In the House On Lakeside Drive (19 page)

“We…we could try the door again,” Josh reasoned. “Maybe it will open this time.”

Remy shook his head. “Not likely.”

“But, we could try…”

Behind them, Sam stirred. “H-hello?” he called out nervously. “Remy? Josh?”

“Over here, Sam. About ten feet in front of you, near the water room.”

The tall man hefted himself out of his curled position and struggled to right himself. He found his bearings and made his way toward his friends. “What's going on?”

“We're gonna try the door again.”

Sam frowned. “Remy, it's locked. You know it's locked.”

“Beats sitting here waiting for someone to come back. I don't know about you, but I don't wanna be here if whatever they're doing goes south, do you?”

“But that's just it,” Sam tried to reason. “What
are
they doing?”

“That…that guy, the one with the funny voice,” Josh piped up. “He-he said something about…”

“About what?” Remy was all ears.

“Something about someone owing him something, I think?”

Long dishwater hair sank as Remy's head drooped. “You
think
?”

“Well, I don't know! My memory, it's not so good!” Josh's round face was starting to puff up in indignation. “I can't help it!”

“Okay, Josh, settle down,” Sam said, sliding back into his role of peacemaker. “No one's mad. But it would be helpful if we knew
why
we were here.”

“That guy, his voice,” Remy said. “There's something familiar about it.”

“Familiar? Familiar how?” Sam's frown deepened. “Do you know him?”

Remy shook his head. “Never seen him before. At least, I don't think so. It's hard to tell in the dark.”

“He sounded familiar to me, too. Like I'd heard him, but only once. It's not like your accent, and I'm sure it's not your uncle.”

“For sure it's not him. I'd know
that
voice anywhere.”

As the older two talked, Josh made his way up the newly built stairs. He stopped at the thick door, and he grabbed the doorknob, turning it as he pushed. The barrier didn't budge. He tried again, to no avail. Frustrated, he started pounding on it.

“Josh!” Remy hissed, racing up the stairs and grabbing his friend's bound limbs. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“I want out of here,” the younger man said plaintively.

“Yeah, I don't think they're gonna let us just stroll out of here, Josh.” Remy's ears were peeled for any sign that the racket had been heard, and heaved a short breath when silence greeted them. “Sam, anything?”

“No,” Sam replied. “Either they're dead to the world or no one's up there.”

The three unwilling prisoners thought about that a minute. “They…they wouldn't just leave us here, w-would they?” Josh asked.

“No,” Remy said, ushering him down the blocked staircase.
God, I hope not.

* * *

“Dude was whacked, man,” Riley said as he charred the steaks on the small hibachi in the back of the house. “And I
know
I seen him somewhere before.”

“What, exactly, did he say?” Dayton was smoking the last of his weed stash, and was cursing the idea of having to go out and get more. He desperately wanted a pill. One of those alprazolam pills would curb his need nicely, but it was worth more in cash to them than he wanted to forfeit.

“Said something about knowing what we were up to,” Riley said. “I don't see how. Not like we were anywhere we could be overheard.”

“Or that anyone was payin' attention,” Charlie mused. “Drunks aren't known for having long memories.”

“Still, don't wanna take chances. I got more than just money tied up in this.” The scent of roasting meat was making the Southerner hungry again. “Those almost done? I'm starving.”

“
You
were the one who wanted yours well done,” Riley reminded him. He pulled two off the grate and onto waiting plates. “Potatoes should be done soon. Have to live without butter on 'em.”

“Fine by me.” Charlie went back inside, eager to set into his food.

“Few minutes left on yours, man,” Riley said, looking at his employer. “There's something else, too.”

“What?”

“The dude? Said one of 'em was loaded.”

“Come again?”

“I'm tellin' ya, that's what he said. Wouldn't gimme nothing else though. Said I had to arrange a meet to get more information.” He pulled out the slip of paper with the telephone number on it.

Dayton stared at the string of numbers before him. “There's no way. Those kids aren't rich.”

“Not that I could tell. Plus, I think the dude was drunk off his ass. Still, might make for a nice payday if we can get more free information, don't you think?”

Pale eyes closed, trying to keep his weed-addled mind from blowing up into a migraine. “We'll call the number as soon as I'm done with Liam,” he decided finally. “Not like we were planning on keeping the baggage downstairs anyway.”

“About that,” Riley said, his face growing serious. “I don't kill kids.”

“They're old enough to vote. And smoke. That older one might even be legal to drink.”

“Still kids. You didn't see 'em, out and about. I'm tellin' ya, they might
be
adults, but they ain't got adult minds. Especially that little one. Acted like he was five sometimes.” Riley shook his head. “Got no problem with dumping them in the middle of nowhere, let 'em fend for themselves, but that's my limit.”

“I am not having them identify me in a lineup, understand?” Dayton's eyes turned murderous.

“Far enough out, in this weather? Hell, might not ever find what's left of 'em. Especially that white-eyed one. Fucker's creepy. It's like he knows you're there even though he can't see you.”

“Fair enough. You got that phone on you?”

“Yeah.”

“Give it here. Need to make a phone call.”

Chapter 27

“Evan, you don't have to do this,” Jesse Baker cautioned before the unmarked police car pulled into the driveway of the modest house Cooper Lavelle rented. His brother's house, Remy's old house, had been sold off as part of the assets of the estate, and according to the family lawyer the proceeds were being put aside for Remy's welfare. That, plus his government check, was what the young man had to live on for the foreseeable future. “I can get two more uniforms to…”

“No. I have to do this. The bastard probably knows what happened, and I'm gonna find out.” The thin man was furious, and his normally windblown blond hair was particularly messy as his hands ran through it in worry and frustration. “He's been after Remy since we moved him out to the house, and the more I learn about the man, the more I wish he'd just fucking die.”

“Would save that kid a lot of heartache and grief, I agree,” Evan's friend Eric Ingham said. “But I'd think twice about accusing him of something. Holds a grudge, he does. And how.”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw him once, just before Peyton and Emily died,” Eric said. The Inghams lived in the same subdivision as Remy's family had. “He came looking for something, something Peyton wouldn't give him. I was mowing the yard, but I could tell Cooper was furious with his brother. Hell, I could hear the screams even over the rider I use.”

“Anything happen?”

“No. No, he was careful there. Wasn't much after that Peyton and Emily got in their accident. I don't know what he was after, but I don't think he got it.”

“Might never know,” Jesse said. “I doubt Remy would at this point.”

“No. And given how horrible he is to the poor kid, I think Remy would have given it up by now if he
did
know. Anything to get the bastard away from him.” Evan pulled the door handle as soon as the engine died. “Are you coming or what? 'Cause I can't promise I'll be civil if I see him.”

“Don't do anything stupid,” Officer Baker warned. “I don't need to be arresting you while we're looking for those kids. Rachel doesn't need that on top of everything else.”

Evan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I know. That's why I asked you guys to come.” He started for the front door. “Cooper!” he shouted. “Cooper, get out here!”

There was no answer.

“Cooper Lavelle, open up!” Jesse shouted. “Police!”

Still no answer. Evan began pounding on the door when the cheap wooden barrier swung open of its own accord. “Should we go in?” he asked.

“Door's open,” Jesse reasoned. “And we
are
looking for three vulnerable adults.” He led the way in. “If it falls apart in court, they can blame me. I'd do the same thing if it was my Allen gone missing.”

The three men picked their way through the wreck that Cooper called a house. Beer cans littered the carpet, and a trash bin full of empty scotch bottles greeted them as they made their way through the kitchen. The smell of liquor was overpowering. Dishes sat in piles along the countertop next to the sink, and the whole place had a layer of grime on it that made Evan shudder.

“Poor kid,” he said, thinking of Remy. “If we'd have known it was this bad…”

“It was better when Remy lived here,” Jesse said. “Kid cleaned up a little.”

“Explains why he doesn't mind clutter, but he freaks at dirt. I didn't know his folks well enough to know whether or not they were like-minded in that respect.”

“Becka always described the house as ‘lived-in.' Emily wasn't a dirty person, but she didn't mind a pile of clothes here and there.” Eric's wife had been friendly with their late neighbors, and had made a habit of coffee on Sunday morning with the late Mrs. Lavelle.

“Cooper! It's the police!” Jesse called out. “We just wanna talk!”

Silence greeted them. “Not here,” the officer said.

“I say we should be out looking for him. Seems kind of coincidental that Remy and the others go missing and now Cooper's nowhere to be found.” Evan's eyes shone in the dim light, almost pleading with the man.

Jesse pulled out his phone. “Yeah, Sarge,” he said. “We're at Cooper Lavelle's place. Seems the man's skipped out.” He paused. “That's what we thought, too. Okay. Thanks.” He turned to Evan and Eric. “We're putting a Be On the Look Out on him. Cooper Lavelle is now being sought as a person of interest in the disappearance of Joshua Long, Samuel Davis and Jeremiah Lavelle.”

Evan's face tightened in wonder. “Jeremiah?”

“Yeah,” Eric said. “Some old family name, I guess. Peyton and Emily always called him Remy.”

“I know that's how he signs things,” Evan said. He sighed. “Damn. And we're no closer than where we started.” He threw up his hands in frustration. “Where the hell are they?”

The silence was broken by the ring of Evan's cell phone. “This is Evan,” he answered, his whole body taut and pensive.

“Evan? Is that what they call you now?” The voice was one that Evan heard in his nightmares. He knew he would remember it for the rest of his life.

“What…what do you want?” Two pairs of eyes stared at the thin man, who motioned them to stay quiet.

“Can't a man say hello to a friend? Liam, I'm hurt.”

“Friend isn't exactly the word I'd use to describe us.” Evan paused. “How did you get this number?”

“Hmm. Let's see. How did I get this number?” the voice on the other line drawled. “Three guesses, Liam. Why, I'm guessing you even know the names.”

Evan's heart dropped to his feet. “No,” he breathed. “Oh, God, no…”

“Afraid so. Now, way I see it, we've got a lot to talk about. We can do this one of two ways: you come quietly, somewhere private where we can chat, or I can make a few quick phone calls and let this hole-in-a-wall town know exactly who their upstanding citizen used to be. Your choice.”

“Where are they?”

“Safe. For now. Can't make any promises, you don't play nice.” There was a long pause. “Now, you wanna play nice?”

Evan took the phone in his hand and gripped it, waving it in the air as though he wanted to smash it into a million pieces. His teeth gritted so hard they hurt. “So help me God, if you hurt them…”

“Completely up to them. And you. I'll call tomorrow. And Liam? Best keep this to yourself. Don't want any party crashers this time, understand?”

Cornered, Evan sighed. “Yes. I understand.”

“Good. Tomorrow then. G'bye.” The line cut out.

“Son of a bitch,” Evan whispered. “Son of a
bitch
!”

“Evan?” Eric asked, his normally cheery face looking pale. “Evan, what's wrong?”