She scanned the aisles and shelves and decided on a sparkly mug filled with Jordan almonds for Miss Karen and a box of chocolate truffles for the holiday party host. Noah was still deep in thought when she was ready to head to the register.
“Okay, kiddo, what’s it going to be?”
He stroked his chin. Amy tried not to laugh. Sometimes his gestures were so adult-like.
“I think . . . I want some pretzels. But I want to choose which ones.”
She walked with him to the chocolate counter, where dozens of truffles and chocolate-covered pretzels lined the inside of the glass case. The pretzels came in all different flavors: milk chocolate with M&M’s, white chocolate with crushed Oreos, dark chocolate with toasted coconut, milk chocolate with peanut butter chips. Amy couldn’t blame Noah for wanting some. She wanted some herself.
“Can I help you?” asked a young woman behind the counter.
“Yes,” Noah answered before Amy could. The woman smiled at Amy, who simply shrugged. “I want . . . that one. And that one. And that one. And . . .”
He kept pointing until the woman had filled up a half-pound box. Amy let him because she knew she and Rob would have some for dessert that night.
“Do you need this wrapped?” the saleswoman asked.
“No, thank you. Oh, but I do have these things as well.” She placed the gifts on top of the counter.
“No problem. I’ll ring you up.”
Noah jumped up and down excitedly as the woman keyed the information into the register. Amy smiled, but her expression hardened when she glanced over her shoulder toward the pharmacist’s counter. The pharmacist was in a heated discussion with a customer whose back was to her, a man with dark hair and a slim build. As she stared at the man, she realized how familiar he looked, even from behind. Her shoulders tightened.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Durant, but we don’t fill prescriptions from that facility.”
“You said that last time, which is why I went somewhere else.”
“That may be, but wherever you went is another place whose prescriptions we can’t honor.”
“Bullshit. I have chronic back pain. The doctor prescribed medication for it. You’re telling me he doesn’t know how to do his job?”
“What I’m telling you is that I am legally barred from filling this for you.” He handed over the paper script.
“That’s fucking ludicrous!”
“Take it up with the DEA.”
He snatched the prescription from the pharmacist’s hand and turned to leave.
“It comes to $48.28,” the cashier said.
Amy watched as Julian headed for the door, her stomach in knots. She had been trying to contact Grace all day, but here was the man responsible for the fund-raiser—and for getting the money to the supposed recipients. If she let him leave . . . if she didn’t stop him . . .
“Hang on one second,” she said. She glanced down at Noah. “Stay right here, sweetie. I’ll be two seconds. The nice lady at the counter will watch you.”
She ran toward the door, knowing she was breaking about five different parenting rules, but Julian was already outside by the time she reached it. She followed him.
“Julian!” she called out as she burst through the front door.
He stopped and turned around. “Amy. Hi.”
He was already in the parking lot. Amy looked over her shoulder into the store and made eye contact with the cashier. One minute, she mouthed, holding up a finger. Noah was probably having a conniption, but she couldn’t let this opportunity go. She hurried to meet Julian.
“Hi. Sorry. I didn’t meant to—I’ve been trying to get in touch, and when I saw you here . . .” She trailed off as she registered his face. His eyes looked sunken and his skin was pale, paler than she’d ever seen it. He did not look well. “Are you okay?”
“Me? Yeah, sure. I’ve just . . . I hurt my back the other week and have been in bad shape ever since.”
Amy stared at him for a long while. “Julian,” she finally said. She said it gently but firmly, like she would if she’d caught Noah doing something he shouldn’t.
“What?”
“Julian,” she said again, this time more forcefully.
“What?”
“We both know ‘what.’ Don’t play dumb.”
“I literally have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”
“Really? Then explain to me what you were just doing in there.” She nodded toward the pharmacy.
“Picking up a prescription from my doctor. You have a problem with that?”
“I don’t know, should I?”
“Jesus, what is your deal?”
“What’s my deal? I’m not the one who’s been avoiding people’s calls for weeks. I’m not the one who ran a fund-raiser that has failed to distribute any of the money it raised.”
He stared at her coolly. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Is that so? Then why would Leroy Harris and Shonda White and Yvonne Lewis and a bunch of other people call me complaining they haven’t received their money? Why would they do that, Julian?”
“Beats me.”
“Really. You have no idea? I find that hard to believe.”
“I don’t know what you’re trying to suggest, but—”
“You know exactly what I’m trying to suggest. And more than that, you know I’m right. Do you know where I was last week?”
“I don’t—”
“At my brother’s funeral, Julian. That’s where I was. He was thirty-three. And do you know how he died? A heroin overdose.” She looked at him pointedly.
“Listen, I’m sorry for your loss, but that has nothing to do with me.”
“Doesn’t it? Did you know his addiction started with painkillers? A bunch of Oxy his doctor prescribed when he tore his ACL in college. And when that got too expensive and he couldn’t find anyone to write him prescriptions anymore, he moved on to heroin. And last week, it killed him.”
He sniffed the air. He’d started tapping his foot nervously on the ground. “That’s a shame. But that’s your brother’s story. It isn’t mine.”
Amy took a deep breath. She wasn’t getting anywhere, and she knew she wouldn’t, at least not standing in a parking lot on a cold winter’s day while a cashier kept an eye on her four-year-old.
“Fine. Whatever. Do what you want—it’s your life. But get the money to the people you promised to help. Because if you don’t? They’ve threatened to go to the police, and I can guarantee that won’t end well for you.”
Then she turned around and marched back into the store, her blood boiling.
* * *
“And THEN, Mommy LEFT ME in the store with the lady behind the chocolate case, and she didn’t come back for almost TWO HOURS.”
Noah was recounting the afternoon’s outing to Rob over dinner. Rob glanced at Amy, his brow furrowed.
“That isn’t exactly how it went,” Amy said.
Rob looked thoroughly bemused. “How did it go, then?”
She sighed. “I saw J-u-l-i-a-n at the pharmacist’s counter—”
“Julian? Like Ethan’s daddy?” Noah asked. Rob and Amy’s eyes met. Sometimes they hated that their son could spell already.
“Yes. And I wanted to grab him before he left, since I’ve been trying to get in touch with him and Grace for more than a week. But he was already outside, so I needed the cashier to watch Noah for a second.”
“Not a second. TWO HOURS.”
“It was more like five minutes, max.”
“My name isn’t Max,” Noah whined.
“I said ‘max.’ As in maximum.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Anyway, I got his attention and talked to him, though I don’t think it made any difference.”
“You say you saw him at the pharmacist’s counter?” Rob raised an eyebrow.
Amy nodded, her lips drawn. She didn’t need to go into detail. He understood.
“BUT, the good
news is . . . we have chocolate-covered pretzels!” Amy smiled brightly as she cleared the dinner plates and went to retrieve the box of pretzels. Noah had already eaten one as a snack, but considering she’d left him with a stranger this afternoon, she was happy to let him eat as many as he wanted today.
He got first pick—a milk chocolate one covered in crushed Kit Kats—and Rob and Amy chose one each. Chocolate-covered pretzels were very much a Philadelphia convention, but they were one Amy could get behind. Sweet, salty, chocolaty—in many ways, they were the perfect treat. Amy was glad they’d bought enough for the family, but was also glad they’d gone with a half pound and not a pound. She had visions of her stuffing her face with the remains while Noah was at school.
Noah made quick work of his pretzel and then started babbling about everything and nothing, his chatter supercharged by sugar and chocolate.
“He kind of never stops, does he?” Rob said as the two of them loaded the dishwasher. They had thought they’d occupied him with a space activity book she’d bought for him in Rhode Island, but he continued jabbering, currently about something to do with Saturn’s rings.
“Nope. It’s exhausting, huh?”
Rob let out a gust of air. “Let’s just say I’m glad you’re back to carry some of the load.”
Amy smirked and rolled her eyes, but Rob wrapped his arms around her and leaned down to kiss her.
“I know you do most of the heavy lifting on a daily basis, and I want you to know how grateful I am. I’ve always been grateful, but the six days you were away really rammed home how hard it is to do what you do.”
“Well . . . thanks.”
“No, thank you. Seriously. He’s such an amazing kid, but he’s fucking exhausting.”
Amy laughed and gave him another kiss. As she pulled away, the doorbell rang.
“Want me to get that?” she asked, still smiling.
“Nah, I’ve got it.”
He headed down the hall while Amy put a few more dishes in the dishwasher, but after a few seconds she heard elevated voices coming from the foyer.
“You have a lot of nerve coming back here,” Rob said.
Amy’s shoulders tensed. Whom was Rob talking to?
She snuck down the hall behind him, and as she peered over his shoulder, the blood drained from her face. The leather jacket, the pageboy hat, the stubbly jowls . . .
Lev.
Amy tried to duck out of sight, but before she could, Lev spotted her.
“Hey—you. I know you lied to me.”
She could barely swallow. “About what?”
“Our friend Julian. You know where he lives. Don’t bullshit me.”
Amy didn’t understand why Lev couldn’t just find Julian himself. How hard was it to track down the Food Fight office?
“Why don’t you just find him at his work address?”
“Oh, hey, look, we have a fucking Sherlock Holmes.”
“Don’t talk to my wife like that,” Rob said.
“Listen, I already tried his work office, and there’s nothing there.”
“What do you mean there’s nothing there?”
“The place is for rent. Empty.”
“Empty?”
Amy tried to contain her shock. Had Julian moved offices? And if not . . . where was he working?
“That’s what I said. So why don’t you tell me where I can find him?” He stood with his shoulders back. Amy couldn’t be certain, but she thought she spotted a gun tucked into his pants.
“I told you—”
“Do not bullshit me, lady. I can make this very unpleasant for both of you.”
“This has nothing to do with us. And anyway—”
“Mommy?”
She and Rob turned around to see Noah treading warily down the hallway.
“Hi, sweetie. Mommy and Daddy are just talking to this nice man. Why don’t you go back to the kitchen and finish your activity book?”
He looked at her skeptically. He doesn’t look like a nice man, his expression said. That was one of the downsides of having a bright kid. He saw right through their lies.
“I have a question about black holes,” he said.
“Mommy will come help you really soon.”
He hesitated. “How soon?”
“Just another minute or two.”
“Okay,” he finally said. He padded back to the kitchen.
“Nice kid,” Lev said. “Smart.”
Amy and Rob stared at him coolly. She didn’t like the menacing expression on his face.
“Be a shame if anything happened to a kid like that—someone with so much potential.”
“Listen, you piece of shit.” Rob spat out the words like bullets. “Don’t you dare threaten my family. I’m calling the fucking police.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, we’re just talking here.”
“No, we aren’t,” Amy said. “I asked you to leave me alone, and now I’m asking you again.”
“If you’d just tell me where your friend Julian is—”
“He isn’t our friend,” Rob said.
“Oh, okay. Sure. Well, if you’d tell me where your ‘non-friend’ is—”
“You want to know?”
“Rob . . .”
“No, listen, I’m sick of this. We have nothing to do with any of it, and I want to get back to living my life.”
“I’d love to make that happen for you,” Lev said.
Amy’s stomach was in knots. She didn’t care about Julian at this point—he’d created this mess, and her anger from this afternoon’s interaction was still palpable—but if Rob told them where the Sterlings lived, he was putting Ethan and Grace at risk. Whatever Julian had done, whatever mistakes he’d made, none of it was poor Ethan’s fault.
“Last I heard, he was staying with his in-laws,” Rob said. Amy felt a little sick. What if Lev did something to Ethan? Or what if Ethan saw him do something to Julian?
“Is that so? And where might they live?”
“Meadowbrook. I don’t know the exact address.”
This was actually true. Rob knew the area better than Amy did, but she was the one who’d plugged the address into their GPS anytime they’d gone there.
“Street?”
“Honestly, I’m not a hundred percent sure. I’m pretty sure it’s Stocton.”
Lev stared at them for a beat. Amy feared he’d realize she knew the exact address, even if Rob didn’t. It was Stocton Road, and she knew the number, but she wasn’t volunteering the information. He would figure it out. Frankly, with the information Rob had given him, any idiot would be able to.
“Good,” he said. “You’ve been very helpful—finally.”
He started to walk away, but Rob called after him. “If I ever see you anywhere near my house or my family again, I’m calling the police.”
Lev turned around. “If the information you just gave me is true, you’ll never have a reason to see me again.”
Then he disappeared into a black pickup truck and headed down the street.
* * *
When Amy finally shut the door, she could barely breathe. Her eyes welled up with tears.
“Ethan,” she managed to say.
Rob went on the defensive. “What was I supposed to do? Let him come in the house and harass my family?”
“No, and this is all Julian’s fault, but . . . if Lev threatened Noah, imagine what he could do to Ethan. He could kidnap him, Rob. Hold him hostage until he gets his money.”
“I had to put our family first. The fact that Julian potentially put his child in harm’s way isn’t my fault. He’s the one who got himself into this mess, not me.”
Amy knew he was right, but she couldn’t stop thinking of worst-case scenarios that involved something happening to Ethan—a botched kidnapping, a stray bullet during a shoot-out. She knew many of these scenarios were not only worst case but also highly unlikely, but nevertheless, she couldn’t keep herself from worrying.
“At the very least I can
warn Grace, so that Ethan doesn’t get caught up in this,” she said.
“Fine. If you think that’ll help.”
Amy hurried toward the kitchen to find her phone.
“Mommy, what would happen if your spaceship went past a black hole? Would it suck you inside?”
She riffled through her purse. “Maybe, I don’t know.”
“Where would you go? What would happen to you?”
She grabbed the phone and looked up at her son, who was staring at her expectantly. “What?”
“Where would you go if you got swallowed up by a black hole?”
“I have no idea.”
“Would you die?”
“I don’t know.”
“What would happen to your body?”
“I DON’T KNOW!”
Noah’s eyes welled up with tears. Normally Amy would feel guilty for having made him cry, but tonight she was emotionally tapped out.
“Noah, I’m sorry, but Mommy has to do something very important right now, okay? We can talk about black holes later. Or maybe Daddy can talk about them with you.”
She looked over her shoulder at Rob, who couldn’t look less enthusiastic about the prospect if he tried. He’d just spent six days as a single dad and moments ago was fearing for the safety of his family. The physics of black holes wasn’t a topic he was eager to discuss at any time with anyone, much less tonight with a four-year-old.
“No, I want to talk about them with you.” His eyes were still wet.
“Then you’re going to have to wait a few minutes.”
“But I already waited a few minutes!”
Amy tried not to lose her cool. Nothing would be improved or accomplished by exploding at her four-year-old, but at the moment, all she wanted to do was shout at him to SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.
“I told you: I have to do something very important right now. When I’m finished, I will help you. Okay?” She said the words slowly and deliberately. By Noah’s expression, he seemed to have understood.
She hurried upstairs, pulling up Grace’s number as she did. She called. Grace didn’t pick up, just as she hadn’t all day. Amy decided to try her one more time, and this time she picked up.
“Amy?”
“Hi—sorry to bother you.”
“It’s fine. I got your message earlier, but today has been . . . well, anyway, I was going to call you later tonight.” Amy wasn’t sure she believed that, but at this point, it didn’t matter. “What’s up?”
The Last House on Sycamore Street Page 28