Her foot scraped the cement, and Alex popped up with a pleased smile. “Hey! How’s it going?”
“Well,” she lied. “How about you? Getting everything organized?” She casually took one step into the doorway, looking around with what she hoped was a normal amount of curiosity. She didn’t see any pictures. She didn’t see much of anything. Some boxes that had all been shoved toward one wall, and a little furniture. It looked mostly bare. “I guess you cleaned up.”
“I’d say I’m about halfway through. I got a lot packed up last time I popped in.” That could explain the missing pictures.
“Find anything good yet?”
“Lots of papers. Lots of stuff that needs to be trashed. Want a water?” He pointed toward a little cooler at his feet.
“I’m fine, thanks.” She took a step inside. “I like the music. A Memphis band?”
“Yeah. There are so many great indies there. Thousands of talented souls looking for a break. This is just a demo.”
Lily touched a brass floor lamp that looked like an antique. “Tell me about your uncle,” she suggested. “What’s he like?”
Alex smiled easily, not at all like a man who was hiding something. “He’s a great guy. One of the best.” Even Lily’s cynical heart didn’t believe a man could lie that sincerely. He loved his uncle a lot.
“My dad, his brother, wasn’t exactly a loving parent. My mom was great, but my dad had a bad temper that got worse on the weekends when he drank. We just . . . Well, let’s say we didn’t get along. I lived at home through high school, but Uncle Alex was the father figure I chose in my life. I spent my college summers living with him and working to save up for the next year’s tuition. He’s just . . . Yeah. A great guy.”
“He sounds amazing.”
“He is. What about your dad?”
“Oh boy. That’s a long story.”
“I get that,” he said, letting her off the hook if she wanted that. She did. “Hey, I’m glad you dropped by. I was hoping you would.”
“Yeah, I saw your cheesy little wave when you pulled through.”
“Cheesy! That was charm!”
“Oh, my bad.” She laughed, then opened her eyes to find him watching her mouth, and she turned utterly awkward again. She couldn’t be attracted to this man, not after Everett’s outburst the night before, but Jesus, her blood pressed beneath her skin, surging against the walls of her veins, wanting closer. How long had it been since she’d felt that?
But no. She couldn’t afford these kinds of sparks. Not with him or anyone else. She needed to stay focused on the real world.
Christ, she hated the real world.
She hated Jones, and Mendelson, and her life. Her apartment, her bills, her schoolwork, and she even hated Zoey a little for goading Lily to do things she wasn’t brave enough to do. And Everett . . .
She didn’t hate Everett, but she hated this new worry she had, that her son was more troubled than she’d imagined. More like his dad.
Alex was still watching her, and there was a tension to him today, just beneath the surface, as if he were holding back some intensity she could feel but not see.
Frightened by the sharp response it brought to life deep in her belly, she forced herself to step toward the opening and away from him.
“I’d better get back,” she said, though she managed a smile.
“Oh.” He blinked like she’d surprised him. “Sure. Of course.”
When her phone vibrated, she reached quickly into her pocket. A new email from Gretchen. She’d be there at 3:00.
“Bad news?” Alex asked.
“Just a work thing,” she explained without spilling that there’d been an audit and now a supervisor was returning abruptly for an ominous kind of meeting that no one at corporate had ever requested before. “I need to respond to it. See you later?”
“Yeah, absolutely.”
Lily hurried through the complex, managing a wave for a customer who drove by, though she couldn’t quite return the woman’s smile as she raced back to the office.
Everything in her paperwork was correct, legitimate, and clean. It was only guilt making her panic. She rushed into her office and immediately reviewed the tapes from the night before, though she didn’t have the guts to erase them.
What if Mendelson had decided to add a little more pressure by calling her boss about Connie’s late visit? What if Gretchen wanted to review that footage? Or all her footage?
Or what if . . . what if a client had seen Everett breaking into a locker and complained?
The recordings were stored for two full weeks, and with nine camera angles, she couldn’t possibly work all the way through them. But she knew where to look, at least.
Pulse fluttering, she called up the records for the camera closest to Alex’s unit, the one that currently showed his SUV parked there but didn’t quite reach to his doorway. She raced backward at the fastest speed, keeping an eye on the clock for the hours when Everett was home and awake.
Her tension began to ebb as she reversed through hours and then days and found no sign of her son even approaching the Bennick unit. Sunday, Saturday, Friday, and the only person she saw was Alex. And herself. She resisted the urge to slow down and watch those interactions.
But on Thursday, something moved, and she slammed the button to stop the feed. Then she backed up, slowed down, and watched. Everett was good, but he didn’t stay quite off camera. She caught the corner of his movements and saw him disappear from the feed right where Alex’s unit sat. Josephine followed him. They both reappeared minutes later, hurrying away.
Stomach twisting with the sickness of heartache, Lily backed up again and traced the hours into the past. There he was again, her son, by himself this time, glancing over his shoulder to see that he wasn’t being watched.
This time she knew what to expect. Everett disappeared, and even though it had happened days before and he was safely away from the property, Lily felt an urgent need to race outside and save him from his own actions. She eyed the timestamp until he reappeared, looking back over his shoulder. Five minutes. Five minutes of him disappearing right where Alex’s locker slipped off the screen. And this time he held something in his hand.
She shoved away from the desk, her chair flying into the metal cabinets behind her with a rattling explosion that ratcheted up her pulse again. She unlocked the apartment and ran to Everett’s room, a terrible anxiety burning up from her throat as if she might be able to breathe fire.
She dug through his dresser first, though that was pointless. She was the one who did his laundry, who folded it and put it away. She slammed the drawers closed, fabric now sticking wildly out of all of them, then pulled open his ancient nightstand, scarred by the stickers he’d applied at age six. There she found pens, notepads, dead batteries, and one pocketknife. A very nice pocketknife she hadn’t bought for him.
Still, maybe Mikey had given it to him. Lily would never have allowed it, and they would have known that. She cradled the heavy weight in her hand for a moment, then put it back.
His closet was fairly spare and took her only a few minutes to search. She was starting to wind down, draining of adrenaline. And she felt foolish, sticking her hand into his winter boots to check for contraband. At least she hadn’t found any drug paraphernalia.
Hands on hips, she stood there for a moment, staring at his bed. She got on her knees and peered under it, pulling out the two shallow bins she’d stashed under there, stuffed with every drawing and craft and award he brought home from school. She also found her old tablet. That would have angered her a week ago. Even a day ago. But now she didn’t care at all.
There was one last place to check. Lily took a deep breath and slid both hands beneath her son’s mattress. Her fingertips found a smooth edge of plastic.