He nodded. “He would have been in prison anyway.”
True, but he would have been reachable that whole time. Hell, he might have been bored enough to write to Everett every week.
“I’m sorry that—” She choked back a sob. “I’m sorry I didn’t know better. I would have . . .” But what could she say? That she wouldn’t have had him with Jones? If that were true, then Everett wouldn’t exist. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
“Is this about Alex? Or about that detective?”
He pulled back with a shrug, though he seemed more composed now. “I don’t know.”
Maybe he didn’t. Or maybe he’d listened in on yet another conversation with Mendelson.
“Thanks for dinner,” he said, obviously attempting to end the conversation.
She let him. She had no idea if it was the right thing or not, but she let him reach for the handle and get out. Because what could she say? There was no good way out of this. They just had to keep moving forward.
He hopped right on the computer as soon as they walked in, slipping his headphones on in a clear signal that he was done talking. Lily sat down to study, though she wasn’t sure she took anything in. She was too busy staring out the window, alternating between worrying about Everett and worrying about Zoey dropping off Connie and her son.
She’d be an ideal mom after this. No more sneaking around at night, no more lies, and no more suspicious activity that would bring that bastard detective back to disturb her son.
Her skin buzzed as if she’d been enveloped by static electricity, and her shoulders ached under the heavy grip of stress. When Zoey finally texted her with a simple Be there in 15, Lily took her first deep breath in an hour.
All she had to do was meet Zoey at the gate, unlock the unit, and open the gate when Connie’s friend arrived. It wasn’t illegal, and it wasn’t precisely against Neighborhood Storage rules. On the books, after-hours visits weren’t allowed, but she had some discretion. Or to be more precise, no one had ever told her she didn’t.
Lily paced to the window, watching the last drops of rain streak through the halos of security lights. Then she paced back to her bed before returning to the window again.
When her phone buzzed to life, she puffed out a breath of surprise to see Alex’s name appear like magic. Can I treat you to breakfast tomorrow? he asked. A couple of grocery store donuts, maybe? Her tense frown relaxed a little. It was nice to be asked even though she was way too overwhelmed to agree.
Sorry, I can’t tomorrow.
Ok, got it. But I’ll be coming out there, so please don’t think I’m stalking you. I’m only after the storage space.
She sent him a laughing face in response, then put her phone away with a sad sigh, reluctant to return to reality.
She had only digital clocks in her place, but Lily could swear she heard ticking as she stared out, waiting for the telltale glow of headlights to appear. When she couldn’t stay still any longer, she finally excused herself to the office. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she murmured to Everett, who didn’t seem to notice as she grabbed her windbreaker and left the apartment. She watched out the front window until she finally spotted lights on the road.
Zoey’s boxy SUV, usually packed to the gills with donated supplies or bulk food purchases, pulled up to the gate, and the back door immediately opened. A woman slipped silently out, pulling a big bag after her. A second passed, and then a little boy jumped free, landing on the drive with a glowing splash illuminated by his light-up tennis shoes.
Lily’s heart twisted at the sight of him. He was so small. Before she’d had Everett, she’d never thought about how small five-years-olds were, their little bodies far too tiny for those first backpacks they wore to school. They were babies still, and this little boy’s shock of tousled black hair and his too-large jacket made her want to weep with the thought of what he’d already been through.
Jones had only been a grifter, and look how traumatized Everett still was. His little life had been blown up. But this poor boy . . . This boy must have seen terrible things. And felt terrible things.
Lily unlocked the pedestrian gate to let Connie and her son through, and Zoey pulled away once Lily waved. They all moved silently, even the boy, through the pale circles of light and wavering puddles toward the storage unit. He glanced at her once, then tucked his face back against his mother’s side, pulled along by the hand she’d wrapped tight around his. Her other hand clutched a duffel bag that looked as if it might burst at the seams if she dropped it.
When Lily opened the locker, the metal rollers shattered the quiet of the night, and they all flinched at the sound. She turned on the electric lantern she’d brought to reveal a space that didn’t hold much. A beige recliner. A small kitchen table and two chairs. A half-dozen cardboard boxes. One tiny wooden bookshelf. A full-size mattress.
She imagined mother and son both sleeping on that mattress on the blank floor of a carpeted bedroom somewhere. It would be a start for them. It was something.
“If you want to stay here and get things organized, I’ll go watch the gate.”
“Thank you,” Connie said softly. “She’ll be in a white van.”
Lily slipped back into the office and grabbed a sack she’d filled that afternoon with some juice boxes and fruit snacks along with bananas and bottled water. She’d also gathered up a few Matchbox cars in a plastic baggie. Everett hadn’t opened their squeaky old toy box in months.
Clutching her small offering, she waited at the gate for ten minutes, feeling strangely powerful after all the powerlessness of the past days. She was doing something right tonight. Something decent.
She felt hidden and safe in the warm, damp wind, tucked against a dark corner of her building. The steady drip of the passing rain echoed off metal buildings, clogging her ears with soothing noise. For a moment, she was totally alone, and it was such a relief. No one looking at her. No one asking questions.
Still, when the van approached, she was ready for it and rushed over to hit the override button near the gate. She closed it again after the van passed, then directed the woman to the right building before following behind.
Connie was clearly eager to get moving. By the time Lily joined them, they’d already wrestled the recliner up into the van and were pushing it to the back. Lily winked at the little boy and handed him the baggie of toy cars, thrilled to see his eyes light up as he accepted them and held them tight to his chest.
Between the three of them, it took only a few minutes to get everything packed, and then Connie’s friend was slamming the doors and getting back behind the wheel. There had been no introductions, and there were no goodbyes.
Connie lifted her son up and buckled him into the middle of the bench seat; then she followed. “Thank you so much,” she said solemnly.
“Stay safe,” Lily murmured before hurrying back toward the front gate to open it for them.
The van was starting through the opening when the night exploded with white light.
She thought it was lightning at first, but it didn’t flash out; it didn’t fade. These were headlights.
The van had jerked to a stop next to her, and Lily looked through the window to see Connie’s face contorted in a terrified grimace, her son’s head pressed to her side, her arms shielding him from whatever might come.
Lily had a terrible, booming thought of an enraged husband with a gun, cutting down everyone near his wife. Thank God Everett was inside. Thank God he was safe.
“Just go!” she said, thinking they’d all have a better chance if the van were moving, but then a car door closed somewhere, and footsteps approached. Lily could hear her own panting breath as she raised shaking hands to ward off an attack. “Go,” she croaked again.