In Too Deep (15 page)

“Ah, passion,” he said. “The perfect partner to tenacity. Okay, I'll see what I can find out. But it could take a few days. And there's no guarantee that I'll find anything or that I'll be able to tell you what I do find.”

  .    .    .

Ed Jarvis didn't call the next day or the day after that. Mr. Hartford sent me out to cover the annual summer walk-a-thon, so that kept me busy for a while. But by Friday I could barely concentrate on what I was doing. I hadn't seen any of Larry's kids in town on errands for days. I was worried about Nick. And I was anxious for Ed Jarvis to call back.

Finally, after supper on Friday, my phone rang.

“I hate to tell you this, Robyn,” Ed Jarvis said, “but I don't think I'm going to be too helpful. I checked both those names you gave me. Both files list Larry Wilson's group home as their last known address. Wilson reported that they had left his group home, but there's nothing in either file that indicates where they went after that. There's no record of either of them returning to the city. They could be anywhere.”

“What about their families? Do you think they might know where either of them are?”

“They don't have families.”

“Neither of them?”

“Nope. Both started in foster care at a young age. Neither got adopted. And both got caught up in the system early on. That's pretty much all I can tell you.”

“Well, thanks anyway,” I said.

“Bad news?” Morgan said when I closed my phone.

“Worse,” I said. “No news.”

  .    .    .

“You're not seriously going out there again tonight?” Morgan said.

“I told Nick I would.”

“Don't you think you should talk to that cop friend of your dad's?”

“I promised Nick I wouldn't. Not yet, anyway.”

“But—”

“The minute I think there's any serious danger, I'll call my dad. But so far nothing has happened. I don't even know if anything will happen.”

I reviewed everything I knew about Larry Wilson's kids.

Lucas wasn't happy at Larry Wilson's place. And according to Nick, he was ready to do just about anything to get away from there.

Steven had been unhappy there too—so unhappy that he'd been willing to return to foster parents who didn't want him. When that wasn't possible, he ran away, got lost in the woods, and died.

Alex Richmond had also wanted to leave Wilson's place. He had been found drowned in the lake out there.

A couple of other boys had run away—so far away that no one knew where they were.

But what did that prove? Did it prove anything?

All four boys had been in trouble with the law. And one thing I had learned about kids like the ones at Wilson's place was that they didn't always deal with their problems in a rational way. Lucas had tried to solve his problem by stealing. Steven had anger-management issues—maybe the cracked window at the marina restaurant hadn't been his fault, but he had broken the phone.

But—and it was a big but—Nick was convinced that something was going on out there. Something that happened late at night. Something that involved Derek standing watch in the compound. Something that might involve Phil Varton, the cop who had investigated Alex Richmond's death. Was it possible that he'd covered up the real cause? As long as Nick was out there, I had to do whatever I could to make sure he was okay.

“I'm going to meet Nick. It'll be fine. I'll have my phone with me. You'll be the second person I call if anything happens.”

“Second?”

“First I'll call Dean Lafayette.”

  .    .    .

I drove to the same place I had met Nick earlier in the week. I sat at the side of the road, peering into the darkened woods.

I waited for half an hour.

I waited for forty-five minutes.

I waited for an hour.

Nick didn't show.

  .    .    .

“Maybe that roommate of his had trouble sleeping, so Nick couldn't get away,” Morgan said. “Or maybe he got caught sneaking out. You said yourself that Mr. Wilson is really strict with the kids.”

“Maybe.” I knew that what she was saying made sense. What had Larry Wilson told me? That he expected them to play by the rules. “You're probably right,” I said.

  .    .    .

By Sunday I still hadn't heard from Nick. He hadn't made it back to Morgan's place. He hadn't shown up in town—and I had spent all day Saturday prowling around, hoping that he'd come in on an errand. He didn't call, either. I turned to Morgan, who was dozing on a lounge chair next to me on the veranda. I didn't want to admit it to her, but I was worried.

“Come on,” I said. “Get dressed.” I grabbed her crutches, which were leaning against the veranda railing, and handed them to her.

She yawned and stirred lazily. “I was having such a nice dream.”

“You sleep too much.” She had come outside in her bathing suit, stretched out on a lounge chair in the midmorning heat, and promptly fallen asleep again while I sat staring out at the water and fretting about Nick.

“What else is there to do? I'm bored. Try having a cast on your leg, see how energetic you feel.”

“That's why you have to get dressed. We're going into town.”

“What for?” she said. “There's nothing to do there, either. It's as boring there as it is here. I used to love coming up here every summer. Now I'd rather be back home.”

“That charity baseball game is happening this afternoon—the fire department against Mr. Wilson's kids,” I said. “Maybe Nick will be there.” If he wasn't, I would be more than worried.

“And Bruno will be playing for Larry's team. I bet Derek will be too.”

She sat up. “Well,” she said slowly, “now that I'm wide awake, I guess I might as well go. It doesn't matter how great a dream is—and the one I was having was amazing—you can't make it happen again. Once it's gone, it's gone.” She reached for her crutches and struggled to her feet.

“Don't be such a grouch,” I said. “Maybe you'll be pleasantly surprised. Maybe one of those volunteer firefighters will turn out to be the man of your dreams.”

  .    .    .

Nick wasn't at the park where the game was being held.

I saw Bruno. I saw Derek. I saw Lucas. I saw all of the other guys who had been around the table the night I'd had supper at Larry's place. They were all sitting on a bench to one side of the backstop, wearing yellow T-shirts that said
Larry's Kids
on the back. Mr. Wilson, also in a yellow T-shirt, was talking to the umpire.

The volunteer firefighters in their red T-shirts had congregated on the other side of the backstop. A large crowd had gathered. The bleachers were almost full.

But I didn't see Nick anywhere.

“The only empty seats I see are way up there,” Morgan said in a peevish voice. She pointed to the upper level of the bleachers. “If I start climbing now, I might make it up there by the end of the seventh inning.”

“Stay here,” I said. “I'll talk to the organizers. Maybe they can do something for you.”

I left her where she was and doubled back around the bleachers to where the ticket-sellers and ticket-takers were.

A bright yellow T-shirt was coming toward me.

Nick.

Thank god.

He didn't even look at me as he walked past. I glanced around, confused, and saw Phil Varton watching Nick through his mirrored sunglasses.

The important thing, I told myself, was that Nick was here and he was okay.

One of the ticket-takers referred me to a woman who was selling tickets, who referred me to a man who turned out to be the event organizer—and the recently retired chief of the volunteer fire department.

“No problem,” he said. “Give me a sec. We'll set you up.”

A few minutes later he carried two folding chairs over to where Morgan and I were waiting and set them up a couple of feet from the bench occupied by Larry's kids. Morgan cheered up considerably and started making eyes at Derek. And at Bruno.

“Which one do you think is hotter, Robyn? Derek has great eyes, but that tattoo, I don't know, it's kind of clichéd, don't you think? Bruno's eyes are kind of muddy-colored and nondescript. But he has great hair. And amazing teeth, considering.”

“Considering?”

“Most of those guys come from messed-up families. Call it stereotyping, but I don't associate great dental care with messed-up families.”

The teams were introduced. A roar went up when the mayor read out the fire department lineup. People stamped their feet and whistled for every player. It was a different story when the mayor read the lineup for Larry's team. A couple of Larry's kids turned and scowled at the crowd. Most just stared stonily ahead and pretended that they hadn't heard the scattered heckling or didn't care. I glanced at Nick. He said something to Bruno, who was sitting beside him. Bruno shrugged. He'd been at Larry's place the longest. I guess he was used to it.

The firefighters were good. They scored one run in the first inning, another run in the third inning, and kept their lead—for a while. The crowd cheered whenever they got a base hit or sent someone home—and every time one of Larry's kids struck out.

“It's root, root, root for the home team, big time,” Morgan said, glancing around.

The firefighters were strutting confidently by the time the seventh-inning stretch rolled around. They sent another man home. The score was three to one.

At the bottom of the ninth, the crowd started to jeer Larry's kids.

“Give it up.”

“You're done.”

“Losers.”

Wilson looked at the guys on his bench. He nodded at Lucas, who was next at bat.

Lucas struck out.

The crowd roared.

Tal was up next.

He struck out.

The crowd roared.

Then Nick was up. His face was tense and strained.

He swung—and missed.

The crowd went crazy, cheering and booing at the same time.

The pitcher wound up again.

Nick swung ...

... and made contact.

He dropped the bat and ran. He got to first base a split second before the ball did. The crowd was silent.

Another of Larry's kids went up and got two strikes. Then he made a base hit. Nick ran to second.

The crowd was silent.

Derek was up next. He hit the first ball to come his way—another base hit. Now the bases were loaded.

The crowd started to boo, but the guys on Larry's bench were smiling.

Larry nodded to Bruno, who stepped up to the plate.

He swung—and missed. Strike one.

He swung again—and missed again. Strike two.

Morgan reached over and squeezed my hand.

The pitcher looked at the catcher and wound up again. The ball shot through the air.

Bruno swung—crack! The ball sailed through the air—high, fast, far.

Nick sprinted for home. I sprang to my feet, cheering. Morgan whistled.

The next kid came home.

Larry's kids roared.

Derek came home.

Larry's kids were on their feet, stomping and clapping. The ball had hit the ground somewhere in the distance, and guys in the outfield were chasing it. But it was too late. Bruno bounded in to home plate. The score was 4–3. Larry's kids had won in a major upset. They were jumping up and down.

A couple of Larry's kids turned to look at the firefighters. I saw contempt and anger in some firefighter faces. Then one firefighter said something. I didn't catch the words, but I didn't have to hear them to know that it was no compliment. Nick lunged at the guy. Before Larry Wilson could get to him and pull him off, Derek, Bruno, and some of the others went to his rescue. Or maybe they just went to work off their own resentment. The umpire, the mayor, Dean Lafayette, Phil Varton, and Wilson had their work cut out for them separating the combatants. Morgan scrambled precariously on her crutches to avoid getting hurt. Someone grabbed me. I spun around. It was Nick. He thrust something into my hand and then darted away.

“I

don't care what you say,” Morgan said the next day after I got home from work. “This time I'm going with you.”

“Okay,” I said.

“I mean it, Robyn. I'm tired of sitting around here while you have all the excitement. Besides—”

“I said okay, Morgan.”

She eyed me suspiciously. “You're trying to trick me into believing you. Then you're going to run to the dock, jump in the boat, and speed away before I can react. Right?”

“Wrong.”

Her suspicion deepened. “You're actually going to let me go with you?”

“I was just about to ask you if you would.”

“Uh huh.”

“Really. I was.”

She peered at me. “What's the catch, Robyn?”

“Every time Nick leaves the compound, there's someone with him. Usually it's one of the older guys—Bruno or Derek. So, assuming this actually works, I need you there to keep whoever's with him occupied while Nick tells me whatever it is he wants to tell me. You think you can do that?”