The deep end, p.23
The Deep End, page 23
“Go on.”
“The bad loan shark was leaning hard on the guardian. And he had to do something about him. But the guardian needed help. He had a right-hand man who would help him. The guy was strong as a linebacker—and quick too. Not the kind of guy anybody would mess with.”
Kelsey roared with laughter. “I’m loving this story, kid.”
“And even as good and smart and strong and quick as the guardian and his good right-hand man were, they knew the loan shark was dangerous. But then they met a kid who hated the orphan’s ungrateful guts as much as they did. He promised to help them—and that he’d keep his mouth shut. And the good man decided to give him a chance.” Bryce swallowed. “And he was glad he did. Really glad. The orphan got what was coming to him. And the kid did what he was told—and never said a word about it. He got a football scholarship—and the good man and his strong friend came to every game. And they all lived happily ever after.”
Kelsey clapped him on the back. “If the football scholarship doesn’t work out, you really ought to consider being a writer. You got real potential, kid.”
At least he was talking like Bryce had a future. A chance to make it out of this alive.
“You do understand the ungrateful orphan is going to have an unfortunate accident,” Mr. Lotitto said.
Bryce nodded.
“And we can make it a double accident . . . or not. It depends if you’re going to work with us or not.”
“I’ll do anything you say,” Bryce said. “Anything.” And the scary thing? He meant it.
Mr. Lotitto looked at him long and hard. “Okay, there are a couple things I need to do. And I’m going to keep you here—with duct tape over your mouth so you don’t cry for help or anything stupid like that.”
“Do it,” Bryce said. “I won’t let you down.”
Lotitto checked Bryce’s pockets and confiscated his phone. “We’ll be back within the hour. And then you’re going to make a phone call—and you’ll do exactly as I say. Agreed?”
He’d be setting Harley up for something awful, wouldn’t he? But Harley deserved it in a way. He’d turned his back on Bryce, hadn’t he? No, the Wrangler stunt was worse than that. He’d attacked Bryce when his back was turned.
“Agreed.” Harley couldn’t treat others like junk and expect not to get trashed himself, right? “You’re the coach—and I’ll run your plays.”
Lotitto smiled. Looked at Kelsey like he wanted to be sure his right-hand man felt the same way.
Seal the deal, Bryce. This is your last chance. You don’t want them changing their minds after they leave. “And can I say one more thing?”
Lotitto gave him the nod.
“Harley is out of control. He thinks I took his precious motorcycle. And when he finally figures his bike is never coming back? He’s probably going to try to kill me—if I don’t stop him first. I want to do this.”
Harley’s uncle folded his arms across his chest. “Okay, son. You’ve earned yourself a chance. Welcome to the team.”
CHAPTER 55
Friday, August 12, 4:00 p.m.
ANGELICA SAT ON THE ROCKS OF THE BREAKWATER with a box of donuts from BayView Brew. Something about being out here along the coast usually calmed her mind. Not so much today.
Ella stood behind her easel, working on a watercolor she hadn’t touched all week since the smoke bombs in the shed. Ella “processed with paints.” That’s the way she put it, anyway. Right now, she attacked the canvas with the brush more than stroked it. Whatever processing she was doing, it wasn’t doing a thing to calm her. She rinsed her brush, stuck it in her hair, and took a step back.
“I need to stop.” Ella pulled out her phone and scrolled through it. “I’m going to ruin the canvas if I don’t. Something’s off with me.”
“It’s not you,” Angelica said. “It’s Harley. He messed up, and it’s messing with your head.”
They’d both agreed to give Harley his space. Hopefully he’d come around and stop lying to them. But if he didn’t, well, Angelica would chalk it up to him not being who she thought he was. It crushed her to say it, but if he could lie through his teeth like that, he wasn’t the kind of friend she wanted anyway. Ella talked like she was in total agreement, but Angelica wasn’t so sure. There were times she didn’t seem nearly as ready to do the hard thing: pull away from Harley. But Angelica was absolutely sure they needed to distance themselves from him. Totally convinced.
She just wished Parker felt the same way. He seemed so bullheaded determined to get through to Harley. To protect Harley from himself. Which was making her job a lot tougher.
“I talked to Wilson this morning,” Angelica said.
“And you waited until now to mention that?”
She’d been trying to forget the conversation. At least part of it. “The guy never seems to worry about anything, you know? But he’s worried about Parker.”
“Ha. Tell him to get in line.”
“Crazy thing? He doesn’t think Scorza is a real player in this.”
Ella dumped her rinse water. Shook the container. “What would he know?”
“Here’s his take on things: The night Kemosabe was taken, the shed had been torched just so Harley would roll the bike far away from the flames. And the pyro knew Harley was inside—otherwise why not just break into the shed and roll out the bike?”
“Okay.”
“They were taking a chance Harley would wake up and get the motorcycle out all right. Which probably says they were okay if Harley didn’t.”
Ella stopped putting her gear away. “He said that?”
Angelica nodded. “It was what he said next that really made me think. ‘Better be careful. It’s a really small step from being okay with someone dying . . . and making them dead.’”
“Scorza wouldn’t go that far,” Ella said.
“I told him that. He agreed—which is why he said we’re looking at the wrong guy. She lowered her voice, imitating Wilson. ‘Be careful you’re not chasing the wrong enemy. When you do, your real enemy will get his knife in your back.’ Those were his exact words.”
Ella stared at her for a long moment. “So if this isn’t two ex-friends in some kind of war, what is it? I mean, what other enemy does Harley have?”
“Besides you?” Angelica smiled.
“I’m not his enemy—but I sure wouldn’t call myself his friend right now, either.”
“Wilson asked if I wanted him to grab a bus and get up here. He’s still kicking himself for not coming up when the whole thing happened with Steadman.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I thought he’d need to take a plane if he really wanted to be here in time to help. But he can’t do that, of course.”
“Too expensive?”
Angelica shook her head. “He says he’d never get a machete on the plane—or any of the other ‘tools’ he’d bring.”
Ella laughed. “That’s just what we need. One more guy who thinks he has to save the world.”
“‘Keep an eye on Bucky,’” he said. “‘If he’s set on helping Harley, he may be in more danger than he knows.’”
Ella reached for her cross this time. “I hope he’s wrong about the danger. But it sounds like he knows Parker.”
Ella was right about that. Parker was the kind of guy who’d reach out to help a friend—and get pulled down in the process. For an instant her mind replayed a clip she’d done her best to keep locked tight. Parker’s hand stretched out over the water—to take the pictures Angelica had pressured him to take. Suddenly, Dillinger was there—and the monster gator had Parker’s arm, pulling him into the black waters. Then there was the way he’d risked his neck to find Angelica’s sister when everyone thought she was lost in the Glades. And two months ago? He’d ended up on the bottom of the quarry when he’d tried to help Ella. Angelica loved his heart—but it was way too big for his body. “Somehow I have to keep that boy from doing something stupid.”
“You really think you can do that?”
Truthfully . . . it didn’t seem she could. Not if he wouldn’t listen to her. “I’ll do what I can.”
Ella finished folding the easel and packing it in a duffel. “I’m going to give this canvas another five minutes to dry.” She picked up her phone and started scrolling.
Angelica’s mind drifted to Parker. He’d been processing things. She could tell. And usually that happened just before he did something crazy.
“Check this out.” Ella motioned her closer. Held out her phone so Angelica could see the YouTube clip she’d cued up. The clip was titled simply, “Be Careful Who You Tie Yourself To.”
The clip was animated, showing a pair of climbers going up some steep mountainside. The two were tethered together by a rope. Suddenly a bird flew around the head of the lead climber. He swatted at it over and over—even though his partner kept telling him to focus on the climb. With one mighty swing, the leader lost his balance and tumbled off the side of the mountain—taking the more cautious climber with him. The video may have been developed for some business reason, but it depicted the boys’ situation perfectly.
“I have this awful feeling,” Ella said, “that Harley isn’t done doing stupid things. He’s going over the side, and he’s going to pull Parker right down with him.”
Angelica’s feelings exactly. “I’m going to call Parker. Again.” She’d probably talked with him or texted five times today already. Every time he’d seemed distracted.
She dialed and put it on speaker the moment he answered. “Ella and I are here on the breakwater. We’ve got a donut from BayView Brew with your name on it.”
“I stopped in the dive shop. Harley’s working it alone today, but he still won’t talk. He’s definitely pushing me away.”
Like Parker had been doing to her all day. It was like he hadn’t even heard her offer for him to join them.
“He asked to be left alone for a while, so I left. But he still hasn’t told me his side of the story.”
“Maybe,” Ella said, “it’s because there is no other side to tell. We saw what we saw, Parker.”
He didn’t answer right away. “I just don’t know why he wouldn’t admit it. Not even to me. Why not just be real?”
“Maybe what you’re finally seeing,” Angelica said, “is the real Harley. Where are you?”
“In the Bomb.”
The wind had picked up some. Angelica looked beyond the breakwater to Sandy Bay and the horizon line beyond. “The swells look kind of big for the boat out there. And there’s definitely a fog bank moving in.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going out past the breakwater,” Parker said. “I’m just tooling around the harbor.”
Thinking. He always seemed to think his clearest when out on the water. She should have figured he’d be in the Boy’s Bomb. Ella pointed to the teal skiff cruising the Outer Harbor near the channel inlet. Angelica nodded. “We see you now. Want some company, skipper?”
There was a pause. Enough time for him to have answered the simple question twice. Like the signal to the cell tower got swallowed by the fog on the way out—or back. “Not this time, Jelly.”
Ella exchanged a look with her. Obviously she didn’t like Parker’s answer any more than Angelica did.
“I’m still thinking about things,” he said. “Sorry.” Like maybe he guessed how much his words stung.
There was a time when she’d ride along with him . . . and he’d think out loud. Run things by her. But she needed to keep it light, not put him on a guilt trip. “Imagine how much more productive you’ll be with two super-thinking girls like Ella and me to bounce things off. We could be at the T-wharf by the time you get there.”
“Next time,” he said.
What was going on with him?
“I keep running through this in my head,” Parker said. “What if he’s telling the truth? He admitted he wanted to put some hurt on Scorza that night. To pressure him into telling what had happened to Kemosabe.”
“See?” The whole thing was so obvious to Angelica. “He practically confessed to stealing the Wrangler right there. What better way to put some hurt on Scorza?”
“That’s just it,” Parker said. “He was talking about physically pounding Scorza until he talked. He couldn’t get a confession by stealing the car. Harley wasn’t out for payback . . . he wanted answers. So, what if he didn’t steal the Wrangler?”
“Then who did?”
“Maybe Scorza himself—to make Harley look bad.”
Ella dropped her head in her hands. “Parker . . . you’re trying to make Cinderella’s slipper fit on the wrong foot. Angelica and I saw him leave the Wrangler . . . we saw his face.”
“I know, I know,” Parker said. “I keep getting hung up on that, too. But why would he tell me he had planned to beat the tar out of Scorza, but deny stealing the car? Beating up Scorza would have been a lot worse, don’t you think?”
“Parker,” Ella said, “I think you’re thinking too much about this.”
“I’m just saying, why would he lie? What if he’s telling the truth?”
Ella pantomimed tearing her own hair out.
Angelica couldn’t have agreed more. The guy made her crazy sometimes. He definitely needed a couple of super-thinking girls to keep his theories on the positive side of the sanity spectrum. “My dad saw him too, remember?”
“Yeah, then there’s that. I just can’t figure it out—but I have to.” The sound of the motor was the only thing Angelica heard for maybe the next ten seconds. “Harley’s made his mind up about something.”
“Yeah,” Ella said. “Like he’s not going to tell us the truth.”
The pitch of the motor changed, like he was slowing down. Sure enough. The Boy’s Bomb was no longer throwing a wake. Even from here she could see Parker stand. He faced the open ocean. “Look, everything Harley has known and cared about is gone. He’s only out of jail on bail. Unless his uncle is bluffing, Harley is going to be a ward of the state—or go to a juvenile detention center. He won’t take this lying down.”
Ella’s hand went up to the Navajo cross around her neck again. “You think he’ll try to get at Scorza again?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know. That could be part of it. Or maybe . . .”
“Maybe what?”
“I don’t know,” Parker said. “He’s going to do something really stupid.”
She watched him pace the short deck of the Boy’s Bomb. “He’s got nothing to gain by doing that, Parker.”
“Nothing to lose either.”
So it all came down to one big question. “What are you going to do?”
Parker paused. “Get ready for what I’ve got to do next. I guess that’s what I’ve been trying to do while I’m out here.”
Angelica did not like the sound of that.
Ella gave her the raised-eyebrows nod. She used her hands to pantomime two climbers on a steep incline.
“I thought I might phone my Grandpa,” Parker said. “You know he’s coming out here in another week or so.”
Jelly wished he were here now. Maybe he could help Parker see the obvious.
“I just want to do the right thing.” Parker was staring out the channel again, toward the open sea. “I’m just not sure what the right thing is. But something tells me I need to stay close to Harley. Like, the minute he gets off work I need to be there. Make him tell me his side of the story. From there I’ll play it by ear.”
Parker and his integrity. His sense of doing what was right. It just wasn’t always safe. The guy could be maddening. “Parker.” She spoke softly. Sometimes a quiet word was heard more clearly than a loud one. “Harley’s a good guy. I know how much you like him. We all do. But he’s done some bad things. And there’s a price to pay. You can’t protect him from the legal system.”
“I totally agree,” Parker said. “I just want to protect him from himself.”
Angelica wanted to scream.
Ella looked just as exasperated. She snatched the phone from Angelica. “But Parker, while you’re out protecting Harley . . . who’s going to protect you?”
CHAPTER 56
Friday, August 12, 4:15 p.m.
PARKER LET THE BOY’S BOMB DRIFT. The waves entering through the channel were definitely bigger now. They bullied the skiff back, like they were warning him not to mess with them.
His grandpa answered the phone, and over the next twenty minutes Parker filled him in on all that had happened with Harley over the last week—and what had happened to him. How the evidence looked like Harley had stolen the Wrangler in retaliation, but Parker just felt there was something he wasn’t seeing. How Harley was pulling away, but Parker couldn’t shake the sense that Harley needed his friends now more than ever. He told his grandpa how he believed Harley was in trouble, and if Parker didn’t do something, his friend was headed for disaster.
“Everyone has a push point,” Grandpa said. “Something that—if given enough pressure—has the power to send them someplace dark. Deadly. Someplace they never want to go. Off the deep end.”
“Kemosabe was Harley’s push point,” Parker said. “His weakness.”
Grandpa was quiet for a moment. “I’d guess it was more than that. The loss of his dad. That’s why Kemosabe means so much to him. It’s the root of his push point.”
Parker found himself staring right into the water. “You think I have a push point?”
“We all do, Parker.”
“If I do . . . I have no idea what it is.”
“And you don’t need to. Just pray your enemy doesn’t discover it.”
An icy chill flashed down his back, despite the warm air. “Harley’s enemy found his push point, didn’t he?” It really wasn’t a question.
“Mmmm-hmm.” Grandpa paused. “Sounds like your friend is in trouble, Parker. He’s going to need you—even if he doesn’t realize that yet.”
