Discovering You (30 page)

His eyes cut to the house as if he was checking to see whether they were being observed.

“You can tell me,” Rod coaxed. “You can tell me anything, and Sebastian will never know that you said it.”

He kicked at a tuft of grass. Then he nodded.

“Is that a yes?” Rod asked. “You'd rather he was gone?”

Another reluctant nod.

“You understand how that could happen, don't you?”

Van licked the orange drink from his lips. “How?”

“The police want to put him behind bars. They'd like to solve that murder he committed. They just don't have enough evidence to prove Sebastian was the one who shot Charlie Sommers. But you and I know he did it, don't we?”

“
You
know it?” he asked but wouldn't look up.

“I do,” Rod confirmed.

He kept his head bowed. “How?”

“I have my ways. So if you can tell me anything that might help—if you've ever seen him with a gun, or you know where he might've put the gun he used, or you remember that he
wasn't
home that night your aunt told you to say he was—you should tell me.”

He chewed his bottom lip.

“What is it?” Rod asked.

“Will my aunt go to prison, too?”

Ah,
there
was the problem. Even if he managed to get rid of Sebastian, his life wouldn't improve—at least not by much. “I'm afraid not. She's lying for him, but I doubt they'll put her in prison for it. I know that's discouraging, but we have to think about the lady who lost her husband that night, and how that would help her and her little girl. They're innocent victims. We want to keep them safe, don't we?”

Finally, he looked up. “Are you a policeman?”

Rod had revealed the level of his interest, but he didn't regret it. He didn't see any other way—not if he was going to learn what Van knew before he had to return to Whiskey Creek. Having patience was difficult when one or two sentences from this boy could fix everything that was wrong in India's life. “No. Just someone who cares.”

He opened his mouth, closed it and opened it again. “I've never seen him with a gun.”

Rod managed a tolerant smile. It wasn't fair to put this boy under too much pressure. “Okay. You can tell me whenever you're ready.”

“Are you going to leave?” he asked. “Are you mad at me?”

“Not at all. Get over there. Let's practice while we can. You're getting better already.”

Van started to walk back. Then he turned around. “Rod?”

“Yes?”

“I didn't see a gun, but—” his voice dropped “—I heard him tell Eddie something about shoving one under the neighbor's house.”

Rod felt his jaw drop. “Which house? Do you know?”

He shook his head.

“That's okay,” Rod said. “Don't worry. I'll find it somehow—and no one will ever know you're the one who told me, okay?”

“Okay.” He shaded his eyes against the sun. “Can we play for another hour?”

Rod figured he owed the boy that much. To Van's giggling delight, he tossed him over his shoulder and carried him back to his spot. “Why not?”

27

S
ebastian had used a search engine to learn everything he could about Rod Amos. There wasn't a lot that came up. Only a few links related to the Rod they'd met and not someone else by the same name. His family owned an auto body shop in Whiskey Creek, a Gold Country town about two hours away. From what Sebastian could tell, it was similar to the towns that were a little larger and more familiar, like Grass Valley, Placerville and Jackson. Whiskey Creek itself wasn't much more than a dot on the map.

So why had this man come to the Bay?

“What're you doing?” Sheila asked after a long, drawn-out yawn.

“Checking on something,” he replied.

“Why don't you come back to bed? I'll make it worth your while.”

He heard the suggestiveness in her voice, but he wasn't interested. He was no longer attracted to Sheila. She'd really let herself go, especially when he compared her to India, who'd always been so beautiful. But he wasn't always as indifferent as he was today. Usually, he felt a piece of ass was a piece of ass, and at least this piece of ass came with a place to stay. He needed somewhere to hang out until he could get a job and decide what he was going to do with his life.

“Would that be a no?” she said, sounding pouty.

“Quit being a stupid bitch,” he snapped and returned to the website for Amos Auto Body. The business looked legit. Nothing he saw led him to believe that Rod Amos was anything more than an auto body technician. He wasn't a private investigator. Eddie had to be wrong about that, and Sebastian couldn't wait to tell him.

But Sebastian was still concerned. He found nothing that explained why Rod had lied about his last name and where he worked...

Maybe those lies had nothing to do with Charlie's murder. Maybe Rod was moving from one family-owned auto body shop to another. And maybe he didn't get along with his father, so he was using his mother's maiden name. People did shit like that all the time.

The buzzing of his phone interrupted his concentration. As soon as he saw his brother's number on the screen, he picked up. “You prick!” he barked. “You scared the hell out of me for nothing.”

“I like the sound of this already,” Eddie responded. “Rod's okay, then? We don't have anything to worry about?”

“Not that I can see. Whiskey Creek is just some Podunk town in the Sierra Nevada Foothills. And I've searched the internet. I can't find a single private investigator by the name of Rod Amos
or
Rod Cunningham.”

“Then what does he want with
us
?”

“I guess he wanted to party, right? He smoked some crystal, didn't he?”

“I didn't see him smoke much. But whatever. Does he know you're checking him out?”

“No, he's outside with Van.”

“Still? Don't you think
that's
strange? That he's got so much interest in an eight-year-old boy who's no relation to him?”

“So the dude likes kids. It's not like he's molesting him. They're not in some dark room. They're outside where everyone can see, playing ball for Christ's sake.”

“Sometimes it starts there.”

“Yeah, well, it's going to end there, too. If he tries anything with Van, I'll kill him.”

“Okay,” Eddie said with a sigh of relief. “Anyway, that's good news about Rod. I was freaking out.”

“You had me going, too!”

“We have to be careful. We can't let strangers get too close, Sebastian. We took a risk last night, a risk we shouldn't have taken, and it could've cost us.”

“Agreed. So how'd it go with Yogi?”

“I hate him. But he's the only reason we can pay the mortgage. And I wasn't late, so we didn't have any trouble today.”

“All right. See you when you get here.” Hungry, Sebastian shut down the computer so he could get something to eat. But, on a whim, he decided to call Amos Auto Body first, just to see if he could find out anything more. He didn't have to say who he was, doubted anyone there would recognize his name from the papers even if he gave it.

“You going to smoke again?” Sheila asked.

She wasn't even out of bed and she was already at him for more dope! “No, and neither are you,” he grumbled while he dialed.

“You woke up in
such
a bad mood,” she complained and got up to go to the bathroom. Meanwhile, someone in Whiskey Creek answered his call.

“Natasha at Amos Auto Body. How can I help you?”

“Rod there?” Sebastian asked.

“'Fraid not.”

“Should I call back this afternoon?”

“No, he's out for a few days. I'm not sure exactly when he'll be back. Can I take a message?”

“This is a friend of his, Jimmy...er...Smith. I met him at a bar last night. We hung out with a couple of girls I know.” He was about to add that Rod had stayed over and forgotten his wallet, when she interrupted.

“With a couple of
girls
?” She sounded shocked. “I thought he was on vacation with India.”

Sebastian's blood ran cold. India's name was distinctive enough that there could be no confusion. Rod wasn't a cop. He wasn't a private investigator working for the Sommerses. But Sebastian had little doubt that he wanted the same thing—to see him go to prison for the rest of his life. Why else would a friend of India's approach him at the pool hall and pretend it was a random occurrence? No way could it be random, not if he had ties to her.

And now Sebastian understood why Rod was spending so much time with Van.

He was after information.

* * *

A door slamming somewhere else in the motel startled India awake. After Frank's call, assuring her that Rod was okay, she'd dozed off. But judging by the light coming through the crack in the drapes, that'd been some time ago...

Acid poured into her stomach as she scrambled to check the digital clock on the nightstand. It was noon and Rod wasn't back yet. Why? Where could he be now?

She grabbed her phone to see if she'd heard from him and immediately fell back against the pillows. Yes! She'd received some texts. One had come in a few minutes ago. He was playing ball with Van. He'd be home soon. Not to worry.

Weak with relief, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Once she'd calmed down, she allowed herself to get excited for the first time in a long while. If Rod was with Van, maybe he was learning something important—or
would
learn something important. If that happened, it could change her whole life.

Could they actually win this war they were waging? Was it possible that Rod could come up with some detail that would convince the police to drag Sebastian back into court? Would Sebastian be punished for his crimes?

India remembered the night she'd come upon Rod striding angrily down the road with his hands curled into fists. She'd assumed he was someone she should avoid, had warned herself against him. And yet
he'd
been the one to believe in her when almost no one else would, at least not completely, not without reservation. He was the only person in her corner, ready to help her fight despite the danger. Everyone else, people who'd known her much longer and supposedly cared about her, had simply gone on with their lives as if she must deserve what was happening to her.

The past two weeks would've been so much more difficult without him. She couldn't wait to see him, couldn't wait to hear how he'd managed to strike up a connection with Sebastian...

But as the seconds ticked away and fifteen minutes turned into thirty, and then another hour passed with no word, her excitement began to wane.

Something was wrong or he would've been back by now.

* * *

“He's up to no good. Maybe he's even looking for the gun.”

Sebastian hated to hear that, but Eddie had to be right. What else could Rod be doing? He'd brought Van home, said his goodbyes and driven off with a vague promise to catch them at the pool hall sometime soon. But he hadn't left the area. Sebastian had put Sheila's iPhone, which her bedridden mother paid for so she could contact Sheila and the kids, in Rod's glove box. That meant he could track him on the computer via the Find My iPhone app. Once Rod had stopped a few blocks away, and his truck didn't move again, Sebastian had asked Eddie to drive by that location on his way home to see what was going on.

Eddie had called back a few minutes later to say the truck was parked at a fast-food place, but Rod wasn't inside the vehicle or in the store.

The conversation continued when Eddie got home.

“Van swore that Rod never asked him anything about me, Charlie, India, the trial or the murder,” Sebastian said. “They just played ball.”

“And you believe him?”
Eddie asked, incredulous.

Sebastian raked his fingers through his hair. Why not?
He
hadn't said anything to Van about what happened that night at India's. Why would he?

But he supposed it was possible that Van could've overheard him talking to Eddie—if the little shit was listening in when he shouldn't be. Van wasn't someone Sebastian would tell, but he also wasn't someone he'd worry about.

“Get him back here,” Eddie snapped. “
I'll
ask him this time, and I bet he has a bit more to say.”

“Can't. Sheila took him and the other kids to that assisted living place to see her mother. If she doesn't do that once a week, Vickie'll call Child Protective Services, and if CPS takes the kids, Sheila's welfare check will be cut in half.”

“Then text her, damn it! Tell her to make it short. We have to figure out what this Rod bastard is up to.”

“I can't text her. I took her phone.”

His brother began to pace in quick, agitated movements, which made Sebastian's anxiety worse. What the hell could he do?

He wasn't going back to jail. He knew that much. He'd do whatever he had to in order to make sure
that
didn't happen.

“The kid told him
something
,” Eddie insisted. “I
know
he did.”

Maybe that was true. No matter how many times Sebastian had asked, Van had maintained the same story, but Sebastian couldn't question him
too
forcefully, not right before he went to see Grandma Vickie. Sebastian benefited from the money Sheila received. Besides, what good would it do to get himself reported for child abuse? That would just give the cops another reason to knock on his door, to watch him closely.

“Van doesn't have anything to tell,” he said, but he wasn't as convinced as he pretended. He was merely trying to calm his brother so he could think straight.

That attempt fell flat and only made Eddie angrier. “Are you willing to stake your life on that, brother? Risk going back to jail?”

“Hell, no. But pressuring Van's not the answer.” The last time he'd started in on the kid, Sheila had said she'd call CPS herself if he didn't stop.
You get him taken away, we lose eight hundred bucks a month
, she'd screamed.
How will we get anything we need then?

“So what
is
the answer?” his brother demanded.

“If you'd give me a second, maybe I could come up with something!” he shouted back.

Eddie ignored his outburst. “
I
think we have to assume the worst, which means there's no time to waste. Let's go get Rod. We'll lure him into the car, take him out into the sticks and beat him to death.”

“I'm not fighting that dude,” Sebastian said.

“Come on, don't be a puss! He's got a broken hand, for fuck's sake. And it'll be two against one!”

“I don't care. He looks pretty fit. And he must be able to handle himself, or he wouldn't have come here last night. Anyway, how will we
lure
him into the car? The guy's not stupid. If Van told him anything, he'll be leery.”

“We invite him to go smoke again.”

“He won't fall for that, not if he isn't who he says he is.”

“Then we accuse him of stealing Sheila's phone,” Eddie said, obviously developing the plan as he spoke. “When he tells us he didn't take it, we'll ask if we can search his truck. He'll let us, because he doesn't know it's there. Then he'll be shocked when we find it. That'll get us close to him. I'll hold him while you stab him. Make sure you get him two or three times, to be on the safe side. After that we'll shove him in the backseat, jump in the front and drive off.”

“In broad daylight?” Sebastian asked.

“What other choice do we have?” Eddie spread his hands in appeal. “We can stand right by the cab, block what we're doing. Anyone who happens to be driving by won't know what the hell's going on.”

“And then what?”

“What do
you
think? We take him out and bury him somewhere no one will ever look.”

Sebastian tried to imagine that plan being successful but had too many reservations. “They can trace our cell phones—the towers they ping off and shit.”

“Then we leave them here.”

“What if he's already told India whatever he learned from Van? While we're messing with him, she could come for the gun.”

“Then
we
grab the gun first.”

As tempting as it would be to reclaim the weapon he'd used to shoot Charlie Sommers, so he could hide it in a safer place—like the bottom of the Bay—he'd been careful not to go near it. No one had found it. As far as he was concerned, it was safer to let the gun stay where it was. There'd been no need to take the chance.

But this changed everything. “Okay. Only, we don't kill him right away.” Sebastian came to his feet and began to pace, too. “We sit tight and wait until he leads us to India. Then we settle this after dark.”

Eddie lowered his voice. “You mean we make it easy and shoot them both.”