I’ll have to walk to get there, which means it’ll take me at least an hour. Less, if I run, but I’m not like Lanny. I don’t enjoy it.
“You’re that close?” Suddenly I feel weird. Like I really shouldn’t have said anything. Shouldn’t have asked for this. I want to throw away the phone and go inside and tell Kezia what I’ve done. I never knew you could want something this bad and still be afraid of it, too.
He must have heard it in my voice, because Dad says, “I don’t want to push you, kiddo. If you want to wait, I can wait. I won’t come looking for you, I swear. Just like I don’t call you. You call me when you want to meet. Is that better?”
I suck in a breath so deep it hurts to hold it. I let the cold air get warm, and it comes out white when I breathe again. “Okay,” I say. He sounds completely normal. I’m the weirdo here. Dad’s doing everything he can to make me feel like I can trust him, and I’m being the asshole. “I’ll be there in two hours. But Dad? I’m bringing the dog.”
He laughs. “I’m glad. I want you to feel safe. You bring Boot. You have your sister on speed dial. You do exactly what you have to do to trust this is okay. I don’t hold any of that against you.” He falls silent for a second, and his tone shifts. Gets quieter. A little darker. “But, Brady . . . if you tell your Mom, or another adult, or even Lanny, you’re putting me in serious danger. These cops, I’m telling you that they’ll shoot me on sight. I’m trusting you with my life. You have the power here. I’m in your hands, son.”
I feel like I’m drowning. I want to do the right thing, but I don’t know what that means anymore. He’s my father. He hasn’t asked for anything. I asked him. He’s willing to put himself in danger for me.
And he loves me. I can hear it in what he says, how he says it.
“Okay,” I say. I still don’t sound like I’m sure, so I try again, louder. “Okay. I’ll meet you there.”
“I love you, Brady,” he says.
I gulp down another wave of nerves and say, “I love you, too.”
I shut the phone down and put it away. Boot crawls over, still destroying the tennis ball, and puts his warm weight over my legs as I sink down to the ground. I hug him, and he squirms and turns his big, brown eyes on me with his jaws crushing the tennis ball, then drops it and licks my face clear of tears.
“Am I stupid, Boot?” I ask him. He just keeps licking. “I shouldn’t go. I should go tell somebody.”
If I’m going to do this, I have to be smart about it. So I go back into the house and tell Kezia that my stomach hurts, and I want to lie down and go to sleep. She asks me if I want anything to help with the stomachache, but I say no, as politely as I can, and then I go into my room. I make my bed messy and pile clothes in to make it look like I’m there, and then I write a note that says, I’m sorry, but I’m going to meet Dad at our old house, please don’t be mad. I’ve been talking to him, and I think I need to see him. I’m being careful. I took Boot. I put the note on top of my clothes. That way, someone will find it if anything happens and I don’t come back. I put the number of the phone Dad gave me on the bottom of the page, too. Just in case. Then I lock the door, turn on the TV, open the window, and climb out. I close it behind me. I whistle Boot around to the side of the house, and I clip on one of the leashes that Javier keeps for when he takes him out for walks outside the yard. Boot seems excited, but he balks when I lead him to the gate and open it.
“Come on, boy,” I whisper. “Come on!” We can’t stay here. If Lanny or Kezia looks out . . .
But Boot decides it’s okay and romps through the gate like it’s a great adventure. I close the gate, and we run into the shadow of the woods.
It’s a long walk to Stillhouse Lake.
I run.
The house is trashed. I guess Lanny said that, but I wasn’t really listening. I didn’t bring any keys, so I don’t go inside; I lurk in the shadows on the side of the house, trying to look like some local kid who’s just out for a walk with his dog. I don’t see anybody. The cold and the feeling that the snow will start any second keep people away from the lake.
Kezia’s already called twice. I haven’t answered.
I’ve missed the lake, and I sit against the side of the house awhile and stare at it. It’s got a slow, drifting mist on top, but the water’s starting to take on a thick, opaque look. It’s already slushy, and by tonight it’ll have a crust of ice on top. It won’t freeze very deep. It’s pretty here, and quiet except for the birdcalls and the distant sound of somebody using a chain saw on some logs. Storing up firewood for the storm.
I fiddle with Brady’s phone, and I think about calling Dad and saying, Don’t come. This idea sounded okay before, when I was angry and scared and upset. Now it feels weird. I don’t know when things are right, but this feels like I’ve made a mistake.
I’m about to call him when the phone rings again. I quickly dig it out of my coat pocket and look at the number.
Oh shit. I seriously consider not answering it, but I press the button and put it to my ear.
Lanny is already yelling before I can even say hello. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, bonehead? Where are you?”
“Lanny—”
“I got your stupid note. I went in to wake you up for dinner and, Oh my God, Connor—where are you? Kezia’s freaking out!” My sister’s still yelling, but I can tell she’s scared. Really scared.
Brady, I think. My name is Brady. But I don’t say it. “I’m okay,” I tell her. “I just want to see him. He’ll be here in a few minutes. I just want to talk to him, and then I’ll come back. Besides, I have Boot. I’m okay.”
“Dad is a murderer, and you don’t know him! You barely remember him! Connor, I want you to promise that you’ll come back, right now—”
She’s cut off. Well, she’s still talking, but there’s static, and the phone moves away from her voice, and I realize someone’s taken it. I hear voices in the distance: Lanny, and Kezia. What’s going on? Where is he?
Lanny didn’t tell Kezia she found the note before she called me.
There’s another few seconds of silence, maybe while she reads the note, and then Kezia’s calm voice says, “Connor, are you at the old house right now?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“Is your father there yet?”
“No.”
“Okay. Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to walk over to the closest neighbor’s house and knock, and get inside if you can. I’m sending a patrol car out, and I’m coming as fast as I can, too.”
The way she says it, it’s not even an order, it’s a fact. I’m going to follow her orders. She seems cool and confident and in control, and it reminds me of how my mom says things sometimes.