"What did they say?" I asked anxiously. "Did they tell you what the hours are like, whether you'll have a gun, all that kind of stuff?"
That'd made Bryan laugh.
"Of course we'd have guns, honey. Even SFPD doesn't expect you to go out there unarmed, like a volunteer neighborhood watch or something. In fact," he said, leaning forward, "Small arms weapons combat is probably going to be my favorite module."
And I smiled tremulously. Again, I was happy for the boys because they were going to make an honest living doing something they clearly had the aptitude for. I just didn't want them getting hurt.
"Okay," I said softly. "Just so long as you're sure."
"Honey, we're more than sure about entering the Academy," said Blake confidently. "We're perfect fits, in fact."
"Oh, have the test results come back already?" I asked curiously. I knew the twins had sat for psychological assessments recently but hadn't expected the results to come back so fast. Typically government bureaucracy took months, if not years.
But it seemed that last week's results were already available.
"Yep, scored 95 and 99 percent," said Blake, nodding at his brother with a grin. "Like I said, we're perfect fits for our dream job."
And my heart dropped a little. I knew they were good, I didn't know they were great. But Blake changed the subject abruptly.
"Honey, about that Adams boy, did you know him well? I think you'd mentioned that his parents sponsored your seat right?" He was referring to the fact that I was a charity student at Canterdale, my tuition subsidized by a generous donation from an anonymous donor.
"Well, I'm not totally sure the Adams endowed my scholarship," I said slowly. "The district never says for sure, but I thought they did because Mr. and Mrs. Adams have always made an effort to be nice to me throughout the years," I said. "Ever since third grade, when I started in this zone," I clarified.
"Did you pay them a visit after their son died?" Blake asked.
I hung my head with shame. After Brian passed unexpectedly from a seizure during football practice, his parents had secluded themselves and I hadn't made an effort to reach out, to see if there was anything I could do. I felt guilty. The Adams had always been nice to me in the past, a kindly older couple who'd made sure to ask about my schoolwork, my grades, how I was doing in general. One year, I remember it was especially cold and they'd presented me with a winter jacket for Christmas.
"But it's not even December yet!" I'd gasped when I'd opened the gift. I'd never had something so nice, the downy purple material soft and warm.
"Oh honey," said Jane Adams gently, "we thought you looked a little cold when we bumped into you on campus last week, you didn't have a jacket on, not even a sweater," she reprimanded gently.
I remembered that day. I'd been coming out of science class and unexpectedly run into John and Jane Adams, shivering a bit as I made conversation outside the classroom. But I hadn't expected something as generous as a puffy winter jacket, new and unused. Their thoughtfulness was overwhelming and really touched me.
"Thank you," I'd murmured, gratefully slipping into the coat. My family wasn't poor, but Mom had been distracted with Jenna's issues and hadn't had time to go shopping with me, much less buy groceries or cook. So I'd been getting by on my own, wearing threadbare clothes from last year.
Jane Adams just chuckled in reply. "You let us know if you need anything, okay?" she asked gently. "We're always here, and I know you're good friends with Brian."
I was friends with their son. Friends since third grade, in fact, but we weren't close anymore. It was just a part of growing up. Brian was into football, sports, hanging out with the cool kids, while I wasn't exactly cool … more of a wallflower, unnoticed, the shy girl.
But Brian was still nice to me, acknowledging me in the hallways, occasionally carrying my bag if it was really heavy. We just hadn't had any meaningful conversation in years now, our separate interests leading us down different paths.
So I was ashamed. Brian had died about two months ago under horrific circumstances and I hadn't had the basic decency to pay my respects to his parents.
"Um, no," I said shamefacedly, not looking up at Blake and Bryan. "I should have, I know. I should have at least sent the Adams a card or something at least," I mumbled, still not looking up.
I felt a big hand stroke my shoulder.
"Baby, don't worry about it," growled Bryan. "Grief does strange things to people and it takes time to get your bearings. Maybe the Adams didn't even want you to come around, they weren't taking visitors."
That made me feel marginally better, but only marginally.
"No, I think I should visit them," I said, straightening on the couch. "It's time. I shouldn't wait anymore, and if they're not ready, it's okay, I can come back some other time," I said resolutely. I'd get them some flowers maybe, and a card, to express my condolences. I could always leave those on the doorstep if they didn't answer the bell.
"Good idea, honey," said Blake. "We'll go with you for the visit. It won't be easy," he said softly, rubbing my thigh reassuringly, "but we've got your back."
And I was grateful. Grateful that I had these men, that they were my everything now. Because even for the most difficult of tasks, they were my back-ups … just like true family.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Bryan
Callie looked around nervously as we stood on the doorstep. She was dwarfed by a huge bouquet in her arms, the long fronds and lavish flowers protruding this way and that, causing her to bend awkwardly as she rang the bell.
Out pealed a melodious chime and the three of us were silent, seeing if we could hear any movement inside, our ears alert and aware. The Adams had just lost their only son, and it was totally possible that they wouldn't be answering their door, instead letting visitors come and go without acknowledgment.
So we stood in silence, waiting quietly but also in awe of the gorgeous surroundings. The white colonial was a mansion, the gleaming clapboard surrounded by a manicured garden. And there had to be someone inside because the Jag in the driveway had just been driven, judging from the slight drip of motor oil staining the drive way.
But it's okay. Sometimes people don't want visitors and we'd give the Adams a pass given the tragedy they'd experienced. The three of us were turning to go when suddenly the door cracked open slightly, a pair of faded blue eyes peering out at us.
"Oh Callie," said an old lady. "It's you. Thank you for coming," she said as she opened the door wider. And I could see this was a woman in the throes of grief. Her clothes were rumpled and stained, her grey hair matted, looking like it hadn't been combed in months.
"Mrs. Adams," said Callie sorrowfully. "I'm so sorry about Brian. Here, I- I- wanted to bring you these," she said awkwardly, thrusting the bouquet towards the older woman. "We don't have to come in or anything, I just wanted you to know that we're thinking of you. Me and Bryan and Blake," she clarified, gesturing to my brother and I. "Bryan and Blake are new students at Canterdale."
Mrs. Adams' eyes filled up with tears again.
"Canterdale High," she said faintly. "I can barely even think about Canterdale now that my poor Brian's gone. You know how much he loved that school, he was so into school spirit and the sports teams," she said softly.
"Of course I remember," said Callie. "Brian was the star of the football team."
Okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration. From our investigation, we knew that the Adams kid had been a decent second-string player, not a stand-out. But why shame the dead? Only speak good of those who can no longer speak for themselves.
Callie continued. "Is there anything we can help with? You and Mr. Adams have always done so much for me, it's the least I can do."
Mrs. Adams breathed in deeply and closed her eyes for a moment.
"We've always had a commitment to the school and that's not going to end because of our son's death," she said, resolutely lifting her chin. "Come in Callie, please sit and have some tea."
Our girl's cheeks flushed. "Thank you Mrs. Adams, I'd love to," she said, and we stepped over the threshold into the imposing mansion.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Blake
Callie doesn't know it, but my brother and I have our suspicions about Jane and John Adams. On the surface, they're a perfect family. Generous donors to Canterdale, even sponsoring a scholarship for needy students, with a perfect, athletic son who was Harvard-bound.
But often it's those who appear immaculate on the outside who have secrets to hide. And we'd been tipped off by an unexpected source … Valerie, Chrissy's sister.