Wedged sandals completed my outfit. A quick glance in the mirror revealed a casual look that showed off the curves I'd inherited from my mom, something yesterday's sloppy attire hadn't. Yeah, I'd grown up since Zeke last saw me--up and out. Would he notice that I'd dressed with such care today? Probably not. He had a lot on his mind, after all, but part of me was clearly never going to give up hoping that someday he'd not only look, but see.
I found the guys in the kitchen eating Cheerios. Dax glanced at me, noted my outfit, and rolled his eyes. Zeke spoke, but without taking his eyes off the newspaper he read. "Morning."
"Morning. What time are we leaving?"
"Up to you."
"Then I say the sooner the better." I got myself a bowl from the cabinet before joining them at the table. After I filled it with cereal, I added milk and sugar, and then began to eat. "Any good sales?"
Zeke slid the colorful circulars my way without comment. I began to flip through the Old Navy ad. I hadn't been very enthusiastic about anything since, well, he'd vanished, I guess. Now that he was back, I felt light as a fairy--a fairy badly in need of back-to-school clothes, especially if there was any chance he'd be going to Walker and be a senior, too. From the corner of my eye, I saw that Zeke was looking at a photo of his dad, taken at a debate. I wondered what he was thinking. As if on cue, he shifted his gaze to me. If anything, he seemed worried. I couldn't begin to imagine how conflicted he must be.
"Are my jeans clean?"
"Oh! Yeah. They're on the dryer. I'll get them."
He stopped me. "You've done enough. I shouldn't have let you wash them. I've been doing my own laundry for years now."
"The washing machine is new and complicated. It was better that I did them."
With a short nod, he got up and went to our laundry room, adjacent to the kitchen. When he came back through, he had his clothes in hand. He didn't say anything as he left us to get dressed.
"His boot has a hole in it that goes all the way through," I said to Dax, keeping my voice low. "Should we duct tape the inside or something to keep the dirt out? Or maybe we could find some insoles. Do you have any?"
"Maybe."
"Check, okay? And hurry. I want to get them in his boots."
Dax snorted a laugh. "You don't think he'll notice there are insoles in them?"
"Maybe not."
Dax grudgingly left me. I wasn't trying to be sneaky. I simply wanted to help, and I thought Zeke had reached the limit of assistance he'd allow. Moments later, my brother handed me the insoles. "I don't think you should do this."
"We can't let him wear boots with holes in the soles."
"I'm not talking about that. It might not be safe to go anywhere with Zeke."
"I can't believe you just said that. What kind of friend are you?"
"The ex kind, which means I can think straight, which you obviously can't. Don't let your love make you stupid."
"Well excuse me for refusing to believe the worst." Fuming, I located duct tape and covered the hole in that one boot before laying the insoles inside both. Just as I set them on the floor, I heard Zeke's footsteps.
"Boots?"
I pointed to them, noting that he had on his T-shirt and jeans from yesterday. As he tugged on the boots, I waited for a reaction and got nothing.
"I have your dad's home address in the GPS, so if you want, we can try his house first. If he's not there, we should probably find his campaign headquarters. After that, I don't know."
"Works for me." He seemed relieved that I had given the day some thought.
Though a little surprised he'd let me take the reins, I was glad, too. I wanted things to get better for him. Anything I could do to make that happen thrilled me. We left Dax and his bad mood behind as we walked out the back door to our four-car garage.
"Do you want to drive?" I asked, pointing to my chartreuse VW bug, a recent gift from my parents.
Zeke whistled his appreciation. "Yours?"
"Yes." I offered him the keys. He declined and walked to the passenger side. Moments later, we hit the road. A gorgeous blue sky met purple Wyoming mountains, providing a breathtaking horizon. I tried to keep a conversation going, but Zeke was so noncommittal that I gave that up and turned on the radio to a station that played his favorite type of music…unless that had changed.
"Still into classic rock?"
"I like my rock hard these days."
Feeling his gaze on me, I glanced over to find him staring. When Zeke realized I'd caught him, he quickly turned his face toward the window. I'd have given anything to hear his thoughts. Did he like what he saw? Or was he still shocked that I'd grown up while he was gone?
I couldn't help but try to see myself from his point of view--oval face, dark brown eyes, auburn hair. I didn't have an athlete's body, but I was currently trim, having swum a lot that summer. So as looks went, I was probably cute enough catch his eye. But would he ever really see me as anything but Dax's kid sister?
I intercepted more than one thoughtful stare on the hour-and-a-half drive north to Cheyenne. Each time, he shifted his attention elsewhere without giving me a clue what he was thinking. Finally I could stand the silence no longer. "Are you worried about meeting your dad?"
"More than I thought I'd be. I'm not sure how much I should tell him."
"I'm so sorry you have to go through this, Zeke. You don't deserve it."
"I'm not so sure about that."
Shocked, I tried to think how to answer. "You're not a bad person, if that's what you're thinking."
"Your brother might disagree."
"He's ridiculous."
"But right." He turned as far toward me as the seatbelt would allow. "First, if I hadn't been outside Foxy's, Enrique would never have approached me. Second, the Zeke you think you know doesn't exist anymore. If I walked into the Ridge Rock police station right now and told them half of what I've done, I'd go straight to jail."
My heart skipped a beat. "You're not going to do that, are you?"
"I just look stupid."
Whew. "You said it yourself. You did what you had to do. It's done now. Finished. You've officially started over. You're dad's going to be so excited that you're alive. Just wait. You'll see."
"You really think that?"
"Of course." I pointed to the GPS, stuck to the dash by a suction cup. "Three miles to go."
Minutes later, I turned the car onto a street that led to a gated subdivision. Fortunately, the iron gates stood open, so I headed right through them, driving until a female voice announced that we'd arrived at our destination. We both looked at the two-story brick house and immaculately manicured lawn in awed silence--both were huge. I didn't ask what to do, but drove right up the driveway, where I killed the engine. "How are you going to handle this?"
"Why don't you see if he's home?"
"Good idea." I got out of the car before Zeke chickened out. Sam Sterling knew me well, so the sight of my familiar face would definitely be better than the sight of his son's tattoos, plainly visible since he hadn't worn the hoodie today. Of course, I didn't tell Zeke that, but I think he knew.
A woman I'd never seen before answered the door and told me Sam was at his campaign headquarters. She gave me directions. I returned to the car.
"Who was that?" asked Zeke.
"No idea." I updated my GPS and off we went with Zeke nervously tapping his heel on the floor all the way there. Campaign headquarters turned out to be an office in a good-sized strip mall. Red, white, and blue banners set it apart from the neighboring stores. As before, we both scoped it out before either of us made a move. "Just me again?"
"No. We know he's here. I should do it." He took a couple of deep breaths before getting out of the car. I saw him square his shoulders and head toward the front entrance. I followed a few steps behind, wanting his reunion with his dad to be private, but also wanting to be there if Zeke needed me. He tried the door. It was locked. Zeke shaded his eyes and leaned closer. I could tell that he saw someone
. He rapped the glass with his knuckles and stepped back.
Sam Sterling, himself, appeared. Focused on Zeke, he didn't even notice me as he unlocked and opened up. "Hello there. What can I--"
"Dad?"
Sam's smile vanished; all the color drained from his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out for a couple of seconds. "Zeke?" With a cry of joy, Sam burst through the doorway and rushed his son, embracing him tightly. "Oh my God! How..? When…?"
Moved by the tears that began streaming down his cheeks, I could barely hold it together. It was going to be all right. It really was.
"You're alive." Sam released his son to get a better look. "I don't believe it. You're alive, and you're here."
Zeke nodded in response.
"Mel! Come quick!" Seeing that Sam had called out to someone inside, I naturally stepped closer to see who. That's when he noticed me. "Skylar! Do you have something to do with this?" I shook my head as he hugged me, laughing in his excitement. "So he ran to you first, huh? About dang time, don't you think?"
Huh? "Actually, he ran to Dax. But only because you weren't where he thought you'd be."
"Ah." Sam's bright smile slipped a notch, proving he knew I referred to the house. Just then, Melita McGee stepped out the door and joined us under the overhang.
I swallowed my gasp and flicked a nervous glance at Zeke, who didn't outwardly react to her sudden appearance beyond a slight narrowing of his eyes.
"It's a miracle! Zeke's come home." Sam placed his hands on his son's shoulders. "Are you okay, son? Did they hurt you?"
"I'm fine."
Sam grinned and hugged him again. "Tell me everything." Laying an arm across Zeke's shoulders, he swept him inside. Melita motioned for me to follow. Though she had a smile on her face, I got the distinct impression she wasn't that happy to see us. Zeke's suspicions instantly popped into my head.
We followed Sam to what looked like a break room at the back of his headquarters. I saw a refrigerator and a microwave, plus a couple of vending machines. Zeke and I sat on opposite ends of a small couch. Sam chose a chair. Melita perched on the arm of it. "When that bastard Ace Kensett double-crossed me, everyone said you must be dead. Having handled my share of missing person's cases, I knew they were probably right."
I tried to place the name, but couldn't. "Ace Kensett?"
Sam clued me in. "One of the Ridge Rock councilmen. He was shady as they come, and I'd been on his case for years, trying to prove it. Not that I was ever able to. He had the entire police department in his back pocket, after all, which meant I got no cooperation."
"Kensett wasn't involved in my mess."
"Sure he was," said Sam. "You just didn't know it."
"I'm telling you he wasn't. Listen, Dad. You've been screwed. I was not kidnapped because you were a threat to Ace Kensett. The guys that got me worked for someone else, a man in Alabama."
"But the ransom note--"
"A lie. Kensett probably laughed all the way to the bank if he even wrote it. And the reason he didn't set me free is simple: he had no idea where I was."
Sam sputtered a reply that made no sense.
"Here's what really happened…" For the next few minutes Zeke told them the story he'd told me, minus the Were part.
His dad visibly deflated as he talked and sat in silence for a good minute after Zeke finished his tale before he spoke again. "This is the truth?"
"Yes."
"I'd like to confirm it."
Zeke sat back. "Google Titus Leopold."
"Melita."
She got up and left, no doubt headed to the nearest computer.
That went all over me. "You don't believe him?"
"Of course I do. I simply want to make sure that the thugs who did this are locked away. Once I announce Zeke's reappearance, he's going to be the focus of a media frenzy. We need to have a handle on the real facts, and I'll have to figure out what kind of spin to put on the muggings and robberies. I don't want Zeke held responsible for crimes he was forced to commit."
Yikes. Good point. I wondered how Zeke would handle the attention as facts came to light, which they certainly would. There was always somebody out there digging around in hopes of unearthing a scandal.
"What are your plans, son?"
"Depends on you, I guess. I need a place to stay, and I'd like to finish school."
"You'll live with me, of course. And there are several excellent private schools you can attend right here in Cheyenne."
"Why'd you sell the house?" Zeke asked.
"Too many bad memories. Of course, if I'd had any idea you were still alive, I'd never have done it. I know how much you love that old place. Melita was the one that thought new digs might help me move on, and I did need living quarters in Cheyenne since I'm here 24-7 these days. She helped me find the house I bought."
"What's she doing here, anyway?"
Did Sam pick up on the tell-tale edge to Zeke's tone? Apparently not. At any rate, he slapped his palm to his forehead. "What an idiot I am. I should've told you first thing. She's handling my campaign, but that's not all. We're getting married just as soon as the election's over."
Chapter Four
Uh-oh. I cast a covert look at Zeke, who got a little red in the face but otherwise kept his cool. "That's great, Dad. Er, congrats."
Sam grinned, clearly relieved by the positive response. "Thanks. Now where's your gear? I'll take you to the house."
"Oh let me do that." Melita stood in the doorway, some papers in hand. "You need to read this, and you still haven't done what we came here for. Besides I'd love to visit with Zeke. It's about time we got to know each other better, and you two will have plenty of time to catch up later." There was that smile again, the one that didn't quite gel with her body language.
"What about Skylar?" Zeke didn't seem very excited about the proposed arrangement.
Melita, a slender woman in her late forties with piercing gray eyes and a riot of platinum hair, shifted her attention to me. I noticed that she wasn't wearing an engagement ring, which seemed a little odd. Sam Sterling could certainly afford one. "You can follow us in your car."
"I have a better idea," I said. "You two need some private time, and I wouldn't mind exploring Cheyenne's malls. So why don't you go on? I'll check in with Zeke in a couple of days." I caught his eye. "Do you have a cell phone?"
"No."
Melita smiled. "We'll get him one ASAP."
"Okay. Got a sticky note? I'll write down my cell number."
"Sure." Melita got me one from the office and handed it and a pen to me.
I wrote out my number and gave it to Zeke. "We need to get your backpack out of the Beetle."
"Right."
I got up, as did he. We walked outside together. "Are you pissed?"
"About what?" He shot back. "Melita's finally snagging my dad or you bailing on me?"
"I am not bailing. I just thought she had a point when she said the two of you need to talk. I mean, it sounds like she's going to be underfoot. If this is going to work, you have to try to get along with her."
"I know. Sorry I'm such a--"
"Big bad wolf?"
"Not anymore." For a second he stood by my car, obviously deep in thought. I opened the back door and got his gear. When I tried to hand it over, he surprised me with a hug. "Thanks for coming with me today. It made things easier."
"Glad to help." I memorized the feel of his arms wrapped around me and his body, rock solid and pressed to mine. I sighed regretfully when he let me go. "Call me, okay? I want to know how you're doing."
"Well, if Dad's right about the media circus, you can probably get an update every evening on the six o'clock news."
I winced. "Ew."
"Yeah." He stepped back with a disgusted shake of his head, hoisting the bag onto one shoulder. "See ya."
"Count on it." With a little wave, I got into my car and left him, making it about a mile down the road before I burst into noisy boohoos. I pulled int
o a parking lot until I could see better, honestly not knowing why I was crying. The reunion had been a success, and Zeke seemed determined to make a go of things with Melita. That's all I could've hoped for him. When I finally got control of myself, I half-heartedly surfed the net via my new 4G iPhone to locate the nearest shopping. A huge mall, two clothing outlets, and no purchases later, my cell rang. I didn't recognize the caller, but answered it anyway, just in case. "Hello?"
"You still in town?"
Zeke. My heart rate kicked up a notch. "Yeah, why?"
"Come and get me."
"What's happened?"
"Tell you when you get here."
With a knot of anxiety the size of a baseball in my stomach, I as good as ran to my car. I got to Sam Sterling's new house twenty minutes later. Zeke was sitting on the front steps, his backpack beside him. What could've gone wrong so quickly?
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