Drawn Into Darkness(38)

Understandably puzzled by my question, Justin stared at me. “Okay? Compared to what?”

“Compared to yesterday or the day before.”

“I am, like, floating, it feels so good to be away from Unc—uh, you know. I guess I sort of never saw how bad it was until I got away.”

“Are you looking forward to calling your parents when we get out of here?”

Silence.

“Justin?”

Without turning to look at me, he said, “I kind of wish we could just be like this forever.”

“Like what?”

“Like, just kind of be lost in the middle of nowhere. Walking in the sun. I don’t care that I’m tired and hungry. That gives me something to think about, so it’s okay, okay? I don’t want to think about my parents yet.”

“Okay,” I lied, feeling a dark cloud sail into my personal sunny day. I did care that I was tired and hungry. I cared quite a bit.

And I cared about getting Justin back to his parents whether that was what he thought he wanted or not. I cared enormously.

But I’d deal with that once we got, quite literally, out of the woods.

If we got out. If Stoat didn’t find us first.

• • •

“Oliver,” said Ned Bradley to his dog, “dip me in cream and throw me to the kittens. I’ll be licked.”

He had been saying this, or variations of it, and walking around his apartment in circles ever since he had received the phone call from his son telling him that he was ditching work and driving up to Birmingham to see him. This had never happened before. In fact, he hadn’t actually laid eyes on Chad in years.

“Laid eyes on.” Odd expression. As if seeing were like touching, like the laying on of hands. Like a blessing.

Which was what Chad needed, the way Ned figured. He intuited that Chad was badly upset to be coming anywhere near him. He guessed he was Chad’s last hope of—of something. An anchor. A family.

“What have we got to eat?” Ned crouched to confer with his dog nose to nose. “Or drink? Jeez, I wish I could offer him a beer.” But Ned didn’t have any beer in the fridge or whiskey in the cupboard. There was still time for him to run out and get some, but Chad would never believe Ned didn’t keep it around all the time, that it was just for his visit.

Ned stood up to stare at his Tree of Life tapestry, telling himself that his son had every right to suspect the worst of him. It was up to him to prove to Chad that he was really, truly no longer drinking.

Snacks, then. What could he put together for snacks?

He was just about to head for the kitchen when the doorbell rang.

Heart thumping, Ned strode over and pressed the intercom. “Yes?”

“Dad.” Ned thought this sounded curiously monotone, even for a single syllable.

“I’ll be down.” Chad had never been to the apartment and might have some difficulty finding it, so rather than just buzz him in, Ned headed for the elevator and pressed G for ground floor.

When the elevator doors opened, he got his first glimpse of his son standing behind a plate glass door. One look, and he could tell Chad was an emergency on feet. He wore his Dixieland Trucking uniform with his oval name patch on the shirt; he really had been driving to work when suddenly he couldn’t go on. When Ned opened the door, Chad walked in without offering to hug or even shake hands. His face looked as hard and flat as his voice, saying, “Which way?”

“Tenth floor.” Ned didn’t try to make small talk in the elevator, even though the silence felt thick enough to choke him. Chad didn’t speak until he got into the apartment and Oliver, fuzzy ears flapping, ran to meet them.

“Hey, dog!” Chad dropped to one knee to greet Oliver with both hands. “What’s his name?”

“Oliver. Because he always wants more.”

“I know how that is.” Chad sounded morose again. “Where’s your bathroom?”

Ned pointed the way. “Have a seat,” he offered after Chad had returned. “Iced tea?”

Chad slumped on the sofa. “No, thanks.”

“Something to eat?”

Chad shook his head.

“Winning Lotto tickets? Five thousand bucks a day for life?”

Although Chad didn’t smile, he did focus on his father in a guarded way. Ned sat down on the chair closest to his son and said as neutrally as he could, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s nothing, Dad!”

His tone kept Ned at a distance but not Oliver. He sat his furry butt in front of Chad, peering up at him with liquid-eyed canine concern. Chad glanced at the dog and quickly looked away again.

Ned coaxed, “Come on, son. You don’t drive three hours for nothing. Why are you here?”