Ethan's Secret (James Madison Series Book 2)

by Patrick Hodges

  Maybe he doesn't know. He hasn't found them yet. That's why he's asking around. I got here on time. The cops will take Mark and his family to a safe place.

  The thought hit me like a bolt of lightning. Had I just guaranteed that I would never see him again?

  I can't think about that. Not right now. This is his life, his family's lives we're talking about …

  I sat on the couch, barely daring to move, for several agonizing minutes. My thoughts were disturbed by Walter, who slammed his phone down in anger. He rose to his feet and walked over to Dad, spoke a few words to him, and then both of them made their way back over to me.

  “Kelsey, if there's something else you haven't told us, you need to tell us now.”

  I suddenly became very scared. “I've told you everything! I swear!”

  Agent Meadows had also walked over. “Do you believe her?”

  “Yes, I do,” Dad said.

  I looked at the faces of the three men who stood over me, one at a time. “What's going on?”

  Dad looked at Agent Meadows, who nodded. Turning to me, he said, “Mark's disappeared.”

  Chapter 40

  ~ DAY 41 (Sat., 5:00 p.m.) ~

  ETHAN

  Hello, Man Upstairs? It's me again. If you're still listening, I've got one more favor to ask of you.

  Please. Let me have this one last thing, I'm begging you. I don't care what happens to me afterwards, but I need this. With Mom dying and the moving and the running and the hiding and the lying, you OWE me one. Please.

  These thoughts ran through my head as I sprinted toward Baz's house. I didn't want to believe it. I was supposed to have the chance to finish my time here, to be with my friends, to say goodbye. But no, fate just had to stand up and kick me in the balls again.

  I'd showered, put on my new clothes, and was almost ready to head over to Baz's house when Gillian drove her surveillance car right up the driveway. There could only be one reason for that: our cover had been blown.

  She'd gathered Pop, Nathan and myself in the kitchen, and informed us as casually as if she was talking about the weather that our safety had been compromised, and we had to leave. Again. NOW.

  I'd protested. I'd shouted. I'd begged. So had Nathan. But this was not a debate. We were only given ten minutes to pack up our belongings, and after that, we'd be taken somewhere else. Somewhere far away.

  I'd slammed the door of my room shut in frustration, sitting down on my bed and cradling my head in my hands. No. This is NOT happening!

  I was happy. For the first time since Mom died, I was happy. I felt like a real kid again. A real kid with a normal, non-screwed-up life. I had friends. I had the greatest girl a loser like me could ever want. And just like that, it was all being torn away from me again. I'm going, forever. And Kelsey and Baz and the rest of them will never know why.

  They'll wait for me to show up, and I won't. I won't be at school on Monday, or Tuesday, or any day after that. They'll talk about it, make up crazy stories, and then move on. Pretty soon, I'll just be a memory. And then that will fade too. Just like before.

  No.

  Not this time.

  I grabbed a butter knife off a plate that lay on my desk, from the dinner I'd eaten in my room last night. As quietly as I could, I slid my bedroom window open and glanced around our tiny backyard, seeing nothing. The wire-mesh screen that covered the window frame was old and filthy, and as I pressed it with my fingers, I felt it crumble outward just a little.

  Do it, Mark. Do it.

  I used the knife to cut a long vertical strip in the wire mesh, and the metal parted easily. Before long, I had created a hole large enough to climb through.

  First, I took the watch off my wrist and placed it on the desk. And then, making as little noise as I could, I hoisted myself through the window, landing softly on the ground just outside. I hurried to the corner of the yard, where there was a section of chain-link fence that had come loose from the horizontal ground-bar. Using my hand to pry it up, I shoved my body through the small gap, giving thanks that I was as skinny as I was. Once through the hole, I stole a glance back at the house. I could hear a couple of agents loading up a car with some of our belongings on the other side of the gate, but no one had heard me.

  The final obstacle was the thick oleander bushes that surrounded our yard. Although it formed a seemingly impenetrable wall, I found a less dense section to crawl through. I'd heard somewhere that oleanders were poisonous, so I wasn't sure if that meant that it would be … unhealthy of me to even touch them, but no sense taking chances. I took off my denim jacket, wrapped it around my head, and shoved my hands in my pockets. Then, with the determination of an angry bull, I put my head down and charged through the bush.

  I made it through without much trouble, although I did fall on my face when my foot snagged on a thick, twisted root. Dusting myself off, I cut across a back-alley that ran behind our safe-house and, hoping like hell I was going in the right direction, ran as fast as I could to Baz's house.

  If I've timed this right, it might just work. If I get to Baz's house too early, the agents will find me there. Too late, and he'll have already gone, and I'm toast. So please, Man Upstairs … if you're up there, let this work. Please.

  It's tough to run when you're constantly looking behind you, but I somehow managed to run the six blocks to Baz's house on Mulberry Street without spotting any pursuers. The garage was open, and Baz was loading his guitar case into the trunk of Elijah's car. He looked up as I ran the last few yards. “Ethan!” he said, beaming. “Yer just in time, boyo! We're just about to head out!”

  I put my hands on the car, catching my breath. “Yeah, I didn't think I'd make it either.”

  Elijah came out of the garage, carrying his bass guitar. “Ethan! Great to see you, dude!”

  “You too,” I said, finally getting my breath back. “Where's Joey?”

  “He's already at the school,” Elijah said. “One of our friends helped us transport his drum set an hour ago.”

  “When are you guys going?”

  “Right now, boss,” Baz said, slamming the trunk shut after Elijah had put his guitar inside. “Just let me lock up the house, and we'll go.”

  I climbed into the back seat, and a minute later, Baz climbed in beside me, having locked the door and closed the garage. “Your folks aren't home?” I asked him.

  “Nah, they were invited out by some old friends who came into town,” Baz said. “And Sean's sleepin' at his friend Stu's house.”

  Cool. That means that if the agents come looking for me here, they'll find an empty house. Maybe that'll buy me some more time. Doin' good so far, Man Upstairs.

  “Ya okay, Ethan?” Baz asked. I turned toward him, and saw a curious look in his eyes.

  I smiled with a joy I didn't feel. “Yeah, I'm fine. Just excited, I guess.”

  * * *

  After helping Baz, Elijah and Joey help set up their instruments in the cafeteria, there was nothing to do but sit and wait. I sat down on the steps leading up to the stage, staring at the doors on the far side of the room. I could only wonder who was going to come through it first: the cops, the Feds, or Kelsey. Please, let it be Kelsey.

  At about twenty past six, the band was set up, the decorations and refreshments were in place, and my classmates started to arrive. I stood up and walked over to Baz, who was giving his guitar a final tuning. “Baz? I need to talk to you.”

  He looked up. “Now? I'm a little busy, bud. The show's about to start.”

  “Please, Baz. It's important.”

  He nodded, leaning his guitar against Joey's drum-set. He led me over to a narrow corridor that led from the cafeteria to the playground, right past the dishwashers' counter where students dropped their dirty lunch-trays. “Okay, bud, what's on yer mind?”

  I sighed heavily. This was going to be so difficult. “Baz … you remember that trouble I said I might get in if my secret ever got out?”

  “Yeah,” he replied, his eyes narrowing
.

  “Well … it got out.”

  A hurt look crossed his face. “So that means … what? You have to leave?”

  I nodded.

  “When?”

  I sighed again. “Tonight.”

  We stared at each other for a few moments, and then his face fell, and he slapped his hand on the wall. “Ahhh, damn …” He turned his back and walked a couple of paces away, then turned around again. “That really … sucks.”

  “Big time.”

  “Nothin' you can do?”

  “Nope,” I replied, shaking my head. “In fact, I'm not even supposed to be here now.”

  “You mean … you ran away?”

  “Yeah.”

  He walked toward me again, stopping a few feet away. “Why?”

  I looked him in the eyes. “Because I couldn't leave without saying goodbye. I did that before, and it sucked even worse. And we practiced so hard for this, I just couldn't …”

  For the first time since we'd met, I saw sadness in Baz's face. “I … don't know what to say, man. I'm speechless. And that's never happened before.” He managed a grim smile.

  I put my hand on his shoulder. “I don't have time to tell you everything, Baz. Kelsey will do that after I'm gone. I just want to say thank you. For everything. You're the coolest guy I've ever met. And the best friend I've ever had.”

  I didn't want to tear up, but it was becoming more difficult. For both of us, it would seem. Finally, he stepped toward me and we shared a long, heartfelt man-hug. “I'll miss ya, Ethan,” he said.

  “Mark,” I said, facing him again. “My name's Mark.”

  He smiled and nodded. “Well, then, let's make yer last night in town a good one. Send you out in style, okay, Mark?”

  I laughed. “Hell, yeah, buddy.”

  * * *

  From a dark corner of the room, I watched Baz's band play the first few songs of their set, never taking my eyes off the door. With every minute that passed, I knew the cops or whoever were that much closer to finding me.

  Come on, I thought. You're doing great so far, Big Guy. Just a few minutes more. Please, let Kelsey walk through that door first. I'll perform for her, we'll say our goodbyes, and our deal will be done.

  The band was about halfway through an instrumental song called Hawaii Five-O when my silent prayers were answered.

  There, standing just inside the doorway, was Kelsey.

  Let's do this thing.

  Chapter 41

  ~ DAY 41 (Sat., 5:50 p.m.) ~

  KELSEY

  “What do you mean, he's 'disappeared'?” I asked, my breath starting to come in frantic gasps. Horrible images flashed through my mind: Mark tied up, unconscious, or maybe even dead, lying in the trunk of Sosa's Caddy.

  Dad was the first to answer. “Don't worry, we don't think he's been taken. What I should've said was, he's run away.”

  I exhaled audibly. “What does that mean? Isn't he being guarded?”

  “Their security detail was preparing to have them evacuated to another safe-house, but he punched a hole through the window screen in his room, and hopped over his backyard fence,” Dad said.

  My mind raced. Why would he run away? He must know the danger he's in! “Doesn't he have a tracker in his watch?”

  Walter shook his head. “He took it off. It was in his room.”

  Dad sat down on the couch, looking me in the eyes. “Sweetheart, we have to find him. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?”

  I thought for a few moments. I could really only come up with one answer. “He probably went to Baz's house.”

  His brow furrowed. “Baz?”

  “Sebastian Murphy. He's in my class. He and Mark have become best friends. He's been over at his house a bunch of times.”

  Walter shook his head. “Agent Donahue went by there already. She even knocked on the door. There doesn't appear to be anyone home.”

  “Does he have any other friends?” Dad asked.

  I'd seen Mark in the cafeteria many times, goofing around with the small group of classmates that had let him join their 'clique.' “Yeah, let's see … there's Bailey Jeffries, Dean Crossley, and … um … Tim Mendelson.”

  Dad stood up. “Find their addresses, and get units over to their houses right away,” he said to Walter.

  “I'm on it,” Walter said, and went back to his makeshift desk.

  Dad made a motion to walk away too, but I put my hand on his arm. “Daddy … who is Ramiro Sosa?”

  Sighing, he sat down on the couch next to me. “You really don't want to know, sweetie.”

  I gave him a determined look. “Yes, I do. Tell me.”

  He leaned in, keeping his voice low. “He's an independent contractor, what some people call a 'fixer.' If a criminal organization has a problem that needs taking care of, he's the one they go to. He was born in Brazil, but he's worked all over the world. He calls himself 'O Touro,' which is Portuguese for …”

  “… The Bull,” I finished.

  “Yeah, that's right. Police agencies around the globe have been trying to find him for years, but apart from his tattoo, they've never gotten a physical description of him. Until today.”

  “Will he … hurt Mark?” I had a horrible feeling I already knew the answer.

  Dad put his hand on my shoulder. “We'll find him, Kel, I promise.”

  More minutes passed. I sat on the couch, watching the time inch by on the clock on the wall. It was half past six. I rocked myself back and forth in fear and frustration. I'd never felt so helpless in my entire life. It didn't make any sense.

  Mark, why would you do this? Why would you run away? Why would you deliberately put yourself in danger?

  I gasped, as the answer suddenly hit me.

  Unless you're doing it … for me.

  Oh, my God.

  I leapt to my feet and ran over to where Dad was still speaking with Agent Meadows. “Dad, I think I know where he might be.”

  Both men turned to look at me. “Where?” Dad asked.

  “At school. There's a dance tonight. We were planning on meeting there.” I felt myself blushing.

  Dad considered this for a moment. “How would he get there without a ride? It's a long way to run.”

  “I don't know, but he told me he had a surprise for me tonight. That may be why he ran away.”

  “When does this dance start?”

  I looked at the clock on the wall. “Right about now.”

  Dad turned back to Agent Meadows, shrugging. “Worth a shot.”

  Agent Meadows looked around. The four of us were alone in the room. “I don't have any more bodies available at the moment, Marty,” he said. “They're all on the street.”

  “I'll go,” Dad said. “Walter, call me on my cell if you hear anything else.”

  “You got it,” Walter said.

  “Let's go, Kel,” Dad said, and I followed him out of the room.

  * * *

  Two minutes later, we were in Dad's car, pulling out of the precinct parking lot. I just stared out of the window, not wanting to look him in the face at the moment.

  “So,” he said evenly. “This thing you have with Mark … is it serious?”

  “It's not what you think, Dad,” I said. I turned my head to look at him, and he was giving me the paternal glare I'd spent a lifetime becoming familiar with. After a few seconds, my shoulders slumped. “Okay, it's a little bit like you think.”

  “Kelsey …”

  “He's a good guy, Dad,” I said sadly. “When the school year started, he was so … sad. He'd just lost his mom. He needed someone to talk to. He needed a friend.” I looked down at my shoes. “Turned out that was me.”

  He turned his attention back to the road. “I heard about his mother. Terrible thing.”

  I closed my eyes. “Did you know that he didn't even get to go to her funeral? He didn't get to say goodbye … to anybody.”

  He nodded resignedly. “Yeah, I guess they wouldn't, given their … situation.”
He turned to face me again. “Are you in love with him?”

  Under normal circumstances, I would probably have responded out of anger or embarrassment. But I was too emotionally exhausted right now to muster up the strength for it. Instead, I just leaned my head against the window and said sullenly, “What does it matter now? After tonight, it'll all be over.”

  Before Dad could answer, his cell rang. He placed it on the car's console, tapped it and put it on speaker. “Talk to me, Walter.”

  “We looked at the other boys' houses, no luck,” came Walter's voice on the other end. “But we caught a break on the car.”

  “Go on,” Dad said.

  “We checked every rental car company within a thousand miles, nothing. So we started checking dealers. Turns out, only one cherry-red Caddy has been sold in the past week. I just got off the phone with a private dealer in Palm Springs who sold one four days ago to a man matching Kelsey's description, right down to the tattoo.”

  “Any documentation?” Dad asked.

  “Fake name, fake address. And he paid cash.”

  “Is it too much to hope that that thing has a GPS?”

  “Yeah, I thought of that. The dealer said it had one, but it looks like Sosa disabled it.”

  Dad sighed. “Any good news, Walter?”

  “Yes, there is. This dealer also has his cars installed with an anti-theft system that links it to a private security company. Using his considerable powers of persuasion, Agent Meadows has gotten them to give us the car's current location.”

  “Which is?”

  “Let's see … twelve minutes ago, he turned the car off of Maryvale Road, proceeding north on 3rd Avenue. Then he pulled it into a parking lot …”

  Maryvale and 3rd Avenue? Oh my freaking God …

  Walter continued, “… on the west side of James Madison Middle School.”

  My heart leapt right into my throat. A terrified “Daddy?” escaped my mouth.

  “Get every unit you can down there, Walter. Right now. Tell them to approach with extreme caution. Suspect is likely armed and dangerous. No lights, no sirens, we don't want to spook him into doing something stupid. Not with dozens of kids around.”