“I’m good friends with your swim coach. He’s been suspicious for some time, and some traces showed up in Jacob’s last drug test. He spoke to me. And this behavior, from a normally shy, kind boy, just confirms it.”
Tyler’s blood froze in his veins. Emile had said he knew what was going on . . . was he referring to all the shit with Jacob? Was that possible?
“I tried to get him to stop.” Tyler’s voice was halting. “I told him I wouldn’t get him any more.”
“Your brother is beyond your help, Tyler. His behavior . . . it was erratic. He was calling me. Making wild accusations about you. And when he didn’t get the response he wanted from me, he went further. We think he may have even submitted bogus information to Crime Stoppers.”
Tyler looked down at the floor, a lump rising in his throat. His parole officer moved his hand to his shoulder. “Am I . . . What’s going to happen?” Tyler asked.
Emile shook his head. “We’ll figure something out. But I’ve got your back on this, okay? I’m not going to let you go down for this when you tried to do the right thing.” He smiled at Tyler. Really smiled. “We’re getting somewhere together, aren’t we?” He patted his shoulder again.
Tyler gripped the edge of the table. Something like relief coursed through his body.
And for some reason, he felt a lot like crying.
Cade
Friday, July 3
Cade paced in the game room, his phone pressed to his ear. The doors were locked, but it was a precaution he hadn’t needed to take. No one ever used the game room. They hadn’t for a long time. The room had died when his mother and sister left. Even the maids didn’t come in here often, and a fine layer of dust lay over the pool table and the vintage pinball machines. A massive television hulked in the corner. An old one. The kind of monster that had been popular before flat screens had been invented, that took four men to even lift.
The line continued to ring.
They used landlines, overseas. At least they did where his sister lived. They didn’t abide cell phones. There were rules. Rules and rules and rules, and that was the price she had paid.
Freedom was a funny, funny thing.
The landline crackled and buzzed, and for a moment Cade was afraid the call had been cut, but then the static cleared, and there was someone at the other end of the phone.
A female voice answered the call politely.
“Hello?”
It was a voice used to getting messages from strangers. It was not primed for familiarity.
“Hey, Mom.”
There was a long pause. “Cade?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” He wasn’t sure who else she might think was on the other end of the line; she’d only had two children.
That he knew of. There were plenty of secrets hiding between all of the dollar signs. Secrets that no one dared even whisper about.
“Does your father know we’re talking?” she asked, her voice hushed, as if he might be listening in somehow.
“No. I just hadn’t talked to you in a while. Or Jeni.” He paused, suddenly nervous. “How is Jeni? I got her letter.”
There was a long, thick pause that told Cade everything. “Great. Jeni is . . . she’s great. She’s happy here, I think.”
His mother should have been a better liar. But she wasn’t.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Uh, yeah.” Cade sat down in one of the theater-style recliners his father had installed back when they were a real family. A puff of dust rose from the chair. “I’m taking a class. Psychology. I’m going tonight, actually. I think I’m going to get an A.”
“Good for you, sweetheart.” He could hear his mother trying to smile. But it was as if the air had gone out of her, like a week-old birthday balloon with only enough helium left to keep it bouncing along the floor.
“Can I talk to Jeni?” Cade tried to sound less hopeful than he was.
“She’s not having a good day, Cade.”
“Please, Mom. I miss her.”
His mother sighed heavily. “Just a minute.” He heard shuffling on the other end of the phone, and his mother’s voice, gentle and low, like she was soothing a hurt animal.
A moment later, a voice that was familiar and strange all at once was on the line.
“Hello?”
“Jeni? It’s me, Cade.”
“Cade?” She sounded far away. Lost. He was reminded of the time they’d been separated in a Nordstrom, and she’d fallen asleep inside a clothing rack.
Their father had been furious. But he’d almost upended the entire store, just looking for her.
“Yeah. Cade. Your brother.” Was he reminding her? It hadn’t been that long. It wasn’t as if people just forgot they had siblings.
“Hi,” she said. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Cade cleared his throat. “Uh. I got your letter.”
“My letter . . .” She trailed off. “Oh. My letter. Right.”
“You said you were working in a restaurant?”
“Not today.” She was matter-of-fact about this.
“Why not today?” he asked.
“I don’t work when they give me . . . It’s a shot. It’s a special shot. Special medicine. It keeps me.”