See No Evil

by Gayle Roper

  Gray’s penlight showed shelves holding building supplies of all kinds, and I could see why Skip thought he’d found a treasure trove. Knowing him, he probably planned to have the biggest and best A-TAG headquarters in the whole of Chester County—as well as the only one. Gray flicked off his light, and we settled down to wait. I sat on the floor next to him, leaning against the back of the counter where the supply guy and the job foreman kept tabs on the millions of materials needed on a construction site the size of Freedom’s Chase. The plan was that I stay out of sight when the kids appeared. Natalie and I agreed that if Skip knew I’d seen his humiliation, it would make matters between him and me worse than they already were. Gray would reveal himself at what seemed the right moment, but most of the action would be Natalie’s.

  After about fifteen minutes we heard stealthy footsteps and the low murmur of voices. Skip had at least one A-TAG guy with him. We heard them move around to the back of the shed. Bumps, knocks, an “Ow! I pinched my finger” and a hissed “Shut up, idiot” from their noble leader, and slowly a panel of siding slid open. I felt Gray shake his head as the mystery of entry was solved. How they’d managed to loosen the panel in the first place was something to learn another time. We moved so we could peer around the edge of the counter, any sound we made covered by the noise of the boys’ entry.

  A flashlight held by someone outside backlit the silhouette of a short, cocky kid standing just outside the shed.

  “Follow me,” Skip ordered, and he stepped through the opening.

  Quick as could be Natalie reached out, grabbed his arm, and jerked it behind him. Skip yelped in fear and surprise and, at the sound, whoever was with him dropped his flashlight and ran. The abandoned light cast huge eerie shadows of Natalie and Skip onto the inner wall of the shed.

  Nat wrapped her other arm around her brother’s neck and pulled him back against her. “Got you, you little thief,” she said in a deep, gruff voice.

  Skip began to cry and struggle. “Let me go! Let me go! I didn’t do nothin’! Help!”

  “There’s nobody here to help you, kid.” Her voice was still not her own.

  She loosened her hold on his neck, pulled her cuffs from her belt, and slapped one ring of the restraint on his wrist. He began to struggle even more wildly.

  “Stay still,” Natalie ordered in her own voice. “Or you’ll hurt yourself.” I heard the click of the other half of the cuffs.

  Skip stilled and looked over his shoulder. “Natalie?” He sounded incredulous. “What are you doing here?” Then anger without a trace of remorse laced his voice. “And what do you mean slapping cuffs on me? I’m your brother!”

  “My thieving brother.” She made no move to free him.

  “Thieving? Me?” Innocence, thy name is Skip Schumann. “You think I’m here to steal?”

  “You betcha.”

  “Aw, come on, Nat. Would I do something like that?”

  “Then tell me why you’re here, breaking into someone else’s property.” She stood, hands on hips, and glowered. When he wasn’t quick enough with his answer, she snorted. “Don’t worry too much about your predicament. Dad will probably bail you out tomorrow morning.”

  “Bail me out?” He squeaked on the last word.

  Gray stepped forward, his penlight held to light his face. He looked fiendish, all weird shadows and angles, especially with the shaved spot on his skull. “Maybe I don’t want him bailed out. Maybe I want him held for trial.”

  Skip bleated in shock and fear.

  “Meet Gray Edwards, Skip.” Natalie pushed her brother down into a chair. “This is his construction site. He’s the man you’ve been robbing.”

  Skip stared open-mouthed. Gray looked back until Skip couldn’t meet his eyes any longer.

  “I want to hear why you think it’s all right to steal from me.” Gray leaned toward the boy, and I had to admit that I’d be intimidated if he stared at me like that.

  Skip opened his mouth a couple of times, but no words came out. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m not a thief!”

  “Then what would you call taking things that don’t belong to you?”

  Skip swallowed so loudly that I heard it. “We just, like, borrow them.”

  “Borrow.” Gray let disbelief drip from the word. “That means you plan to return everything you took in the same condition it was when you took it?”

  Skip frowned.

  “You’re a thief, Skip,” Gray said. “Don’t try and pretty it up. And there are consequences to being one.” He looked at Natalie. “I don’t suppose they still take prisoners at Alcatraz any more, do they?”

  I bit my lip to keep from laughing. There was such a thing as pouring it on too heavily.

  “We should have been satisfied with the stuff we already got,” Skip said sullenly.

  Natalie grabbed him by the hair and forced his face up. He squeaked in pain, but she ignored him. “You think you’re only a thief if you get caught?” she shouted.

  “Easy, Natalie,” Gray said, putting a hand on her arm. “Don’t let the big sister get in the way of the cop.”

  “Huh?”

  “Big sisters pull little brothers’ hair, cops don’t.”

  She let go of Skip and stepped back, anger vibrating from her in waves.

  Gray studied Skip for a long moment. “What do you think God thinks about what you did?”

  Skip blinked. “God?”

  “Yeah, God. What does He think of people who steal?”

  From the uncomprehending look on Skip’s face, it was obvious that he didn’t think often, if at all, about God.

  “You do know that one of the Ten Commandments is that you shouldn’t steal, don’t you?” Gray asked.

  “Yeah, well—” He paused, thinking, and I could see the exact moment he had an answer for Gray. “But God always forgives, right? I bet that’s even in the Bible.”

  Gray looked impressed. “Not bad, Skip, but God always allows for consequences, too.”

  Skip turned sullen. “What’s that mean?”

  “You have to pay for your crimes.”

  Skip slouched, frustrated and furious.

  Gray studied the obstinate boy. “What if I’m willing to work a deal?” he offered.

  I could see Skip’s instant transformation, his cocky smile, his snotty smirk, in the dim glow of Gray’s light. I couldn’t help wondering how the kid actually felt inside. Surely he wasn’t as arrogant as he appeared. At least I hoped not, or there wasn’t much chance for him to grow into a decent adult. What he really needed was Jesus to change him, but I knew this wasn’t the time or place to discuss that option.

  “I’m offering you two ways you can work off the debt you owe me. If you cooperate and do both, maybe I won’t press charges.”

  “What do I have to do?” he asked as if he were being imposed upon. He seemed to have no gratitude for the chance Gray was giving him.

  “One, go to Sunday school every Sunday for the rest of the year.”

  Skip stared, wide-eyed. “You’re kidding.”

  Gray shook his head. “I’m not. You obviously haven’t understood the concept of right and wrong. Maybe a bit of teaching will open your eyes.”

  “That’s mixing church and state. You can’t do that.” Skip’s tone was smug.

  Gray made a show of looking all around the shed. “I don’t see the state anywhere here, do you? The whole idea of what I’m suggesting is to spare you the ignominy of dealing with the state and ending up with a record, maybe your name in the papers.”

  Skip slumped sullenly in his chair.

  “As I was saying,” Gray continued, “Sunday school. I’ll even pick you up if you can’t find a ride.”

  Looking disgusted, Skip muttered, “If I go, I’ll find a ride.”

  “No ifs about it, Skip.” Gray pointed a finger at the kid’s nose. “You go under your own steam, or I take you and sit with you all during class.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

&nbs
p; “Try me.”

  I couldn’t help wonder if Gray got that idea because his mom or dad had gone to Sunday school with him for a while in his younger days. The thought made me grin. I could just picture a young, scarlet-faced Gray slouched low in his chair, his parent seated beside him, smiling at the class.

  “The second thing you must do is work for me every Saturday til the end of the year, organizing this shed and picking up any trash or mess around the construction site.”

  “Be a trash man?” Clearly Gray had offended Skip’s tender sensibilities.

  “Yeah, if you want to look at it that way. I think of it as site environmental control.”

  After ten seconds of silence from Skip, Gray turned to Natalie. “What time should I go to the station tomorrow to file—”

  “How much do you pay me?” Skip cut in. “To be a—trash man.” Scorn for the job went deep.

  “Pay you? Kid, you’re my indentured servant for the duration. You do not get one nickel.”

  Skip jumped to his feet. “That’s not fair!”

  I rolled my eyes. The kid hadn’t a clue.

  “You’re sort of missing the point here, Skip.” Gray leaned against a shelf filled with small boxes. “You’re the one who wasn’t fair. You took what wasn’t yours.”

  “Yeah, well, you have plenty.” He looked all around the shed at the full shelves.

  “And that makes it okay?”

  Skip shrugged and sat. “Well, yeah.”

  “Take off your shirt,” Gray said.

  Skip blinked. “What?”

  “You heard me. Take off your shirt. I want it.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Give it to me. You’ve got plenty.”

  “No way.” He hunched his shoulders as if he would protect his ratty T-shirt.

  Gray made an umm sound. “I bet you rode here on your bike, right?”

  Skip nodded.

  “I want it too.”

  “You can’t take my bike.” He sounded appalled.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s mine.”

  Gray shrugged. “So get another.”

  “You can’t take my stuff!”

  Gray just stared at Skip, waiting to see if he got the point. After a few minutes, Skip lowered his eyes and nodded.

  I felt myself relax. If the kid actually understood, maybe there was hope for him after all.

  “Do we have a deal?” Gray asked.

  “Yeah,” Skip mumbled. “Deal.”

  After several seconds of silence Natalie spoke. “You were here the night Mrs. Ryder was killed, weren’t you, Skip?”

  He jerked at the unexpected question and refused to meet his sister’s eyes.

  “Answer me,” Natalie ordered.

  “I want immunity,” he said.

  I clapped my hand over my mouth to keep from hooting.

  “You’ve been watching too much television, kid.” Gray’s voice was hard. “Immunity?” Natalie leaned down until she and her brother were nose to nose.

  “Why, Skip? Did you have something to do with the murder?”

  He jumped to his feet, for once scared. “No, never! We just watched. That’s all, Nat. I swear.”

  They watched the murder?

  Natalie’s eyes narrowed. “What did you watch, Skip?”

  “The cops at the house. That’s all. We didn’t see the murder or anything. We saw you, Nat. I was proud of you, being so important and all.”

  “Stow it, Skip.” She pushed him gently back into the chair. “I’m not dumb enough to fall for a line like that.”

  “What else did you see?” Gray demanded.

  “Nothing.”

  He’s lying, I thought, and it was all I could do not to yell it out. But Natalie knew her brother.

  “What-else-did-you-see?” she asked through gritted teeth.

  He tried to stare defiantly, but when you’re handcuffed, hulked over by two very angry adults, and only thirteen, you’re at a disadvantage. He broke.

  “Just the two people meeting.”

  “What two people?” Natalie demanded. “Where and when?”

  “I don’t know who. It was getting dark, and it was hard to see. I just know it was before the cops showed.”

  “Where were you when you saw these people?” Gray asked.

  “Not too far from here, which, as you know, is at the opposite end of the development from where the cops were.”

  Natalie glared. “Watch the attitude, Skip.”

  Skip glared back.

  “And what were you doing when you saw these people?” Gray asked.

  “Sitting on the big dirt pile a couple of lots over, waiting for the guys to show.”

  “In plain sight?” Natalie was floored.

  “Well, sort of. I was on the back side, digging a tunnel while I waited. I wanted to see if I could go all the way through without it collapsing.”

  Natalie stared at her brother. “Skip, what’s your IQ?”

  “My IQ? A hundred and thirty-four. What’s that have to do with anything?”

  “It didn’t occur to you that if the tunnel collapsed, you’d be trapped?”

  “Oh.”

  The kid didn’t seem to get the concept of consequences. Oh, Lord, help him reach his majority without inadvertently killing himself or somebody else!

  “Back to the people you saw that night,” Gray said.

  “Okay.” Skip squirmed, trying to flex his shoulders. The cuffs must be making his arms stiff. “When I heard the car doors, I climbed to the top of the pile and peeked over. I was lying down so they couldn’t see me, you know?”

  “And you saw?”

  “Two people. And two black cars.”

  “Okay, Mr. I-Can-Identify-Any-Car, what kind of cars?” Natalie asked. “Prove you’re not just hot air.”

  “A Taurus and a Beemer,” Skip said immediately.

  “You’re sure?” Gray asked.

  “Positive.”

  My mouth went dry.

  Ken Ryder sold BMWs.

  Ken Ryder drove a black Beemer.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Natalie uncuffed her brother and climbed out through the back panel of the shed after him. As I crawled out from behind the counter and came to stand by Gray, I could hear them talking.

  “Dad’s going to kill me,” Skip moaned.

  “I can only hope,” Natalie replied.

  “Do I really gotta go to Sunday School?”

  “It beats spending time in juvie.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Very few guys want to beat you up in Sunday School.”

  “Huh. And I’m not getting paid?”

  “Not one red cent,” Natalie assured him cheerfully as they turned the corner of the shed and disappeared toward the garage that held Natalie’s car.

  “You and Natalie did a good job.” I felt proud of both of them. “And I loved the punishments. Clever and constructive.”

  “Just so they work.” He grinned. “I kind of like the cheeky little guy.”

  I blinked. “You do?”

  “You don’t?”

  I shrugged. How did I describe how I felt about Skip?

  “He’s going to lead people his whole life,” Gray said. “It’s just a matter of who and where.”

  I grimaced. “That’s a thought to make you shudder if he doesn’t change.”

  Gray tapped a finger lightly on my nose. “You did very well, too, Anna. I know it couldn’t have been easy keeping hidden and staying quiet.”

  I quirked a brow. “Is that a polite way of telling me I talk too much most of the time?”

  “Not at all.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward him. “In fact, I find you just about perfect, if highly opinionated.”

  I studied him through narrowed eyes, trying to decide if I’d just been complimented or subtly criticized.

  “I meant that in the best possible way,” he assured me.

  “Yeah?” I said skeptically.

  �
�Oh, yeah.” His voice was soft as he leaned toward me. “The best possible way.”

  The air between us abruptly thickened as it did on a day with ninety-eight percent humidity when you felt you had to work harder than normal just to breathe. I willed myself to inhale. I couldn’t tear my eyes from his.

  He kept leaning slowly, slowly toward me, either suffering a very severe though slow-acting case of vertigo, in which case he’d keep on going until he was on the ground, or, more likely I hoped, giving me a chance to move away.

  I was not moving an inch. My blood sang in anticipation. I forced myself not to close my eyes for the kiss I expected, wanted, longed for. What if he didn’t give it, and I stood there with my lips pursed and my eyes shut? Talk about embarrassing.

  When he was scant millimeters from me, his cell rang.

  I sighed as he reached for his belt. So much for that kiss. Was there a WA—Workaholics Anonymous—I could sign him up for?

  But he only silenced the thing. He didn’t even look to see who was calling. When his hand left the phone, it moved to my chin, lifting it. “Some things are more important than phone calls,” he whispered. His other arm circled my waist.

  And he kissed me.

  My eyes definitely closed as I sank into him.

  I wasn’t an expert on kisses, having purposely limited the men I kissed. Certainly I’d kissed Glenn, but I’d decided a long time ago that kissing was too intimate to share with just anyone, at least romantic kissing. All around me I saw women who shared a lot more than kisses in what I considered an indiscriminate manner, creating appetites and memories that would make marriage more difficult than it should be, much poorer than the rich experience God meant it to be.

  Kissing Gray made every other buss, even those shared with my former fiancé, seem like cubic zirconia instead of diamonds, the merest pretense compared with the splendid opulence of the real thing. Oh, my, I thought in the portion of my brain still thinking, I’m falling in love with this man.

  When the kiss finally broke so we could both get our breath, Gray still had one arm about my waist and his other palm resting on my nape. I had my arms wrapped about his torso.