“To what?” asked a cop.
“I’m sure they were just early for a dinner party,” said Ryan.
“Bet they were surprised to find you here instead,” said a cop.
“No, I was surprised. I’ve never handled a gun before. A weapon, I mean.”
The cops had already looked over the dead guy and the injured ones. “Were you aiming for their shoulders?”
“I was, like, ten inches away,” said Ryan.
“From this one. I’d guess about twelve feet from that one.”
“The stupid one kicked me in the head!” That One complained.
The cops shook their heads and started handcuffing the injured men and hustling them out to waiting squad cars.
There soon came a time when Ryan, unarmed now, was alone with Defense. “Where are they?” Ryan whispered.
Defense grinned. “Who? There wasn’t anybody here.”
Just at that moment, the two cops who had gone upstairs came clattering down. “The attic access was open,” said one of them, “but there was nobody up there.”
Dahlia must have gone down the secret ladderway when the cops got things under control, Ryan decided. By staying in the attic till the last second, she had kept the bad guys yawning while they entered the house. That probably saved Ryan and the Horvats, and also saved the last couple of intruders from getting shot by Ryan. Ryan wondered if she had kept all the loveks outside the house yawning, too. Probably, he decided. Probably right up until they were cuffed and being read their rights.
While the forensics guys were still working on Dead Guy, and Ryan and Defense had been answering questions for a half hour or so, Ryan on the Burke side and Defense on the Horvat side of the house, Dad came to the front door—with Mrs. Horvat.
Dad could hardly say a word before Mrs. Horvat was through the door, demanding of Ryan, “What brings all these policemen here! What were you doing in our place! Were you doing drugs?” And then she seemed to suddenly realize, “Oh, oh! My little girl! My Bojana!”
“She isn’t here,” said Ryan, falling in with the improv. “She must still be at school.”
“You’re supposed to walk her home!”
“I can’t walk her home while I’m watching your side of the duplex, now, can I?” demanded Ryan.
“How old is she,” asked a cop. “Your daughter?”
“Fifteen,” said Mrs. Horvat.
The cop rolled his eyes.
Mrs. Horvat rushed from the Burke side out onto the porch and then into the other side. Ryan could hear her yelling, “You! Strange useless boy! Who invited you! You are not welcome here!” Apparently she had seen Defense, but whatever it was that made her so hostile to him . . . No, Mrs. Horvat was a good actress, and she was just improvising fake wrath at Defense.
The next day, after Ryan had made his deposition at the police station, with Dad sitting beside him the whole time and Mother needing sedation out in the hall—she was that frantic, until a woman clerical worker took her home—the detective leaned over to Ryan and said quietly, “Son, I know you’re the one who put the da Gama kicker in the hospital. And now you’ve sent four of these home-invading terrorists to the hospital and another’s in the morgue. Two, counting the fake FBI guy at the school. So let me ask you one last question. Are we going to have to worry about you putting on spandex and playing vigilante all over Charlottesville?”
“Spandex makes me itch,” said Ryan, “and I didn’t actually like killing those guys. I don’t get in fights and I think you’re the ones who should fight crime. So no, I’m not going to go all Spider-Man on you.”
“I think that most of the things you told us are true,” said the detective. “I think you acted entirely in self-defense and in defense of others. I don’t know how you got the Horvats out of the house without us seeing, because this place was surrounded by bad guys and then by cops, but I can’t shake those guys’ story about Mrs. Horvat and her daughter Bojana being on that couch in the room with all the shooting. I think that for some Slovenian reason, these guys came to kill them or, who knows, kidnap them. I think you were protecting them. So tell me, are they safe?”
“Ryan hasn’t seen the Horvats since yesterday when Mrs. Horvat came home,” said Dad. “But I have. And yes, they’re safe, though they’re in a dither about bullet holes in their walls. And, you know, blood on the floor. But I’m the landlord. I’ll get it cleaned up as soon as your crime scene guys give me the all clear.”
“And you didn’t see them on that couch?” asked the detective.
“Sir,” said Dad, “I’ve seen them on that couch many times. But I’m a working man. I was working. Haven’t you checked with my crew?”
“Of course we did,” said the detective. “I think that even if we caught you up to your elbows in somebody’s bowels, those guys would alibi you out of it.”
“They’re honest men,” said Dad. “If they lie, they don’t work for me.”
The detective smiled. “Sounds like you both put in a good day’s work yesterday.”
“Any charges?” asked Dad.
“The DA wondered why I even had to consult him, it’s such an open-and-shut case of self-defense. Especially because the only weapon the kid used belonged to the bad guys. He came unarmed to a gunfight. So you’re free to go. No charges. And, you know, good job, kid. Let me know if you ever want to get some police training or do a ride-along. The force could use somebody who knows how to protect people. Especially people who aren’t even there.”
He left the door open behind him.
Ryan was about to burst out with thanks to his dad and a lot of questions, but Dad covered his mouth and led him out of the room and then out of the station before he finally said, “You know they have recording devices in that room, don’t you?”
“Well, I do now,” said Ryan.
“I know I told you truth was best. But I also know that the Horvats did not need to have their names in a crime report. You kept them alive, and between Defense and Dr. Withunga and me, we got them out of the house. And just so you know, I let them out of their lease. Dr. Horvat will be back to pick up their clothes and a few other things, but Bizzy and Mrs. Horvat are not going back there again.”
“I . . . I didn’t think that—”
Dad flung an arm over Ryan’s shoulder. “I think we can be pretty sure their enemies have that address. The Horvats are going into hiding again. They can’t leave an address with us. Bizzy says to tell you that you’ll hear from her when . . .”
“I’m okay, Dad,” said Ryan.
“She thinks that she nearly got you killed,” said Dad.
“What, she’s never going to see me again to keep me safe?”
“Like that,” said Dad.
“Load o’ crap,” said Ryan. “I served my purpose.”
“Oh, come on, don’t go trying to tell yourself that it was never love.”
“She can just walk away?”
“Her parents are terrified of what might happen to her,” said Dad. “And I’m terrified of what might happen if you stay in the protecting-Bizzy business.”
“I wanted that to be a lifelong career.”
“And maybe someday it will be. Come on, Ryan. You’re both alive. You won’t be minors forever.”
“I’m not sad, Father. I’m glad she’s safe. I’m kind of excited about what we learned about GRUT and micropowers and stuff. I can’t wait for the next meeting, except that Bizzy won’t be there. I mean, I’ve got a lot to think about, a lot to do. But it all worked. And you’re welcome for not putting a bullet through the secret passage.”
“Oh, was that in the cards for a while?” asked Dad. “Yes, indeed, thank you for being careful about that.”
“And now we’ve got a lot of work to do,” said Ryan. “On the house.”
“Not that hard to putty over bullet holes
and repaint a little,” said Dad.
“But it’s a lot of work to take out unnecessary walls and unnecessary kitchens and stair units.”
Dad didn’t answer.
“Come on, Dad. You still love Mom, and she’s not just crazy, she’s so lonely and terrified that it hurts to see her. It hurts you.”
“I don’t know if I can do it, Ryan.”
“Do what?”
Dad opened the car door and Ryan got in. Then Dad walked around the car and got in the driver’s side. “I don’t know if I can live with it,” he said. “What she did. That was my baby too, we decided together, it was ours, and it’s dead now, and we’ll never have another, and I didn’t even get a vote.” And Dad broke down and wept, right there in the car, his forehead on the steering wheel.
Ryan didn’t have any answers. He knew what he wanted—he wanted his parents to forgive each other and come back together and make the world all right again.
But he also had no idea how Father would ever get over this enough to be able to stand living with Mom again.
So after a minute or so, Ryan laid his hand on Dad’s back and said, “Whatever you do, Dad, we’ll be all right. Dianne and me. You’re the kind of man who loves his children even before they’re born. Dianne and I got the benefit of that all our lives, and we always will. So whatever you do, Dad, we’re all right with it. But we miss you. That’s all. I miss you.”
23
When they got home, Mom was sitting at the kitchen table. She looked up and seemed to see only Ryan. Ryan looked behind him and saw that Dad had not come in with him. Must have gone into the Horvat side. So there wouldn’t be a fight with Mom right now. Or at least not one between her and Dad.
“I come home yesterday to find crime scene tape everywhere,” said Mom. “I didn’t know if you and Dianne were alive or dead.”
“She was at school through the whole thing,” said Ryan.
“You could have been full of holes from those . . .”
“They’re calling them terrorists for now,” said Ryan.
“You could have been—”
“But I wasn’t,” said Ryan.
“Don’t cut me off like it doesn’t matter what I say!” shouted Mother. “I know you weren’t hurt, but you didn’t know you weren’t going to get hurt.”
She was right, of course. Ryan didn’t know yet if his micropower gave him any kind of protection, but judging from the outcome yesterday, it seemed possible.
“I didn’t exactly choose for them to—”
“I think you did,” said Mother. “I think you wish for excitement and danger. I think you wanted to show off for your Slovenian girl-next-door.”
“That’s true enough,” said Ryan, because he knew from long experience that agreeing with his mother calmed things down way faster than arguing with her. “Not so much wishing for danger, because I don’t. I like safety. But she was in danger.”
“And brave Ryan saved her and slew the mean dragons and—”
“Yes, Mom,” said Ryan. “You say it sarcastically, but in fact I did save her life, and her mother’s life. Without getting injured myself in any way.”
“So where are they! Why aren’t they here on their knees thanking you, weeping and thanking you.”
“I don’t need any weepy thanking,” said Ryan.
“They’re ungrateful! Like the nine lepers!”
Oh, no. Mom was starting in with scripture references. It was going to be a long one.
The door opened and Father came into the foyer.
“The boy had a hard couple of hours answering questions at the station,” he said. “Let’s give him a chance to recover a little.”
“Oh, well, Mr. Absentee Father wants to intervene to protect his—”
“Yes, I do, my love. I am intervening to protect him from being harangued by you for the terrible sin of saving lives yesterday in a situation he didn’t ask for. Our boy is a hero, and maybe he shouldn’t be punished for it.”
“So my talking to him about how frightened I was counts as punishment?”
“Yes,” said Dad. “The very worst of punishments, because you sound very much as if you’re holding him responsible for the whole thing, when in fact he saved the day. And yet, because you’re his mother he can’t answer you by pointing out how selfish it is for you to think only of your fears instead of the fear he must have felt yesterday when he saw that these clowns were about to start killing people, including the girl he loves.”
“The girl he thinks he loves,” said Mother scornfully.
“The girl he loves,” said Dad. “I don’t understand the distinction you think you’re making, between thinking you love somebody and actually loving them.”
“He’s too young to love somebody for real,” said Mother. But her voice had steadily grown quieter since Dad arrived in the room.
“Perhaps we all are,” said Dad. “Perhaps our whole lives. And yet we do extraordinary things for the people we think we love.”
Mother was now down to muttering mode. “Like move out of the house because of one little—”
“Maybe Ryan and Dianne would like dinner,” said Father.
“Are you reminding me of my parental duties?” asked Mother. It sounded like an ultimatum. Or a declaration of war.
“I was offering to go get dinner. Pizza maybe. Chick-fil-A.”
“I, on the other hand, was planning to prepare actual food,” muttered Mother as she got up and went to the kitchen.
As soon as she was gone, Ryan looked up at Dad and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”
Mother’s voice was already coming from the kitchen. “That’s right, Ryan, thank your father for shutting me up.”
Ryan knew that Mother couldn’t possibly have heard him or seen him, but somehow she knew. Was that Mother’s micropower? Or did all mothers know how to do that?
Ryan opened his mouth to answer, though he had no idea what he would say. Father made an erasing motion with one hand and shook his head. Don’t answer, he was saying. And Ryan knew that he was right.
“And now he won’t let you sass me for saying that,” said Mother loudly from the kitchen. Pans clattered.
“Aren’t you glad Dad stopped by just in the nick of time to keep you and me from quarreling, Mom?” asked Ryan. Father was shaking his head sadly. But Ryan knew just how much sass he could give without triggering an eruption.
She kept muttering amid the pan-clattering, but she was genuinely talking to herself; it wasn’t meant to be overheard. Ryan didn’t know what she was doing, but she never clattered pans like that when she was cooking. “Smart-mouthed little . . . clone of his father . . . people thinking they can talk to me any way they want . . . teach his children to respect their mother? No, that would be too hard . . .”
By then Father was leading Ryan out the front door to sit beside him on the porch.
“Couple of things,” said Dad. “First, is there any chance that Bizzy is pregnant?”
“Not by me,” said Ryan. “We haven’t . . . you know.”
“I assumed, but I wanted your word on it so we could plan accordingly. Bizzy told her mother the same thing, so it means there’s no reason for them not to go into hiding.”
Father said that as if their going into hiding were a good thing. “Witness protection?” Ryan asked.
“You and Defense set it up so they apparently didn’t witness anything,” said Dad.
“Defense did that,” said Ryan. “Didn’t even cross my mind.”
“So Defense actually served a positive purpose,” said Dad, letting a touch of wonder into his tone. “The Horvats are gone, Ryan. Mr. Horvat is sending a couple of guys over to pack everything, but in fact they don’t have much. The furniture is all rental stuff that I’ll take care of returning now that they’re gone.”
Ryan was st
unned. “I didn’t know that I’d lose her,” he said.
“Haven’t lost her,” said Dad. “I think she’s crazy in love with you.”
“But she’s going into hiding,” said Ryan.
“Maybe she’ll write,” said Dad.
“And maybe somebody will check our mail looking for her return address or a postmark or something,” said Ryan. “She can’t write.”
“I meant by email.”
“Oh, good,” said Ryan. “Because nobody knows how to intercept and track down emails.”
“Please don’t be sarcastic with me,” said Dad, “even though you’re in the process of losing the love of your life.”
“So you admit that that is what’s going on,” said Ryan.
“It sure looks like it, and so it feels like it. But you’re not going anywhere for a few years. Maybe the loveks will give up on trying to kill them. Maybe they can come back sometime.”
Ryan admitted that it might happen, but it didn’t feel likely to him. It felt like the Horvats would never come back. It was already a deep ache, losing her.
And yet not as painful as he had feared. Somehow it was just . . . inevitable.
Ryan wondered, but did not say, does this mean that what I felt for her was just a stupid crush?
But Father answered as if he heard. “The two of you are really in love. Your ages don’t matter when it comes to that.”
“How did you know I was—”
“I’ve been in love too, you know,” said Dad.
“But not with a Slovenian witch’s daughter,” said Ryan.
Father nodded. “No matter how it all turns out in the long run, please don’t close the door in your heart. Because you don’t know but what there’ll be a way to open it again. For someone. For some love. Maybe even for Bizzy, someday. If not soon, then maybe not too much later.”
“Why did you come back here?” asked Ryan.
“I was inspecting the damage on the other side,” said Dad. “I heard your mother going after you.”
“She was just upset,” said Ryan.
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