Surprising himself, he slept soundly. He woke the next morning, certain the police would be standing in his bedroom, but his room was empty. He went into the kitchen, and there was just his dad, home early, looking vacantly at The Washington Post, a half-eaten apple cruller and a cold cup of coffee at his elbow.
Adrian choked down some eggs, went to the site, stood around with the rest of the crew waiting for Frank to show, then getting to work when he didn’t. He stayed on the roof while the cement was poured at Lot 8, keeping a hawk’s eye on the proceedings.
It went off without a hitch.
When the police finally came around asking about Frank, he shrugged along with the rest of the men. And then there was nothing. He was off the hook.
Adrian thought back to that night all the time, analyzing, wondering, trying to figure it all out.
It took a few weeks before it hit him, an insight so frightening it took his breath away, a terrible, awful, wonderful truth. The universe opened, a giant black maw, and the blackness of the sky suddenly had texture, depth, feeling. It caressed his skin and licked softly at his neck.
He’d liked the feeling of the man struggling, because he’d liked the power he felt, being bigger and stronger and holding a stranger’s life in his hands. As for what happened after, when he lost control, well, that was simply the situation. Frank had pushed him over the edge. Right?
Maybe. Maybe not. Adrian wasn’t going to lie to himself. The more he thought about the power he’d felt in those brief moments, the more excited he got. He’d liked it, more than a lot. He’d liked it so much that for the rest of the summer, all he could think of was trying it again.
Chapter
20
Lynchburg, Virginia
SAM WAS FACEDOWN on the cabin floor with all of Xander’s weight on her. The sound of gunshots grew intermittent and farther away until the shooting stopped completely.
“Let me up, Xander. We’re safe.”
With a sigh, he finally relented. She brushed herself off. She’d skinned a knee when he’d dived on top of her and forced her to the floor. At first she’d thought Davidson was shooting at Fletcher, but the shouting told her the two were united, running off after a suspect. She was very relieved and dabbed the blood off her knee with a tissue.
“Do you know who they were shooting at?” she asked.
“All I saw was a flash of red—I think it was the same person we were talking about earlier. Someone else wants info on Timothy Savage.” He touched the abraded skin gently. “Did I do that? I’m sorry.”
She kissed him quickly. “It’s okay. You’re allowed to go all caveman on me when guns are going off. It’s in the job description.”
He smiled, then cocked his head and turned toward the front door. “They’re coming back.”
Fletcher and Davidson appeared on the tiny front porch of the cabin, both sweating and out of breath.
Fletcher’s face was thunderous. “We missed him. And I’m getting damn sick of this ghost following us around.”
Davidson nodded. “It’s the same guy who was lurking around the funeral home. I’m going to bring in some officers and a couple of dogs, go after him before it gets dark. That’s twice today he’s run from me. There won’t be a third.”
“Well, don’t kill him,” Sam said. “He may be the elusive son and heir to Savage’s estate. I doubt us murdering his kid was part of Savage’s game plan. Maybe the boy knows his dad was murdered and he’s being extra careful, sneaking around in case we’re the killers.”
“Or he’s our suspect.” Davidson wiped his broad forehead with the tail of his white shirt. “Our dogs will tree him, not bite him. We’ll have a nice talk and get to the bottom of this. I don’t know why he’s hanging around, but he’s going to get himself killed if he doesn’t stop bumbling around our crime scenes. Speaking of which—”
He looked at Sam, distrust written all over his face. “I went to the lab and you never showed. Why not, who’s this and why don’t you just tell me what y’all are doing out here and quit playing games with me?”
Fletcher said, “Whoa, man. One at a time. You show me yours and I’ll show you mine, get it?”
Davidson crossed his arms and didn’t say a word.
“Okay. We’re here because Sam wanted to see what Savage’s ‘estate’ looked like. Now you share. What happened with Mac Picker?”
“All right. Mac let me look at the files. He’s not lying. There’s no reference to Timothy Savage in their system. Why didn’t you go to the lab like you were supposed to?”
“We got lost. Why did you assume we’d be out here at the crime scene?”
“One of my officers saw you driving out of town. You took the exit for Savage’s place, so I used my noggin and extrapolated that maybe you’d come on out here. What aren’t you telling me?”
Fletcher shrugged. “Nothing. You’ve got it all.”