Every hidden thing, p.24
Every Hidden Thing, page 24
Honestly, he wanted to whack that smug look off Scorza’s face.
“So that’s how you want to play it?” Scorza nodded and took a step back. “I predict you’re going to regret this.”
“I doubt it.” The one thing Harley really regretted at this moment? He didn’t have a closet pole in the shed.
CHAPTER 56
Saturday, June 11, 7:30 p.m.
THE MOMENT PARKER GOT OFF THE PHONE WITH HIS DAD, he checked the security camera app from Steadman.
Dad appreciated the update, and was happy to hear Jelly made it safe to Rockport. Both he and Mom had been in on the plan—and they’d kept the secret well. Mom had the guest room all set for her, as it turned out. Parker explained the plan for tonight. Hang out with El and Jelly at the Houstons’ house until Mom got home from the hospital. Maybe with enough activity at Grams’s house, Shadow-man wouldn’t show—and the renters would post a great review. Maybe Shadow-man would turn up at Bayview or Bayport—and Steadman would be waiting. That would be a win all the way around.
“Wish I could be there,” Dad said. “Mrs. Houston is in a bad spot.”
Maybe that’s why he was giving Parker so much leash. “Do you think any of this will do any good?”
“Only God knows. Our job is to keep doing the next right thing . . . and leave the results to Him, right? What if God is the one putting these ideas in our head, have you thought of that?”
The thing Parker kept thinking was how there wasn’t enough time. The loan was due the end of next week. Grams didn’t have the money she needed. Even if they caught the guy, would any of that change? Maybe Mom could write an article, and some rich person would pay off her loans. It was a ridiculous stretch. “What’s happening to them is beyond wrong. Grams is a widow, and El is sort of an orphan. They’re in a hard place, and a bunch of rich people want to take the only thing Grams and El have? It feels . . . evil.”
For a moment Dad didn’t answer. Parker checked the screen to be sure they were still connected. “I’m glad you see it that way, son. Many don’t.”
“It just seems too big . . . how do we fight this—and is it even our fight?”
“Overcome evil with good,” Dad said. “That’s what the Good Book says. We do our part.”
And hope God does His part. Parker didn’t say it, but the thought was there. This whole thing seemed like just as much of a mystery as it ever did. From Devin’s death to Shadow-man’s attacks. He didn’t say that either—but had a hard time thinking about anything else after ending the call with his dad.
Parker shook off the thoughts and focused on the security camera app. Right now he just needed to do something. Anything. Hopefully that next right thing.
Steadman’s house popped up first. Bayview. Then Bayport. Except for outside lights, they were dark. But Steadman was waiting inside one of them—hoping for a break. Or rather a chance to break someone’s skull.
Ella’s place had enough lights on—inside and out—to be seen from a satellite. Anybody stepping into that yard would be stepping onto a stage, whether they knew it or not. Parker needed to be there, just in case somebody did.
Jelly was waiting for him downstairs. She’d already moved into the guest room, and now she was studying pictures on the mantel. She set a framed print down the moment he walked in the room. “Ready?”
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Parker said. “You know that, right?”
“So you’re thinking I’d rather stay here alone—with some psycho, faceless, possibly paranormal nutcase breaking into homes?”
Parker smiled. “Well, when you put it like that . . .”
She grabbed him by the arm and tugged him toward the door. “Besides, who’s going to keep you from doing something stupid?”
CHAPTER 57
Saturday, June 11, 8:45 p.m.
OVER THE NEXT HOUR Angelica stayed close to Parker. As in between him and Ella. It was like a game—and she was pretty sure Ella was catching on. The only thing Parker seemed to notice was the TV, where he had the app playing that monitored the two security cameras outside. He kept his eyes on the screen, looking for any movement.
If Ella was bothered by what Angelica was doing, she didn’t show it. She seemed to be watching her Grams most of the time anyway. Talking to her. Coaxing her out of the rocker by the window and into an easy chair in the center of the room instead. She brought over a footstool and propped her legs on it.
“Land sakes, Ella Mae, you’re treating me like an old woman here.” Grams stood and marched to the kitchen. “We have guests.” Minutes later she was back with a tray loaded with glasses of sweet tea, lemonade, and a plate of the best-looking scones Angelica had ever seen.
“Hold on.” Parker was still glued to the screen. “I saw something.”
All eyes stared at the security camera image. Patio furniture. Dozens of those solar-powered lights outlining the walkway, and an amazingly manicured yard . . . but nothing looked out of place.
Without taking his eyes off the screen, Parker squatted down and retied his shoes.
“Parker,” Grams said. “Don’t you be getting any fool ideas.”
“Should we call the police?” Angelica whispered—as if whoever or whatever Parker saw could hear them.
Parker held up one hand. “There.” He pointed at the shadows on the fringes of the image. “Something is there.”
A figure stepped out of the darkness—dressed in black . . . head to toe. The hood was pulled up in place, so the entire face was shadowed. Suddenly a glow appeared, like he’d just activated a glow stick. This was it.
“Parker, we should call the police,” Angelica said. “This thing is recording, right? I mean, we’ll have the images, right?”
Ella nodded. “That’s what Steadman said.” She squeezed Angelica’s arm. “The cop basically told us he didn’t want to hear from us.”
“Call Steadman,” Parker said. “Put him on speaker.”
Ella pecked at her screen.
The hooded figure stepped around the patio table—making his way closer to the house. “He’s holding something.” A brick?
“Ella? Everything okay?” Steadman was all business.
She held the phone up—as if that would make it easier for everyone to hear.
“We’ve got company,” Parker said. “Check your app.”
“Switching over,” Steadman said. “And bingo . . . I see the bogey. I can be there in five minutes, tops.”
Parker hesitated. “It’ll be over before then.”
Exactly what Angelica figured.
Steadman gave a frustrated growl. “You pray, don’t you, Parker?”
His question took Angelica by surprise. Why would he ask—
“Actually, yeah. Not as much as I should, but—”
“Well, I never do.” Steadman interrupted. “So you pray the bogey comes here to Bayview next. I’ve got a little surprise for him.”
The figure turned and deepened his crouch a bit, like he heard something from the other side of the rental cottage. He held perfectly still for a moment, then focused back on the main house. He held the brick by his chest with both hands, tapped it twice, then hauled back and launched it at the house.
A window crashed above them—and something heavy thudded and bounced onto the floor overhead.
Without even knowing she’d done it, Angelica clutched onto Ella—who hugged her right back.
“Parker—no!”
Angelica turned the instant Grams shouted—but she was too late. Parker disappeared out the back door.
CHAPTER 58
THE INSTANT HARLEY HEARD THE CRASH OF SHATTERING GLASS, he scooted from his hiding spot for a better view of the backyard. Pressed against the shadowy side of the Houstons’ rental cottage had been great for staying incognito, but not so good for seeing. The winter face mask didn’t help—and made his face itch all over—but he was a whole lot less likely to be spotted this way.
Gatorade burst out the back door of Ella’s place. “Hey!” He stopped in the center of the patio—looking one way, then the other—bouncing on the balls of his feet like he wanted to get moving but didn’t know which way to go.
What was Gatorade doing in Ella’s house? He had to remind himself again they were on the same team.
Gatorade ran to the far side of the yard, then cut and angled off to the other corner.
“Make up your mind, Gatorade.” Whatever he was looking for, obviously it was gone.
Ella stood in the open doorway, along with Gatorade’s redheaded friend, Jelly.
Suddenly Gatorade veered his way. Not at a hard run, but more like he was trotting back to a huddle.
Harley stood perfectly still. Fought the urge to run. There was no reason to run, right? He hadn’t done anything wrong. Besides, his game plan was to guard Ella’s place, not run and hide the first time something weird happened.
And that was the thing . . . he had to find out what was going on. And he wasn’t going to do that by hiding. Harley stepped into the light. “Hey.”
Gatorade stutter-stepped, then poured on the speed like Harley had a football in his hands. He plowed into Harley with surprising force—like the guy was totally juiced up on game-day adrenaline.
They both went down, and Harley used the momentum to roll on top of Gatorade. “What are you doing? All I did was say hey.” He struggled to hold Gatorade’s arms down, using all the leverage his weight gave him. He wouldn’t hold him long. “Stop. Stop. Are you crazy?”
“Get off him!” Ella—with a garden hose. Clutching a pistol-grip sprayer nozzle in both hands like she was holding a gun. “Hands up!” Her face—dead serious. She sidestepped to a better angle. “I mean it.”
He smiled. This girl was terrific.
“And I mean it, too.” Strawberry Jelly coming at him from another angle. But she held a fireplace poker in her hands. The kind with the nasty-looking curved spike at one end. “I know how to use this.”
She held it up like a Louisville Slugger—and her grip actually looked decent.
Harley caught a full blast of spray from the hose.
“I said—hands up!”
She was a dead shot—somehow got the thing right inside his hood. He squeezed his eyes shut too late. Ducked. It felt like he’d taken the full force in the eyes. She tracked him with the sprayer, somehow able to keep the jet of water trained on his head. The thing felt like a pressure washer. He shot both hands straight up. “Okay, okay already.”
The waterboarding stopped. He couldn’t see. Water filled one ear, making it sound like someone was holding a plastic cup over it. Gatorade wriggled out from under him. Broke free.
“Drop the hood—and pull off that mask.” Even with his eyes closed he recognized Jelly’s voice.
He’d barely grabbed the rim of his hoodie when Ella drilled him with the water again. “Hands up!”
“Hands up or hood down—make up your mind!” Harley was getting a little annoyed.
“Ah.” Ella paused like she was coordinating with Jelly. “Hood down—with one hand. But no funny business or you’ll need gills—got it?”
“Got it. I’m going to pull back my hood. Don’t shoot.” Harley lowered one hand as slow as he dared—not wanting to chance even the appearance of a sudden move.
“Let me help.” It sounded like Gatorade was on his feet now. Gatorade yanked the hoodie back and whipped the ski mask off his head. “Harley?”
He drove his knuckles into his eye sockets and rubbed. It felt like the hose had spiked his lashes right into his eyeballs. He opened his eyes wide and blinked over and over. “Somebody better start explaining why I’m on the ground—soaking wet.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Ella stood with one hand on her hip, the other still aiming the hose. “Start talking, Mr. Harley Davidson ‘you can trust me’ Lotitto.”
CHAPTER 59
THE GHOST SAW THE WHOLE THING. His rolling anticipation was a wonder. Not only did it give him a freaky sense of where his target was headed in a chase, but even here, tonight, his sixth sense led him to the Houstons’ house much earlier than he’d originally planned.
Somewhere deep inside he possessed some kind of subconscious premonition that he’d needed to be here. How else could one explain how he’d been precisely in this spot when the kid busted the window?
And he had the bonus of seeing the other kid flushed out of hiding. So he was at it again tonight? The Ghost had let him off easy with the dunk in Rockport Harbor—and this is how he showed gratitude? The kid was going to seriously regret that.
Already it had been a really good night, and he hadn’t even started yet. He watched the four of them on the lawn. The confusion. The fact that he was here, for all this, was proof he should never doubt his instincts. It was almost as if he possessed something god-like. He had a power far beyond anything he was aware of.
His instincts were on target in another way, too. Stepping things up was the right thing to do—and right now. If the fat lady really believed kids were behind the strange goings-on, maybe she’d lose some of the fear that was driving her to the signature line. The fat lady needed to be convinced she was dealing with something otherworldly. Something too big for her. Time to remind her this wasn’t kid stuff. By the time he scared off this group of renters, she’d be begging to sell the place.
The Ghost was on a roll, and he definitely needed to keep trusting his instincts. And right now his gut told him it was time to knock Do-Right back on his heels. Get him out of the way. It wasn’t a change of plans. Not really. He was just accelerating what he’d already planned to do.
The knife and the note were already in his backpack. If he did this tonight, he’d need to slip the 3mil wet suit on under his hoodie—which was rolled up tight in his pack, too. Not really made for how cold the water would be, but he wouldn’t be in long. The one-piece 3mil was flexible. Anything thicker would have been too bulky for the pack, anyway. He could quickly slip this one on. He had everything with him he’d need. It was like he really did have a subconscious sixth sense that had prompted him to bring the extra gear.
He hated the idea of leaving to change. Any time he was out in the open, he increased his chances of being spotted. But it was plenty dark behind the rental. Just a remote stand of trees. The Ghost could have his wet suit on in two minutes.
He lowered his pack. Decision made. Trust your gut.
The Ghost stripped down to his nylon basketball shorts. Stuffed his T-shirt into his pack. The night air felt good against his bare upper body. He flexed. Stretched. And slipped into the one-piece neoprene suit. He grabbed the zipper-pull strap and secured the back. He stuffed his shoes in the pack and pulled on dive booties. He slipped on a weight belt. A few extra pounds wouldn’t slow him a bit—and would give him the help he needed later. He slipped the face-covering over his head. Black latex gloves. The hoodie was next. He didn’t really need it—or want it—but it was all about keeping a consistent look. That was important.
He fished one of the giant light sticks out of his pack and tucked it in his waistband. He dug a little deeper in his pack until he found Do-Right’s dive knife with the note he’d rubber-banded around it. All set. And in under two minutes.
He slipped to the corner of the rental in total stealth mode, staying with the shadows.
The fat lady wrapped a beach towel around the kid from the dive shop. Funny how he ended up wet again. And he’d be in some serious high water before the Ghost was finished schooling him. Do-Right, too. And who was that other kid? He’d find him before this was over.
The whole group of them walked to the house—and went inside. The Ghost couldn’t have scripted it better himself. Getting so many of the players in one spot at one time? It was almost as if he could will something to happen—and it did. One thing he was certain of. His own powers were far beyond what he imagined.
CHAPTER 60
Saturday, June 11, 9:45 p.m.
ELLA ACTUALLY BELIEVED HARLEY’S CRAZY STORY—even though she wished she didn’t. It was hard to stay angry with a guy after hearing his side of things. Grams believed him too, which was obvious by the way she encouraged him to take another scone. He spilled everything. Breaking into Steadman’s. Planting evidence at Parker’s. Going back to get rid of the light sticks—which he pulled out as proof. But it was what he said about his conversation with Scorza that clinched it for her.
“All that,” Ella said, “because you wanted to be my friend? Why didn’t you just buy me a pizza or something? We’d have all been your friends.”
“It was stupid—and I’m really sorry,” he said. “I had no idea how this was really hurting you—and Mrs. Houston.”
Parker looked ticked. “So you were the one my dad was chasing when he got hit?”
“That was . . . somebody else. I’m the one who clocked you with the closet pole.”
“Oh, that makes me feel way better.” Parker was really laying on the sarcasm.
“I didn’t know it was you. Honest. I thought it was that Shadow-man guy.” He told them about how he’d been attacked at the boat launch.
“I made a mess of things, I know.” He looked directly at Ella. “But after hearing how you needed the rentals, I thought I’d hang around and make sure nobody tried doing something to your place.”
He seemed like he wanted to turn things around, but Ella wasn’t about to pin a medal on his chest just yet. “Another one of your plans that didn’t work out so well, eh?”
Harley angled his head and hit it with the heel of his hand—like he was still trying to get the water out of his ear. “I guess.”
“I can take care of myself, Mr. Lotitto. Or do I need to get the hose to demonstrate again?”
Harley laughed. “No, I’m good. I’m just sorry I didn’t get a look at the guy who smashed your window.”
“I’ll show you,” Parker said. He had the app up on his phone, and was going back in the recorded footage. “Here.”
