by Bill Blume
His answer made her smile. She hugged Gidion before she left the room, and he was struck by how strange that felt. Mom died when he was four, and there’d never been a woman in Dad’s life since. Ms. Aldgate was the first. Despite how nervous they’d initially been in front of him just now, they fit well.
“You all right?” Dad asked.
Gidion nodded. “It’s just—Dad, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
Guilt and exhaustion made Gidion’s stomach turn, and he thought for a moment he might run for the bathroom.
“No.” Dad grabbed him by the head, forcing him to look him in the eyes. “Listen to me, and listen good. This isn’t your fault. You understand me?”
Gidion nodded, but his heart couldn’t shake the blame he felt.
“Get some sleep.”
Dad left the door cracked open as he walked out. Gidion heard him talking to Ms. Aldgate in the kitchen. He could make out bits of it as she asked how they were doing.
After some brief internal debate, he decided to sleep in just his underwear and the scrub top. Wasn’t much choice given that what he was wearing was all he had.
Sleep scared him. As he fought against its pull, his fingers traced a place in the golden pattern of the comforter that resembled an eight, a lucky number.
Just as he was about to nod off, something he heard Ms. Aldgate say jerked him awake.
“Aric, I hope you can forgive me for not telling you.”
The silence that followed worried him. He climbed out of the bed and went to the door to listen. If this ruined Dad’s chances with Ms. Aldgate, he really would be the one to blame. He didn’t want to live with that.
“I’m not mad.” Dad sounded like he meant it, too. “I know I probably should be, but I’m just relieved.”
“About what?”
“It’s been a long time since I had anyone to talk to about all of this.”
Gidion climbed back into bed. He traced two more eights in the pattern of the comforter, one for Dad and the other for Ms. Aldgate, and then fell asleep.
• • •
Light, shaded in orange and red hues, crept through the edges of the curtains. Gidion found his phone where he’d left it, on the bedside table. The time was a quarter to eight. He’d slept more than twelve hours.
He was glad to see Andrea had responded to his text. She was okay, just worried about him.
‘I’m sorry about your grandfather. Call me, if you want to. And I lied. I wasn’t just cold.’
Maybe he’d get that kiss, after all. He decided against responding just yet, not until he was awake enough to form a complete sentence and less likely to make an idiot out of himself.
He sat up. The same ache and guilt he’d taken to bed lingered in the center of his chest. He’d heard things always looked better after a good night’s sleep. Discovering that wasn’t always true offered an odd comfort.
He reached for his jeans, but they weren’t where he’d left them on the floor. He turned on the lamp, after nearly knocking it over while fumbling for the switch.
A black overnight bag was sitting on the dresser. Dad must have made a trip home. Thank God. He pulled on a fresh pair of blue jeans. He debated on whether to change shirts. He’d sweated in his sleep, and the scrub top clung to him in all the wrong places. Changing out of it and into a fresh t-shirt turned out a lot trickier than expected. The cut to his shoulder burned. Right about now, he really envied that super-fast healing thing vampires had.
After a much-needed stop in the bathroom, he emerged to find the clean smell of the house replaced with the promise of dinner and something more familiar.
Dad and Ms. Aldgate were in the kitchen. Dad shredded a block of cheese while Ms. Aldgate browned some ground beef in a pan.
Sitting between them, in eager anticipation of any piece of food that might fall to the floor, was the source of the more familiar non-clean scent.
“You got Page.” Gidion gave the dog a quick pat on the head. She spared him a glance, enough to determine he had no food to offer, and returned to her vigil.
“Morning,” Dad said with the appropriate irony, given the actual time. He didn’t look like he’d been awake much longer. Steam floated from a mug on the counter in front of Dad.
“Coffee?” Gidion’s voice croaked.
Ms. Aldgate pointed to the far end of the counter. The black coffee maker was still turned on with half a pot. “Mugs are in the cabinet above it,” she said.
“Thank God.” He issued a few more silent praises to the Almighty when he saw the honey on the counter and then a container of half and half in the refrigerator.
He felt more human after chugging his entire mug in one shot.
Gidion found it difficult not to smile when they sat for dinner. Was this what it was like to have two parents? Most of his friends’ parents were either divorced or hated each other, so it wasn’t like he had any frame of reference. Dad and Ms. Aldgate didn’t hold hands, but he didn’t miss all the glances and smiles between the two of them while they were putting dinner together. The subtle flirting didn’t stop even during dinner. None of them talked much while they ate. Ms. Aldgate and Dad appeared almost as hungry as Gidion.
Only after Dad finished off his last bites did he get to business. “We have a busy day tomorrow. Detective Bristow wants to meet with us after lunch to question you again.”
Gidion needed to think through that a moment. This was still Sunday, even though he’d slept through most of the daylight. So, he was meeting the detective on Monday. Even with all the hunting at night he’d done, he wasn’t sure how Dad did this midnight shift thing and kept his days straight.
“What about tonight?” He’d assumed they’d make some kind of battle plan to draw out the vampire who killed Grandpa.
Dad stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. Ms. Aldgate stayed silent.
“Seriously? We’re just going to hide.”
“We need to make sure you’re ready for that interrogation. Right now, I’m more worried about that.” Dad stood. “I have to make a call.” He reached for his plate, but Ms. Aldgate touched the back of his hand to stop him.
“Make your call,” she said. “Gidion and I will get this.”
Dad stepped out the back door.
Gidion wanted to scream. This was going to end just the same as it had with Mom. Dad planned to run from everything.
“He didn’t sleep much today.” Ms. Aldgate said that like it explained why he was avoiding their problems. She stood and picked up her plate and Dad’s. “We spent most of the morning talking. He told me about when he was about your age, what happened to your grandmother.”
Gidion took a moment to realize what she’d just said. “My grandmother?”
She stopped in the middle of loading the dishwasher to glance over her shoulder at him. The way her eyes widened gave the impression she’d just let slip something she shouldn’t have, something she hadn’t realized was a secret.
“He’s never told you?” she asked.
“Told me what?”
Her jaw tensed as she continued to clean off the table. Gidion went through the motions of helping, picking up his plate. He wanted to fling it across the room.
“You and your father need some time to talk. I don’t think you realize how much you two are alike.”
She didn’t say anything else. Cleaning up the kitchen kept her occupied. Gidion didn’t bother pressing her for details either. What would be the point? The person with all the answers was on the back porch on the phone.
Who was he talking to anyway?
Gidion made a silent promise as he stared out the window at Dad’s profile. He wasn’t going to let Dad keep him from hunting. He could spout off about the “natural order” all he liked, but Gidion was going to hunt down that assassin and kill her.
And after he finished with her, he’d go after the ones who hired her, too.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The next day tu
rned Gidion into a watched pot. The burner was set on high, but his water never boiled. Dad, the one watching him, wouldn’t allow it.
All they did was meet with people. They talked to the assistant director at Milligan’s to make funeral arrangements and plans for a visitation later that week, one that most definitely wouldn’t take place at night. He didn’t miss the subtle discussions about the funeral home’s future as the assistant director gauged how safe his job was. By the time Dad and Gidion got in the car to go to their next stop, one thing was clear enough.
“You’re gonna sell it.” Gidion stared out the passenger side window at a world determined to betray him. “Aren’t you?”
“I haven’t given it a lot of thought yet.” Dad’s answer offered a tiny chance he might not, but Gidion knew false hope on a first name basis.
The most dangerous stop for Gidion came after that. They’d arranged to meet with the Richmond Police detective after lunch. Detective Bristow wore a black suit this time with a black tie and a pink shirt. Given how football-fit this man was, the pink shirt didn’t make him look any less imposing.
Dad spent last night prepping Gidion for this. They role-played the interview with Dad as the good cop and then as the bad cop. He badgered him, and Gidion suspected some of the practice questions were cloaked accusations. They’d gone over it a dozen times before they went to bed around two in the morning.
Richmond’s police station, at least the precinct they went to, didn’t resemble the building where Dad worked. PSB was built a few years before Gidion was born and still had a shine to it. This red brick building felt old, the kind of age that hadn’t borne time well.
The police still had his sword and box cutter. He wondered what his chances were of getting either back. He tried to play the sentiment card, that Grandpa had given them to him. Detective Bristow wasn’t swayed by that.
“Sorry, they’re going to be kept in evidence for a while, but you might be able to get back into his house sometime tomorrow. I’ll call to let you know when we’re done there.”
The room they’d taken him and Dad to wasn’t what he’d expected. He’d imagined some cramped space with grey brick walls, a plain desk, and equally simplistic metal chairs. Instead, pale blue drywall covered the walls. Berber carpet, a similar beige to the garage doors at the funeral home, covered the floor. Even the chairs felt comfortable. They reminded Gidion of the cheap kind of plush chairs found in dorms. When he tried to shift his chair, which was in a corner, he discovered it was nailed to the floor. An angry perp wasn’t going to throw this at anyone.
“Have you had any luck locating the woman who killed my father?” Dad made it clear he’d jump in if he decided Gidion was in danger of tipping his hand. Apparently, Dad wasn’t pleased he’d asked about getting back his weapons.
“No, but we found the rental car last night.” The detective pointed at Gidion with his iPad. “You were right about it being an Enterprise rental. The company figured out which car and used a GPS tracker to locate it. Most of the newer rentals are equipped with those.”
“Where was it?” Gidion asked.
“They ditched it in a parking garage in the Arboretum.” Detective Bristow let that fact hang on its own, and Gidion realized it was Dad tipping their hand. Dad’s face went taut with panic, barely held in check.
“That’s very close to where we live.”
“Yes.” The detective wasn’t volunteering anything else. He didn’t need to.
The Arboretum was a large business park located within walking distance of their house. Gidion had even ridden his bike down there a few times when was younger. He’d hoped the location where the vampires ditched the car might tell them something useful, and it had. The vampires were sending them a message that they knew where Gidion lived.
The detective tapped a finger on the edge of his iPad as he stared at Dad. “Are you sure you don’t have any idea who might have wanted your father dead?”
Gidion realized in that moment that they’d made a huge mistake. They’d spent so much time preparing for the questions this detective would ask him that it never occurred to them they might suspect Dad knew more than he was telling.
“I have no idea who killed him.” Dad looked lost for a moment, in his own thoughts, then looked back up at the detective. “Who rented the car? Surely you got a name?”
“We did, but I was hoping one of you might tell me who it was.” Nothing subtle about that.
“Detective, I don’t know anyone from Georgia. I don’t even know why anyone would want my father dead. He ran a fair business. Lots of people feel like they get taken advantage of by funeral homes, but my father did his best to make sure no one walked away angry.”
The detective turned his attention back to Gidion. The detective’s stare sent a shiver through Gidion. “You work there. Anyone leave there unhappy lately? Any unusual people come by recently?”
“No.”
“Then why’d he install the hidden cameras last week?”
The security cameras…Gidion struggled to keep his composure as he thought back to the video of the assassin in the cremator room. It was only a matter of time before they found that, assuming they hadn’t already. What would the police make of it? Did they even have the recordings?
“I didn’t realize he’d done that.” Gidion was only partially lying when he said that. Yes, he knew now, but until Grandpa had played the video for him on Saturday, he’d had no idea about the security upgrade. “I normally only work on the weekends.”
There was a knock on the door. Gidion assumed the lady who leaned inside was another detective since she was wearing a dark green business suit instead of a uniform. “Eli, you got a moment?”
Detective Bristow nodded to them and walked out into the hallway.
That didn’t leave Gidion and Dad alone. One thing that conformed to the interrogation room cliché was the long window with a one-way mirror in it on one of the longer walls. There was also a video camera mounted up in the opposite corner from where Gidion was sitting.
“You didn’t know about Grandpa installing that security equipment?” Dad kept his voice low. He knew Gidion was aware of the cameras. They’d discussed the video recording of the assassin in the funeral home when Gidion spilled his guts in the PSB gym. Dad was acting for the unseen audience.
Gidion followed his lead. “He didn’t tell me about it.”
“Any idea why he got them?”
Gidion shook his head. Beneath his own acting, Gidion was impressed with Dad’s ability to bluff. The way he pretended to be puzzled, staring intently ahead as if working through some list of details, was damn convincing.
The detective returned a moment later. Dad warned Gidion they would probably do this kind of thing, while the two of them waited. Make them sit here long enough, and they’d get tired, perhaps let something slip. That was also why Dad had insisted on coming when they did. They’d eaten lunch before coming here, just enough to keep hunger from making them sloppy and not too much to make them sleepy.
“You never said who rented the car.” Dad crossed his arms and fixed his gaze on the detective. Dad didn’t look the least bit intimidated, and considering he worked with police all the time and had been a police officer, he supposed it wasn’t that surprising.
“Like I said, I was hoping you might tell me.”
“Detective Bristow, let’s get something straight. My son and I are pretty scared right now. Someone killed my father and almost killed my son. Now, you’re telling us they ditched their car within a mile of where we live.” Dad leaned towards the detective. “I know you have to eliminate us as suspects. You’re not doing your job otherwise, but I think you’ve learned enough to know that we aren’t involved with the people who killed my father. Considering all that and the fact you still haven’t caught the woman who killed him, I want some damn answers. Either you start being a bit more forthcoming or we’re done.”
The detective sucked in his left cheek, as if chewin
g on the inside of his mouth as he considered his reply. “Justin Wetherington.” After the detective said the name, he waited for a reaction. All he got was a pair of shrugs. “Went missing from Columbus, Georgia, seven years ago. He’s presumed dead.”
After he said that, the detective waited for a reaction that neither Gidion nor Dad could deliver. The name meant nothing to either of them, but Gidion was glad for the information. The detective had given him something he’d never have gotten on his own, and he meant to put that information to good use.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Gidion and his dad left the police station a little past four o’clock. They’d gotten through the interview with Detective Bristow without giving away anything that might incriminate them.
Dad waited until they were in the car and pulling onto the Downtown Expressway before he said anything.
“You did well.”
Gidion didn’t respond. He’d pulled out his phone and opened his web browser.
“What did he say that last name was?” Gidion asked.
“What last name?”
“Wetherington, right?” He wanted to do a quick search for this guy online.
Dad glanced at what Gidion was doing as they went through the tolls. “Oh, yes. That was it, but he never said how it was spelled.”
“Doesn’t matter, Google figured it out. There’s a lot on this guy.”
That put it lightly. His search hit on more than a hundred news articles, blog posts, and videos on Justin Wetherington. By the time they went over the James River, which was only a few miles later, Gidion knew plenty about their assassin’s driver.
“No wonder there’s so much on this guy.” Gidion scrolled through a news article from the Ledger-Enquirer, a newspaper in Columbus, Georgia. “His family’s rich. Horse farmers.”
“Horse farmer, huh?” Dad’s voice had an edge to it, as if that detail bothered him, but before Gidion could ask, he found what he really wanted. The article included several pictures of Wetherington taken shortly before he disappeared. “That’s him.”