.”
“Wow,” the eighteen-year-old said. “This Christmas is the best ever!”
Chapter 18
The little house lay buried deep in the middle of the Huron Woods, nearly a hundred and fifty miles from its intended inhabitants. The sounds of hammers and saws sounded deep into the night, and only occasionally did someone stop to light a cigarette and stare through the thick tangle of branches toward a spotty starry sky. There were no postings for the dwelling anywhere and it had been easily taken over by its current residents.
Dayton Spaulding stood in the chilly night, puffing on a poor excuse for a cigarette as he wrapped his arms around himself to keep warm. Usually, he hated smoking, and forbade any smoking inside; hence the trip into subzero weather. Scoring a few stray pharmaceuticals was not something he could indulge in, and he needed to be sober to carry out the next phase of his plan, so a joint was out of the question.
“Lookin’ good, man,” a voice said, coming up behind him. Dayton turned to see the giant mass that was Charlie strolling out the front door, puffing away at his own cancer stick. “Damn cellar is almost nicer than the upstairs.”
“I wanna have a little ‘fun’ with our guests before we’re through,” Dayton said. “No fun for me if I can’t milk the situation for all its worth.”
“Still, it’s turning out nice,” Charlie reiterated. “Too nice, you ask me.”
“That bastard ruined the one opportunity I had to make my own fortune, seeing as how my kin wasn’t as accommodating as I’d hoped.” Dayton scowled at the memory of his former friend’s face in the witness box, stubbornly telling the court about his role in the whole affair that had forever marked him. “All I needed was a little help. No one would’ve been hurt. Much.”
“Payday had better be nice too,” Charlie warned. “For this kind of shit, we don’t come cheap.”
“You’ll be paid,” Dayton reassured him. “At least enough to start you up someplace else.”
“After this place, I’m thinkin’ maybe Hawaii. Somewhere with sun and a beach.”
“Whatever you want. I just want to see the look on Liam’s face. That alone will be worth everything, seeing him lose it all.” Thin lips took another drag on a spent cigarette. “We got the heat running in there?”
“Wood burner upstairs, not gonna cost much, seeing as there’s trees every-fuckin’-where. Hope you can swing an axe, man.”
“Less cost for us, more profit in the end. Water?”
“Giant plastic trough. Lockable, like you wanted. There’s a hole in the ground for the other thing, in that little closet. And yeah, there’s a door to that.”
Dayton smiled evilly. “Good. Fuck knows I don’t wanna smell that.”
“Me neither.” Charlie tossed his cigarette butt on the ground, the latest of many littering the area near the residence. “Wood’s solid, won’t be breakin’ through it anytime soon. Plus we got a crossbar in front as well as a padlock. Have to be outta the comics to be able to break through it.”
A snort wafted through the silent air. “Not these kids.”
“Minimal lights, mainly one near that closet and one in that main section of the basement. And don’t none of it leak.”
“Good.” Dayton finally snuffed out his cigarette and tossed it to the ground. “Two weeks. I wanna dry run of how we plan to pull this off by next week.”
As the pair walked inside, Charlie said, “Friday night is gonna be the best bet. Your boy and his woman go out usually, just for the night.”
“And we know what those kids they live with will do.”
“We do. This time they’re in for a surprise.”
Chapter 19
Evan walked into the house, clapping his hands together as he walked toward the thermostat. The Christmas tree had come down three days before, and the place was looking pretty much like normal save for the frost growing inside the windows. There was a sharp banging sound coming from the kitchen, and as the young man turned into the room he noticed the back door swaying in the cold breeze.
Josh, he thought, shaking his head. You’d swear the kid was born in a barn. He shut the door tightly, making sure the lock set. Pulling off his patched jacket, Evan turned back into the kitchen to see a couple of prescription bottles left on the dining room table. These don’t belong here, he mused, walking closer. Did o
ne of the kids forget to take them upstairs?
He picked up the bottle, reading the label. The name had been whited out, and a handwritten one took its place: Liam Collier. Evan’s face paled, and his hand fell slack, nearly dropping the object it held. It took a minute to compose himself and he picked up the other bottle, his heart sinking when he read the same name written in block lettering on it.
That’s…that’s impossible. The young man was shaking, and his eyes darted through every corner of the room. Breaking out of his trance, Evan walked through every inch of the house, pulling open closet doors and searching every room. “Where the hell are you?!” he shouted. “Why the hell did you come here?!”
Heart racing, Evan finished his search of the premises to find no one in the house and nothing else touched. A thorough check of the medicine cupboard found everyone’s meds to be present and in order, especially Josh’s amphetamine salts and Remy’s supply of alprazolam. Nothing was taken, and nothing was missing.
He then looked at the bottles, staring at the altered name on them. Checking the label, he noticed that they were for both Xanax and Adderall. Whoever it is, he or she knows what ones to pick, Evan thought. A chill ran down his spine, and it wasn’t from the cold outside. Besides, the only person who would know that is locked up, with another five years to go.
The memory of an unseen face and thick, strong hands gripping a knife to his throat struck Evan, and his mouth turned instantly dry. First the break-in, and now this. If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone’s trying to send me a message. But how? I mean, he’s resourceful, but this is the last place anyone would look for me, and I sure as hell didn’t leave a paper trail to follow.
His mind made up, he shoved the bottles in his pocket. Don’t want to scare anyone just yet, he thought. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation, and one that doesn’t involve a jailbreak and a manhunt to find a man that doesn’t exist anymore. Probably some asshole’s idea of a good scare, nothing more.
As Evan went about setting up the furnace and stocking the fireplace for the night, a stray thought kept prodding him: there’s no one in Otter Lake who knows that name. No one in the whole state of Michigan, even. Why that name, if it was just someone’s idea of a sick joke? Another thought crossed his mind, and it made him sick. What if he’s found a way to track me down, and is looking to finish what he started in Carolina?
“Get a hold of yourself, Dyer,” he finally whispered in admonishment. “He’s there, and you’re here. There’s no paper trail, no way to connect the two. If that were true, it would be because of blind dumb luck, nothing more. And he’s still in prison.”
The sounds of feet crunching on snowy gravel made him fall silent. Evan picked up a small log in one hand and stood near the door, ready to take on whatever came through it. It’s only one-thirty, he reasoned. Everyone’s up at the school until three-thirty.
A key turned in the lock, and the door opened. The sound of a cane tapping on the floorboards made Evan lower his improvised weapon. “Sam,” he said, breathless.
“Evan? What are you doing home?” Clouded eyes turned toward the sound of a familiar voice.
“Finished up at Mr. Parker’s early. What are you doing home?”
Sam shrugged. “Morris Pelham.”
“What about him?”
A sigh escaped the lanky teenager. “You know he’s kind of a…a…”
“A dick?”
“Well, I didn’t say it, but yeah. He started in on Anthony Reagan, and then when I told him to knock it off, he started in on me. Finally I ended up backing him into a corner, and Mrs. Mills got called in, along with half the response team. I caught the Lakes bus home.”
Evan clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Sam, you didn’t…”
“I didn’t hit him. Honest, I didn’t. But I did make him think the end of my stick was sharp enough to put a hole in him. I mean, Anthony’s a nice kid. Sure, he makes some stupid comments, but he can’t help himself—everyone knows that. It’s like Walter Longoria and his tall tales.” Sam raised his head, his sightless eyes meeting Evan’s pale ones. The look of shame that flushed over Sam’s face was obvious.
“Sam, we’re gonna have to have a chat. First Cooper Lavelle, and now Morris? Is there something going on you’re not telling us?” Evan led Sam over to the couch, allowing his tenant to hang up his coat and throw his cane under the piece of furniture where they now sat.
“No, not really. It’s just…”
“Just?”
A thin torso heaved a giant sigh. “I don’t like it when people pick on other people. I mean, pick on them for no reason.”
“Is someone doing this to you, Sam? Something we don’t know about?”
“No. It happened before, though, when I went to regular school. People were jerks, kicking my cane out of my hand, trying to scare the crap out of me just because it was fun to see the blind guy freak out. Probably why I don’t like other people getting teased or picked on now.” Sam’s long fingers fidgeted in his lap, and his head turned slightly away from Evan’s voice.
“You went to…Lakeside, right?”
“Yeah. Bunch of rich, entitled jerks.” Sam made a face.
“I’m not familiar with that area. Lakeside Heights is wealthy, right?”
“Try completely loaded. We were the poor family, because Dad only made six figures instead of seven or eight.” Sam grimaced harder. “People like you and Rachel? You’d be nothing more than the hired help to them. I hate those kind of people, the ones that think they’re better than everyone else.”
“Still doesn’t explain why you’re going after Morris Pelham.”
“Morris had no right going after Anthony. He likes picking on people he thinks can’t get him. I’ve heard him going toe to toe with Remy or Julius Ronan in class, and he shuts the hell up because guys like Remy and Julius stand up for themselves. Anthony? He can’t do that. He doesn’t know how.”
“So you nearly running the kid through with your cane makes things square? Sam, that’s the part I’m not getting. Okay, you don’t like bullies. Me neither. Okay, you wanted to help someone out. I would too. But you’re not a violent person. It’s just not you.”
“Guys like Morris, like Remy’s uncle, they won’t get it unless someone slaps them upside the head. I might miss if I try to do that, hit their shoulder or their back instead of their head.”
Evan sighed. “Are we going to regret giving you fencing lessons?”
“Oh, no!” Sam cried. “No, don’t think that!”
Before Evan could reply, the phone rang. “Hey, Rosa,” he said, putting a finger on Sam’s lips. “I see Sam came home from school early?”
“Hello, Evan. Yes, Sam chose to sign himself out rather than deal with what happened here today. I assume he’s told you?”
“Decided to put that jackass Pelham in his place?”
“I’m not denying that Morris has…issues…but still, there’s no call to scare him like that. Sam had other avenues if he wanted to stand up for his friends.”
Evan sighed. “I’m not disagreeing with you, Rosa, but Sam’s got a bit of a point. Morris won’t learn because no one’s making him accountable when he pulls shit like this. You and I both know he goes after kids who can’t fight back, or aren’t capable of fighting back.”
“True. Which is why he’s on an extended break from school pending a consult. But you know as well as I do that the Pelhams are lawyer-happy, and they’ll likely try to press assault charges.”
“Sam says he never touched the kid.”
“And from all accounts, that’s accurate. But you have to admit, if I thought I was about to be skewered by a five foot metal pole, I’d say I was attacked too, wouldn’t you?”
“Fair point. I’ve talked with him, and Rachel and I will have to sit with him. But he’s free to come back to school tomorrow?”
Rosa sighed on the other end of the line. “As far as I’m concerned, Sam merely took some time to cool off. He
’s welcome to return to class tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Rosa. Keep me posted.”
“I will. Take care.”
Evan put the phone down. “I assume you heard both sides of that?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s right, you know. You’re responsible for your actions. Next time, use your words—you’ve got just as many of them as you do fencing moves to defend yourself and others.”
“Am I gonna need a lawyer?” Sam wondered, looking pensive.
“Knowing Mrs. Mills, probably not. I have a feeling Morris’s parents can be convinced to drop it, considering their kid’s got a file thicker than your Braille dictionary. And that’s just at OLBC.”
Sam smiled. “Good. I hope he gets what’s coming to him.”
“Still, I was serious. Sam, unless your life is in danger—or someone else’s life is in danger—save your fencing skills for Thursday nights, okay? Let’s avoid the legal fees and court costs.”
“Okay.” A thin growl escaped from Sam’s stomach. “I’m going to go have lunch. I missed having it at school.”
“I’ll join you,” Evan said. “How about tomato soup and grilled cheese?”
“Sounds great! I’ll get the soup and heat it up.”
“Not so fast there, smart guy. You can make the grilled cheese too. You know where we keep the stuff.”
“Damn,” Sam muttered under his breath. “I almost got out of that part.”
“Not quite, though,” Evan laughed. “Go on. I’m hungry too.”
Chapter 20
“Why are we doing this again?”
“Because we’re out of milk, Josh,” Sam said, struggling to walk through knee-high drifts while gauging his proximity to the nearby road. A rash of intermittent snowstorms during the past week had nearly buried North Kingston and the outlying areas, making travel difficult if not impossible. Even heavy-duty trucks like the one Evan used for work had a hard time staying on the roads, due to high winds and drifting snow.
“There was stuff in the cupboards.” Josh’s teeth chattered. “Man, it’s freezin’ out here!”
In the House On Lakeside Drive Page 10
