by Sanna Hines
“Gl’ock—interesting name for the band,” Mike said during a break.
“It’s a contraction of Glasscock.”
“Good call.” Mike smiled. “God, he must hate his name. I mean, glass…cock? Got teased much?”
“You should talk, Mr. Small…wood! Nothing funny about that name, is there?” Holly wagged a warning finger in his face. “And just so you know, I am never going to marry you.”
Mike’s head jerked back. “What?”
Holly nearly lost it at the look of horror on his face, but she forced herself to say gravely, “Because the wedding announcement would read: Glasscock-Smallwood Nuptials.”
“Oh.” Mike exhaled relief. He’d caught on. “Right. And there’s this: The newlyweds exchanged vows in a tiny, intimate ceremony at… at…”
“Marblehead!” Holly crowed.
Not to be outdone, Mike added, “The happy couple will honeymoon in Micronesia.” And Holly gave in to noisy, snorting guffaws, prompting Mike to silly laughter.
His phone buzzed. Mike turned serious in an instant. Holly heard him say, “Okay. Thanks,” before he clicked off. “The dog,” Mike reported. “They’ve released him.”
“Let’s get Liv.”
Holly did a breaststroke through the crowd. Breaching near Liv and Jess, she told them the news. Jess offered a lift to the Humane Society, saying, “My car’s just around the corner in the parking garage.”
“You’re okay about leaving Eric’s concert?” Holly asked.
“I’ll see him later.” Jess blew a kiss toward the stage, and then led the way upstairs and outside. Liv was so eager to get to Jess’ car that the two were strides ahead of Mike and Holly.
As they disappeared around the corner of the alley toward the parking garage, Holly felt a twinge of alarm. Liv was out of sight. She sprinted after her.
And then she felt hands on her shoulder, shoving her hard toward a shop window. As she staggered to catch her balance, something dark shadowed the streetlight. There was a thud. Mike yelled and spun into a brick wall while a van jumped the curb to careen around the corner.
Holly glanced at Mike. He was on his feet. She raced around the corner to find Liv and Jess pressed tightly against the building, staring down the alley, Jess shaking her fist. Liv cried, “Holly! A van nearly hit us. Did you see it? Did you—”
“Get away from there!” Holly shouted. “Run!”
Once Liv and Jess were beside her on the sidewalk, Holly went to Mike, who was leaning against the wall, clutching his left arm. “Damned drunks,” he growled. “Side mirror got me. Arm’s broken. I heard it crack.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Day 8—Saturday
“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?” Stealth screamed at his twin. In the van, Brandon almost took shape, almost looked solid. Normally, Stealth enjoyed these times together, but now he was furious, angrier than on the day Brandon died. His brother was nonchalant, half-turned toward the driver’s side, grinning and ignoring his seat belt as always. “Don’t ever take the wheel like that again!” Stealth raged. “You don’t know how to drive.”
So teach me, Brandon said.
“No way in hell! You nearly crashed us into a wall. You could’ve killed the guy on the sidewalk or those girls in the alley.” Stealth gripped the wheel tighter. His hands were shaking, slippery with sweat. He had to stop somewhere, dry his hands, change his gloves. Had to have clean hands.
Don’t stop. Cops could be after us.
“Because of you, you stupid tool!” Stealth felt his heart pounding. Crawling through Portsmouth until they reached the highway and fled to Boston was torture. Home! If they could only get home…stash the van in the garage…leave it there until no one was looking for it…. But what if someone in Portsmouth took a picture of the license plate number?
Calm down, Stealth told himself. He had to stop the rising panic, not make driving mistakes and be pulled over, ignore everything until they were safe at home. But he couldn’t block the question. He had to know. “Brandon, why did you grab the wheel? Why?”
I wanted to scare the redhead.
“What redhead?”
The one who hurt us in Boston—the one who elbowed us on the T.
“That was her? How do you know?”
I remembered her ass. Brandon laughed. Thought I’d get back at her, have some fun.
“Fun?” Stealth choked out. “You risk it all—everything we’ve worked for—for fun?”
Brandon lifted his chin. I have to have fun while I can. I won’t be around much longer.
“Don’t say that!” Stealth cried. “We’ll finish the weapon, sell it, and get the money to buy the house. Then we can stay together forever.”
Your way is too slow. Karina won’t wait. She’ll will get rid of the house, and you’ll have to move out. I’ll disappear. We need ransom. And we need to drive faster. Let me do it.
Stealth felt the dreamy, sleepy state coming on, the one that meant Brandon was taking over their body. He fought his brother, forcing him back, pushing him deep into their brain. Brandon thrashed and swore at him, but Stealth won.
Alone on the interstate, Stealth drove carefully, doing nothing to attract attention. The damp gloves bothered him, and something else, too. Brandon had always been careless, but now he was reckless. His recklessness cost them the first girl. Brandon was acting crazy…
…And he was getting stronger.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Day 8—Saturday night
Liv imagined a hospital emergency room to be a frantic place with nurses running beside gurneys of gory accident victims or maybe there’d be a knot of doctors surrounding a patient, jumping back when one shouted, “Clear!” That wasn’t what she found.
There was only a waiting room where no one moved except two little boys fighting each other, their mother sagging in a chair, looking too sick to stop them. A nurse took her uncle through a doorway for treatment. While Liv and Holly waited, a cop came by to interview them about the accident. He went away looking discouraged because neither of them caught the plate number of the van.
Holly said, “We should call your grandmother. I just wish it weren’t more bad news. And it’s getting late. Maybe you and Mike should spend the night at my house. He can go straight to bed, and in the morning, you can pick up your puppy. I’ll drive us all back to Boston in Mike’s car tomorrow if he’s not up to it.”
“I thought Sunday was your day off,” Liv said.
“Guess not.” Holly shrugged. “Oh, I just thought of something: Will your grandmother be all right by herself?”
“She’ll hire someone to stay with her. She’s done it before. I’ll bet she says yes.”
Mrs. Glasscock was nice, Liv decided. She was small and dark-haired and pretty; she looked nothing like Holly. When the three of them showed up at her house, she acted like she couldn’t think of anything more wonderful than unexpected guests. She fussed over Uncle Mike and his cast until she put him to bed in the guest room, saying, “Poor thing. He needs a good night’s rest.” Warning “I don’t want to hear any noise tonight, not from anyone!” she warmed up dinner, a yummy pasta.
When it was time for bed, Liv got Holly’s room. There were a lot of trophies from Tae Kwon Do. Checking the dates on the awards, Liv saw Holly had been at it since she was little. Liv wished she’d done sports when she was a kid, but her mother was always busy, got home late. Liv mostly watched T.V. and snacked. She felt like having a snack now.
In the kitchen, Liv met Cameron, who frowned at her. “Uncle Jim called. He wanted to know how everyone was doing. I can’t believe you found a body and didn’t tell me!”
Liv felt a lump in her throat. Over the last hours, she’d almost—almost—forgotten about this morning. Now it all rushed back. “We’d just come from the police station. I couldn’t face a replay. Is your uncle all right? Did the police believe him?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Cameron said. “They don’t think he’s involved. But, I mean, there I was, r
olling on about cars and work, and you’d found a body. Man. Had to be rough.”
“It was. It was gross and scary and angrifying all at once,” Liv said. She shuddered. “I couldn’t process. Talking about it made it worse.”
“And now?”
“Now I can deal. Is it on the news?”
“Nothing but. We don’t have murders in Portsmouth, leastways not ones like this.”
“Do they know who she was?” Liv asked.
“They’re saying it’s the girl from Boston, the first one kidnapped. What’s going to happen to the ‘Be a Hero’ plan now? Is it over?”
“Absolutely not. We’ll have to work harder, faster. Ari and Kyle are still out there. We can’t let what happened to Natalie happen to them.”
So the world knew Natalie Porcini was dead. Her family and friends knew. Liv didn’t have to guard the secret any longer. She felt deflated, hollow, needed something to make her feel better. “Any pasta left?” she asked.
Cameron searched the refrigerator. “Here. I’ll heat it up for you.”
“Want to join me?”
He shook his head. “I’m maxed out on carbs.”
Liv studied his handsome face, his trim body. “You’re worried about gaining weight?”
“Spent my whole life fat. Not going there again.”
“I don’t believe you,” Liv scoffed.
“Believe it. I had so many rolls, I looked like one of those Chinese dogs. I lost more than a hundred pounds. “
“How? What did you do?”
“Come outside,” Cameron said, “and I’ll show you.” He led Liv past the two step-down additions at the back of the house. Stopping twenty feet beyond the lower one—the mudroom, as he called it—Cameron told Liv to wait. Then he ran toward the driveway fence, touching a hand to it before swinging his legs over. Seconds later, he leapfrogged the fence, dashed to the mudroom, shot out a foot and pushed up to the roof. From there, he ran the center beam, planted a foot on the next wall and launched himself to the main house roof. Moving along the eave, he reached the end, where he jumped off to a tree branch. He swung around this, dropped and then rolled, popping up to his feet directly in front of Liv.
“Parkour! Wow!” she shouted, clapping wildly. “That was awesome—the raddest thing I’ve ever seen!”
“I’m just a newbie,” he said. “Wait a while, and I’ll have better tricks.”
“You’ve got to show me how to do that,” Liv insisted. “It’s like…it’s like flying. It’s—”
Cameron waved his hands at her. “Shh!” He peered nervously toward the house. Grabbing her elbow, he urged Liv toward the far side of the mudroom where they couldn’t be seen from the kitchen. He told her in a whisper, “Mom hates it when I do Parkour. She’s sure I’ll break my neck or wreck the house or…or both. I told her I lost interest so she’d calm down, but I don’t dare do any more tonight.”
“When can you teach me? Where? I really, really want to learn.”
Cameron rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, maybe next Friday in Boston? I’ll be there for the Be-a-Hero Concert anyway.”
“It’s this Friday?” Liv asked. “How come I didn’t know?”
“I just got a text from Tay a couple minutes ago. You probably have one in your mailbox.”
“Oh. Of course. Tay.” Liv gazed at Cameron’s face. He looked wistful, pleased, so maybe this was the right time. “Look, I’m having a birthday party—it’s a Halloween party really ‘cause my birthday’s on Halloween—but the party’s Saturday after this one. Grandmother’s worried about security, thinks there’s too much activity on Halloween. Anyway, it’s a costume party, and I can have a DJ or band, and— Oh! I just realized! Your brother’s group would be perfect. Do you think they’d play at my party?”
“You’ll have to ask Eric, but if there’s money involved, he’ll be there.”
“Good. I want you to come, too.”
His face fell. Liv realized a high school party might seem lame to him. “Don’t feel like you have to,” she mumbled.
“It’s not what you think,” he said. “It’s just a whole lot of preppies from a power school, the cool kids—” Cameron made air quotes before he went on. “I wouldn’t fit in.”
“You said my friends were all right,” Liv reminded him. “And Tay—you like her, I know you do.”
He shrugged. “What’s not to like about Tay? Still, rich kids, all of them flexing—I’m outta my league.”
“You’re in a league of your own. You are the coolest guy I know, Cam,” Liv blurted out. She might have gone too far, said too much, made a fool of herself, but she had to plunge on. “I mean it. You have way more style than any of the others, but I hear you about a party where you hardly know anybody. If you’re bored, you can always say you’re the band’s roadie.”
“I could….” Cam laughed. “Yeah, I could.”
“So you’ll come?” Liv pressed.
“Yeah. Oh, wait—I’ll have to see if I can get off work. If it’s a go, I’ll reach.”
“Great!”
And so, the day that started out awful, ended pretty well. Cam was a friend. Liv warmed inside. Tomorrow would be better. Tomorrow, she’d get Teddy, and the puppy would lead her to Ari. Teddy knew Ari’s scent; he’d been in her arms when she was taken. If he needed reminding, Liv still had Ari’s purple hat. And just as Liv knew Teddy would find Ari, she knew the van that took Ari was the same one that broke her uncle’s arm.
But she couldn’t tell Cam or anyone what she knew. No one would believe her. They’d think she was crazy, making up stories, trying to get attention. Liv hardly believed herself.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Day 9—Sunday
Holly woke to a field of blue flowers, the wallpaper of her mother’s bedroom. Light streamed in through white Priscilla curtains.
She rolled over on the daybed. The last time she’d slept here, she’d been a sick little girl. Now she just fit between metal head- and foot-rails, but she felt comfortable, safe, home.
The house was quiet. She was the first one up. Her mother was still asleep in her massive Victorian bed, some ancient relative’s idea of modern décor. The daybed and most of the furniture dated from the same era, but the walls held photo blowups of distant places her mother longed to visit—places Lisa Glasscock hadn’t gone because she’d been raising three kids.
Slipping from the daybed, Holly reached for her jeans and shirt tossed over the foot-rail last night. She’d slept in underwear and cami because her duffle with fresh clothes was locked in Mike’s car. She could change later; for now, yesterday’s clothes would do. Turning the antique doorknob, praying it wouldn’t squeak, Holly headed toward the hall bathroom where she could shower and dress without disturbing her mother.
Every door was closed except the guest room. Mike stood in the hall wearing slacks, a shirt draped over his shoulders. He held the sling for his arm cast in his right hand.
Mike looked at Holly, a long look, top to bottom.
“Glad you’re feeling better,” she said, grinning. “Need help with the shirt?”
“Uh, yeah, but I’m really after headache pills.”
“The kitchen. I’ll meet you there in a minute.”
No time for a shower. As Holly dressed, Mike crept into her thoughts. Sitting for a living, how could a lawyer have a kickin’ body? She was still mulling over that question when she joined him in the kitchen.
“Here,” she said, opening a cabinet. “What’s your pleasure: acetaminophen, ibuprofen or aspirin?”
“One of each,” Mike said, “and coffee. Must. Have. Coffee.”
Holly gave him the pills with a glass of water and started the coffee machine. “I think we can get your shirt on if we begin with your left side.”
“All right. Glad I didn’t let them destroy this shirt,” Mike said while Holly was slipping on the left sleeve. “Ouch! Go slow.”
After that, she did. Mike buttoned the front himself. “I have to learn
how. Can’t have you dressing me for the next six weeks.”
“It’ll take six weeks to heal?” Holly asked while she buckled the sling.
“So the doctor said.”
“Jeez.” Holly looked into his eyes. “I need to thank you. If you hadn’t protected me, I’d probably be a blot on the sidewalk. I’m so sorry you were hurt.”
Mike shrugged. “Just acted on instinct.”
“Well, thank your instinct for me.” Holly smiled. “Hungry? I’ll make you breakfast.”
“Not yet. I need to wake up a little before I eat. It’s beautiful weather outside. Can we sit on the terrace? Might be the last nice day of the year.”
Holly nodded. The coffee was done. She reached for mugs, poured coffee, and then absently opened the cookie jar—an old habit from high school. How many times had her mother warned “Cookies and coffee are not a proper breakfast!”?
Inside the cookie jar was a package. Holly lifted it out, found her name written in her mother’s handwriting on the wrapping paper and a card. She opened the card. “Dearest,” it said, “I know it’s not your birthday yet, but you need this. Enjoy!”
Holly ripped into the package. It held the phone she’d been drooling over. “Look!” she said to Mike.
“A phone?” He didn’t seem impressed.
“Not just any phone,” Holly said. “The perfect phone.” She hugged it to her chest. “You have no idea how much I wanted it.”
“Mazeltov,” Mike said, lifting his mug.
“What’s going on?” Liv asked from the doorway.
“This! My birthday present!” Holly held the phone at her.
“Oh, that’s like Maddy’s,” Liv said. “I want some coffee, and then can we get Teddy?”
Holly switched on her phone, checking the time. “The Humane Society won’t be open for another half hour. You really want coffee?”
“Yep. And a cookie.”
“Help yourself.” Holly ran upstairs to thank her mother, who was out of bed and getting ready for church. After many hugs and a little dancing around the room with her gift, Holly returned to the kitchen, where Liv was bent over her phone.