by D. L. Wood
“I wanted to,” Jack assured him. “I’ve got a little catching up to do in the getting-to-know-you department, and a little bribery never hurts.”
“I guess not,” Reese said, chuckling.
From where Chloe leaned against the narrow window ledge, she smiled at the easy grace with which Jack had inserted himself into their newly formed dynamic. Reese had taken to Jack immediately, and although she wasn’t craving Reese’s approval in this matter, getting it made the whole situation feel even more right.
“You ready to come home tomorrow?” she asked Reese.
“More than. I can’t eat any more Jell-O.”
“Jell-O?” Tyler squawked, detaching from his universe-altering battle. “Who’s got Jell-O? Can I have some?”
“We just ate,” Chloe declared in disbelief. “You had two cheeseburgers. You cannot be hungry.”
“He’s a little garbage disposal,” Emma taunted from where she leaned against the wall near the head of Reese’s bed, not pausing to look up from her cell phone.
“Am not,” Tyler argued, and blasted her with an invisible laser.
“We’re taking Tyler trick-or-treating as soon as we’re done here. He wanted to wait until dark,” Chloe informed Reese.
“Only babies go when it’s light out,” Tyler groused.
“What about you?” Reese asked, directing himself to Emma.
She shrugged. “I want to hit the hay maze out near Carnton Plantation.”
“We’re going afterwards. All of us,” Chloe said, emphasizing the latter part.
Perturbed disappointment flushed Emma’s face. “I can go by myself. Trip and Jacob are coming with me.”
Chloe wondered again if they had made the right choice, not telling the kids the whole story about what had happened to Holt. They knew someone involved in a case had gotten mad and started a fight with Holt, but Chloe and Reese had made the decision to hold back the information that these same people had probably threatened the kids too. If they had told Emma all of it, she might be more amenable to being chaperoned.
“Chloe’s right,” Reese echoed. “Until everything settles down, it’s just better if someone’s with you.”
Emma shrugged again, but didn’t fight back, possibly remembering what had happened when she had been shoved in Chloe’s car.
“Holt agrees with us,” Chloe added, hoping that would lend more credibility to the decision, given how highly Emma regarded him. She had actually been so concerned about him that she insisted on going by to see him at his place. Chloe had taken her over earlier that afternoon, while Jack stayed at home with Tyler.
“Yeah, I know. He told me,” Emma said with a finality that made it clear she was done talking about it. “I guess me, Trip, and Jacob’ll be your wingmen tonight,” she told Tyler, just as he grabbed the end of Reese’s bed and started to propel himself up and over the foot of it.
“Whoa!” Jack bellowed, catching Tyler before his knees landed on Reese’s bad leg. “Watch your dad’s leg buddy,” he said, setting him on the floor. “He’s still got a way to go before he’s Avenger-ready.”
Tyler tossed Jack a quick salute before tearing off down the hall.
Emma rolled her eyes. “If you think this is bad, wait until tonight after he’s had two pounds of chocolate.”
* * * * *
By seven thirty, the pint-sized Iron Man was still going strong, fueled by a steady intake of Milky Ways, M&M’s, and sour gummies. Having hit every house in Reese’s neighborhood, they had moved on to the Harpeth Meadows subdivision just one street over to continue the pillaging. Tyler’s neon orange plastic jack-o’-lantern was overflowing, and Chloe’s pockets were full from collecting the escaping bits of candy that marked his trail.
Porch lights gleamed through the darkness at the Halloween-friendly homes, beckoning trick-or-treaters to ring their doorbells. Several of the more festive yards sported scarecrows or blow-up characters with pumpkin hats or plastic skeleton arms digging their way out of otherwise innocuous flower beds. One ambitious house had even trimmed the roofline with strings of purple and orange lights, blinking in sequence like some kind of twisted take on Christmas. Miniature ghosts, superheroes, and princesses swarmed the curbs, giddy with their hauls.
Chloe and Jack had purposefully fallen back a bit to give the older kids some space and at least the illusion of independence. Emma, Tyler and Jacob, who had opted for zombie make-up, white T-shirts and jeans, had actually turned out to be a big help, taking charge of Tyler as they went door to door. “Don’t get too far!” Chloe yelled, trying to make out which of the older kids had Tyler’s hand now as they headed for the next house, a couple of lots away.
“We’re still good,” Jack reassured her, as Emma, likely thinking the same thing, waved her off.
But Chloe was still feeling nervous, as a row of pines temporarily obscured the kids around a bend.
“It’s fine,” Jack said, as if reading her mind, and took her hand tightly, squeezing it confidently. “See,” he said, as they cleared the pines and spotted the four kids again. “All good.”
When Tyler’s bucket strap broke from the weight of the candy, Chloe and Jack finally convinced Tyler it was time to head over to the maze next door to Carnton Plantation on the outskirts of Franklin. The teens piled into Trip’s car, again for the sake of some independence, while Chloe, Jack, and Tyler followed behind in hers.
When they got to the maze, the place was packed. Between that and the traffic at Carnton Plantation, which was across the street and down a bit from the property hosting the hay bale maze, there was hardly a parking spot to be found.
As they made their way from the lot to the maze ticket booth, Carnton Plantation loomed in the distance, its front illuminated by landscaping lights. Built before the Civil War, the plantation had quite a history, not the least of which was that it had served as a makeshift military hospital during the Battle of Franklin, one of the bloodiest battles of the entire Civil War. The house still had its bloodstained, original wood floors, and a Confederate cemetery covered a portion of its grounds. Both were rumored to be haunted. Halloween tours of the house often included costumed guides for patrons seeking potential real-life ghost interaction. The whole thing created a conveniently spooky backdrop for the hay maze.
Jack insisted on buying tickets for everyone who wanted to go, and had barely handed them out before the four kids dashed off towards the maze entrance, marked with towering hay bale pillars on either side and a white banner suspended between them that read, “Enter if You Dare.”
“Hey, hold up!” Chloe yelled, and they all turned around. “Seriously, do not lose sight of Tyler in there,” she ordered.
“Got it,” Jacob said, grabbing Tyler’s hand. “Let’s go, little man.”
“I’m not crazy about this,” Chloe droned as the kids disappeared into the maze’s depths.
“They’ll be fine,” Jack said, wrapping an arm around her. “Let’s head for the exit. We can wait for them there.”
They maneuvered through the crowd to the opposite side of the half-acre maze, where they stood, waiting for the kids to reappear. Chloe knew it was an overreaction, knew they were completely safe here, but her nerves stayed on edge, and would until all four turned back up. She compensated by stress-eating several mini-chocolate bars she had collected earlier from Tyler’s goody trail.
“You’re gonna be sick if you keep that up,” Jack cautioned, watching her down her third Snickers.
“Well, we can’t have that,” came a familiar voice from behind them. They turned together and saw Holt, darkening bruises and all. “We don’t need another McConnaughey in the hospital.”
“You should be at home,” Chloe chided, disapproval piercing her tone.
“The kids called. Tyler said I had to see his costume. He texted a little while ago. Said you all were headed here. Didn’t have the heart to disappoint the little guy. They come through it yet?”
Chloe shook her head. “Still waiti
ng.”
Holt extended a hand to Jack. “So you’re back?”
Jack nodded, clasping his hand around Holt’s and shaking it.
“Well, I know she’s glad to have you here.” For half a second, an awkwardness passed between all three as Chloe’s gaze flashed to Jack then back to Holt. Jack’s focus never wavered from Holt. It was piercing. Knowing. And definitely message-sending. “Oh,” Holt said, sniffing as the import of the situation registered. “So…I guess she told you.”
Jack nodded lightly, his gaze still boring into Holt.
Holt looked away over the noisy crowd, as if stalling for the right response. When he turned back to them, a charismatic, though slightly sheepish smirk curved his mouth. “You’re, uh, not gonna hit me, are you?”
A small, appreciative smile crept onto Jack’s face in response, as he shook his head from side to side. “Looks like somebody already took care of that.”
“Yeah,” Holt answered, groaning, “well, wish I could say ‘you should see the other guy’ but as I was on the ground most of the time, I didn’t even get a good look at him myself.”
Jack snorted. “Can’t say I haven’t been there.”
“So,” Holt said, re-extending his hand in truce. “Are we good?”
Jack shook it and nodded. “Yeah. We’re good.”
As thrilled as Chloe was that it looked like the two of them were going to let bygones be bygones, she couldn’t help but wonder whether she might get flattened by the tsunami of testosterone that had just rolled by.
“Great,” Holt said, slapping Jack on the back. “So now that we’re friends, can I ask you something?”
“Sure. Shoot.”
“I hear you meet some famous people now and again out there in Hollywood land.”
Jack tossed him a practiced look. “It’s been known to happen.”
“Great. So I was wondering if maybe you could get me Jennifer Lawrence’s number…”
* * * * *
After fifteen more minutes of waiting at the maze exit, Jacob and Tyler finally emerged, high-fiving.
“Nice, man,” Jacob yelled, slapping Tyler’s open palm.
“Hey, Holt!” Tyler exclaimed, spotting Holt and running to him. He jumped on his friend before anyone could ward him off. Despite the obvious pain it caused, Holt hugged the boy before setting him down.
“Hey buddy, you look great! Perfect Iron Man impression. Robert Downey Jr., has some competition.”
“Who did your makeup?” Tyler asked, squinting at Holt’s face in the moonlight. “It looks really real.”
“Yeah, well, it feels really real,” Holt grunted, gently rubbing the arm he had held Tyler with.
“You guys beat Emma and Trip,” Chloe told them. “They still haven’t come out.”
“No, they left,” Jacob said.
The words ran through Chloe like ice in her veins. “What do you mean they left?” she asked sharply.
“Emma left her phone at the house when we dropped off the candy. She wanted to get it, so Trip took her home. They’re coming right back.” Catching sight of Chloe’s panicked look, he added, “They’ll be back really fast. They left about ten minutes ago, so it’ll be, like, just fifteen more minutes. She’ll be okay. Trip’s with her.”
“Call her,” Jack urged, though Chloe was already dialing Emma’s cell. “She can stay on the phone with you till she gets back.”
“Is Emma okay?” Tyler asked, worry creasing his young brow.
“She’s fine, buddy,” Holt reassured him, though he was unable to hide the concern behind his eyes.
“She knew she wasn’t supposed to go off on her own,” Chloe moaned, holding her phone up to her ear. After several seconds, she pulled it down. “She’s not answering.”
“Come on,” Jack said, placing a hand on her back and ushering her towards the parking lot. “Tyler, Jacob,” he continued, reaching for Tyler’s hand, “come on. We’re going.”
“Why don’t you guys stay here with these two?” Holt suggested as he walked alongside them. “I can go check on Emma and Trip.”
“Not a chance,” Chloe said, as her walk to the car turned into a run.
SIXTY-FOUR
“Emma!” Chloe hollered as they stormed through the backdoor of the house. “Why isn’t she answering her texts?”
“She’s a teenager,” Jack reasoned.
Visions of Emma lying at the bottom of the stairs in the way they had found Reese bombarded Chloe as she flew through the first floor, desperate for a sign of the girl.
“She’s probably fine,” Jack assured her again as he kept pace with her.
“Probably, but till I know…” Her words trailed off as she barreled towards the stairs. The house was quiet, but there was a path of switched-on lights leading from the back of the house all the way to the second floor. As if someone had turned them on as they went in, but had forgotten to turn them off when leaving.
Chloe breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the bottom landing of the stairs. No body. No bloody words inked on the wall like when they had found Reese. See, she’s fine, she told herself. Stop overreacting.
“Emma!” she called out, charging up the stairs headed for Emma’s room. Like the downstairs, the lights were on, but there was still no Emma or Trip. Jack arrived just as she darted out into the hall to check the other upstairs rooms. Nothing.
“I left Tyler with Holt downstairs,” Jack said as she passed him again headed into Emma’s room. “You should try her again.”
Chloe nodded and dialed for the twentieth time. “They’ve been here,” she said, as she waited for an answer. There wasn’t one, and she pocketed her cell again. “The lights are all on,” she pointed out, then, noticing the light on in Emma’s private bathroom, stuck her head in there.
“Anything?” Jack asked as she returned. Chloe shook her head.
“Well, they probably got what they came for and left again,” he reasoned.
Chloe stood in the center of Emma’s room, then turned in a circle, scanning for something, anything to lay her fears to rest. “Her laptop is open,” she said, spotting the computer on the desk, “and running.”
Something didn’t feel right to Chloe. “The lights are all on, Jack. And the computer. The door downstairs wasn’t locked either. I just ran in.” She inhaled heavily. “Something’s not right. It’s like they flew out of here.”
“Maybe. But you’ve also just described the way every teenager leaves a house. Don’t jump to conclusions.”
Jacob walked in, his body tense. “Any sign of them?”
Chloe shook her head no.
“I’m really sorry. She just told me she was going. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”
“It’s not your fault,” Jack assured him, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Hey, um,” said Holt, his voice coming from the hallway. “I’m out here with Tyler, and he’s a little worried. Can we come in?”
“Yeah, of course,” Chloe said, as the two appeared in the doorway. “It’s okay, Tyler,” she said, offering a confident smile to the boy, even though she didn’t truly feel it. “She’s probably headed back to the maze by now. I just don’t like not knowing where she is.”
“Hey,” he said, spotting the glowing laptop screen on Emma’s desk. “Maybe Trip just wanted to show her a picture.”
“What?” asked Chloe.
Tyler nodded towards the photo currently pulled up on Emma’s computer screen. “Trip asked me about Emma’s computer a few days ago. He said he wanted to surprise her by printing out some photo for her. But I didn’t know the password.”
Chloe shifted her gaze to the screen. As the photo on it resonated with her, a foreboding chill rippled through her body.
“Holt.” The severity of her tone immediately changed the atmosphere in the room. She leaned over the fuzzy black chair, positioned where Emma would normally sit, to get a better look at the screen.
“Yeah?” Holt answered, sidestepping Jack
to move closer to Chloe.
“The thing. The thing that your friend said he overhead about the evidence they had against the bomber.”
“What thing?” Holt replied, looking over her shoulder at the display.
The screen displayed an enlarged JPEG file, expanded to take up nearly half the monitor.
“About the evidence. At the scene. Something about how good it was—that it would nail whoever was responsible.”
“Concrete,” Holt offered, his tone low. “They said they had concrete evidence.”
Chloe raised her hand, pointing to the photo on the screen. It was the one she had taken of Emma, Trip, and Jacob on the night of the bombing, with the fire in the background. More specifically, it was the first one she had taken, the one Emma insisted on re-taking because all of their shoes were propped up on the table, almost blocking out their faces. Chloe’s index finger landed in the bottom right corner of the photo, pointing to Trip’s sneakers, the treads of which were thoroughly and unmistakably caked from toe to heel with dried-in, dark red-tinted concrete.
SIXTY-FIVE
“I don’t understand,” Jack said, one arm wrapped protectively around Tyler, while Holt continued staring at the screen in disbelief.
“Red-footed,” Holt muttered, then stepped back from the desk. “The D.A. said they had the bomber ‘red-footed.’ It was a play on ‘red-handed.’ A joke. She thought it was funny.”
“Still not getting it,” Jack pressed.
“The night before the bomb went off, someone—presumably the bomber setting the bomb—trespassed on the construction site and tracked through some recently poured red-tinted concrete,” Holt explained.
“I saw this,” Chloe mumbled, pointing at Trip’s shoes again and sounding somewhat dazed. “For just a second that night. I took the photo. But later…I never put it together.”
“Trip couldn’t have done this,” Holt countered. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Maybe it does,” Jacob said, moving in closer, a heaviness settling into his features.
Jack, clearly concerned about little ears hearing whatever might come next, jumped into the conversation. “Hey, um, Tyler? Buddy? Why don’t you go play in your room for a minute and let us talk?”