Ethan's Secret (James Madison Series Book 2)

by Patrick Hodges

  Walter continued, “Um, I did find out one other thing, but I'm not sure if I should bring it up …”

  “What is it?” Dad asked.

  “Well, one of Campbell's security detail, an agent Gillian Donahue, stopped by to pick up the latest intel from our Justice Department liaison.”

  “And?”

  “She had her notebook out, and I was sitting right next to her during the briefing. I happened to see an address written on the back of the notebook. I think it's Campbell's safe-house …”

  “Walter,” Dad interrupted. “If you're about to tell me his address, I'd rather you didn't.”

  “Yeah, you really do, Marty.”

  “Why?”

  “It's just over a mile from here.”

  My ears pricked up. What did he just say?

  Peeking through the glass, I saw Dad stand up. “Are you telling me there's a federal witness in my freaking zip code?”

  Walter nodded. “You gotta admit, as neighborhoods go, you could do a lot worse.”

  “This isn't a joke, Walter! You know who's after them! These are my neighbors! My friends! My daughter goes to school here!”

  “Relax, Marty,” Walter said. “There's no indication the location's been compromised. Agent Donahue assures me that everything's fine. I think she has a soft spot for Campbell's two boys.”

  Dad sat down again. “How old are they?”

  “Thirteen and ten.”

  WHAT?!?!?

  Keeping my head down, I ran to my room as fast as I could, shutting the door. I plopped noisily down in the chair by my desk, rousing Bruno from his slumber on my bedspread.

  A witness. Against Lynch. Who lost his wife. And who has two boys, one of whom is my age. An eighth-grader, with a ten-year-old brother. And they're only a mile away.

  Oh, my freaking God.

  It all made sense now. The secrecy. The change in Ethan's personality. Why his 'bad boy' image didn't look right on him. The black car. The security detail. Why he'd really been grounded after that night, and why he'd suddenly been un-grounded.

  Ethan is in Witness Protection. So is his brother, and his father. His father, the man I ate pizza with last night, is the key witness in the trial against one of the most heinous criminals ever to be tried in this state.

  “K-Bear? You home?” I heard my dad calling.

  I opened my bedroom door and walked back to the kitchen, where he and Walter were waiting. “Hi, Dad. Hi, Uncle Walter.” My mind was still reeling from what I just heard, but I plastered an innocent smile on my face, hoping Dad wouldn't be able to read it.

  “Something wrong, sweetheart?” Dad asked.

  Oops. “No, Dad, I'm just …” Think, Kelsey! “… um, worried about Penny. She's still not returning my texts.”

  Dad just nodded. “I'm sure she's fine.”

  Changing the subject, I said, “You guys are off work early.”

  “One of the benefits of being Senior Detective,” Dad said with a grin. “Besides, can't a guy get off a couple hours early and see his best girl?”

  I gave a coy smile. “Of course.”

  “We're gonna grab a bite at Finnegan's,” Walter said. “Join us, darlin'?”

  My eyes widened. “Heck, yeah!” Finnegan's was a local cop hangout, and they had the best honey-dipped chicken wings in town. The three of us were regulars.

  * * *

  I was able to keep my innermost thoughts from Dad and Walter for the rest of the evening, but on the inside, my mind was pure turmoil.

  For the past month, my feelings for Ethan have grown. A lot. I'm so close to saying those three magic words to him. And now I find out that's not even his real name.

  Sigh. I sure can pick 'em, can't I?

  Chapter 35

  ~ DAY 37 (Tue.) ~

  ETHAN

  “What's wrong, bud?” Baz asked.

  The practice session was over for the day, and Joey and Elijah had already gone home. It had gone alright, but after a couple of run-throughs of “Blitzkrieg Bop” it was clear that my heart wasn't in it today. My mind was on other things.

  Or, to be more accurate, one thing. And it was probably written all over my face.

  “Nothing,” I said, fairly certain Baz wasn't going to believe me.

  “You're not still nervous about singin', are ya?” he asked.

  “No, it's not that.”

  He stared at me for a few moments and then nodded, smiling. “Say no more, pal.”

  “That's just it, Baz,” I explained. “I want to say more. There are so many things I want to tell her, but …”

  His eyes widened. “Oh, man, you got it bad. She's really gotten to ya, huh?”

  I met his gaze, then nodded. “She's … incredible, Baz. There's no one like her, anywhere.”

  He leaned forward. “Look, Ethan, this is none o' me business, but if ya like her, I mean really like her, ya can't let whatever this is … “ he waved his hands slightly, “… stop ya.”

  “I dunno, Baz,” I said, waving my hands to match his. “This is a pretty big deal.”

  “I sorta gathered that.”

  I looked at him curiously. “How come you've never asked me? About … this?”

  He shifted in his seat, his eyes moving around the empty garage. “Like I said, it's none o' me business. It's obviously something really big, and I really do wanna know,” he sighed, “but if ya don't wanna tell me, then there's nothin' I can do about it.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said sincerely.

  He turned his attention back to me. “Hypothetically speaking … if you were to tell this big secret o' yours, what's the worst that could happen?”

  “I'd be in trouble. A lot of trouble. And I'd have to leave.”

  “Leave? Ya mean, like, leave school?”

  I nodded.

  He whistled. “Damn, boyo, that is serious.”

  I leaned forward, putting my elbows on my knees and rubbing my face with my hands. You have no idea, Baz. Just thinking about leaving is already making me nauseous. I looked back at him, saw the wry smile on his face, and my guts untightened. Tell him something, Mark. He deserves that much.

  “Baz … it's not that I don't want to tell you what's going on. I just … can't. And it sucks that I can't even explain why I can't.”

  “It's okay, man,” he said, patting me on the shoulder.

  “No, it's not,” I said. “I will say this, though … very soon, I am going to leave. And I won't be coming back.”

  His brow furrowed. “You're moving again? So soon?”

  “Yeah.”

  A genuinely sad look crossed his face. “Aww, man …” His head drooped. “That really does suck. Yer one of the best mates I've ever had.”

  “Same here,” I said.

  He raised his head again, and his cool smile returned. “Well, if that's what's in store for ya, ya really only have two choices. About Kelsey, I mean.”

  “Which are?” I asked.

  “If your time here really is runnin' out, you have to either break it off with her, like now, or …” He paused, collecting his thoughts.

  “Or what?”

  “Or make the most o' the time ya have left. Every time you're with her, act like it could be the last time. Take advantage of every second ya got.”

  “But when I leave, it'll … hurt …”

  “Of course it will, bud, but …” he smiled again. “That's what I'd do, anyway.”

  “You've had a lot of girlfriends, huh?”

  His face reddened. “Actually … I've never had one.”

  My jaw dropped. “WHAT?”

  “Oh, I've kissed a couple of 'em,” he said. “But I've never, ya know, really dated anyone before.”

  “But … you know so much about girls …”

  “Yeah, well, I listen to a lot o' love songs. Some o' the best ever written, actually.”

  Suddenly, I started cracking up laughing. I practically fell over, I was laughing so hard. Baz began to laugh too.

/>   Finally, after settling down, I looked at him again. “Well, you sure had me fooled.”

  “Yeah,” he said with a wink. “Don't tell anyone.”

  I held out my fist. “Guess I'm not the only one good at keeping secrets.”

  “Hey, I'm a musician,” he said, returning the fist-bump. “We've all got somethin' to hide.”

  I ran a hand through my over-gelled hair. Baz is right. I've come too far to just stop.

  I pictured Kelsey's gorgeous face, her amazing smile. The way her eyes lit up when we talked about Sherlock Holmes. The way it felt when she cried on my shoulder. The way it felt when we kissed on that street corner.

  Is this what … being in love feels like?

  Am I in love with Kelsey Callahan? Is she in love with me?

  The thought hit me like a sledgehammer.

  I can't keep playing this game. Not with her. Not anymore.

  I have to tell her. Everything.

  Chapter 36

  ~ DAY 38 (Wed.) ~

  ETHAN

  I didn't get much sleep last night. I went back and forth inside my head for hours, wrestling with one of the biggest decisions I'd ever made. I was going to reveal my secret.

  I couldn't tell Pop what I was going to do, obviously, and telling Gillian was equally out of the question. I couldn't even tell my brother, who, from the looks of things, had built a friendship with Sophie that was deeper than I ever thought possible. I was certain that his feelings for her weren't quite the same as the ones I had for Kelsey, but they were just as strong. She had become his muse, his inspiration, his way of dealing with Mom's death. They were almost like sister and brother, minus the fighting over who spent too much time in the bathroom or whose doll or action figure “accidentally” got its head torn off.

  As I sat on the bleachers, waiting for Kelsey, I looked at the watch on my wrist. In a paranoid moment, I wondered if this high-tech timepiece had a microphone, and if an Apache helicopter would descend on the playground within seconds of my revealing my secret to Kelsey. I wondered if, just outside the school's entry gate, Gillian was listening to everything that was said around me. God, what a horrible job that would be. Listening to boys' stupid locker-room talk in P.E., or to teachers droning on and on about differential equations or Constitutional amendments or covalent electron bonds, or having to sit through two dozen boring-ass book reports about Oliver Twist. They couldn't pay me enough to do that.

  When I saw Kelsey approaching, I stood up and hopped off the bleachers. For the thousandth time this morning, I hoped that this conversation wouldn't end with her storming off in anger or outrage. I was pretty sure she wouldn't go blabbing my true identity to the whole school, but even so, the knots in my stomach grew in size and intensity with every step she took toward me.

  Stopping only a couple of feet away, she smiled and said, “Hi, Ethan.”

  Without a word, I took the final step and hugged her, as tightly as I could without cutting off her oxygen or crushing something vital. I could feel my breath getting shallower by the second, and, as perceptive as she was, I knew she could feel it too. She returned the hug, and whispered in my ear. “What's wrong?”

  “I … need to tell you something,” I said.

  She saw the seriousness in my eyes, and nodded. Taking my hand, she led me past the bleachers and into the dugout where we'd held each other the day of Bryanna's blowup. We sat down right next to each other, and I grasped her hand firmly in mine. I looked into her amazing brown eyes, and my brain locked up again. Hundreds of words that threatened to tumble out of my mouth in an incoherent mess got shoved together like a traffic jam, and nothing came out.

  Kelsey said nothing. She just looked at me expectantly.

  Do it, Mark.

  “Kelsey …” I stammered. “I want you to know … that you are … the most amazing girl I've ever met. You're a great person, and a great friend, and I … I don't want to lose you.”

  She squeezed my hand warmly. “You won't, Ethan. No matter what you have to say, I'll understand.”

  I met her gaze, sighing in resignation. “I've … I've been lying to you, Kelsey.”

  I scanned her face, prepared for the inevitable outburst of anger, but it didn't come. Her face was eerily calm. “I'm listening,” she said softly.

  “I'm … not who you think I am. I mean, I'm not who everyone else thinks I am. This …” I gripped the hem of my shirt, of my jacket, and grazed my fingers over my hair. “This isn't me.” I sighed heavily. “And my name's not Ethan.”

  And then, she did the very last thing I expected: she leaned forward, planted a kiss on my cheek, and then whispered in my ear, “I know.”

  My mind exploded.

  She knows. She KNOWS?

  Of course she knows. She knows everything. She's Kelsey the Detective. Sherlock Holmes' biggest fan. She probably had it all figured out on the first day of school.

  She stopped asking questions about my life weeks ago, but she never stopped being my friend. She's been there for me, every single school day. Even on those days that we didn't talk much, she was there, in Algebra class, right there in front of me, a comforting presence in a room full of strangers. She knew I was lying, and it didn't matter to her.

  I love her. Without a doubt. I know that now.

  “How … did you find out?” I stammered.

  She smiled. “Cop's daughter, remember?”

  I nodded. “You're not … angry?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I understand why you lied. You had to.” A sad look crossed her face. “My God … what terrible things you've had to deal with …”

  I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her again. The relief I felt was almost overwhelming. Most girls would have probably gotten angry. Most girls wouldn't have understood. But she did. Locked in our embrace, I took several deep breaths before speaking again. “My name is Mark. Mark David Campbell.”

  She pulled back to face me again. “MDC,” she said with a knowing grin.

  I smiled back. “Yeah. You got me, Detective.”

  “And your brother?”

  “Nathan, but he goes by Nate. Mom used to call him 'Sketch,' because he draws so well. But he doesn't like being called that anymore, ever since …” I sighed.

  “You don't have to explain,” she said.

  I looked at her determinedly. “I know. But I want to. I've had no one to talk to about this since it happened. Pop's got so much else to deal with, and Nate … well, he still has nightmares about it. He wakes up screaming sometimes. And I need to talk to someone.”

  She nodded, meeting my gaze. “I'm right here, Mark. I'm not going anywhere.”

  I took a deep breath, then began. “We moved to Arizona from Portland when I was little. Pop got a job at this big accounting firm. It's, like, the world's most boring job, but no one did it better than Pop.” I smiled. “One day, his company got a new client. His name was Jacob Lynch.”

  I could feel my jaw tightening as I said his name. Kelsey laid a reassuring hand on my arm. “Pop got assigned to his account, and he did such a great job that Lynch hired him to come work directly for him. And he paid a lot. We got a new house, new cars, and Nate and I got to go to private schools. We had great clothes, great toys, you name it, we had it.

  “Early last year, Pop started working longer hours. He'd come home after dark, sometimes late in the evening. He didn't say anything to us, but he didn't look happy anymore. I think that was when Pop found out how Lynch really made his money. But by then, we were used to having everything we wanted. If Pop quit his job, we'd lose it all.

  “A few months later, we saw a news report that one of Lynch's business partners, a guy named Sullivan, had killed himself. When Pop saw it, he looked … horrified. Then he started crying. I'd never seen Pop cry before. Mom ordered me and Nate out of the room.

  “Anyway, the police eventually figured out that Sullivan didn't kill himself after all. They picked up everyone that worked for Lynch, including Po
p. They kept Pop at the station for hours, questioning him.”

  “Did he know something?”

  I nodded. “Pop was never very good at lying. But even though they threatened to throw him in jail, he didn't say anything. A few days later, Lynch invited our whole family to his house. Pop tried to refuse, but Lynch … insisted.”

  “Oh, my,” Kelsey said under her breath.

  “So we went to his house. He was really nice to me and Nate, even though he was kinda scary in the way that rich people are sometimes. While Lynch's assistant gave us a tour of the house, Lynch had a meeting with Pop. By the time we sat down to dinner, Pop looked scared out of his mind.”

  I sighed. “It wasn't until later that I found out what happened. Lynch threatened to hurt all of us if Pop told the cops what he knew.”

  “My God.” Kelsey leaned her head on my shoulder, squeezing my hand even tighter. “And then?”

  “Mom told Pop that he couldn't work for a monster like Lynch. But Pop couldn't just quit, and he told us that there were people watching him all the time at work. Somehow, though, he got something on Lynch that the cops could use. On, like, a flash drive or something.

  “He was gonna go to the Feds the following morning. But until then, we had to keep acting … normal, I guess. Pop decided to take me and Nate out for a movie and some pizza. Mom wasn't feeling well, so she stayed home …”

  I could feel my emotions starting to churn, and my breath got shallow again. I felt Kelsey's arms tighten around my waist. My voice had become a hoarse whisper. “By the time we got back home, our house was … gone. Burned down. There was … nothing left. And Mom was …” A tear escaped, falling down my cheek. “He killed her. He killed my Mom.”

  “I'm sorry,” Kelsey said in my ear. “I'm so sorry.”

  I turned and hugged her again. And that's when the tears started. I'd held them back as best I could since it happened, just like Pop had. He'd tried so hard to be strong for us, and I had to be strong for Nate. But I couldn't stop it this time. I sat there, in the dugout, crying on the shoulder of this incredible girl. She held me tight, not saying a word.

  After a couple of minutes, I finally got just enough of my breath back to talk again. “We went into Witness Protection that same night. We were put in these awful houses, guarded like we were prisoners, not even allowed to leave. That's how we spent the entire summer. We didn't even get to go to Mom's funeral.”