Dad looked up. “Doesn't he have kids?”
“Yeah, they're both with him,” Walter said, nodding. “I gotta hand it to the guy, he's got guts.”
“Well, if Lynch had murdered my wife, I'd probably do the same thing.”
Walter sat down in the chair next to Dad. “What are we going to do, Marty?”
“Protect them, Walter. Do whatever you have to do. Call Justice, request more personnel. Double the patrol cars, twenty-four-hour surveillance. Whatever it takes. We cannot let this fish wriggle off the hook.”
I'd heard enough. Standing up, I silently closed the window. I'd wait until later to put the lock back on.
I sat down on my bed, almost numb from what I'd just heard.
My God. I knew Lynch was corrupt, but to murder an innocent woman, somebody's wife, somebody's mother …
I looked at my bookshelves, which held dozens of books. I'd read them all, some of them multiple times. A lot of them were murder mysteries. Harmless fun. Crime-solving was romanticized, embellished, dramatic. A great way to escape.
But real police work was not a detective story. In the real world, real people, good people, innocent people got hurt, even killed.
Is this really the path, the career, the life I want for myself? I want to make Dad proud, but can I really deal with life-or-death situations every day like he does? Do I really have it in me? For the first time in my life, I began to have doubts.
I had just walked back to the kitchen when I heard the patio doors slide open. Dad poked his head in, and he was smiling again. “You ready to eat, K-Bear?”
Grinning as innocently as I could manage, I nodded. “So ready,” I replied.
* * *
A few more guests trickled in over the next hour, and Dad and Uncle Walter were their usual cheerful selves. We all ate, and drank, and swapped stories, and thankfully, the rain did not return. Dad broke into his famous Clint Eastwood impersonation a few times, which always got some laughs. Being a detective whose last name happened to be Callahan, he'd had to put up with a barrage of Dirty Harry jokes since before I was born, but Dad being Dad, he took it and ran with it. We'd watched every film in the Dirty Harry series numerous times, and Dad had Clint's steely-eyed squint down perfectly.
“Go ahead … make my day,” he said in a perfect Eastwood imitation, and everyone laughed, including me. Dad was such a ham.
By nine-thirty, the backyard had emptied out, everything had been cleaned up, and I'd hugged Uncle Walter goodbye. There was no mention of Lynch, or the trial, or the missing witness since the party got started, but I could see the stress etched into Dad and Walter's faces. I couldn't let on that I knew, of course, but my heart went out to them.
I was in my room checking my e-mail when I felt something soft brush against my legs. Reaching down, I picked Bruno up and deposited him on my lap. His blue eyes locked onto mine, and I scratched him vigorously behind the ears. I smiled as his purr increased in volume.
“Oh, you like that, huh, fish-breath?” I started stroking his back.
He looked at me again. Like it? I love it! Oh, yeah, that's the spot, right there. Yeah …
“You're always here for me, Bruno,” I said, nuzzling my nose up against his.
And I always will be, Kelsey. I love you so much. You're the best master an incredibly handsome cat like me could ever have.
“Oh, stop it, you're making me blush!”
Just then, my cell phone rang, interrupting the silly little imaginary conversation I was having. The sudden noise sent Bruno skittering out of the room as I reached out to pull the phone from its charger.
I checked the screen. The caller ID said “April H.”
Curious, I answered it. “April?”
“Hi, Kelsey,” said a boy's voice. A very familiar boy's voice.
“Ethan?” I asked, shocked. “What are you doing calling me from April's phone? Where is she?”
“She's … right here.”
“Can I talk to her?”
“Not … really. I think you'd better get over here.”
“Where?” I was getting more frantic by the second. “Where are you?”
Ethan paused for a few seconds, talking to someone in the background. Then he said, “305 West Cedar Lane. Get here as fast as you can.”
“You're scaring me, Ethan. What's happened to April?”
“She's … passed out.”
And the hits just keep on coming …
Chapter 24
~ DAY 27 (Sat.) ~
ETHAN
I knew the first part of my plan was going to be the easiest. I needed to get Pop to agree to let me and Logan go over to Baz's that afternoon. Once we got his approval, I moved to the second part, which was explaining it to Logan. He could ruin it all, but we'd been on good terms since I stopped teasing him, and he promised to not say a word. So far so good. The third and final part of the plan was definitely the hardest part.
I knew Gillian or one of the other agents would follow us at a discreet distance while we walked to Baz's house, making sure we were safe. Their job was to observe, but not to intervene unless we were in imminent danger. But the iffiest part of my plan involved taking a side trip to a high school party on Cedar Lane and not having word get back to Pop that I'd deceived him. I spent the early part of the afternoon hoping it was Gillian that got surveillance duty, since she was the only agent I'd really gotten to know over the past month. She might keep my secret. Might.
Five o'clock rolled around, and Pop hadn't yet returned from his latest conference with his lawyer. Logan and I walked up to a car that was parked down the street. As we approached, Gillian lowered the window. “Off to Baz's house?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I replied. “Listen, Gillian …”
“What is it?”
“There's a chance that Baz and I might … go over to another friend of theirs' house.”
She looked at us over the rim of her Ray-Ban's. “How far away is this friend's house?”
“Just a few blocks.”
She frowned. “I don't like the idea of you two splitting up. I can't keep an eye on both of you at the same time, and I don't want to have to call for another car.”
“It's okay,” I said as reassuringly as I could. “My brother will be with Sean the whole time. They're not going anywhere.” I looked at Logan. “Right?”
“Right,” he agreed. “We're just going to play video games.”
Gillian looked at Logan, and then at me. “Does your father know about this little detour of yours?”
My heart skipped a beat or two while I thought over her question. I knew this would come up. Either she'd be okay with it, or she wouldn't. She, more than the other agents, seemed sympathetic about the situation my brother and I had been forced into, and she seemed content to let us … well, be kids, doing kid things with other kids. I knew I was putting her in a tough spot, and I didn't want to lie to her simply for doing her job. “No, he doesn't,” I said.
She sat for a few moments, staring into space. The silence was deafening.
“We'll be fine, I promise,” I said. “We've got our watches and everything.”
She sighed. “You've been good boys so far, so I'll trust you.” Her gaze shot to Logan. “You … do not move from the Murphy's. Are we clear?”
“Yes, ma'am,” Logan said obediently.
“And I'll follow you,” she said to me. “Please don't get yourself – or me – into trouble, all right?”
I smiled. “I promise. Everything'll be okay.”
She nodded. “All right, then. Off you go.”
Logan and I walked the half-mile to Baz's house at a brisk pace. It was always tempting to look back, to see if the black car that Gillian seemed to live in for the last month was following us, but we knew we didn't have to. The car was equipped with the best GPS on the market today, and it was precisely tuned to the locator signals our watches gave off. I was sure we'd be safe. She was our silent, invisible protector, and we trusted
her now more than ever.
We knocked on Baz's door, and were greeted by his and Sean's mom, Gwen. “Well, halloo, boys!” she said cheerfully in an Irish accent that was even thicker than Baz's. She was my height, in her late thirties, with jet-black hair and a cool tattoo of some mythical winged creature on her neck. “We're just sittin' down to dinner, but yer welcome to join us! Ya hungry for some steak 'n potatoes?”
My eyes lit up. So did Logan's. All we'd eaten today was cold cereal and some microwave burritos, and the prospect of a home-cooked meal was too good to pass up. “Are you kidding? Yes!” Logan said.
Gwen led us into the Murphy's dining room, where Baz, Sean and their father Robert were waiting. They all greeted us with smiles, and Baz and Sean fetched two chairs from the kitchen for us to sit on. And then we sat down to eat. And boy, did we make pigs of ourselves.
The Murphys were awesome people. Baz's dad was a musician with a fairly successful Irish folk band back in the 90's, and they'd toured Europe. Robert told us some really cool stories about gigs they played in cities whose names I couldn't even pronounce, and I could instantly see where Baz got his musical flair and sense of humor.
Spending an hour at the dinner table, listening to great conversation and eating fantastic food, my thoughts drifted towards memories of Mom, of our life before this mess started. Apart from being an artist, she was also a wonderful cook, and being forced to eat microwave meals for the last few months made me miss her that much more. I knew Logan felt the same way.
At right around seven, our stomachs full near to bursting, we helped with the cleanup and Sean and Logan sat down for their latest contest of Assassin's Creed superiority. Not long after that, there was a knock at the door. Baz opened it up, and I saw Elijah standing in the doorway. “Hey, guys, you ready to go?”
I grabbed my denim jacket and put it on, and Baz did the same. “We're goin' now, Ma!” Baz said.
“Be home by ten, or ya know what'll happen, Baz,” Gwen's voice came from the kitchen.
A scared look crossed Baz's face. Obviously, he knew what would happen, and it wasn't anything good. “Ya got it, Ma.” And then we left.
It only took a few short minutes to drive to Cedar Lane, and as we pulled up to a really nice two-story house with an adobe-shingle roof, we could already hear music coming from inside. “Who lives here again?” I asked.
“Our friend Justin,” said Joey, who was riding shotgun. “His parents are out of town on some business trip, so it's just him and his little brother Aaron.”
No grown-ups? Uh-oh. If I had Peter Parker's Spidey-Sense, it'd probably be tingling right about now.
Elijah turned around to look at us. “Remember, you guys are freshmen, so try to act older. Can you do that?”
“Piece o' cake,” Baz said. “Can we go in now, or are we gonna sit here flappin' our beaks all night?”
The four of us went right through the front door, which was wide open, and it looked like we were the first ones to arrive. I saw lots of snack food in the kitchen, but Baz and I were so stuffed from dinner, we just grabbed a couple of bottled waters from the cooler. Justin, who definitely looked like the 'captain of the football team' type, seemed cool with us being there, but made us promise to, in his words, “not partake of the adult beverages, and, most of all, stay out of our way.” Which was pretty much our game plan anyway.
Baz and I sat on the sofa in the living room, helping ourselves to Justin's Wii, which had some really cool games on it, games I was sure would put Logan into a coma if he ever got his hands on them.
A steady stream of high-schoolers arrived over the next hour, and before long, it felt like every square yard of empty space in the house, and out in the backyard, was occupied.
The two of us watched the party unfold, and with it, lots of beer poured into plastic cups. Not everyone drank, but a lot of them did, and it wasn't long before we saw guys and girls start to make out in the corners of the rooms. One girl, who'd already partaken of a few cupsful, sat down on the couch next to us and chatted us up. I let Baz do all the talking, and he was his usual charming self. The girl instantly fell in love with his Irish brogue, and even gave him a sloppy kiss on his cheek before going for another refill.
I wasn't sure what I was hoping to get out of this party, but it was still pretty fun. Baz, it seemed, could adapt to any environment, and the music was cool. As the night went on, we talked to a few more people, who gave us the benefit of the doubt despite our youthful faces. So far, so good. I was sure Gillian was parked well up the street, and I suddenly felt bad for her. Years of training, and she had to spend half her day sitting behind the wheel of that damn car, watching us.
My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Baz, who tugged hard on my sleeve. “Um, Ethan?”
“What?”
“Backyard, now,” he said urgently.
“Why?”
“Look over there,” he said, pointing at the front door.
Two more people had arrived for the party, a guy and a girl. The guy was taller than me, but I could tell that he wasn't as old as most of the other partygoers. I didn't recognize him at all, but I did recognize his date.
It was Kelsey's friend, April.
I looked at Baz, who was edging toward the back door. “Come on, Ethan, before he sees us,” he said.
I followed him out into Justin's backyard, where a few other kids were sitting around talking, but it was a lot quieter. Baz and I plopped down onto some vacant patio chairs. “What's the problem, Baz?”
“That guy who just came in? That's Trey Wilson, the nut-sack I was telling you about before. We kind of … know each other. If he sees me, he'll tell everyone else we're not in high school.”
My brow furrowed. “Neither is his girlfriend.”
“Yeah, but he's not going to be stickin' his tongue down our throats, thank God.”
I nodded. “Good call. You wanna bail?”
He sighed. “Nah, it's cool. I don't wanna ruin me bandmates' night. We can hang out here for a while. It's nice outside.”
He was right. It was early October, and the temperature was finally down to a much more pleasant level after a blisteringly hot summer. So the two of us sat there next to the pool, watching the house. We made small talk for the next hour, but eventually ran out of things to say. I checked my watch. It read 8:50 p.m.
Baz sighed, saying what was obviously on his mind since we fled the house. “I can't for the life of me figure out what she sees in that guy.”
I just nodded. I didn't know how strong Baz's attraction to April was, and all I knew about her was the little that Kelsey told me, but I had to figure that April would be better off with Baz than this high-school guy that I'd heard nothing but bad things about. “Sorry, man,” I said.
He sighed again. “What'cha gonna do?”
I figured this was a rhetorical question, but I answered anyway. “Well, I'm gonna go get us a couple more waters. I'm empty, and parched.”
“Ya sure?”
“Yeah. I'm pretty sure Trey doesn't know me. And I'll keep an eye out for April.”
When I went back in, I saw that the party had thinned out slightly. There were still a lot of people, but not as many as before. I was on my way to the kitchen when I heard a very pissed-off voice from upstairs. I turned to see Trey coming down, and he did not look happy. He was shirtless, and it looked like he was wiping some nasty-looking substance off his chest.
“What happened, man?” asked another kid, who I figured was Justin's brother Aaron, based on the resemblance.
“Stupid bimbo threw up on me!” Trey said angrily. “Get me a damn towel!”
“Follow me,” Aaron said, and the two went into the kitchen.
I walked over to the stairs and looked up, wondering if April was going to come down as well, but I didn't see her. Looking around to make sure I wasn't being watched, I crept up the stairs. When I reached the top, I looked around to see what rooms had their doors open. There was only one, and it look
ed like a bathroom. I walked in, and there, kneeling over the toilet, was April. She was puking her guts out.
Without another word, I ran back down the stairs. I peeked into the kitchen, the living room and the den, but didn't see Trey. He'd obviously left. I returned to the backyard, where Baz was still sitting. He looked up as I approached. “Baz, come with me. Now.”
Instantly, he was up. I led him through the house, and into the upstairs bathroom. April was leaning up against the wall, her head on her chest. Thankfully, she was still fully clothed. There was an awful smell coming from the toilet, so I flushed it without bothering to look inside.
Baz knelt by April. “April? Are you okay?”
April raised her head, but the motion proved to be enough to send her into another fit of nausea. Within seconds, she was retching into the john again.
Baz shook his head. “Bloody hell. The bastard got her drunk.”
I nodded. “Yeah, but she puked on him before he could … do anything, I think.”
“Good,” Baz said angrily. “I hope that smell stays on him for weeks.” He moved over to sit by April, who had thankfully finished her latest round of vomiting. “April?”
April sat back down again, leaning her head on his shoulder. “He called me a child,” she said, slurring her words. “I'm only five months younger than him, and he calls me a freakin' child.” She groped around with her hand, finally finding his. Her eyes were still closed.
“What do we do, Baz?”
He squeezed her hand, watching her as she leaned on his shoulder. “We gotta get her home.”
“Do you know where she lives?”
Baz shook his head.
I knelt down, shaking her shoulder. “April?”
Her eyes were closed, and it sounded like she was snoring. No help there.
“Let's check her pockets for a cell phone,” Baz suggested.
Carefully, we patted the pockets of her jeans, but found nothing.
“Check her purse,” Baz suggested, pointing at a small purse lying against the wall in the far corner of the room.
Ethan's Secret (James Madison Series Book 2) Page 14
