Thicker Than Water

by Natasha Deen

  Copyright © 2019 Natasha Deen

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Deen, Natasha, author

  Thicker than water / Natasha Deen.

  (Orca soundings)

  Issued in print and electronic formats.

  ISBN 978-1-4598-2198-9 (softcover).—ISBN 978-1-4598-2199-6 (PDF).—ISBN 978-1-4598-2200-9 (EPUB)

  I. Title. II. Series: Orca soundings

  PS8607.E444T55 2019 jC813'.6 C2018-904892-1

  C2018-904893-X

  First published in the United States, 2019

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018954097

  Summary: In this high-interest novel for teens, Zack has to decide between betraying a family member or losing a friend when an eighteen-year-old girl goes missing.

  Orca Book Publishers is dedicated to preserving the environment and has printed this book on Forest Stewardship Council® certified paper.

  Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada, the Canada Council for the Arts and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

  Edited by Tanya Trafford

  Cover images by Shutterstock.com/Realstock (front) and

  Shutterstock.com/Krasovski Dmitri (back)

  ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

  orcabook.com

  Printed and bound in Canada.

  22 21 20 19 • 4 3 2 1

  Orca Book Publishers is proud of the hard work our authors do and of the important stories they create. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it or did not check it out from a library provider, then the author has not received royalties for this book. The ebook you are reading is

  licensed for single use only and may not be copied, printed, resold or given away. If you are interested in using this book in a classroom setting, we have digital subscriptions that feature multi user, simultaneous access to our books that are easy for your students to read. For more information, please contact digital@orcabook.com.

  http://ivaluecanadianstories.ca/

  For Sven

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Acknowledgments

  An Excerpt from “Sleight of Hand”

  Chapter One

  Chapter One

  I don’t hear the car come up the driveway. But when the doorbell rings, I just know it’s a cop on the other side. He pushes the button again, and the sound crackles through me.

  “Zack, honey, can you get that?” Mom calls from the kitchen.

  My muscles won’t work.

  “Zack, now!”

  I jump up from the couch and stumble to the door. I nod at the officer, grateful my long hair hangs over my eyes. I don’t want him to see the fear in them. It’s a weird thing, wanting him here at the same time I wish he’d go away. “Hi, Detective Tyron.”

  “Hi, Zack. Are your folks home?”

  When I nod, he pushes his bulk through the doorway and stands in the hall.

  “Uh, my mom’s here.” I close the door, then flick my hair out of my face. “Mom!” I call. “A cop wants to talk to you.”

  “Actually, buddy, it’s you I want to talk to. But you’re only seventeen, so I need your mom around.”

  Does he know that I know more about Ella’s disappearance than I’m admitting? “Oh, yeah, sure. Come into the kitchen.” I smile back at him, but it’s not a real smile.

  Mom wipes her hands on a dish towel. The question is in her eyes.

  “Detective Tyron.” The officer holds out his hand.

  She takes it. “Rabia Bernard.”

  “I’m one of the leads on the Ella Larson case.”

  My mom’s face crumples. “So it’s official? She really is missing?”

  “The only thing we know for sure is that she’s been out of contact with her friends and family for twenty-four hours.” Detective Tyron pauses. “And that’s unusual for her.”

  “More than unusual,” says Mom. “She and her mom are inseparable.” She wipes invisible crumbs off the table. “Did she take off? Did—” Mom glances at me. “Did someone hurt her?”

  “We don’t know all the facts yet, ma’am,” he says. “It’s Ella’s first year at university. Sometimes that kind of freedom goes to a kid’s head. Especially when they’re no longer in the same city as their parents. They’re traveling, partying and not checking in with Mom and Dad. Other times it could be something more serious—” Detective Tyrone spreads his hands. “I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t explore every possibility.”

  Mom nods toward the table. “Please sit down. Can I get you some coffee?” She looks my way and sighs. “Zack, the hair.”

  I yank it back into a ponytail.

  “Thank you,” the detective says to Mom as he sits. “That would be great. Black, please.”

  “How is the investigation going?”

  “We do have some leads we’re following up on. Yesterday Zack and his dad stopped by and gave me a statement.”

  “Yes,” says Mom. She pops a pod into the coffee machine, slides a mug into the tray and pushes the Start button. “They told me.”

  “So you’re a full day into the investigation, and you don’t know anything,” I say.

  “Zack!” Mom smiles weakly at the detective, then glares at me.

  “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” I ask. “And aren’t the first twenty-four hours the most important? One of the shows I watch said the longer a case takes, the harder it is to solve.”

  “Zack wants to be a detective when he grows up,” says my mom. “He’s taking a criminology class at school. And he’s obsessed with crime shows.” She glares at me again. “But his manners could use some work.”

  “It’s fine,” Detective Tyron says. “I understand how worried he must be about his friend.”

  He turns to look at me. “Your school offers a criminology class?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “It’s pretty cool. We’re studying serial killers right now.”

  Mom rolls her eyes. “He’s convinced his father that watching those violent crime shows is part of his homework.”

  “They are,” I insist. “Crime Scene Hunters is all about looking for clues and paying attention to people. That’s how you find out the truth.”

  Mom snorts. “This from the kid who thought the shadow of his bedroom lamp was a man coming into his room to kidnap him.”

  “I was ten!”

  “I still don’t like you filling your head with all those horrible images of dead bodies.”

  “If I’m going to be a cop—” I stop when I realize Detective Tyron is watching me. He doesn’t need to listen to the same fight I’ve had with my mom a million times. “I’m not a kid.”

  Detective Tyron coughs. “I think it’s great that you’re thinking about getting into law enforcement. Our force is always looking for new recruits.”

  “We’ll see,” says Mom. “So what do you know about Ella’s disappearance, Detective Tyron?”

  “Not as much as I’d like. Her transit pass w
as used to get on the subway at Yonge Street Station,” he says. “We’re trying to figure out where she got off.” He frowns. “But Toronto is a big city. It’s a lot of ground to cover.”

  “What about the cameras at the station?” I ask.

  For a moment there’s only the sound of the coffee machine.

  “A missing kid.” Mom gives me a wobbly smile. “It’s a parent’s worst nightmare.” The last of the coffee drips into the mug. She hands it to the detective.

  “Thank you,” he says.

  “You’re welcome. So how can Zack help you? I’m sure he already told you everything he knows.”

  Not true.

  “Zack, I’d like to go over your day with Ella one more time,” he says. “You were the last one to see her.”

  No, I wasn’t. But I can’t say that.

  “Tell me again what you remember,” Detective Tyron says.

  “She had a reading break this week. We made plans to meet up after school.”

  The detective takes out a notebook and pen. “What did you talk about? Did she seem upset?”

  “She was stressed out. First year was hard,” I say. “She was sure she was failing, but she always thinks that way. I tried to make her feel better, but I’m not sure it worked.”

  He checks his notes. “I understand she’s in pre-med.” He looks up as Mom takes the seat beside him. “A smart young lady.”

  “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” my mom says. “Her mom, Loni, is a driven woman. It’s in the genes.”

  Detective Tyron flips the page. “Dad’s out of the picture?”

  “That loser?” Mom makes a face. “Phil got busted for stealing a car. He spent a few years in jail and blew through Loni’s savings trying to appeal his sentence. As soon as he got out he divorced Loni. He left her penniless and bailed on the family. That poor woman works three jobs just to make ends meet. No one knows where he is.”

  That’s not true either. I must do something that gives me away, because Detective Tyron says, “Zack, is that true?”

  Mom frowns. “Zack, do you know something about Ella’s dad?”

  I don’t want to say anything, but Mom’s stare is hard-core.

  “They reconnected when Ella went to university,” I say.

  “Zack!” She stands. “How could you stay quiet about this? Ella’s missing and Loni’s going out of her mind! Phil might have her, and you never thought to—”

  “He didn’t do it!”

  Detective Tyron pounces on my words. “How do you know?”

  Me and my big mouth. “Oh, uh…”

  They’re both staring at me.

  “Her dad doesn’t live here. If he’d been in town, she would’ve told me.” Maybe, maybe not.

  The detective’s pen hovers over the paper. “Do you know where Ella’s dad is living now?”

  I shake my head.

  “Let’s go over the day you spent with Ella again,” he says. “Do you remember anything unusual?”

  I close my eyes, trying to think. “No, we walked around. We stopped for lunch at The Java Hut up on Ellesmere.” So far, so good. That’s all true.

  “Then what happened?”

  I shrug. “I had to grab some stuff from the mall—”

  “Ella didn’t go with you?”

  “No, we split up after we finished our sandwiches. She said she had an appointment. She didn’t tell me what it was.” I hear myself rushing the words. I slow down, so I don’t give myself away. “At the mall I met up with my friend Ayo—”

  He checks his notes. “Ayo Mohammed?”

  “Yes. We hung out for a bit. Then I came home.”

  “That it?” He’s staring at me. “Nothing else?”

  I meet his gaze, pretend I’m thinking it through. Then I give another shrug. “That’s all I remember, Detective.”

  He holds my gaze for a moment, then looks down and makes another note.

  “Did you talk to Ayo?” I ask.

  “He’s next on my list.”

  I hear the door open. Dad’s home. He walks into the kitchen. His eyebrows go up when he sees us. “Oh. It’s Detective Brian—?”

  “Tyron.” The detective rises and shakes his head. “Just doing some follow-up.”

  “Okay.” Dad drops his bag on the counter.

  “Patrick!” Mom shoves the bag onto the floor. “I’ve told you not to do that. We prepare food on the counter, and your bag is dirty.”

  “Oh. I thought it was because my bag scratches the surface. No, wait, it’s because it’s wet.” He takes a breath to continue, then realizes Detective Tyron is watching him. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

  Detective Tyron turns and looks at me, but I look away. It’s an old fight, but it’s one of a million fights Mom and Dad seem to have all the time now.

  “How’s the investigation going?” Dad asks.

  “Not much so far. Have the kids at school said anything to you?”

  Dad shakes his head. “I know I’m the guidance counselor, but the kids are hit or miss when it comes to talking to me. Sometimes they’re great. Sometimes I’m one step up from dog poop on the bottom of their shoe.”

  That’s not actually true. He’s one of the most popular teachers at our school.

  “It’s sad,” says Dad. “I wish I could help.”

  It’s not the first time he’s said that. He said the same thing when we first learned about Ella’s disappearance. And he said it when we were at the station yesterday. The knot in my stomach tightens.

  Dad could help. All he needs to do is open his mouth. As soon as he talks, I can too.

  “Are you sure you haven’t heard anything more?” Detective Tyron asks. “Sometimes even the tiniest details can help.”

  I’m holding my breath, silently screaming, Tell him! Tell him!

  But Dad says, “No, sorry.” Then he looks at me and says, “Zack would know more than I do, since he was the last one to see her. Right, Champ?”

  He makes eye contact, and I’m sure he wants me to lie. I don’t want to, but it must be some kind of West Indian–kid thing to do what your parents say. I hear myself saying, “Yeah, I guess.”

  But it’s not true.

  After we said our goodbyes at the café, I saw Ella at the mall. She was in the food court with Dad. He must have been the appointment she had. Something about the way they were talking made me hang back, then walk away. Later, when I saw her leaving the mall, I ran to catch up to her. I wanted to know what was going on, why she and my dad had been together. I almost lost her in the crowd of people, but then I spotted her jogging toward Dad’s car. I saw her get in on the passenger side.

  And that was the last time anyone saw her.

  Chapter Two

  Detective Tyron leaves a few minutes later. I go back to watching TV on the couch and pretending I don’t hear the low, angry voices in the kitchen. Why do my parents think I won’t know they’re fighting? Dinner is silent and tense, which is okay. I need time to figure out a way to talk to Dad about seeing him and Ella at the mall. But by the time dessert’s done, I still don’t have a plan. I clear the dishes, then head to the family room.

  The latest episode of Crime Scene Hunters is on, but I can’t concentrate. I don’t think my dad’s a bad guy, but the whole thing makes me uncomfortable. If he has nothing to hide, why didn’t he come clean with Detective Tyron?

  “Hey, Champ.” Dad claps me on the back.

  The sudden contact makes me jump.

  “Whoa, calm down.” He squints at the screen. “Too many dead bodies and secrets for you.” He sits down next to me and changes the channel.

  “I was watching that.”

  “When you pay the bills, you can choose what we watch.” He settles back onto the couch and zones out, watching the football game on the screen.

  “Dad. Dad. Hey…” I snap my fingers. “Dad.”

  “What?” He keeps his gaze on the game.

  “About Ella…”

  “Don’t worry abo
ut her, Champ. I’m sure she’ll show up soon. The cops know what they’re doing.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I wanted to talk to you about the day she went missing. We were walking around, and after she left…”

  “Uh-huh.” His eyes follow the players on the field.

  “I met Ayo at the mall.”

  He freezes. It’s just for a split second, and then he says, “Uh-huh.” But I can hear the tension in his voice.

  “While I was there—”

  “You got those shoes on sale. I know. You told me.” He waves me off. “I’m watching the game, Champ. Let’s talk about this later.”

  But I need to talk now. The stress is eating at my stomach. “But Dad—”

  He lifts the remote and pauses the game. When he turns to look at me, there’s a hard light in his eyes. “Look, Zack, I know you’re worried about your friend. I know you want to be just like the guys you see on TV, solving crimes and catching bad guys.”

  He leans in close. I can smell the coffee on his breath.

  “Whatever clue you think you might have, forget about it. Whatever you think you saw…” He pauses. “You didn’t. Do you hear me? Let the cops do their job. When you’ve finished school and become a real-life detective, you can join them. But until then keep your nose out of their business.” He points at me. “Do we understand each other?”

  I fight the sick feeling that’s rising inside me. “Yeah, Yeah, we do.” The next day at school Ayo finds me in the empty stairwell during our free period.

  “There you are. I thought you were sick or something.” He plops down beside me.

  “What?” I’m staring out the windows that line the landing. It’s a boring view of the front parking lot and lawn, but it helps me zone out.

  “Your crime show was on last night. Usually you blow up my phone with all your real-time texting about what’s happening in the episode.”

  “Oh. No, I saw it.”

  His black eyebrows rise. “That’s it? I saw it?”

  “Yeah. I saw the show. It was fine.”

  “Since when is anything about—” Ayo slaps his forehead. “Aw, man, I’m an idiot.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”