She mumbled, “You said you liked it,” as she pulled into traffic.
“Whatever. But I need to follow up with some robotics stuff, so I’ll be online a lot tonight.”
“No problem. I’m meeting the auctioneer to cut a lock when we get back, so you can have the computer. Are there going to be fees involved?”
“I don’t know.”
“All right, give me the bad news when you get it.”
Everett slid down in his seat and stared out the window as they reached the highway and sped up.
“Everett . . . are you okay?”
He could ask her if he wanted. Ask her about that cop and where she’d gone. Or he could confess his own secrets and see if his stomach felt better. But that was a terrible idea, because that might heal his stomach, but it would absolutely destroy any chance he had of ever going outside again. He’d be on house arrest for sure, his mom constantly muttering about her stupid job and how he’d put it in danger. Watching him with that worried look that made him feel more like his dad than anything did . . .
“I’m fine,” he bit out. “But if we lived anywhere else I could just walk home. This is so stupid.”
“Not true,” she snapped back. “Plenty of kids around here live on farms way farther out than our place. Maybe I should wake you up at five a.m. to do chores, and see if you think they have it better.”
“Jesus,” he whispered, crossing his arms tight and glaring out at the highway signs as they whipped past.
As soon as they got home, she told him to start his homework, and Everett happily retreated to his room. He dropped his backpack in front of his door so he could buy himself a second of warning; then he opened his window and left it open. Shadow hopped right up, and Everett slid a food bowl to the floor on the far side of his bed where it wasn’t visible from the doorway. Once she was happily settled, he joined Shadow on the floor and reached beneath his mattress for the one yellowed piece of newspaper he’d smuggled out of that storage unit.
Lynn Cotti. She’d been missing for two years when the article was written, but the snippet of text was just a brief story clearly prompted by the poor woman’s mother. “She left for a week or two before, but that was nothing like this,” Maria Cotti had said. “I just want answers.”
There was no specific investigator mentioned in the story, just a general response that the Herriman police had followed up on every lead they received.
Lynn Cotti had been at a party in town on the night of May 21, 2002, and then she’d left. Alone or with someone else, nobody seemed to know. She’d been at the party, and then she’d never been seen again, and that was the whole story.
Her absence hadn’t even been noted for over a week, but when her roommate had called her mother, her mom had phoned the police. Lynn had been twenty years old, a high-school dropout, and a big sister who loved playing gin rummy with her two younger siblings.
Everett briefly wondered what might be said about him if he disappeared. It would probably wind up being a story about his dad. Maybe they’d accuse Everett of running away to join him. Maybe he should. It would be way more exciting than this place.
He immediately felt guilty for the thought. He knew his mom had been the one to take care of him all these years. He loved her; she was just always so there.
When Shadow finished her food and climbed into his lap, Everett cuddled her close and absorbed her purring into his body as he imagined an article starting with his newfound love for robotics above a picture of him in his Green Gardening Club T-shirt. He managed a laugh at that.
Then he imagined his mom looking for him like Maria Cotti had looked for her kid. What would his mom even do with her time if Everett wasn’t around? More online classes? Or maybe she’d get married or something.
He froze when he heard the office door open. When his mom’s footsteps creaked closer, he carefully lifted Shadow and set her outside before yanking the blinds down.
“Ev?” she called through his door. “I’m heading out to snip a lock for an auction. You doing okay?”
“I’m fine!” he yelled back.
She’d be gone for a good while. She had to document the belongings removed from a locker, so she couldn’t just snap off a lock and leave.
Everett tiptoed to the apartment door and listened as his mom left. Then he listened harder before he dared to crack open the door to the office. He glanced toward the security camera mounted above the front desk to confirm it was still pointed straight at the door, and then he crept over to the computer.
It was password protected, but he’d sat at this desk next to his mom often enough, smelling the bitter coffee smell that always wafted from the mug next to the keyboard. He knew she used the same password they used on their personal computer.
“Yes,” he whispered when it fired up. But his victory quickly deflated into cold defeat. He’d expected a helpful app with the storage company logo, but at first all he could find were spreadsheets. He finally found an icon for something called Star Logistics, but it only opened a primitive program asking for codes and IDs he couldn’t puzzle out.
“Shit.”
Everett turned to the metal filing cabinets instead. The top drawer seemed filled with mostly blank forms, but the second yielded better results. He immediately grabbed the file labeled B Building Leases—Current and slapped it open on the desk.
“B8,” he muttered as he flipped through the dozens of sheets. “B8, come on.” And there it was, finally. The last page in the file.
Lease Application was typed across the top of the form. The lessee name was filled out in blocky blue ink: Alex Bennick. He recognized his mom’s handwriting below that, naming the unit as B8 and listing the monthly and annual rent charges. That application was stapled to a signed one-page contract. The third sheet was a photocopy of a driver’s license.
An old man.
Everett stared at the unsmiling face for a long time, hoping for a hint. The guy did look like he could be a murderer. And he was right here among them. He’d stood in this room a few feet from their home; he’d spoken to Everett’s mom. Everett shuddered as he looked at the man’s pale skin and narrowed eyes. His flat, hard mouth and short white buzzcut. The copy was grayscale, so Everett couldn’t see the color of his eyes, but the license said blue.
Were they in danger?
Everett blew out a hard breath. Probably not. He could be a bad guy. But he could also just be one of the grumpy old men who got coffee at McDonald’s on school mornings. A grizzled farmer. A bitter retired cop. The guy they brought in to drive the school bus when the regular driver got sick.
Then again, he supposed any of those men could be murderers too. That was the point, wasn’t it? They were always neighbors and fathers and coworkers.
Everett winced when a distant bang of hollow metal chimed from somewhere deep in the complex. He darted to the window to look through the blinds, but the only movement was the nub of a stray dandelion bobbing from a crack in the sidewalk.
He quickly slipped the page into the copier and waited for the flash before stuffing it right back into the folder. One second later, he’d slammed the file drawer, grabbed the copy, and strode straight back to safety. When he got to the desk in their apartment, he hurriedly jotted down the date of the lease agreement before he forgot. It had been rented only two years before.
With his mom out of the office, he could check absolutely anything online, because he’d have plenty of time to close windows and delete history before she made it all the way inside the apartment. Hunching over the keyboard, he began his search.