I don’t like the sound of that, but he doesn’t let me ask anything else. “Keep moving to the end of the alley, then turn right.”
“Toward Miranda’s?”
He nods.
“And the cops.”
“Yup.”
I follow his instructions but keep having to slow down for him. He’s ambling along, apparently without a care in the world. At one point, he even stops and picks a blade of grass and offers it to me; when I refuse, he cups his hands around it to make a whistle. It’s like he’s bored, waiting for something to happen.
I have to know. “Charlie, we’re not going to try and get in there with that police car out front, are we?”
“Just wait, Shepherd,” he advises.
We come to Miranda’s street and Charlie moves down the slope of the road towards the field,
I’m nervous when I see the cops in the car. “I think they’re watching us,” I say.
Charlie doesn’t seem to care; he’s scrounging around at the edge of the field. “Hey! I haven’t seen one of these in forever!” He brings over an old, brown beer bottle with a short neck. “They called them stubbies.”
“I don’t care,” I tell him. “What are we doing?”
He shrugs. “Relaxing?”
Just then, the cop’s lights flare on and the siren whoops as the car accelerates toward us.
“Shit!” I exclaim.
But Charlie just waves at the officer as the car turns down the alley in the direction we just came from.
“Where’s he going?” Then I see it, a column rising up behind one of the houses down the block. “Is that smoke?”
But Charlie’s all business now. “What are you waiting for, Shepherd? Time for us to move.”
chapter 45
Charlie gets to Miranda’s back door and is inside in record time. I rush in behind him.
“Did you start a fire?”
“Just a shed.”
“Dude!”
“Let’s say it was necessary. Now, shut up so we can think.”
Who can think? My brain can’t process much right now so I just watch as Charlie moves swiftly down the hallway into Miranda’s bedroom. The window faces the street and through the sheer curtain I can see a crowd of neighbours gathering. Moments later, fire trucks show up.
Charlie barks at me. “Shepherd? Focus.”
I turn and see Charlie moving back and forth, opening the bedroom closet and inspecting the whole space from different angles. I follow him back out to the hallway to a linen closet that he opens long enough only to shove his hand in to the back and study its ceiling before shutting the door.
“Any other closets?”
Dazed, I indicate the closet next to the front door.
This closet too he slides open and begins to examine, but he’s already shaking his head, doubting the possibility of finding anything. Still, he continues the search anyway. Nothing. Frustrated, he slides the door shut.
He surveys the living room and I ask, “What about the basement?”
I lead him to the stairwell.
“I don’t think Miranda came down here much,” he says, studying the basement tv room. “No hiding spots for freak shows in masks here.”
“That’s good,” I say, “because at this point I’d probably throw you in their path.”
“I accept that,” he chuckles.
In the laundry room, Charlie pushes aside a box. It leaves an outline of dust. Looks like nothing’s been moved in here for quite a while. He studies the room’s nooks and crannies before moving on to the bathroom.
“Yuck,” he recoils, having stuck his head inside. “She never uses this place. No soap or shampoo… not even a towel.” He steps out and opens the door to the office. “But there’s lots of places to hide stuff in here, actually.”
I shrug. “Charlie, I don’t think we’re going to find anything.”
He scrutinizes the room, checking plastic bags full of clothes and opening the drawers of the filing cabinet. He picks up a dirty plastic container and gives it a sniff. “Whew. Stinks like… tuna? And hot sauce.”
He sets it back down and studies the walls and ceiling here too.
I wish he’d hurry up. Too much time has gone by. “Are we done yet?”
But he’s onto something. “Don’t you see it?” He points up.
I shake my head, so he drags a chair over.
“This tile is way too dirty,” he says. “Dirtier than the others.” He reaches up and pushes the ceiling tile up and over with his knuckle. He steps precariously onto the chair’s armrest so he’s tall enough to reach inside. “I feel something. I just can’t quite…” He pulls his arm out and reaches over to the next tile and tilts it up.
Plop.
A small wad of cash sealed in a clear zipper-lock bag falls to the floor.
“Oh, man!”
“Yes!” Charlie exclaims as he slides the tile back and hops off the chair. “This is why Terry was trying to get back in the house! He couldn’t tell Miranda and she’d probably already given him all his stuff.”
Charlie picks up the bag. It’s filled with two stacks of fifties and hundreds.
“How much do you think there is?” I ask.
“Probably close to five thousand. That’s a lot of spare cash, especially for a mechanic. Maybe our missing man had a side job.”
“Charlie?” I’d like to continue this conversation, but we’re running out of time.
He reads my mind. “Fine. Let’s go.”
“What are you doing with the money?”
“We’re taking it.”
“What? No. Leave it behind.”
“This is our only clue to Terry’s disappearance.”
“So let the cops find it.”
He sighs. “Look, I know they’re suspicious about what he was into, but they’d have already come snooping around if they had anything solid.”
He goes upstairs and peeks out the window. “All clear.” He turns and hands me the cash. “Just in case, you take it.”
“What? No!”
“Come on,” he pleads.
“Put it back, Charlie.”
“Shepherd, you know me. I’m taking this either way. But you’re faster than me and if the cops are out there, I’d rather not be holding dirty money when they catch me and turn up my priors.”
I hate when he puts me in this position. But we’ve been through enough that I feel I owe it to him to cover his ass. I take the bag of cash from him, pull back my sock, and slide it inside, hoping that it won’t be too noticeable when I cover it with my pant leg.
“Oh shit, can you take this too?” He hands me a tiny baggie. “It’s for Diane.”
“More drugs? What is with you?”
“Relax. I didn’t buy it this time. I just picked it up where I found it.”
“Which is?”
“Near Man Bun.”
“Off the floor?”
“Well, sort of.”
“You picked his pocket?!” I can’t believe this guy.
Charlie touches his nose, points at me, and smiles. I have the urge to hit him again.
“He’ll never know where it went. Just stick it in your shoe, okay?”
I hear my brain saying that there’s not much difference between a baggie full of cash and one with a quarter-ounce of pot, but none of this makes me happy.
“Come on, Shepherd. We’ve got to roll.”
I flatten the baggie and slide it into the sole of my shoe.
“Thanks, man. Much appreciated.” He goes to the door. “Still clear. Let’s go.”
chapter 46
We step into the backyard and pull the door shut behind us. The smell of smoke hangs over the neighbourhood. Hunched over, we strike out across the yard, through Miranda�
��s fence and out into the alley. We’re halfway down the lane when we hear a voice yell, “Stop!”
I freeze and so does Charlie.
Why’d I listen to him? When will I learn?
“Turn around, slowly.” Two cops, a man and a woman, walk toward us from the end of the alley.
Charlie raises his hands and takes a step forward.
“Don’t you move!” the male cop yells.
I feel sick. I’m not sure how small town cops operate, but situations like this are never good. I do note that the cops aren’t in a defensive position, though; their arms are relaxed by their sides. Still, I don’t want to make any wrong moves.
The plastic bag full of money sticks to my leg, digging into my skin under my damp pant leg. I have no clue if the drugs are still in my shoe—I can’t feel the baggie. I hope it fell out somewhere in the backyard where it won’t easily be spotted.
Charlie is visibly shaking. “I’m sorry, officer,” he says. I’ve never seen him this way. “My friend was looking for me ’cuz we had a fight and I got pissed off and walked away.”
The woman cop turns to me. “And what was the fight about?”
I wish I could play the part with the same elevated fear that Charlie is able to conjure, but I’m too scared to focus. “Uh, a girl.”
“And it’s just a coincidence that we have a fire burning one street over from where two teenagers happen to be out for a walk?”
Charlie sighs. “No, officer.”
Wait, what?
“I think maybe my cigarette started it.”
What the hell is he doing? I’ve never even seen him smoke. Does he know what trouble we’ll be in? I take a breath, intending to say something and the cop looks from Charlie to me.
“It was an accident,” Charlie continues, a bit louder now, not giving me the chance to interrupt, “I was pissed and smoking and I think the cigarette I tossed might’ve started it.”
The female officer moves in closer to me. “Is that what happened?”
I hope my poker face is working because I’m sweating bullets.
“Officer? Honest, I can prove it,” says Charlie, who keeps pulling their attention away from me, but my mind spirals—how can he prove it? Oh God, this is so bad.
“May I?” When she nods, Charlie slowly lowers his hands and reaches into his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes and an expensive metal lighter. He tosses them on the ground.
Where did those come from?
“And what about your friend, here?” Both officers glance over at me, assessing.
I can barely meet their eyes.
“Please, it was my stupid mistake,” Charlie insists. “He was just trying to find me.”
The man ignores him. “How did you get here?” he asks me.
“We drove.”
“Where’s your car?”
“Down the street.” My hands are still up, but I indicate the car’s general direction.
“Can you take us to it?”
I nod.
The male cop walks behind us while the female cop stays beside me. Charlie seems to have diffused their concern, but I worry they may yet spot the wad of money in my sock and this makes me very nervous.
The female officer takes out a notepad. “What are your names and your parents’ names?”
“I’m Anthony Shepherd. My dad is Ben and my mom is Keya.”
“Do you have id on you?”
“It’s in the car.”
“Do you live nearby?”
I was hoping they wouldn’t ask that since we have no good excuse for being in this neighbourhood. “No, we’re staying across the lake.”
When I glance over, I see both officers staring at us, but Charlie keeps up the act and says, “Again, officers, sorry. This is my fault. We were checking out the town, I brought up the girl, we got in the fight. Then I jumped out of the car and he had to chase after me.”
I don’t know if they believe it—I don’t know if any of us do—but they let it slide for the moment.
“Well, Anthony, we’re going to take your friend in and ask him a few more questions. We want to be sure he didn’t start the fire on purpose.”
I wait for Charlie to say something, but he doesn’t argue. In fact, he says nothing at all and even seems to agree with the plan. And since he hasn’t given them a reason, they haven’t handcuffed him… yet.
We emerge from the alley and I point the officers to where my car is parked on the street, but instead of following me there, they stop at the corner of Miranda’s street. Smoke no longer rises from behind the houses and one of the fire trucks is just pulling out down the street.
“Can I have a number to contact your parents, Charles?”
“Unfortunately, they’re not around.”
The officer addresses me. “Is he staying with you?”
When I say yes, the officer asks for Dad’s number, adding, “We’re going to call your father when we’re done with him, okay?”
I answer, “Okay,” because what else can I say, but I can’t stop thinking of the world of trouble we’re in. My parents are fairly reasonable, but I don’t think either of them will appreciate having to pick Charlie up from jail. And I hate the idea of having to lie to them about all this.
As Charlie and the officers walk to their cruiser, he turns to me. “I’ll talk to you shortly. Tell your folks I’m sorry for the trouble.”
“Yeah, no kidding. You’ll be okay?”
“Hey, these officers are really nice. I’m more than okay.”
And for the first time, I wonder if he planned this all along.
chapter 47
I walk to my car and peek down the alleyway. The remaining fire crew continues to hose down the smoldering wood and ash of the shed, but nothing around it is burnt. Charlie seems to have pulled off a very controlled burn.
The cops drive by, with Charlie in the backseat.
He’s smiling.
I climb in Dad’s car and inhale a long breath, pull out the bag of money and slide it under the seat. I can’t leave it in the car or my parents will find it, but I don’t want it on me. When I get to the cabin, I’ll need a place to store it before we go back to the station.
I drive out of town, running through the various conversations I could have with my parents about what happened. I think the less I say the better. The trees zip by as I drive past the turnoff to the resort and travel over the bridge toward the cabin.
Ring ring. The sound of my phone over the car speakers startles me. Although I keep the phone on, it rarely rings when I’m at the lake. My buddies send me the occasional text message, but when I’m away, I’m mostly off the social grid.
Ring ring.
I study the console display. The number is familiar, but I’m not quite sure who it is. I hit the pickup button on the steering wheel. “Hello?”
“Hello, Anthony?” The authoritarian voice of Detective Gekas cuts through the speakers and I feel my whole body go tense. It can’t be a coincidence that she’s calling so soon after Charlie was picked up by the local police. “Anthony?”
“Sorry. Hello, Detective Gekas.”
She’d only called me once after finding Sheri to see how I was doing and to tell me that she’d contacted victim services to make sure I had the proper assistance. I appreciated her kindness back then, but I’m suspicious of her reason for calling now. I want to know what she knows, but at the same time I’d really like to toss the phone out the window.
“How’s your summer going?” she asks.
I can’t tell if this is small talk or if she’s sniffing out the situation.
“Good.”
“You’re keeping busy?”
“We’re at the cabin.”
“You and your family?”
Does she suspect that Charlie�
��s around? She must. Should I tell her? I’m not sure. “Yes. We come here every summer.”
“That’s nice,” she replies. “It’s good to get away from the city.”
“It is.”
“Have you heard from Charles, Anthony?”
And there it is. Time to either fess up or shut up.
“Yes. He’s visiting us.”
“Really.” She doesn’t sound surprised. “When did he get there?”
“A few days ago. You know Charlie—I think he might’ve hitchhiked.” I need to quit supplying her with unnecessary information.
“Yes, I do.”
“I think he’s having a good time. He’s sort of a city boy.”
Shut up, Tony!
“I’ve been thinking of heading north myself…”—Don’t come here, don’t come here—“but it can be difficult to get time off.”
“Sounds rough,” I say.
“So, you’re okay?” she asks.
“Yes. I am.” I say it with a smile, hoping to sound legit.
“Glad to hear it, Anthony. Now then, do you want to explain to me why, moments ago, I received a phone call about Charlie from your local police?”
Shit.
“Umm…” World-class liar, I am not.
“Anthony, why is Charlie being questioned about a fire he may have started?”
“It was an accident?”
“Anthony.”
“He— I—” I quit talking to stop digging my own grave.
“Anthony, you need to be honest with me. You two aren’t getting yourselves involved in the missing person’s case up there, are you?”
Yup, she knows everything and my silence isn’t helping.
“You know, Anthony, after everything that happened last fall, my name is all over your and Charlie’s files. Something happens involving the two of you, I’m going to know about it. And you two aren’t vigilantes or superheroes or detectives, either. What happened before was luck, and even so, you made a mess of things and we were very fortunate that we were able to put him away and that you didn’t get anyone hurt, including yourself.”
The line goes quiet and I wonder if the connection has dropped, until she speaks again.
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