Discovering You (24 page)

They should've watched Sebastian's house until he left, then followed him, Rod decided. That made a lot more sense.

“Hey.” Dave snapped his fingers in front of Rod's face. “I won, dude. You're done.”

Rod didn't even bother to check the table. The guy wasn't all that good; with any real effort, he could've kicked his ass. But he had other things to do. “Too bad,” he said and walked out.

Before he got in his truck, he sent India another text.

Give me Frank's address.

She replied right away.

What for?

So I'll have a base while I watch Sebastian's house.

The Siddells have been nice. I appreciate their help and support, but we don't know them all that well. It's safer if they don't ever see you.

Rod climbed into his truck and called her. “That plan isn't going to work,” he said the moment she answered.

“Why not?”

“Because it's too inefficient. You're trusting the Siddells. I'm going to have to trust them, too.”

“I'm trusting the Siddells with the fact that
I'm
poking around, but I'm already a focal point for Sebastian. We can't trust them or anyone else with
your
safety. What if... What if they mention you to another neighbor they think they can trust, but that neighbor rats us out?”

“That's the chance we're going to have to take.”

“No, it isn't.”

He started the engine. “India, I'm betting they're listed or I can look them up on the internet, so don't be difficult. I don't need your permission or your agreement.”

Silence. Then she said, “Don't make me sorry I ever got you involved.”

“Sorry or not, we're both in this now. Give me the address. Let's see this through, get it over with.”

After a little more coaxing, she finally provided him with the address.

Since the only car he could see when he arrived was the broken-down Camaro, Rod assumed he'd missed his opportunity for tonight. Sebastian could stay out until morning or even later. But Rod figured it might be worth hanging out for a few hours, just in case he came back and went out again. The weather was warm enough that he wouldn't be uncomfortable sitting on the porch while the Siddells slept, and being that close would give him a great view.

Tweakers like Sebastian often stayed up for days. For a meth addict, the night was young.

21

B
oredom set in before exhaustion did. Only Rod's determination to put a stop to what was happening to India kept him on that porch. But by three in the morning, it'd cooled off and he was beginning to wish he had a jacket.

He was about to give up and head back to the motel when he decided to walk across the street and see if he could find out anything that might help them. He'd been playing it safe while trying to figure out who was involved in this game, where they were right now and what they might do. But he hadn't seen any activity at Sebastian's house, or on the street in general, since he'd started his vigil. He was going to have to get closer to make this night count for something. A light in the front part of the house still burned; he had the feeling someone was up and wanted to at least catch a glimpse of whoever it was.

Moving slowly, carefully, he crept around the perimeter of the house, looking for some way to peer inside. Most of the rooms in back were dark, but he couldn't risk trying to peek in the front. What if someone drove by at that moment? Or Sebastian or Eddie came home? The drapes were pulled on the biggest window, anyway, the one with the light gleaming around the edges. So he doubted he'd be able to see anything even if he took that risk. The residents of this house were interested in protecting their privacy, but, fortunately for him, they were also concerned with saving money on their utility bill. Most of the windows were open to let in the cool night air, which provided him with a unique opportunity—if he had the balls to take advantage of it.

Did Sebastian have the gun that killed Charlie tucked under his mattress? In his nightstand? In his closet? The police hadn't found the murder weapon when they searched the house, but Sebastian could've given it to someone else for safekeeping and reclaimed it after he got home. Maybe he felt he had a better chance of keeping that gun out of the hands of the authorities if he retained possession of it himself, instead of hoping no one would stumble upon its hiding place.

According to India, Sebastian thought highly of himself; he just might be that daring. Rod figured it was worth a quick look while he had the chance.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he turned on the “do not disturb” feature so that it wouldn't buzz at a bad time. Then he returned to one particular window that seemed more accessible than the others.

Adrenaline charged through his system as he stood in the dark, listening for any sounds coming from within. There was no movement, but he could make out the muted rumble of a TV elsewhere in the house. If he had his guess, this was a back bedroom. He hoped it was the master and not where the kids slept. He didn't want to scare the crap out of Sheila's children by climbing through their window in the middle of the night—but if he was going in, this was his best point of entry.

Since the frame was already bent, the screen wasn't much of an obstacle. It'd been flimsy to begin with; if necessary, he could've torn the mesh. But hoisting himself through the opening with only one hand wouldn't be easy.

Neither would getting out if someone screamed...

He told himself he'd be quiet, but he ended up making a lot of noise. And he landed on something. It didn't feel like a sleeping child, thank God. He bent to make sure and was relieved when he felt nothing other than some discarded clothes and a tennis shoe. No one stirred or came to see what the hell was going on, which encouraged him. If he could get away with that much noise, he could pretty well do whatever he wanted.

He could see the various shapes of furniture in the moonlight, including the outline of bunk beds. This was a child's room, all right.

He'd just stumbled over some toys while heading for the hall, one of which emitted loud
Battlestar Galactica
music, when he heard a small voice say, “Sheila?”

Shit. He'd awakened one of the kids, after all.

“Sheila? That you?”

It sounded like a boy. Rod felt he had to say
something
or the little guy might panic. “No, bud. It's me. Sorry if I woke you. I was...looking for the bathroom.”

“Who're
you
?” he asked.

The other kids didn't seem to be in the room, and this one didn't act alarmed. No doubt he'd seen a lot in his short life, living with the kind of people he did. Rod wondered how far it was to the back door and if he could get there without being seen by an adult. He sure as hell didn't want to climb through the window again...

“Just a friend of your uncle's,” he said as if it was no big deal that he'd be standing in the kid's bedroom at that time of night.

“Eddie?”

“Yes.”

“He's not
my
uncle,” he grumbled.

Obviously, the kid didn't like Sebastian's brother. How did he feel about Sebastian? “You two don't get along, huh?”

No answer. As far as Rod was concerned, that was a definite yes. Instead of leaving the room, he navigated the messy floor to reach the boy's bed. “What's your name?”

“Van.”

“How old are you, Van?”

“Eight.”

“You the oldest in the family, then?”

“I'm not part of the family. My mother was Sheila's sister. She's dead now.”

Wow. And this was what he'd been left with? “How long ago was that?”

“Don't know. When I was little.”

“What happened to her?”

“She fell off a bridge.”

Rod didn't want to dwell on Van's mother's death, so he focused his next question in another direction. “You have any brothers and sisters?”

“No, but Sheila has two girls.”

“How old are they?”

“Five and three.”

“Where are they now?”

“In their room, I guess.”

“Do you look out for them?”

“Try to,” he muttered as if he didn't feel he was capable of doing a very good job. “When I'm not in trouble.”

“What do you get in trouble for?”

“Everything. Not picking up my toys. Not going to bed early enough. Getting up too early. Eating Sheila's food. Not paying attention in class.”

“Those aren't the worst mistakes in the world. You seem like a nice kid to me.”

“Really?” He sounded doubtful, as if he didn't hear praise very often.

“Absolutely.”

“Even though I'm supposed to be sleeping right now?”

“You heard something that woke you up. How's that your fault? I took a wrong turn.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He thought for a moment, then he said, “Um, you're not going to tell Eddie what I said about him, are you?”

“That he's not your uncle? Heck, no. Why would I tell him that?”

“Because you like him?”

“I'll be honest. I don't know him that well. We're just hanging out tonight. I may never see him again.”

“Oh. He has a lot of friends like that.”

“Why? Is he an asshole?”

The boy laughed. “Yeah.”

“Sorry he's not nicer. Sucks to grow up with people like him around. What about Sebastian? He an okay guy?”

“I hate him even more,” Van whispered.

Rod mussed the boy's hair. “The good news is that you're only little until you grow up.”

“I can't wait.”

Rod was just thinking about how he was going to close this conversation and get out of the room when an idea occurred to him. This was a smart kid. And he had no love for the adults in his life...

“What does Sebastian do that you don't like?” he asked.

Van remained silent for a few seconds, then he said, “Lots of stuff.”

“Can you give me an example?”

“I forget.” He sounded sullen.

“He was gone for a while, wasn't he?”

“Yeah. When he was in jail.”

Rod didn't ask why he was in jail. He wasn't sure this boy would even know. But a second later Van volunteered, “The police say he killed someone.”

Obviously, he was troubled by the accusation. “I heard about that. But he must not have done it, if they let him go, right?”

Van said nothing.

“Right?” Rod pressed.

“Maybe he did do it.”

That statement was hardly forensic proof, but Rod couldn't help getting excited. “How could he have? Your mom—er, Sheila—told me he was here with her the night that man got shot.”

Van muttered a few words Rod couldn't quite make out. He
thought
it was “That's what she made us all say,” but Rod didn't hear the boy clearly and he needed to be sure. “What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“C'mon, what?”

He wriggled down under his covers. “I better go to sleep before I get in trouble.”

Rod tried to keep him talking. Asked if he played sports. What his favorite video games were. How he was doing in school. But it was obvious the boy felt he'd gotten too close to admitting something he shouldn't and that'd spooked him.

So Rod backed off. Maybe once he befriended Sebastian, he'd have another chance to win this kid's trust and really get him talking. That could take Sebastian out of India's life—and Van's—for good.

“Okay, I'll let you go back to sleep,” he said and straightened the blankets. But as soon as he got up and started moving toward the hall, he heard voices. Two men and a woman.

“Uh-oh. Don't tell Sebastian I'm awake,” Van whispered, his voice full of fear.

* * *

India couldn't sleep. She was too worried. She'd been watching the clock ever since Rod left, couldn't imagine what was keeping him, especially because he'd stopped communicating with her. She'd tried texting him. She'd even called several times, but there was no response.

Had something happened to him? Should she keep calling—or was she putting him in a compromising situation?

After another ten minutes with no word, she forgot about the TV show she'd turned on to distract herself and began to pace. “Answer the phone!” she muttered as she risked calling once again.

No response.
Why?

Sweat rolled between her shoulder blades as memories of the night Charlie was killed pressed closer than they'd been since that terrible event. Allowing Rod to help her had been a bad idea. Had she gotten
another
man killed?

“Please, no...” She had to learn what was going on, find out if he needed help. She couldn't let anyone else die. She wouldn't be able to live with herself.

But how could she help Rod when she didn't know where he was or what he needed?

Should she go over there?

No. If Sebastian saw her, it would only make things worse. What
could
she do?

She began to scroll through the contacts on her phone. She'd added the number Sebastian had used to her address book so she'd recognize it if she ever received another call from him.

She brought up that information but didn't hit the icon to dial him. She stood there, transfixed, staring at his name. What was he doing right now? Did it involve Rod?

With a curse, she called Frank Siddell. She hated to wake him, but she needed him to check the porch and, if he wasn't there, look around for Rod's truck. Maybe Rod had just fallen asleep.

When Frank got back to her, it wasn't good news. He said Rod's truck was still parked a few blocks away. The engine was cold—it didn't appear to have been moved for some time—and yet Rod was nowhere to be found.

“Should I walk across the street?” Frank asked. “See if he's over there?”

India clutched her phone even tighter. “No.” What reason could he give for showing up at four thirty in the morning? “I'll call the police,” she said, but once she disconnected, she changed her mind. She was afraid that whatever was happening would be over by the time the authorities could respond. Detective Flores would understand what was at stake, but he lived in San Francisco, and she wasn't sure he'd be able or willing to leave his jurisdiction.

With a deep breath, she scrolled back to Sebastian's latest number and, without letting herself think any further about it, hit the call button. If he had Rod, and he knew Rod was connected to her, he'd say something. Her hand shook as she brought the phone to her ear. Maybe Rod had made contact and they were merely talking, becoming “friends” as she and Rod had planned.

Still, that seemed unlikely this time of night. They couldn't have met at a public place if Rod's truck was where he'd left it when he went to Frank Siddell's. And no one began a friendship by randomly knocking in the middle of the night.

Something had to be wrong...

“India!” Sebastian sounded excited, relieved to hear from her, which made her nauseous.

“What're you doing?” she asked, slurring her words so he'd think she was drunk.

“What do you mean? Nothing. It's almost dawn. I'm about to go to bed. What are
you
doing?”

“Can't sleep.” She listened for voices and other noises in the background but heard nothing. And Sebastian didn't seem anxious or upset. Those had to be good signs. “I thought you'd be at a party. You're out of jail now, right? You can go anywhere, do what you want.”

The emotion in her voice seemed to give him pause. “Just got home,” he said.

“From where? From some other poor woman's house?”

He didn't answer the question. “Have you been drinking?”

“What do
you
think?” She began to sniffle. Now that she'd called him, she had to have a reason. She certainly didn't want him to think she was interested in rekindling their romance. She'd briefly considered trying to play him that way, trying to get close enough to figure out where he'd hidden the murder weapon. But she couldn't stomach the thought of letting him touch her. Her fear and hatred went too deep. She also knew how a pretense like that would be perceived if and when it came out. There would be those, like her in-laws, who wouldn't believe she'd been pretending at all. “Why'd you do it, Sebastian?” she asked. “Why'd you have to
kill
him?”