Every hidden thing, p.7
Every Hidden Thing, page 7
Parker nearly stumbled in his rush downhill. He’d cross Beach Street, and then he’d have to make a decision. Slip onto Front Beach and take the shoreline rocks to Bearskin, or stick with the sidewalk?
The beach would almost guarantee the guy with the pickup wouldn’t find him, but if Shadow-man was still following—did he really want to chance meeting him all alone out on the rocks? No thanks.
Parker booked it out of the cemetery and across Beach Street, checking over his shoulder as he did. No green glow. Not a soul in the cemetery. Not living anyway.
“You did it, Parker,” he whispered. “You lost him.”
CHAPTER 13
THE GHOST WATCHED THE KID, still trying to figure out why he’d shouted inside the house. It was a risky move. Was the kid just stupid that way?
Keeping up with the boy had been easy—and he hadn’t even broken a sweat doing it. He’d tucked the glow stick into his waistband under his hoodie and did one of the things he did best: dropped into ghost mode. He’d stuck with the shadows, anticipated where the kid would run, and found a more efficient way to get there. Rolling anticipation, the ability to plan and adjust in real time—he’d always had a knack for that. And once again his abilities hadn’t let him down.
At first, the kid had taken off like a scared rabbit. By the time he got to the cemetery the panic seemed to be gone. Even from a distance, he could tell the kid kept his head. He was thinking. Which meant the kid wasn’t stupid—and shouting inside the house had been a calculated risk. What made him do it?
And he hadn’t called 9-1-1. If he had, there would have been sirens by now.
So if the kid wasn’t stupid, that meant he had some steel in his spine. The kid intrigued him. There wasn’t one kid in a hundred who’d be gutsy enough to chance scaring a burglar away before calling for help. They’d slink off to a safe place, call 9-1-1, and let the real men do the work. Obviously the kid had been scared—but he’d mastered his fear enough to stick his head inside the house. Impressive.
Which was the real reason he’d followed the kid. Something inside him said this kid wasn’t to be underestimated. The kid could think on his feet—and had his own code of conduct . . . even if that meant doing something absolutely out of his league. Not that the kid could possibly slow him down, but getting a little intel on your adversary was never a bad idea. If he played this right, the kid might even be turned into an asset.
Shouting inside the house wasn’t an impulsive thing. It wasn’t done for the same reason that a kid might take a dare. The kid did it because he was trying to stop the place from getting trashed—which would have definitely happened if he’d waited to get help. It was the same character trait that made a stranger on the beach rush out into the surf to save a drowning victim instead of searching for a lifeguard first. The kid was a do-gooder. A regular Dudley Do-Right.
The Ghost smiled. That was it. That was the kid’s motive for getting involved. Once he’d locked on to an adversary’s motivation, it was only a matter of time until he’d find a way to use that to defeat him—or lure him into a trap. The results would be the same either way. The kid’s greatest strength was something inside that drove him to do the right thing. And there was always a way of turning a strength into a definite weakness if the kid didn’t let this go.
The Ghost stood on the hill of the Old First Parish Burying Ground and watched the kid pause on Beach Street long enough to look behind him. Obviously Dudley Do-Right didn’t see him. But he felt him, didn’t he? He had taken the most direct route to get to the most public place possible. He kind of admired the kid’s instincts. And shedding his T-shirt like that showed the boy was thinking ahead—probably to throw off the irate neighbor who might go looking for him. “Nicely done, Mr. Do-Right.”
There was no need to follow Do-Right anymore tonight. He’d seen enough—and learned plenty. There was no way the Ghost was just going to walk into the busiest part of town. It wouldn’t be hard to find the kid later if he needed to. “See you later, Do-Right.”
The Ghost hustled inland, staying with the shadows. Right now, there were a couple of other things he needed to get done. Maybe he’d use Do-Right’s T-shirt somehow to mix things up a little. To send the kid a little message.
Anticipating what his opponent would do—and staying one step ahead. That was the Ghost’s way. So the next question was whether the kid would let this go or not. Clearly Do-Right was a do-gooder, and he’d keep poking his sniffer into this—trying to do the next right thing. Which meant he may get in the way again.
And if he got too close? That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? But there really was no decision to make. He’d laid out his battle strategy months ago. If anyone got too close . . . he’d deal with it. So if Mr. Do-Right got too warm . . . the Ghost would put him on ice.
Do-Right would have an unfortunate accident—just like that kid at the quarry.
CHAPTER 14
PARKER GULPED IN DEEP BREATHS—the cramp in his side stabbing deep each time. He heard his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Staying right there on the sidewalk at the entrance to Front Beach was stupid. Too visible—and with nobody around to help if he needed it. Parker jogged up the sidewalk to the corner of Beach and Main. There were more lights, and with them came a feeling of safety.
The entrance to Bearskin Neck was shrouded in fog. Shop lights were no more than a dim haze. He needed to change his plans. How smart would it be to go out on the Neck where he could easily get trapped? What he really needed was to call for help. Now.
He glanced over his shoulder. No hooded pursuer carrying a glow stick. And no pickup barreling down the road with an angry Mr. F-150 at the wheel.
Thank you, God. Parker doubled over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He drove a fist in his side to ease the cramp. “It’s over, Parker. You made it.” Saying it aloud helped. Sort of. But it didn’t feel like it was over. The thought nagged at him like the stitch in his side. Maybe it was just beginning.
From this vantage point he could see anyone approaching from all directions. And window-shoppers strolled along the sidewalk on Main less than half a block away. This was the perfect place to make a call.
Parker pulled out his phone and dialed Dad. It immediately went to voicemail. He left a quick message and hung up. He should be calling 9-1-1, right? Or Mom? But what was the point? Shadow-man was gone. He knew exactly who he should call—and dialed Mr. Steadman. His boss answered on the second ring.
“Swabbie?” he said, the smile obvious in his voice. “Got the place shipshape for the renters?”
He gave Steadman a twenty-second recap—including where he was hiding out.
“Are you okay?” Steadman’s tone completely changed. “Are you still being followed?”
Just hearing Steadman’s voice made Parker feel safer. “Nobody is chasing me—at least not that I can see—not anymore.” He watched down Beach Street—just in case. “Except for a nasty side ache, I’m fine. I’m sorry about your place—”
“I’ll pick you up—and call the police on the way,” Steadman said. “Stay put. I’ll be there in two minutes.”
Parker pressed himself against the building and waited. He checked down Main Street to make sure tourists were still around. Just knowing people were close helped. He shook the antsy feeling out of his hands. Bounced on the balls of his feet. Stretched his calves. His gimpy arm. And watched. He didn’t take his eyes off the street for one second.
True to his word, Boss roared up Main from the direction of Bearskin Neck a couple of minutes later. He pulled over to the curb, his passenger window down. “Hop in.”
Mr. Steadman kept scanning the street like he expected Shadow-man to materialize somehow. Parker climbed in, locked the door, and rolled up his window. For the first time since Parker saw the glow inside the house, he allowed himself to truly relax. Even if Shadow-man showed up in front of them, he couldn’t get at Parker inside the truck. And nobody in his right mind would mess with Boss. El said he’d been a Navy Seal—and Parker believed it. The guy had a quiet confidence about him. Not arrogant, or anything like that. But Parker just picked up a vibe that the guy could handle himself if a situation got dicey.
Steadman pulled a 9mm Glock from a belt holster and laid it on the console between them. “Don’t touch this, okay? I’ve got one in the chamber. And don’t worry, I’m totally legal. Got my concealed carry permit—although I’d carry even if I didn’t have one. A man’s got to do what’s right for himself. You remember that.”
Right now Parker didn’t care if Steadman had a permit or not. Seeing the gun there was reassuring. “You always carry?”
“Always. Police are on their way to check the rental,” Mr. Steadman said, “although I’m sure the perp is long gone.” He eyed his rearview mirror, then the side mirrors. “Keep your eyes peeled. You see this green light guy—you give me an o’clock.” He pointed straight down the center of the road. “Twelve o’clock.” Jerked his thumb behind him. “Six o’clock. Got it?”
Parker nodded. “Thanks for picking me up, Boss—and so quick.”
“Roger that.” Steadman smiled. “I may have broken the speed limit—just a bit. But you’re okay—right? He didn’t touch you?”
“Thank God he never got that close.”
“Well, I’d like to get close to him,” Mr. Steadman said. “Close enough to rearrange his face.”
Parker would love to see that. But rearranging his face was impossible—even for an ex–Navy Seal. Shadow-man had no face.
CHAPTER 15
PARKER DIALED HIS DAD AGAIN. Still no answer. Where was he?
For an instant he thought about calling his mom, but quickly ditched the idea. Excuse me, Mr. ex–Navy Seal guy, while I call my mommy. No thanks. Parker could wait until he was alone before trying her.
Steadman pulled away from the curb. “The police told me to bring you to the station for questioning. Want me to swing by your house first—see if your mom or dad is there?”
Parker didn’t want to tie Steadman up longer than he needed to. “That’s okay. I’ll keep trying to call. I figure you’re in a hurry to check the rental yourself.”
Steadman growled. “Exactly what I’d like—but Officer Rankin made it pretty clear he wants to investigate—alone.”
“Rankin?”
Steadman glanced at Parker. “You know him?”
Parker shook his head. “Not really. It’s just that he, uh, talked to me before.” Interrogated him was more like it.
Steadman cut him a look. “Don’t like the guy, huh?”
Parker shrugged. “I don’t think he likes me.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve actually talked with him before tonight.” Steadman glanced at Parker. “And there was something about him I didn't like.” Steadman gripped the wheel and rolled his hands a bit, like he was revving a motorcycle. “Anyway, Rankin said he’ll go through the place with his gun drawn. If I show up, he might accidently put a couple rounds in me.” The frustration in his voice was obvious. “I don’t think he was kidding, either.”
Was this all Parker’s fault? Had he left the back door unlocked after he’d cleaned the windows earlier? Is that how Shadow-man got inside? Parker had worked so hard to be a person of integrity. He’d have to tell Mr. Steadman, wouldn’t he?
Steadman checked his rearview and side mirrors. “You mind if we take the roundabout way to the station? I just have to make sure of something.”
Parker shook his head. It would give him more time to build his nerve to tell Boss the whole truth. He had to tell him, right? Telling someone only half the truth was pretty much telling them a lie.
A minute later Steadman pulled onto Mills Street—a half block from Bayport. The police cruiser was out front, lights flashing—but siren off. Steadman pulled to the side of the road and watched for a moment. He loosened his grip on the wheel. “At least he’s there. I guess I can relax a bit.”
And Parker wouldn’t relax until he spilled that one little detail. “Boss?”
He told him about the back door being unlocked. The very one he’d left the house from after he’d finished with the windows in the morning. “So I’m afraid this is my fault.”
Steadman looked at him for a long moment. Like he was trying to figure him out. But there was no anger there, that was clear. “You don’t know that, Swabbie. The plumber may have left it open. And how do you know the burglar didn’t jimmy the door? Don’t strap on a pack that’s not yours to carry.”
Which made Parker feel a little bit better. And Steadman was right. Parker couldn’t be sure if he’d left the door open or not. Or maybe the guy got in another way. “I just wanted to be up front.”
Steadman smiled and shook his head. “Even if you did leave it unlocked, it was an honest mistake. Don’t beat yourself up, Parker. The person who trespassed is the criminal here—not you. That guy targeted my rental—and he was going to get in whether a door was locked or not. Maybe the burglar unlocked it himself for a quick getaway if he needed it. I’m just glad the guy didn’t get his hands on you.”
Parker couldn’t agree more.
“And I’m glad you called me when you did. But next time, I’ll check the house myself first, then call the police.”
Parker hoped there wouldn’t be a next time.
The boss shifted the truck back into gear and pulled away. “Nothing more to see here, I guess.”
Steadman made it to the police station in record time. Probably because he never came to a complete stop for any stop sign. He paced outside in front of the station. Checked his watch. Called the renter—who backed out of the deal by the way it sounded to Parker. Boss looked totally frustrated when he pocketed his phone.
Which didn’t make Parker feel any better.
“My place gets burglarized, and I’m not allowed to even go there to check it out. How do you like that?”
Parker was pretty sure he wasn’t expecting an answer. Parker kept his mouth shut and tried dialing his dad again. Still no answer.
Steadman eyed Parker. “How are you processing all this? Doing okay?”
The truth was, Parker was still a little numb. But even now he felt a seismic shift had happened inside. He told Steadman about the night Devin Catsakis drowned—and about the mysterious Shadow-man he was following. “I’d always hoped that Shadow-man thing was just something Devin made up. Which meant his drowning was a freak accident. But deep down I think I knew Devin saw something. And after what I saw tonight?” Parker shook his head.
“You’re thinking the drowning wasn’t an accident.”
“I’m sure of it now. Which means I have to figure this out. I can’t let whoever—or whatever—did this to Devin get away with it.”
Steadman gave him a look that was kind of, well, parental. “Well, I hope you’re wrong, Swabbie. Because if you start poking into this—and you’re right about what happened to Devin?”
He didn’t need to finish. “Right. I’ll have to be careful.”
Steadman laughed. “I was going to say, stay away from the quarry. But being careful works, too.”
A police SUV rolled into sight and pulled into the lot. A big man swung out of the driver’s seat. Steadman hustled over with Parker right on his heels.
Parker recognized him immediately—even before he saw the name RANKIN stamped on his brass nameplate. It was definitely the same cop who’d questioned him after Devin’s accident.
Rankin stood nearly two inches taller than Steadman—which put him at what, six foot three? Steadman seemed a little more compact, but Rankin still looked plenty strong—and intimidating.
“Nobody at the house,” Rankin said. “But someone definitely was there. You’ll have one nasty mess to clean up.”
Steadman ran his hands through his hair like he just wanted to get to Bayport and see it for himself.
“TV, appliances—everything is still there. But you’ll need to do a full inventory to see if anything is missing,” Rankin said. “Back door lock busted—like the thing had been forced.”
Instantly Parker felt a tiny bit of relief.
Steadman reached over and clapped him on the back. “See?”
Rankin gave Parker a once-over. “You the one who spotted the burglar?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you call your mom or dad?” Rankin motioned them toward the building. “I’d like to ask you a few questions, but it’s probably best if your parents are here.”
Parker explained the trouble he’d had reaching his dad. “I’ll keep trying to get them, but I can answer a few questions without my mom or dad here.” He didn’t think he had anything to hide.
They followed Rankin to a cramped office in the station. Rankin shifted stacks of paper and mail from chairs.
“Officer Rankin,” Steadman said, “any idea who did this?”
Rankin glanced at Parker for an instant with a curious look on his face. Like he recognized Parker, but couldn’t place him. If Parker’s sleeves were rolled up, Rankin would have made the connection the instant he saw the scars. “No clues, if that’s what you mean. I’ll be checking for prints later, but I wouldn’t be too optimistic about that. There were none at the other places.”
Parker looked from Rankin to Steadman, and back. “Other places?”
Rankin got an annoyed look on his face, like he’d said something he hadn’t intended Parker to hear.
“There’ve been other burglaries,” Steadman said. “All of them in the last month or so, right?”
Rankin hesitated.
“Officer, c’mon,” Steadman said. “It’s not like people don’t know. Word gets around.”
But not to Parker. Obviously he wasn’t that well connected.
“Yes.” Rankin kept his eyes on Parker, like he was still trying to pull up his file. “All in the last month.”
