“Of course! But I don’t want to trick you into thinking—”
“You’re not trickin’ me into shit. This is my home. I don’t wanna leave it. I was only goin’ cuz I thought I had to. But if you got a plan, I’m in. We need to stop this sucker now while we still can, before it hatches all the way.”
“That’s what I thought, too.”
“How long’s it gonna take you to get here?”
“I’ll be there tomorrow.”
“Where are you?”
“San Diego.”
“Hell, I made that run in six.”
Ross smiled. “I need to stop somewhere first. I’ll be there in the morning.”
“Get here as quick as you can,” McDaniels’ said.
Ross had called in sick today, and, luckily for him, it was a Friday. Which meant he had the weekend. It was flaky, calling in sick on the first week of a new job, especially with the possibility of layoffs looming, but if he could get back by Monday, he knew he could sell this as a legitimate illness. Since he was a healthy guy who seldom if ever actually got sick, this would probably be his only absence for a long time, and after several months of good work, any doubts that might be raised by this aberration would be put to rest.
Ross left a note for Jill, in case she came back. He didn’t expect her to return, but on the off chance that she did, he let her know where he was going and told her to stay in San Diego.
He drove to Phoenix, arriving just before nightfall. He’d skipped lunch and was starving, but before getting something to eat, he headed over to his brother’s house, parking in the driveway next to Rick’s leased Acura. Maybe he should have called first, but that would have involved argument and negotiation, and Ross thought it better to just show up and speak to his brother directly.
He rang the bell, hoping Rick would answer and not his wife. He got lucky. “Hey,” Ross said as his brother opened the door.
A look of confusion passed over Rick’s face. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.”
“About what?” Rick crowded the doorway, apparently afraid that Ross might try to sneak into the house.
“How’s Dad?”
“He’s home. Doing okay, I guess. Mom fell the other day, tripped over something in the garage and broke her hip.”
“Jesus! Why didn’t anyone call me?”
Rick shrugged, and Ross wanted to hit him, but he knew that it wasn’t really his brother’s fault. Or wasn’t all his brother’s fault.
He decided to stick to the script. “Listen, I need to talk to Kevin.”
Rick was instantly suspicious. “Kevin? What for?”
“I just need to ask him something. Where is he?”
“I’ll give you his phone number, but I can’t—”
“That’s fine,” Ross said. “What is it?” He already had his phone out. He typed in the number as his brother recited it, then immediately walked away, back toward the car, leaving Rick standing confusedly in the doorway.
“What are you—”
Ross closed the door behind him, cutting his brother off as he put the car into gear and backed out of the driveway. Pretending to drive away, he stopped and parked halfway down the block, using the number he’d been given to call his nephew, hoping that Kevin would answer.
He did.
“Kevin,” Ross said. “This is Uncle Ross.”
“Hey,” the boy said suspiciously.
He didn’t want to jump right in. “Thanks for telling your dad to call me about Grandpa. I appreciate it.”
“Yeah, well, I thought it was wrong the way they were treating you. You should hear what they say behind your back.”
“I know, I know. And, like I said, I appreciate it. But…I was wondering if we could get together. I sort of need to talk to you about something.”
“You can tell me now.”
“I’d rather do it in person. Where do you live? I could come over right now if you’re free.”
The suspicion was back. “What’s this about?”
“I’d rather not tell you over the phone.”
He was about to play his ace and remind Kevin that he was the one who had bailed him out in Austin, who had paid for his dad’s plane ticket out to Texas and sprung for a good portion of the fees for the lawyer who had gotten him off the arson charge. But Kevin must have been thinking the same thing, because suddenly he said, “Okay. I’ll tell you how to get here.”
Ross rummaged through his glove compartment for a pen and a scrap of paper, finally writing down his nephew’s address and directions to the apartment on the back of an Auto Club map. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” he said.