Lucy shivered. She put her hand in mine. “Will you take me out for lunch?”
We walked the few blocks to the nearby mall. As we passed stores, Lucy’s eyes darted everywhere, taking in the sights.
“This is a great place!” she exclaimed.
“Haven’t you been here before?” I asked.
She shook her head vehemently. “I told you, I stay home when I’m not in school or camp. Aunt Grace thinks it’s safer.”
She squeezed my hand. “I’m so glad you came today. I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t.”
I squeezed hers back and smiled. “I’m glad I came, too,” I said, but my mood had turned black. I wondered if I’d done a terrible thing by coming today. Had I put Lucy’s life in danger? I decided not to give Lucy the gifts I’d bought for her. If our aunt saw them, she’d go ballistic.
“Lucy, promise me you won’t tell Aunt Grace that I came to visit.”
Her hand crossed her heart. “I swear I won’t.” She lowered her voice. “And call me Emma.”
“Emma,” I echoed, the name as unfamiliar to me as the town we were in.
We took the escalator up to the food court on the second level. I sat Lucy down at a table. “What do you want to eat, Luce—Italian, Chinese, or deli?”
Lucy pointed to the corner kiosk. “They sell southern fried chicken there. I want two pieces and a soda.”
“Two pieces of chicken and a soda coming up.”
As I waited for our orders, I kept an eye on Lucy, ready to vault over to her at the first sign of trouble. But nothing happened. I put a broad smile on my face as I carried our food to the table.
“I’m starving!” Lucy exclaimed. She took her plate and soda from my tray. “You forgot the ketchup.”
Before I could offer to get it, she jumped out of her seat and went over to the service area. I was about to take off after her when she started back to the table.
“Don’t ever do that again!”
“I only went to get—”
“I don’t care! When you’re with me, don’t ever leave my sight.”
Lucy burst into tears. “Don’t be angry, Simon. I don’t want you angry at me.”
“Oh, Luce.” I wrapped my arms around her. “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m frightened because I worry about you.”
“Why? Uncle Raymond isn’t around.” Her eyes filled with terror. “Do you think he followed you here? I don’t want to die.”
“You’re not going to die.” I had to move, leave the food court. I put on my knapsack and put our lunches back on the cardboard tray. “Let’s go back to the park, Lucy. We’ll have a picnic and talk about this some more, if you like.”
“All right.” She tucked her hand in my elbow, and we walked back to the park not saying much. I found a grassy spot beside some trees and within view of the children’s playground. “Let’s sit here and eat our picnic.”
Lucy nodded. She’d stopped crying. Instead of the stream of questions I’d expected, she hunched her shoulders and stared down at the ground. Seeing her like this upset me more than her tears. Where was my spunky little sister, the kid who thought Gretel was the greatest for saving Hansel and herself from the witch? I wanted my old Lucy back.
I finished eating and asked Lucy if she wanted to talk about things.
“When will this be over and we can be together again?”
“I don’t know, Luce. It will take time. Don’t you like Aunt Grace?”
“She’s all right. I want to live with you.”
“That’s what I want, too.”
We walked around the park. The kids in the playground looked like they were having a great time. Like they hadn’t a worry in the world. When I glanced down at my watch, I was surprised it was almost time to head for the bus stop.
“Let’s walk to the statue where you waited for me.”
“You’re leaving,” Lucy said, her voice breaking. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“Come on, Luce. You know I can’t stay here. He’ll send his men to look for me. I don’t want them to find you.”
“Our uncle?”
“Raymond.”
“But he’s our uncle. Why would he?”
“Because he’s evil.”
Her voice quavered. “What if he wins?”
“He won’t,” I said more firmly than I felt. “I’ll take care of things and then we can be together.”
Lucy squeezed my hand. “Can I call you?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Aunt Grace says we’re going to England next week. I wish I could call you before we go away.”
At the statue, I hugged her tight. “All right. Call me Saturday at one in the afternoon, or as close to one as you can. You know my number.”
She buried her face against my chest and nodded. I hated to let her go. For a moment I considered staying. But I didn’t want to make waves. I pulled back and put a hand on each shoulder. “You’ll go straight home from here.”
“Of course.”
“I love you, Lucy.”
“Emma,” she whispered.
“No, Lucy,” I whispered back. “Soon we’ll be together again, and we’ll never live apart until you get married.”
Lucy giggled. “Or you get married.”
I kissed her cheek and let her go. I jogged to the corner. At the red light I turned. In the distance, Lucy had stopped, too, and was waving to me. I watched her walk toward the apartment she shared with Aunt Grace.
Tears filled my eyes and I brushed them away. Would we ever be together again?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I FELL ASLEEP on the ride home and awoke with a start as we drove into Buckley. Where was I? Panic overcame me, until I realized I was on a bus, coming back after seeing Lucy. I glanced around at the other passengers. Had my uncle sent any of them to follow me? But none of them—not the heavy woman with two paper bags on the seat beside her, the scrawny old man dozing against the window, nor the young mother and her two children—struck me as spies.
Spending time with my little sister had been a precious gift. I wondered if I’d ever see her again. Aunt Grace was taking her to England in a few days. I shuddered. England was an ocean away. Despite all the positive things I’d said to Lucy, there was a better chance our evil uncle would win. I, Simon Porte, would exist in name only.
A wave of sadness swept over me, nearly bringing me to tears. I’d give it a good fight, but I was only a kid—not yet sixteen. Yesterday at the lawyer’s office had showed me just how powerless and naive I was.
When I arrived home, I tossed my knapsack on the hall floor and called out, “Aunt Mary, I’m home.”
She descended the staircase, a finger to her lips. “Shh, Simon. Your uncle is sleeping.”
“Sleeping? It’s four thirty in the afternoon.”
“I know, dear, but he’s not well. He’s had one of his turns.”
Great news! Maybe he’ll die and this horror will end.
I followed Aunt Mary into the den and sat beside her on the sofa. I remembered Raymond’s high color in the lawyer’s office, the perspiration on his forehead. I took her hand and asked, “Is it his heart?”
She nodded, blinking back tears. “His secretary drove him home after his business lunch. She wanted to take him to the hospital, but Raymond insisted he’d be all right after he got some rest. I called his doctor. He’ll be by to see him after office hours.”
She took a jagged breath. “Raymond’s been working too hard these past few months, especially lately with this condo deal in the wings.” She squeezed my hand. “I told him he was overdoing things, but he laughed and said he was stronger than ever. His heart condition was a thing of the past.”
“Maybe it’s only a temporary setback,” I said to calm her. I pressed my elbows against my sides to stop the trembling. The only way my uncle’s health would improve would be through the death of another child.
Aunt Mary patted my cheek. “You’re a
good boy, Simon. I’m thankful you came to live with us.” She tried to smile. “Did you have a nice day?”
“Very nice.”
“I’m glad.” Her hands flew to her face in dismay. “But with all this turmoil, I never got to make you dinner. Why don’t you call the pizza parlor and order a pie for yourself?”
“What about you?”
“I’m too upset to eat more than tea and toast.”
I called in an order for a small pepperoni pizza, which was delivered some twenty minutes later. While I was downing my third slice, the doctor arrived. He conferred with Aunt Mary, their heads bent toward one another, and then he followed her upstairs. He came down shortly after, talking to Aunt Mary over his shoulder. He reassured her that Raymond’s heart was no worse. But he was overdoing it and needed two or three days of bed rest and shouldn’t go back to the office until the following week.
After the doctor left, I sat down at my computer and googled airline sites to check out flights to London. Wow! I didn’t expect it to cost that much. Prices were lower in September, but I couldn’t wait that long. I was about to look into sites that offered cheaper rates when the doorbell rang. I listened at my closed door and heard Aunt Mary greet Craig Averil. A minute later he was bounding up the stairs to the master bedroom and closing the door behind him. I waited a few minutes before leaving my room. The sound of the den TV downstairs assured me that Aunt Mary was occupied. I crept along the hall to my aunt and uncle’s bedroom, and put an ear to the door. My uncle and Craig were chuckling, clearly pleased with themselves.
“I can relax like the doctor ordered,” Raymond said, “now that you’ve taken care of our little problem.”
The short hairs on my neck rose like soldiers. What evil act had Craig performed for my uncle?
“It was easy as pie,” Craig boasted. “I knocked on her door and called out, saying I wanted to talk about the playing fields. She assumed I was on her side and invited me in. I used a rock I’d picked up on her front lawn. One blow and she went down for the count.”
I gasped. Too late, I clamped my hand over my mouth, terrified they’d heard. They must not have because their heartless conversation went on.
“The question remains, how do you know she’ll stay down? Lucinda’s old, but she’s one tough cookie.”
“I felt her pulse,” Craig said. “It’s weak and she’s unconscious. Who’s going to wake her up? And if she does, who will hear her calls for help?”
Lucinda! Averil had struck Lucinda and left her for dead! I longed to rush inside and knock him to the floor, then put my hands around my uncle’s neck and squeeze until all life was gone. But I had to get to my aunt. She couldn’t die!
My uncle’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t forget that other little matter. It’s even more important.”
“I’ll take care of it later tonight.”
Four, eight, six, one. Four, eight, six, one. I repeated the numbers in my head as I flew down the stairs. Wake up, Lucinda. Wake up!
I stopped at the den where Aunt Mary was knitting and watching television. From her dull, confused expression, I figured she’d taken a sedative.
“Aunt Mary, I’m going out for a while.”
“Okay, Simon. Don’t come home late.”
I repeated the four numbers again and again like a mantra as I raced to Lucinda’s house. Silence. It was like phoning someone who wasn’t home. As I approached Willow Road I sensed a presence. As though someone was coming to life—or consciousness.
What?
Her voice came through, weak and querulous, sending a burst of energy through my body. I forged ahead, my legs pumping harder and faster. It’s me, Lucinda. Are you all right?
Of course not! I’m dying.
You’re not dying! You can’t! My pulse clanged against my temples. My heart beat so fast I thought it would burst. No more deaths! No more deaths!
Her breath sounded raspy. Help me, Simon.
I’m almost there. Try to sit up.
Lucinda moaned. My head hurts.
The front door was ajar. I found Lucinda on the sitting room floor, half propped up against the sofa. She reached out a trembling hand.
“I’m here.” I sank down beside her and felt the pulse in her wrist. Weak but steady.
“You’re a good boy, Simon.” Lucinda blinked. “How did you know I needed you?”
“I overheard Craig Averil tell Raymond that he struck you and left you to die.”
She frowned. “Craig did?”
I gaped at her. “Don’t you remember?”
Lucinda blinked as she tried to remember. “I was drying my dinner dishes, then I don’t know what happened—until you woke me up, my head aching something awful.”
“Ohmigod!” How could I have forgotten to call for help? I patted my pocket. No phone. “Be right back!” I ran into the kitchen and dialed 911.
“I just got to my aunt’s house and found her unconscious. Lucinda Davenport. She lives at 21 Willow Road. Send an ambulance immediately!”
The dispatcher told me help was on the way.
When I got back to Lucinda, she appeared to be sleeping. I shook her shoulder until her eyes fluttered open.
“Wake up! I’ve called for an ambulance. It will be here soon.”
She winced. “And go to the ER? I hate hospitals. They’re full of infections.”
“Maybe so, but you might have a concussion.”
“I suppose the sensible thing would be to get myself checked out,” Lucinda said. She squinted, as though she were having trouble following her thoughts. “Why would Craig Averil want to hurt me? He’s such a nice young man. Of course, I haven’t seen him in years.”
I let loose a raspberry. “He’s a creep. He does Raymond’s dirty work.”
My aunt surprised me by clucking her tongue. “Poor Craig. I suppose he sold his soul to the devil because of his son.”
“What are you talking about? I didn’t know Craig has a son.”
Before Lucinda could answer, a siren sounded, growing louder and louder, almost muffling the ringing of the doorbell. I ran to open the door for the EMS.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
AT FIRST THE EMT people said that because I was a minor I couldn’t ride in the ambulance with Lucinda. She carried on, shouting she wouldn’t go to the hospital without her nephew. Finally, the head EMS guy—a really fat dude—gave in and told me to get in the back of the ambulance with her. I obeyed and looked down so he wouldn’t see me grinning. My life was a total disaster, but I had one adult relative who gave a damn about me.
When we got to the hospital, I followed Lucinda’s gurney into the ER. I helped her with the paper work, then held her hand while we waited in an examination cubicle.
An efficient-acting nurse came in and yanked the curtains shut. She took Lucinda’s blood pressure, then turned to me. “The doctor will examine your aunt after she has a CT scan. You can wait for her in the waiting room.”
I sat there, skimming through practically every magazine, until a young Indian doctor came looking for me.
“We’ll be keeping Miss Davenport overnight and possibly another day or two to watch over her condition,” he said.
“Will she be okay?” I asked. “She told me she thought she was dying.”
Dr. Mehta smiled. “I don’t think she’s about to expire. She’s suffered a concussion, but her heart and other vitals are strong.”
“Thanks. That’s good to know.”
The doctor lowered his voice. “Your aunt appears to have been struck by a blunt instrument. Were you present? Did you see what happened?”
I shook my head. “I was coming over to visit Aunt Lucinda. She was barely conscious when I got to her house. I called 911.”
“We have to report all signs of violence to the police. An officer will be here shortly. Would you mind answering a few questions tonight? Or you could go down to the station tomorrow, if you’d prefer.”
“I’ll talk to someone now,” I said, h
oping Dr. Mehta couldn’t hear my heart popping like a ping pong ball against my ribs. I could just see myself explaining to the officer the truth about Lucinda’s injury:
“What happened is my uncle, a member of Buckley’s town council, ordered his friend, a popular high school teacher who runs a local day camp, to assault his elderly aunt because she stands in the way of his great business venture.”
That was sure to go over big with the police, whom Raymond probably had in his pocket.
Dr. Mehta had me wait in a tiny cubicle of an office. Was it legal for a cop to question me, a minor, without an accompanying adult? I started to worry, then realized Raymond wasn’t well enough to leave his bed. It would have to be Aunt Mary, which might not be too bad.
Finally, a burly cop entered the small cubicle. He closed the door, then edged along the wall to sit behind the desk.
“Well, young man. It sounds like you’ve had one hell of an evening.”
“I guess.” Something I’d seen in a movie or on TV—or maybe knowledge Raymond had passed on during one of his infusions—warned me not to offer any information.
The cop seemed to sense this. He exhaled loudly.
“Okay. I’m Sergeant Baker of the Buckley Police. I’d like you to state your name and address, and tell me what transpired when you entered your aunt’s house.”
I decided to stick to the truth as far as I could. I said I’d come to visit Great-Aunt Lucinda, which I occasionally did in the evening, and found her on the floor fading in and out of consciousness. “I called for help and the ambulance brought us here.”
“You didn’t see who struck your aunt?”
“No.”
“See anyone running from the house?”
I paused. Now would be a good time to implicate Craig. But Raymond would probably give him an alibi.
“I didn’t see anyone,” I finally said.
“You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
Sergeant Baker shrugged, but his keen eyes never stopped scrutinizing me. It was like being x-rayed. “You didn’t, by chance, happen to get into an argument with your aunt? Pushed her so she fell and hit her head?”
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