Delusion Road (24 page)

Keegan was grateful for his father’s Let’s-keep-things-light attitude. After all the crap that had come his way that afternoon, he was happy to pretend everything was okay between them. “Thanks,” he said. “I’m gonna grab a shower first.” He headed down the hallway, peering into the living room to see Isaac bent over a puzzle. “Hey, buddy,” he said, then headed upstairs.

A few minutes later, he returned to the kitchen wearing shorts and a T-shirt. That shower was just what he’d needed, although he’d regretted washing the smell of peaches from his skin. But it remained on his shirt, which he’d decided not to toss into the laundry basket with his other clothes. Taking his dinner plate out of the oven, he grinned at himself. Eighth grade all over again.

“Looks like you had a good day,” said his father.

After hearing Bailey’s story, Keegan knew he had no right to feel so good, but he did. His afternoon with Willa was the first in a long time that he hadn’t spent dwelling on what he’d left behind. “Nice enough,” he said.

“Anything special happen?”

Sitting at the table, Keegan debated for a moment whether to say anything about Wynn. That business was going to get ugly, and his father had already made it clear he was on Team d’Entremont. No. It would be better if his father found out about that on his own. But there
was
something Keegan could share that was sure to please him. “I spent some time with your boss’s daughter today.”

“The grade A bitch?”

Keegan grinned again. “Turns out I was wrong about that.”

“Glad to hear it,” said his father, visibly relieved. “How’d the two of you end up together? Something for school?”

“We took a drive up Valley View Road.”

Evan’s face darkened. “Please don’t tell me you went to that look-off place.”

“Why?”

“Bob Hartley, one of the guys at the dealership, was telling me about it. Apparently, people only go up there for one reason.”

Keegan could hear the disapproval in his father’s voice, and he struggled to keep the defensiveness out of his own. “Well, yeah, we went up there, but—”

“For heaven’s
sake
, Keegan! You
know
she’s going with the d’Entremont boy.”

Keegan shook his head. “Not anymore.”

“Jesus!” his father exclaimed. “
Now
you’ve done it.”

“What? I haven’t done anything.”

Glancing toward the living room, Evan lowered his voice, but the heat in his words was still evident. “Those two were going steady for months! Until you and she spent the afternoon together at that look-off.”

“If you’d just listen to me—”

“Like you’ve listened to
me
?” Evan shoved his chair back and stood up. “You seem determined to screw
everything
up for us.
Everything
!” This time it was Evan who stormed out of the room, his footsteps like exclamation points in the hallway.

Wearing only his boxers, Keegan lay face down on his bed under his open window hoping to catch some semblance of a breeze as he stared at his laptop. After everything that had happened that day, it would have been great to be able to message friends like he used to, immersing himself in meaningless conversation just so his thoughts wouldn’t keep returning to Bailey. At one point, he’d even thought about giving her a call to see how she was doing, but he really didn’t know her well enough to phone her. For that matter, he didn’t know anybody well enough to phone about anything.

Or did he? During his time with Willa that afternoon, he was pretty sure he’d seen a side of her that she hadn’t shown many others. And despite the circumstances of their conversation, he liked how she’d opened up to him. Liked it a lot.

Not that he could do anything about it, of course. In the past, he’d never really appreciated how easy it had been for him to make friends, but that wasn’t part of the plan for living here. How
could
it be when your whole life was controlled by Forbes’s prime directive—
Don’t attract attention.

So he’d spent the evening on homework, finishing a math assignment and reading more of his novel.

Despite the descriptive detail that slowed the action, he found himself enjoying the book, probably because of how he identified with the main character. The guy’s father didn’t seem to understand him any better than Evan understood Keegan. Richardson had said in class that the disconnect between father and son was a theme found in a lot of Buckler’s writing. Although the author had been born more than a century ago, Keegan guessed that some things never changed.

He wished he could say the same about his own life. Sure, homework was a necessary evil, but that’s all he ever did with his evenings now. How lame was that? Of course, the upside was that it kept him busy, kept him from doing what he’d been wanting to do for the last five minutes. And for the last five months. He stared at the cursor in his browser’s navigation bar, counting in his head each time it blinked: 1, 2, 3 …

Both his father and brother were asleep in their rooms across the hall.

… 4, 5, 6 …

Because of the heat that permeated the house, all their doors were open, and Keegan could hear his father’s gentle snores, could hear the wordless murmurs that often punctuated Isaac’s slumber.

… 7, 8, 9 …

Screw it! Keegan’s fingers slowly typed the URL into the navigation bar, then hovered over the Enter key.

It does you no good to look back.
Probably not, he thought, but at least it would answer some questions that had been gnawing at him. For months.

His middle finger lowered toward the Enter key, grazed it, ran the length of it without applying pressure.

It does you no good to look back.
But who really knew that for sure? Hadn’t his tenth-grade history teacher been fond of repeating in a solemn voice, “The roots of the present are buried deep in the past”? Not just buried but buried
deep.

It isn’t just yourself you have to think of, you know.

Keegan fought the feeling that crowded his chest. Clicking off the browser, he closed the laptop, reached toward the lamp by his bed, and shut it off, too.

But the sudden darkness did nothing to dispel the image in his head, the face that was as vivid to him now as the last time he’d seen it.

G
riff had never owned a car because vehicles were too easily traced, despite whatever precautions a person might take—the licence-plate switching they did in movies wasn’t nearly as effective as screenwriters would have people believe. And with continual improvements in forensics, even something as simple as a tire track could spell disaster for somebody in Griff’s line of work. But he enjoyed driving, and the Chrysler he’d stolen a couple of hours ago had proven to be a good choice. He had, of course, been momentarily tempted by the Lexus LFA parked in the same lot, but cars like LFAs got reported moments after being stolen, and what cop was going to get all hot and bothered about a missing eight-year-old Chrysler? Judging by its scrapes and dents, Griff figured the owner would probably get more in insurance than the thing was worth.

Parked fifty yards down from the brick two-storey on West Grace, Griff was certain that Talia’s bedroom was the one on the left facing the street. Looking through his Fujinon binoculars, he’d caught a glimpse of her in it twice—first when she’d entered and turned on the light and, later, when she’d stood by the window talking on her phone. Probably to that Longley kid. Griff frowned. The two were together most of the day, so he
couldn’t imagine what they had to talk about at night. He glanced down at the laptop on the seat beside him and was tempted to activate his RAT and hack the webcam on her computer to listen in, but he didn’t. Not because it would be an invasion of her privacy—hell, he’d used his remote access tool dozens of times already to do that very thing. He just didn’t want to hear what she was saying to Soccerguy89 tonight.

Griff had made up his mind. Sometime within the next few weeks, Nick Longley was going to have an accident. Griff wanted it to happen sooner than later, but killing the kid too soon after trying to discredit him with the rape rumour would raise flags, especially since his dad was so well connected. Besides, Griff had to arrange to meet Talia first so his expressions of sympathy wouldn’t come out of left field.

He’d surprised himself when he realized what his subconscious had apparently known for some time—that he and Talia should be together. And not because of her connection to this job he was doing for Morozov. She was much more than just a means to an end. She was the first girl he’d ever
wanted
to be with.

Since that afternoon at the coffee shop, he’d spent a lot of time imagining their initial meeting. At first, he’d been concerned that his scar would frighten her, and he was tempted to find a way to hide it. So tempted, in fact, that he’d almost walked into Neiman Marcus on North Michigan to speak to a makeup person about how to make it less jarring. In the end, though, he’d decided against it. The only men who wore makeup were queers like the ones he saw in East Lakeview, drag queens whose painted faces made him want to puke. No way was he like them. Besides, he was somehow confident that Talia wouldn’t be put off by his
face. After months of following every keystroke she made on her phone and computer, he knew her better than Soccerguy89 ever could. He’d followed her as she surfed, watched the videos she pulled up, listened to the music she downloaded, read the posts she made on Facebook and Twitter and her other social networks. Of course, there were still nights when, out of the blue, she’d pull up a search engine and enter the same keywords she’d used the first time he’d surveilled her, but that only magnified his feelings for her. She may have moved on with Nick Longley, but her loyalty to the other guy sent a pang through Griff’s chest each time her searches turned up nothing.

He knew other things about Talia too, from monitoring her online activity, like how much family meant to her. At least once a week, she sent a long email and photos to her grandmother in a seniors’ home in California. Whenever she had a paper due in one of her courses, she actually wrote it, didn’t go to sites like Ultius or EssayShark, where she could pay someone to do it for her. Not only was she beautiful and loyal and kind, she had principles—everything a guy could want in a girl. For the very first time in his life, he felt something deep and true for another human being, and he was sure that Talia would feel the same way about him. When she got to know him.

Sure, there were times just before he drifted off to sleep at night when a voice in his head asked if he was any different from Gil Atkins, who’d watched both those little girls for weeks before he took them, but Griff immediately shoved that thought aside. What Gil had felt for the girls he’d chosen was a perversion, nothing like what Griff felt for Talia. Besides, Gil had barely known them, selecting them at random from the neighbourhood,
while Griff knew everything there was to know about the girl in the upstairs bedroom fifty yards away.

Sometimes the voice wondered if Griff would have felt so strongly for Talia had he never seen those pictures on the super’s computer.
Got something to prove, Griff?
the voice would ask, and memories of those photoshopped images would swim into memory, making his stomach tighten and his skin crawl.

But Griff had gotten good at ignoring the voice. He knew he could make Talia happy, just as he knew she could do the same for him. Once Soccerguy89 was out of the picture.

“Y
ou broke
up
with him?” repeated Britney, her face reflecting the disbelief in her voice. “Why in hell did you do
that
?”

Willa turned toward her locker, pretending to fumble with her combination so her friends wouldn’t see her struggling with the truth. “Wynn is—” she began, groping for something other than
a misogynistic prick who preys on defenceless women
, “not the guy I thought he was.”

“Are you
crazy
?” asked Celia. “Of
course
he is. You two are
made
for each other. Anybody with half a brain can see that.”

People were seeing all right. Celia’s and Britney’s body language and raised voices had drawn the attention of several students in the corridor, some even coming out of classrooms to see what was going on. “Look, it’s just over, okay?” Her response was more abrupt than she had intended, and she regretted the wounded expression that appeared on Celia’s face.

“What did he
do
?” Britney asked.

Willa wanted to tell them, wanted more than anything to unload yesterday’s discovery on them so they’d understand and, more important, commiserate with her. She knew she could count on them for the support she needed right now, but she also knew
that neither of them could keep a secret, and she couldn’t risk having Wynn make good on his threat. People’s jobs were at stake here, one of them belonging to Keegan’s father. After what Keegan had done for her yesterday, she wasn’t willing to do anything that might jeopardize it. She let her silence speak for her.

“You’re not gonna
tell
us?” asked Britney.

“I will, but not right now.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

“Look,” said Celia, “you and Wynn
have
to be together.”

Willa was stunned by the vehemence in Celia’s voice. “
Have
to be? What’s
that
supposed to mean?”

“Didn’t we say this was going to be our best year
ever
?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then why are you
ruining
it?”

Willa blinked at Celia, astonished. “
Me
? How am
I
ruining it?”

“We had all these things planned, remember?”

“Of course I remember.”

“Then why are you throwing it all away?”

“I’m not throwing anything away. We can still do everything we talked about.”

“The
five
of us,” muttered Britney. “You really wanna go back to playing fifth wheel again, Wills?”