Exposure (33 page)

I thought about the bloodstain at the Gable house. The labeled bar in the ransom video. Both pieces of information could be useful to the investigation.

But explaining
how
we obtained that evidence might land us in juvie.

I looked at Corcoran. He glared back. That made up my mind.

“Just one other thing. I think you should look into Rex Gable. The twins’ stepfather.”

“
Excuse
me?” Corcoran sat forward, red-faced. “What are you implying, young lady?”

“Some of his actions since the twins went missing seem . . . questionable.” I couldn’t mention his phone records, but was trying to push them in that direction. “I’m just saying that Rex Gable might merit additional consideration.”

“Of course,” Corcoran scoffed. “The evil stepfather is the culprit. Thank goodness we have Nancy Drew on the case.”

Kit straightened. “Now wait just a min—”

“Dr. Howard, we’ve been down this road before.” Corcoran shook his head. “These kids have gained a little notoriety recently. So now, suddenly, they think they’re expert crime fighters. I think the celebrity status has gone to their heads.”

My temper exploded. “And
I
think you’re still the same stupid, brain-dead—”

“Everyone, please!” Hawfield looked like he’d rather be anywhere else on the planet. “Let’s not lose our composure. Miss Brennan, we’ll take your opinion under advisement.”

I knew what that meant. But what else could I do?

“We done here?” Ben’s first words.

Hawfield and Corcoran wheeled on him as one.

Abruptly, I got a bad feeling.

“Mr. Blue.” Hawfield’s voice became less cordial. “Are you able to give an account of your whereabouts on Thursday evening?”

Ben’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Please answer the question.”

“I was in Mongolia. Surfing.”

“Don’t get cute, son.” Shifting his bulk, Corcoran attempted to loom menacingly. “You might’ve wriggled off the last hook, but you’ve got no more get-out-of-jail-free cards.”

My eyes widened. “Are you suggesting
Ben
had something to do with Ella’s disappearance?”

“I’m not suggesting
anything,
” Hawfield said curtly. “I simply asked a question.”

Ben’s face reddened, but he answered. “I was at home. Watching TV.”

“Was anyone with you?”

Ben shook his head. “My mother works second shift this week.”

Corcoran crossed his arms. “What about the morning of March twenty-eighth?”

“No idea.”

Corcoran leaned on the table. “Think. Harder.”

Ben’s face went rigid. I could see him shutting down.

“That’s enough.” Kit put a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “We came here voluntarily, to provide information regarding Ella’s abduction. Not to be interrogated. If you want to ask Ben any more questions, you’ll need to speak with his parents first.”

Then my father steeled his voice. “And let me be frank—accusing this boy of having anything to do with the kidnappings is offensive and grotesque. I expect better from our police.”

Captain Corcoran snorted, but said no more.

Hawfield rose quickly. “Thank you for coming down. If you’ll follow me, we can knock out those statements . . .”

• • •

I walked outside and stretched. The paperwork had taken over an hour.

Ben sat on a bench nearby, staring at nothing.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He slid over, making room for me to sit.

After a slight hesitation, I did.

For several moments, neither of us spoke. I sat very still, feeling awkward, watching a gaggle of children play hopscotch in the riverside park across the street.

“They think I know something,” Ben said sourly. “That I might be working with someone again. ‘Craving the spotlight,’ Corcoran said.”

“I wish you had an alibi.”

His head spun. “Why?
You
don’t think I had anything—”

“Ben, no! I just meant that it’d be easier. That they’d go away.”

Ben held my gaze. His shell was crumbling. I saw raw emotion hiding behind his eyes.

“Because if you thought I was capable of something like . . . like
that,
I might . . .” His voice cracked. “I couldn’t take it.”

He looked away. The harbor breeze ruffled his silky black hair.

My hand found his, almost by its own volition. “Ben.”

“What?” He didn’t turn.

“I want you to know that I forgive you. It’s past time I told you that.”

He tensed. I squeezed his hand, letting him know I meant the words.

I did. I couldn’t be mad at Ben anymore. It was like being mad at my left arm.

And right then, I needed my arm back.

Ben’s head dropped. Then, shockingly, his shoulders began to shake.

“I never meant for . . . It wasn’t supposed to . . .”

“
Shhh.
” I scootched close, wrapped an arm around him. “I know. I know.”

I heard snivels, desperately masked. Ben’s whole body trembled. Then he relaxed.

“I’m sorry about the flaring.” Wiping his checks with his palms. “I can be such an idiot sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” I joked, trying to lighten the mood. “I understand. Let’s just tone things down for a while, until we figure out what’s wrong.”

“Okay.” He sat back, too embarrassed to look at me.

Our hands parted. My arm slipped from his shoulder.

“I just wish we could
do
something.” Ben punched his thigh. “For Ella, and Lucy and Peter. Some whacked-out monster has them, and we’ve got these incredible gifts. But right now, they don’t mean anything. We’re nowhere. I’ve never felt so . . .
useless.
”

“Helpless.” I hugged myself close. “It’s like I can see Ella drowning, but can’t save her.”

Unbidden, thoughts of my friend flooded my mind. Her mischievous smile as we whispered secrets in calculus. The two of us laughing at the terrible artwork. A quick give-and-go we’d executed on the practice field.

Ella Francis had become one of my closest friends. Maybe even a best one.

My own walls caved. Tears trickled from the corner of my eyes.

Then strong arms enveloped me.

“Don’t cry.” Ben’s hot breath on my cheek. “We’ll find her. And the twins. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I hiccupped. “People
always
do that.”

“I mean it.” Firmly spoken. “I won’t
let
us fail. Not at this.”

The sobs broke free. I burrowed into Ben’s chest, letting everything go. I cried and cried and cried, unthinking, releasing a week’s worth of pent-up emotion in a few hot seconds.

Ben held me, silent, softly rubbing my back.

A thought floated from somewhere far away.

This isn’t so bad.

I pushed away, gently breaking Ben’s embrace. Looked into his eyes. His face was a whisper from mine.

I thought of Ben’s confession during the hurricane. How he’d wanted to be more than just packmates. Emotions swirled in my chest, making me dizzy. Off balance.

“Ben . . . I . . .”

“Tory?”

My father’s voice sent us flying apart as if electroshocked.

Kit was descending the steps, an odd look on his face.

“Yes?” Discreetly wiping away tears.

I saw a thousand questions fill Kit’s eyes, but, thankfully, he kept them shelved.

“I hate to do this, kiddo, but Whitney’s party starts in an hour. She’s trying to be patient, but, frankly, that isn’t her strong suit.”

“No. Right.” I stood, smoothing clothes and hair. “Mustn’t keep the Duchess waiting.”

Kit frowned. “Say the word, and we cancel right now. No question.”

“No, sorry. I was just being flip. It’s really fine.” Forced smile. “Might be just the thing.”

“All right, then. We need to get moving.”

Kit glanced at Ben, still sitting on the bench, striving for invisible.

A smile quirked my father’s lips. “And you, Mr. Blue? Ready for a good ol’-fashioned backyard barbeque? My daughter will be there.”

Ben’s uneasy smile was his only response.

T
he party was surreal.

The weather that afternoon was perfect. Sunny, mid-seventies, with a light breeze sweeping in off the breakers. Everyone wore shorts, sandals, and shades, luxuriating like house cats in the warm April sun.

The food was top-notch. Whitney had chosen JB’s Smokeshack for catering, and the local barbeque hotspot totally delivered. Spare ribs. Smoked chicken. Pulled pork. Cornbread. Okra casserole. Cabbage. Yellow potato salad. Apple cobbler. I’d shoveled down two plates, and was considering a third.

The whole neighborhood turned out. All twenty of us. Lorelei Devers spread a blanket on the grass, and in moments five more appeared beside hers. Ruth and Linus Stolowitski sat on their stoop, greeting everyone who passed by. Kit bounced here and there, tweaking the sound system, hauling bags of ice, and making sure food and drink flowed smoothly. Tom Blue brought out an old croquet set, and soon half the guests were playing.

Younger kids scampered about, invited by Morris Islanders with family in the area. They ran laughing across the common, or tossed Frisbees and plastic horseshoes. All told, perhaps fifty people were milling about, smiling and stuffing their faces.

All but Coop—Kit made me lock the wolfdog away. Probably for the best.

Above it all lorded Whitney, a queen bee managing her hive. She seemed everywhere at once, greeting new arrivals, stocking the napkin dispensers, even organizing the parking lot. All while wearing a face-splitting smile, and giggling like a schoolgirl, totally in her element.

But even Whitney’s effervescence couldn’t shake the pall hanging over the festivities. Most conversations inevitably gravitated to the kidnappings. Heads shook in dismay. Theories were exchanged. And dozens of surreptitious glances were cast the Virals’ way.

Everyone knew the missing kids were our classmates. Some had learned that Ella and I were close.

I tried to avoid notice.

Though I played the dutiful daughter—wearing a sundress, shaking hands, even helping little ones find a bathroom—inside, I cringed. The whole thing felt like a betrayal.

While I was sipping raspberry lemonade, Ella was imprisoned somewhere.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that I should be doing more.

At least my emotions were in check.

After my crying jag with Ben, it felt like my feelings had simply shut down, or somehow switched off. The well had run empty. I’d gone numb.

In a way, that was good. I felt more capable of rational thought than I had in days.

After the party’s first hectic hour, the boys and I had settled down at the edge of the lawn, where the grass gave way to sand, and eventually surf.

I finished scarfing a bowl of banana pudding and pushed it aside. “We need to discuss our options.”

Hi rolled to a sitting position. He wore an orange Charlotte Bobcats tee and navy shorts.

“We’re stuck,” he said. “The rock is our best clue, but it doesn’t lead anywhere.”

Shelton set down his sweet tea. He wore white on white—polo shirt and cargo shorts. Hi had dubbed it Shelton’s “Carlton” look. I didn’t get it.

“I can’t crack those B-Series files,” he admitted. “The encryption is light-years out of my league. 256-bit keys. The universe will end before anyone forces through
that.
”

“Just do your best,” I encouraged.

“My best won’t get the job done. We need to call Chang.”

“No.” On this point I was certain. “We can’t trust him. We don’t know what’s in those files, and Chang’s already proven he’s a loose cannon. We go it alone.”

Shelton sighed. “I’ll keep looking. Hope for divine intervention.”

“I know you can do it.” Trying to buck him up. “Eddie Chang’s not half as smart as the great Shelton Devers.”

“I don’t know,” Hi said. “That dude’s pretty sharp.”

“Thanks,” Shelton grumbled.

“Now,” Hi continued, “if she’d said
me,
I’d be on board. I’m super intelligent.”

Ben reached up from where he was lying with his eyes closed. Smacked Hi’s dome.

Hi rubbed his head. “I’m getting pretty tired of that move.”

“Then quit being a dope.” Ben’s lids remained shut.

“Hey, sure. No problem. I just need to—”

Hi lunged for Ben, intending a flying body slam. Ben caught Hi in midair and tossed him downhill in one quick motion. Hi tumbled, rolled, and dropped over the berm onto the sand.

“That was dumb,” Hi informed the blue sky.

“Yep,” Ben agreed, settling back on his elbows.

Hi began dusting himself off. “I shouldn’t have spoken before I pounced.”

“Wouldn’t have mattered.” Ben rose and walked to the berm, then extended a hand to help Hi climb up. They sat back down as if it never happened.

Boys.

• • •

The party was winding down.

Caterers began loading their truck as Kit disassembled the tent. Mr. Blue packed up his croquet mallets and headed for the driveway.

Shelton and Hi had already gone inside, leaving Ben and me alone.

Somehow we found ourselves down on the dock.

We sat in companionable silence, tossing sunflower seeds into the surf. The sun dipped in the west. Seagulls rode late afternoon thermals, cawing into the wind.