by Sanna Hines
Stealth’s going baldy, baldy, Brandon jeered.
Shut up! What do you know? His anger and the smells around him made Stealth gag. He had to get out—get out! Fighting panic, Stealth reached a trembling hand toward the door. It swung open before he could get there. A girl rushed in, moving so fast she collided with Stealth.
Titties! Brandon cried gleefully. I felt titties!
Stealth’s head swam. He staggered backward.
“I’m sorry.” The girl jumped away from him. “Chase was supposed to be in here making sure no one else was.” Her eyes focused on Stealth’s face. “You look sick. Are you okay?”
He stared at her. She had a Sidley emblem on her shirt. Stealth felt Brandon clamoring to see through his eyes.
A boy came in. Athletic type, smelled of ocean. He was beautiful—bright hair, languorous eyes. “Sorry I’m late,” he told the girl. “You should have waited for me to check this room.”
“No time. I ran into the café before Holly could react. I thought you were already in here. And look—” She waved toward Stealth. “I burst in on this poor man.”
The boy said to Stealth, “My B. You weren’t, uh, doing anything, right?”
Stealth shook his head.
“Liv’s hiding. Her tail won’t look for her here. There’s another girl in the women’s john pretending to be her. We’ll be out of your bubble in a sec.” He cracked open the door, listening.
In the hallway, a shrill, female voice called, “Liv? Olivia Smallwood! Where are you?” Footsteps stomped past. The boy shut the door, a slow smile spreading across his sensual mouth. He winked at the girl beside Stealth.
Someone knocked on the door. Stealth heard a girl’s voice say, “She’s gone.”
“Coast’s clear,” said the boy, holding the door open for the blonde. She grinned. Before leaving, she told Stealth, “Thanks for not giving me up. You’ve been great.”
“Don’t mention it, Olivia Smallwood,” Stealth whispered to the empty room.
I like her! Brandon declared. Why can’t we collect her?
She’s not Stealthie material.
I don’t care. You always choose the Stealthies. Why don’t I get a pick?
Because…because they can’t just be anyone. They have to be special.
Yeah—special. Like that first girl? At least, this one has nice boobs.
Stealth felt Brandon getting sullen and drawing away. Outside the men’s room, he couldn’t reach his twin at all. What if Brandon wouldn’t do what had to be done tonight?
Look! Brandon said suddenly. There’s a whole table of Sidleys. I want to watch them.
Stealth’s eye was caught by that table, too. Besides Olivia Smallwood sat two girls, two women, and two boys—the blond and a brunet with full, luxuriant lips, a chest meant to be seen bare, with jeans low on his hips and—
Brandon interrupted the fantasy. I want strawberry gelato. Go stand by the cooler and pretend you don’t know what you want. We’ll hear what they say at the table. Take your time, but buy me strawberry.
With his back to the table, Stealth peered into the cooler, not seeing anything, just listening.
A woman with the Sidley group said, “I want to thank you all for trying so hard to find my Ariel. It makes me…” She cleared her throat. “It makes me glad to know my daughter she has such good friends.”
“Our plan will work, Mrs. Kelly,” Olivia Smallwood’s voice said.
Kelly…Isn’t that one of our Stealthies? Brandon asked. They’re talking about us!
Stealth knows. Be quiet.
The mother said, “My sister, Zarah, has come from Israel to help. Zarah works for...” She exchanged words in a foreign language with a second woman. “…for the government.”
Another woman’s voice, probably the aunt’s, said, “There are many people in Israel who plot to do harm. We study them. This man who took Ariel, this kidnapper, we would say he’s—”
“What’ll you have?” a clerk asked Stealth.
“Not now!” Stealth barked. The clerk cringed. Stealth lowered his voice. “Can’t decide.”
“I’ll come back.” The clerk edged away.
Stealth missed most of what the Israeli woman said about him. All he got was “Sharana and I will look over your work carefully. What will you call this video series?”
“‘Be a Hero’—that’s what we want him to be,” Olivia Smallwood answered.
“An interesting twist. It may work—if the kidnapper gets the message.”
“Oh, he will,” another girl said. “Everyone watches YouTube. We have email chains and phone trees set to make sure there’ll be epic hits.”
A boy’s voice with an accent added, “Newsmen on TV mention viral videos. We have press releases ready to give them.”
“Sidley’s letting us hang a banner, and we’ll hand out flyers in the Back Bay and Beacon Hill. Kids from Natalie Porcini’s school in the South End will pass out flyers, too,” a girl put in.
“Natalie Porcini?” the aunt asked.
“She was the first kidnap victim, Zarah.”
“Could you, like, look at the files right away?” Olivia Smallwood asked. “We want to post as soon as we can.”
“I’ll call you,” the mother said.
When the clerk came back, Stealth pointed to the strawberry tub, which was new and untouched. He could eat from it and get Brandon off his back.
Stealth felt cool air sweep across him, saw movement by the door from the corner of his eye. He looked over his shoulder as a cop and a woman with bushy, red hair strode into the café.
That’s the one from the subway. We saw her yesterday at the school, too.
Stealth handed a bill to the clerk and took Brandon’s gelato to the booth by the window. He leaned back and listened.
“Miss Smallwood,” the cop said, “please come with us now.”
“No! I’m not doing anything wrong.”
“It would be better if you accompanied us voluntarily. I don’t want to use restraints.”
They’re being mean to her, Brandon hissed. See? She is Stealthie material.
Stealth risked a look. Olivia Smallwood trailed after the cop and the redhead like a prisoner.
He barely touched his key to the Beacon Street door before the nurse’s aide wrenched it open. “Mr. Tinsley! You are late. I worry you will not come before I go to the train. Your sister, she bring chocolates today, so your mother’s sponge bath will take much time.”
Frowning as he stepped into the foyer, Stealth inquired of Brandon, Why?
Everything needs changing. Chocolate gives the Momster diarrhea, Brandon told him.
Stealth’s shoulders sank. An ordinary bath took two people two hours. While Brandon and the aide were busy swabbing sweat, mold, fungus, urine and feces from the six-hundred fifty pound Momster before slathering her with creams, Stealth couldn’t work on his project. He shrugged at the aide, who’d been at the house now for...what? Two or three months. Young and curvy, Marisol came from South America. Brandon liked her. Stealth didn’t. She reached for his hand or tapped on an arm when she talked.
“A box comes for you.” Marisol pointed to the hall table. “And your sister, Miss Karina, she leave a note.”
Stealth inspected the package addressed to Brent Tinsley, the name that didn’t feel right, didn’t suit Stealth anymore, but there were the tools he ordered. He took off his gloves to open the note from his sister. A scrap of paper fell out. Stealth left the real estate agent’s business card on the rug.
She’s really going to sell the house! Brandon cried in a voice filled with terror. I can’t live anywhere else. Tell her!
Doesn’t care. Karina’s all about the money.
Stealth’s chest tightened as he read the note. He’d heard the argument before. Mother had to go to a place where people could help her lose weight, Karina insisted. Besides, the house cost a fortune to operate, and there was no reason two people needed nine thousand square feet on six floors, especi
ally when one was bedridden. Everyone would be better off with the house sold.
She can’t do this! Brandon screamed.
She can, Stealth told him. She has a piece of paper that puts her in charge of everything.
We could buy the house.
Don’t have twelve million dollars. Would have been closer to the target if you hadn’t messed up with the first Stealthie.
That was an accident.
Just like your death.
Oh, no, bro. You saw the car coming when you pushed me. You owe me. You’ll always owe me. Get more Stealthies.
Need to figure out who can help with the project. Need time. Need—
Screw the project, Brandon cut in. Just go for ransom. What about the girl at the café?
Marisol tapped Stealth’s arm. “This house is to sell? I lose my job?”
“No!” Stealth yelled at Marisol and Brandon. He stalked to the elevator and stabbed the button for the third floor, but the thought of what he’d find there—the smells, the Momster lying in her tomb of flesh—was too much. Closing his eyes, he pleaded with Brandon to take over.
When the elevator arrived, Brandon moved aside for Marisol to enter. She said, “The buttons, they do not work for the fifth floor.”
Brandon smiled. Marisol was pretty. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of everything.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Day 6—Thursday
Holly sat in the back seat of Officer Vogel’s cruiser with Liv glowering beside her.
“This running away business,” D. Vogel said, “has to stop, Miss Smallwood.”
“I wasn’t running away! I had to be at the café to talk with Ari’s mother. What we’re doing is important. Why can’t you understand?”
“The department believes you’re at high risk of kidnap.”
Liv dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. “I’m not anybody special. Ari was—is. Her father’s a state senator. Kyle’s family is rich, so maybe the kidnapper wants money. The other girl… I don’t know about her, but she’s probably important, too.”
“You’re a witness. That makes you special,” Holly said.
“What do you know? You’re not a cop.”
“No,” Vogel said, “she’s not. She’s your guardian’s appointed agent. That means you have to obey Miss Glasscock just the same as your grandmother. You’re a minor. It’s the law.”
Was it? Holly didn’t know if he was bluffing or telling the truth. Liv seemed shaken by the idea, so fact or fiction, the cop’s argument worked.
The cruiser stopped in front of the Smallwood house. Officer Vogel left the flashers on while he went to open Liv’s door. He said to Holly, “Wait here a minute,” before escorting Liv to the house. Holly watched the housekeeper’s eyes go wide after she answered the bell. Jen spoke to the man a minute before nodding and closing the door behind Liv.
Vogel returned to the car, opened Holly’s door and said, “Good thing I was patrolling Charles Street.”
“It was.” Holly’s memory rewound the scene. She bolted from the café and made it halfway to Beacon when she stopped, realizing that Liv could have gone another way. Frantic and angry, Holly couldn’t decide what to do. Then the cruiser pulled alongside her and the cop she met by Sidley called through the window, “Lost her again?”
Holly held out helpless hands. “She needed a restroom, ran down this street and disappeared into the café. I wasn’t far behind her, but somehow, she got away. Maybe…” Holly pointed toward the fruit market, where Indian corn, gourds and leering jack o’ lanterns mocked her. “…she went in there.”
“Yesterday, she doubled back to where she started. I say she’s at the café.”
Holly slapped her forehead. “Of course!”
“Wait for me to park, and I’ll go with you.”
Holly watched him stash the cruiser in the street behind Beacon. He came back, shaking his head, saying, “Runaways. They have all sorts of tricks.”
“Liv’s not a runaway. She saw her friend kidnapped. Liv might be suffering from PTSD or panic attacks or—”
“She’s a brat,” D. Vogel said. “In any case, I bet we find her in the café. Let’s go.”
Sure enough, Liv was where Officer Vogel predicted.
Now in the street before the Smallwood house, Holly asked, “Were you shadowing us?”
Vogel gave an abashed smile. “I’m assigned to watch her. She’s the only lead BPD has on this kidnapper. Frankly, we’re stumped. It doesn’t help that there’s a turf war going on. The FBI showed up to muscle us locals aside. Word’s come down that the Chief wants the department to prove we do more in Boston than bake beans. And so, I’m taking you to dinner.”
Holly couldn’t follow the disconnect. “What? Are you asking me out?”
“Nope. This is strictly business, or so my expense report will say. Call it an interview or call it liaising. Point is you have access to Olivia Smallwood every day. If she remembers anything, even the smallest detail, I want you to come to me. Best place to hammer out the details is Lugh’s—casual, good food, great drinks, and excellent Irish music. About seven?”
“I don’t even know your first name.”
“It’s Dan—Dan Vogel.”
Holly dressed with care for her date-not-a-date. She chose her best jeans, a shell of mixed blues and greens, and her new jagged-hem sweater. Her grandmother’s dainty charm bracelet would remind her to be ‘a lady’. That wasn’t easy for Holly: She knew she laughed too loud, talked when she chewed, and interrupted when she should listen. When she slow danced, she led.
She wouldn’t be dancing tonight. This wasn’t a date. Still, Dan Vogel was easy on the eyes, clever, and he held her dream job. Imagine working for a big city police force! Just hearing his stories would be exciting.
Holly found Liv’s uncle on the terrace. Cleaned up, Myron Smallwood looked different. The greasy, dark-blond hair was gone, replaced by a lighter shade, and he had arresting green eyes. Of course, he’d been glaring at her last night—not the best way to see eye color.
He surveyed her from head to toe. “Date?”
“More of a meeting.”
His expression gave no clue to his attitude. They hadn’t spoken since last night’s incident. “I’m really sorry I tackled you, Myron,” Holly ventured.
“I’m over it.” He took a seat in a wicker chair. “And call me Mike. What kind of meeting?”
“It’s about Liv, about the kidnappings. I’m having dinner with a police officer. His name’s Dan Vogel.”
Mike sat forward. “Dan Vogel? I went to school with him. Dan used to favor the wrong side of the law. He’s a cop?”
“He is,” Holly confirmed. She had fifteen minutes to wait. Why not talk with Mike about Dan? Sitting in the empty chair beside him, she asked, “What do you mean ‘wrong side of the law’?”
“Oh, it was kid stuff—climbing, mostly. In case you don’t know, climbing Beacon Hill houses is a major form of adolescent entertainment around here.”
Holly looked sideways at him. “Why would anyone want to climb houses?”
“For excitement. To swim in a rooftop infinity pool. To hold an impromptu party on someone’s balcony or roof and their parents none the wiser. Now, buildings like these…” He waved his hand toward the top floor of the Smallwood house. “…aren’t free-climbing challenges, but scaling the citadels on Beacon is sport.”
“Especially after a night of partying,” Holly guessed.
Mike smiled. “Anyway, if they gave out varsity letters for illicit climbing, Dan would have one, and now, he’s a cop.”
“And you’re…what? What do you do for a living?”
“Attorney.” He paused to shake his head. “Dan’s a cop; I’m an attorney. We grew up to be law-abiding citizens. Huh.”
Holly looked at Mike. They both smiled at the irony.
He said, “Well, a decade out of high school, life’s not so simple. This thing Liv’s involved with—this effort they’re
making to free the kidnap victims—you think it will work?”
“No idea. I’m not even sure what they’re planning except videos and a concert.”
“Not a party?” Mike asked. “I thought Liv’s birthday party was on the agenda.”
“I didn’t hear about a party.”
“Her sixteenth birthday is on Halloween. She’s talked about a big bash. Maybe the idea is to make friends by inviting people; Liv didn’t have many friends last year. My mother’s threatened to cancel because—and I quote: ‘Coming home in a police car is not The Smallwood Way.’”
“Oh, no!” Holly moaned. “I didn’t want to get Liv into that much trouble. Poor kid. If I talked to Catherine, would she change her mind?”
“I doubt it. She fell asleep twice over dinner, which means she’s really upset. And when she starts citing ‘The Smallwood Way’, she’s pretty much made up her mind. My mother can be the queen of stubborn.”
Holly leaned on her hand, trying to think of how to fix the situation. She didn’t want Liv despondent. The girl had been through a lot already. “But, really, running off today wasn’t so bad. She thought she was helping her friend. I need to be smarter about her motives, learn to read her better. It didn’t occur to me she’d have a plan and allies. Yesterday, it was spontaneous.”
“Yesterday?” Mike asked. “What happened yesterday?”
Oh, God, now I’ve done it. “She was, uh, a little reluctant to leave school. It took some fancy footwork and bargaining on my part.”
“Such as…?”
“I promised my brother would star in her video. It’s all right,” Holly said quickly. “He’s agreed to take part. I just thought Liv would keep her deal.”
“She learned deceit from her mother,” Mike muttered, looking away.
“About Liv’s mother,” Holly began, but then her phone buzzed.
It was Dan. “Sorry. We’ll have to reschedule dinner. There’s been a development in the kidnapping case.”
“You’ve found them? Oh, please say you’ve found them alive.”
“No.” Dan’s voice went flat. “We’ve found something else.”
CHAPTER NINE