It worked. A new message from his dad.
Still, it was only a minor stroke of luck.
Hey, LM! Hoping to have free time later. Maybe at 1 or 2. Let me know if you’ll be around.
“Shit,” Everett grumbled, glancing at the time. It was only noon, and his mom would be back by 1:00, and then she wanted to go for ice cream, which would have been a great idea on another day.
He looked at the door, then back at the screen. She’d been gone only five minutes, and he’d have plenty of warning if she came back.
Before he could lose his nerve, Everett got up, went into his mom’s room, and opened the drawer of her nightstand as his neck prickled with the false warning that she was watching. He tried to ignore it but still looked back at the doorway a couple of times as he lifted a home-and-garden magazine to find her clunky old tablet.
Hoping she didn’t use it often, he slipped it free and quietly slid the drawer closed. Every once in a while when Everett was sick, she let him take it to his room to watch cartoons, but otherwise she had a strict “internet in the family room only” policy. The public service propaganda had convinced her he’d get lured into being kidnapped or exploited somehow if he managed to log on outside her supervision.
After opening Discord in the browser window, he logged on, and even though the whole thing moved at a snail’s pace and took forever to load, it worked. Everett stowed the tablet under his bed.
Back on the computer, he answered his dad, letting him know he’d do his best to be online between 1:00 and 2:00; then he closed the window and jumped up to reheat the leftovers his mom had left for lunch.
At 12:30, he headed out to do his chores, to ensure his mom wouldn’t knock on his door at 1:30 and tell him to get busy. He quickly passed two of the buildings without even bothering to check for open locks. He had more interesting things to occupy him now, and his mom wouldn’t know he hadn’t checked. But the garbage was another thing entirely. It seemed self-generating and had to be emptied every day.
He quickly hit the four garbage cans placed throughout the complex and found they were stuffed full of the usual forbidden trash listed on the can. Cardboard boxes, packing paper, Styrofoam peanuts. He sighed and switched out the bags, then jogged to the big dumpster with all the overstuffed trash before digging the key out of his pocket.
If they didn’t keep it locked up, people would throw away anything. Old furniture, computers, broken televisions, a dozen boxes full of VHS tapes, used tires. Once his mom had seen someone leaving a sleeper sofa next to the dumpster, and she’d had to march out and yell at them. That was the first time he’d ever heard her say curse words in front of him. She’d apologized later and let him get out his popsicle-making kit despite that she always grumbled it was cheaper to buy the store brand instead of using fruit juice. The store-bought kind tasted better too, but he didn’t admit that to her.
Everett slammed the trash lid, locked it up, and sprinted back through the complex on his normal route.
He’d already fully passed one of the alleys before he registered the vehicle there at the same moment he heard his mom’s laugh. He skidded to a stop. Took three backward steps. Stared in absolute shock.
His mom was perched on the back of an SUV, a sandwich in her hand, her smiling face turned toward a man. He was not an old man. He was dark haired and skinny, maybe his mom’s age. But he was parked in front of Alex Bennick’s half-open locker.
As Everett gaped at them, his mom glanced up and visibly jumped at the sight of him. “Everett! Oh hi!” She set down the sandwich and slid to her feet. “This is my son, Everett! Ev, this is Alex.”
Alex. His name was Alex. And when he got to his feet and smiled, there was no mistaking that face. This was one of the teenagers from those pictures in Alex Bennick’s house.
“Hey there, Everett!” Thankfully he didn’t come closer or reach out a hand; he just gave a little wave.
Everett gawked at him.
“We’re having sandwiches,” his mom said, her voice a little strained. When she took a step toward him, the bubble of shock around his brain popped, and a thought floated to the surface. He’s in town taking care of things for his uncle . . .
Holy shit. Oh holy shit.
“Ev?”
“Yeah,” he managed to say, because he couldn’t let this guy know. He couldn’t give anything away. “Sorry,” he muttered, moving again, walking past the alley, leaving them alone, because what if he said something, what if he gave something away and this man sensed danger, and—
“I’ll be back in a few minutes!” his mom called after him, and that was good, because he would watch carefully until then. Make sure that guy left, and then he could tell his mom, warn her.
He was sprinting again, not back to his dad this time, but to his bedroom and the snapshot he’d hidden in his backpack. He slammed through the front door and raced to kneel next to his bed and dig through his bag. When his fingers touched the stiff corner, he pulled the Polaroid out to check. That guy was definitely the teenage boy in this picture. He had to be. There was no mistaking that stupid wide grin.
But what the hell did it mean? Was he dangerous? Or was he just helping his dangerous uncle?
Shit. Josephine probably wasn’t back from church yet. He couldn’t text her for advice. But then it didn’t matter because he heard the front door open, and he only had time to stuff the picture into his backpack and flop down on the bed.
“Hey, are you all right?” his mom asked as she appeared in the doorway. She was okay. She was home.
“Who was that guy?” Everett blurted out, unable to think of some subtle way to ask.
“The one I had lunch with? That’s Alex. He’s in town going through his uncle’s things.”
“His uncle?” When she nodded, a good thought seized Everett, and he sat up. “He died?”
“What? No, his uncle is in a nursing home in town. He can’t take care of himself anymore, so Alex is here to help go through his things and make some decisions for him.”
“Oh. So is that who you had dinner with too?”
“I . . . Um. Yes. And today he was working here so he picked up lunch for me. That’s all. It’s not . . .” Whatever she’d been about to say, she decided not to say it and closed her mouth.
“But who is he? Do you know anything about him?”
She shrugged. “I mean . . . He lives in Memphis. He worked for a newspaper.”
Memphis. “But he grew up here?”
“No, he didn’t. I think he said Ohio.”
Everett relaxed a little. That was good news. Very good news. Tennessee and Ohio, those places were far away from the murders. And if he wasn’t involved . . . Was it possible Everett could ask him why his uncle had collected the information? But he couldn’t ask without revealing his trespassing.
His mom moved closer, then sat on his bed, her hand reaching for his knee. “Ev, are you upset that I went on a date?”
“No,” he protested immediately.
“Because it wasn’t even really—”
“I’m not upset about that.”
“Well . . . you did tell me to do something on my own.”
He frowned at the awkward smile his mom pulled. “What?”
Sighing, she slumped a little. “Nothing. Look, I’m home now, so it doesn’t matter.”
“Is he gone?”
“I’m not sure. Probably. He was just grabbing a few more things. And he’s leaving town soon.” She patted his leg. “Want to go get ice cream?”
Everett’s eyes slid away toward the open door and the computer beyond it.
His mom sighed again, and he felt guilty, though he wasn’t sure why. “It’s fine. I need to study, anyway. Maybe later.” She sounded tired. But she was safe, and that was all that mattered.