Love Inspired Suspense July 2015 #2 (28 page)

Nancy stepped away from her son and smoothed a hand down her shirt. “I suppose I should pack a few things.” She shook her head and turned to go pack.

Johnny crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What made you stop by your mother's so late?”

The tone of Johnny's question made Ellie's heart sink. She closed her eyes briefly and said a silent prayer.
Please, Lord, don't let Greg be involved with this mess. Not again.

Greg lifted his hand; a plastic bag dangled from his fingers. “Leftovers from the party. Mom forgot to grab them when she left.”

Johnny nodded, as if satisfied. “Take your mom to your house and keep an eye on her. Ellie will stay at my grandfather's house.”

“Ellie, there's room at my house for you,” Greg said, his tone flat.

Ellie rubbed her forearms. “I think it would be better for everyone if I stayed away from my family. I don't want to bring anyone else into this mess.”

Greg nodded, an uncertain look in his eyes.

Ellie glanced toward the back hall where their mother had disappeared. “You really should talk to Mom. Tell her the truth.”

Greg bowed his head, all the years of guilt and secrets weighing on him. “I will.”

Flashing lights flooded into the kitchen. Johnny touched Ellie's arm. “The police are here.”

Ellie nodded. She turned to Greg. “Make sure mom is safe.”

“I will.”

Ellie studied her brother's face. Did she really know him?

NINE

T
he next morning, Johnny wiped the sweat that was dripping into his eyes as he ran up the final incline toward his grandfather's Victorian home. The temperature was barely in the sixties, but he had worked up a sweat jogging. He turned up the driveway and the hexagonal structure on the second story of the home stood prominently over the large yard.

Johnny planted his hands on his waist and bent over, dragging in huge breaths.
No more skipping my daily routine.
It didn't take long to get out of shape.

When he was a little kid, his mother had bemoaned her miserable youth. Her miserable parents. Her woe-is-me childhood.

His grandfather. This house. Everything about Williamstown...contradicted his mother's tales of gloom.

It was only after his grandfather had allowed him to move in when he was in his early twenties that he had learned that his mother's bedroom had been in the third-story alcove, a round bedroom with windows on four sides. A part of him had felt betrayed. She had portrayed her childhood as far different. He had to reframe the past that his mother had lied about.

The trill of his cell phone snapped him out of his reverie. He stood straight and pulled it out of his running jacket. The Caller ID read Williamstown PD. He snapped it open. “Rock.”

“Why do I feel like saying ‘paper, scissors'?” There was no mistaking the sarcastic tone of Officer Bailey.

Not exactly in the mood, Johnny said curtly, “What's going on?”

“Kerry Pitz. The kid who nearly overdosed?”

“Yeah.” His pulse
whoosh-whoosh-whoosh
ed in his ears.

“He's awake.”

Johnny grabbed the corner of his shirt and wiped the sweat off his brow. Optimism lifted his mood. “You talk to him?”

“Parents are closing ranks. You know how it is with kids and their rich parents. It's all ‘not my child.' They can't see past their white picket fences and fancy cars.”

Johnny raised his eyes to the stately home. Was that what had happened with his grandparents? Blind to their own daughter's problems? Unwilling to recognize the depths of their daughter's drug problem until it was too late?

“We need to find out what he knows. We need to talk to him before the hospital releases him. Before someone gets to him. See if he can give us the name of the guy who paid him and Collin to bust out the windows of Gifts and More.

“Do you think he's in danger? Can you spare an officer to sit outside his room?” The flutter of the lacy window curtains on the second story caught Johnny's attention as a long sigh stretched across the line.

“We're a small-town operation. We don't have the resources for babysitting.”

Johnny made a noncommittal sound at the back of his throat as he stared at his grandfather's house.

The white trim on the windows needed painting. A pang of guilt poked him. His grandfather couldn't keep up this place, yet he truly didn't want to sell. He shook away his train of thought. Neither Johnny nor his grandfather had any business taking care of an old Victorian. Sell it and turn it over to some young, ambitious couple. People were always looking to do that today. Buy a fixer-upper.

“I have an idea,” Bailey said as Johnny's focus was drawn to the window where Ellie suddenly appeared, unaware of him watching her from the driveway. Her focus was beyond him. Down the road. The unguarded look on her face exposed raw emotion, making him feel as though he had intruded on a private moment.

Didn't Ellie know the Pitz family from church?

“Care to tell me or would you rather just keep me in the dark?” Johnny imagined Officer Bailey scrunching up his face.

“I'll keep you in the loop. Let me get things lined up.”

Johnny paced the top of the driveway to cool down from his run. “Any info on the break-in last night at Ellie's?”

“Nothing. Guy must have been wearing gloves. I'll let you know if we find anything.”

“Thanks.” Johnny ended the call and stuffed the phone into his pocket. He went around back and let himself in through the French doors, the same way he had left. Duke looked up, then put his head back down between his paws, as if to say, “Oh, it's only you.”

Johnny took the back stairs two at a time. He lifted his hand to knock on the guest room door when it flew open. Ellie stood there in a University at Buffalo sweatshirt and Cookie Monster PJ bottoms. Her pink lips formed an unspoken
Oh
.

Johnny took a step back. “Sorry, didn't mean to startle you.”

Her gaze traveled the length of him. “You've already been out for a run. What time is it?” She glanced over her shoulder, as if to find the answer somewhere in the guest room.

“It's a little after eight.”

“Oh.”

“I got a call from Officer Bailey.”

“Any news on the break-in?” Alarm threaded through her voice.

“No, sorry. It's Kerry. Kerry Pitz. He's awake.”

Her fingers fluttered at the base of her neck. “Did he tell anyone who paid him and Collin to shoot out my shop's window?”

“No. I was hoping you'd be up for a little trip to the hospital. To talk to Kerry. His parents are stalling the police. They won't be able to do that forever, but out of respect for his father—a well-respected lawyer—they don't want to push it.”

“But you think they'll let me in.”

He cocked his head. “It's worth a try.”

Ellie bit her bottom lip. “Do you think we have time to go to church service this morning?”

Johnny studied the floor for a moment, then lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Let me make a few calls. I want to make sure Kerry doesn't get discharged before we get there.”

* * *

Immediately after church, Ellie found herself in the waiting room of the north wing of the small community hospital. As Ellie understood it, there had been discussions about moving Kerry to a larger health-care facility in Buffalo once his condition stabilized. Then Kerry had proved them all wrong by waking up.

Ellie touched Mrs. Pitz's cold hand; her boneless frame slouched in an orange vinyl chair from the height of the disco era. “Mrs. Pitz?”

Mrs. Pitz sniffed and sunk further into the chair, if that were possible. The woman here was a far cry from the chatty young mother who used to pick Kerry up from Sunday-school class all those years ago.

“Mrs. Pitz, we'd like to talk to your son if that's okay with you.”

Mrs. Pitz nodded and ran a hand under her nose. “I'm having a hard time processing this all.” Her voice trembled. “But if he has information that can spare some other family this nightmare...” Her voice waned.

Johnny gave her a brief nod. “Kerry is eighteen, but you're welcome to come in the room with us. Be with your son.” They had decided to ask his mother permission to talk to Kerry even though he was an adult and allowed to make his own decisions. They figured getting buy-in from the parents would fuel their success.

Mrs. Pitz held up a shaky hand. “No, go on in. I'll be out here.” Her forced smile didn't reach her sad eyes. Perhaps she was afraid to hear what her son had to say. Or perhaps she was more afraid of what her husband would say when he returned and learned she had allowed an FBI agent to speak to their son.

Johnny tipped his head toward the door.

Ellie led the way into the private room then leaned toward Johnny. “His father's a lawyer. I don't think he'd want us in here.”

There was some cartoon show on the television but Kerry's eyes were staring at the white wall.

“Kerry,” Ellie called softly. The young man slowly turned his head, his thick black locks splayed on the stark white pillowcase. “How are you?”

“Been better.” His attention shifted to the lump created by his feet under the thin white bedspread.

Slowly, Kerry glanced at Johnny. “Who's he?”

“Special Agent Johnny Rock with the FBI.” Ellie wrapped her hands around the cool bar at the foot of the bed. She held her breath, waiting for his response.

Kerry rolled his eyes and then winced, as if the effort hurt his head. “It would have been better if I'd died.”

“Please, don't say that. Your parents would have been heartbroken.”

He rubbed a hand with tubes coming out of it across his forehead. “They're already heartbroken. I'm every parent's worst nightmare.”

“You made a huge mistake, but you're alive.”

Kerry stared at her, the hurt apparent in his eyes. “Why are you here?” he asked Johnny.

Ellie moved to the side of his bed. “Collin shot a BB through my shop's window.”

Something akin to surprise flashed in his eyes before he caught himself. “And...?”

“He told us someone paid you to do it.”

“Collin talks a lot.” Kerry aimed the remote control at the television and turned it off. “Nothing but junk on during the day. How do people stand it?”

He dropped the remote next to him on the bed and studied the tubes coming out of the back of his hand. “Anyone get hurt?”

“Not seriously.”

Kerry finally lifted his eyes to meet hers. “You're here to find out who paid me.”

“Yes,” Johnny said, hanging back a bit so as not to intimidate the young man.

“Why would I want to tell law enforcement anything? I'd get myself in trouble. My dad says only fools talk to cops.”

“Do you want anyone else to get a dose of those toxic drugs?” The steely intensity in Johnny's words made Ellie wince.

A long silence stretched between them. Then Kerry swallowed hard before speaking. “My father's going to disown me anyway. I've got nothing to lose...”

Ellie was about to say something reassuring when Kerry continued, “I don't know his name.”

Johnny pulled a chair alongside the boy's bed and leaned in conspiratorially. “Can you describe him?”

Kerry traced the buttons on the remote control. “I was supposed to meet my dealer in the park. You know...the park on Glenn Street?”

Johnny nodded, but didn't speak. Neither did Ellie. She feared anything she said would cause him to stop talking. Her mouth grew dry. How had this young man from a great family gotten himself in such a desperate position?

“What happened when you met your dealer in the park?” Johnny encouraged him.

Kerry clenched and unclenched his hands. “A guy...a guy I didn't know strolled up to me. He had on a hoodie and a baseball cap. I could see the whites of his eyes glistening in the light of the lamppost, but I wouldn't recognize him if I saw him again or anything.”

The young man twisted the sheets in his tight grip. “I was really nervous because I owed my dealer some money. I thought maybe he'd sent this guy to collect.” His face crumbled in distress and his nostrils flared before he seemed to compose himself. “I suppose in a way he had.”

“What did this man ask you to do?”

“He gave me some of the stuff and told me it was on him if I could do him a favor.” Kerry sniffed. “He told me to break the front window of Gifts and More.”

“Kerry, you know that shop is mine. You helped me paint the walls. You've known me since you've been a little kid.” A hollowness expanded in Ellie's chest.

Kerry picked at a loose thread on the bedspread. “I know.” He sniffed again and his jaw trembled. He looked so much younger than his eighteen years. “No one was supposed to get hurt. I figured a BB gun would do the job without hurting anyone. The guy said to shatter the windows when the shop was closed. He emphasized that part... Collin and I started getting high. Well, actually, I was shooting up. I was so out of it, I talked Collin into doing it. Promised him fifty bucks. I was going to borrow it from my dad.”

“Why not just stiff the guy? You already had the drugs.”

Kerry slowly shook his head. “I ain't going to borrow more trouble than I already had. I had to shoot out the window. No biggie, right? Besides, my dad would never miss fifty bucks.” He laughed; a rueful sound.

“Has Collin come in to see you since you've woken up?”

“No...” He shook his head slowly. “Why?” His mouth gaped open, as if he was about to be sick.

Ellie grabbed a plastic basin and held it near Kerry's chest in case he needed it. He pushed it away. “I'm not going to be sick.” He shook his head. “Tell me. What's up with Collin?”

“Ellie and I were standing in the doorway when Collin drove by and shot out the door.”

“Idiot,” Kerry muttered. “That's not what was supposed to happen.” He punched the mattress next to his hip.

“When you decide to get involved with drugs, bad stuff happens.” Johnny leaned back in the chair.

“You could have died, Kerry.” Ellie's voice was filled with compassion. “If you don't care about yourself, think of your family. Your little brother.”

Kerry's mouth pinched. A smattering of peach fuzz covered his unshaved jaw. “I'm so ashamed. Ashamed of what I've become.”

Ellie placed a hand on Kerry's shoulder; it felt thin under her touch. He had once been such an athletic, strong kid. She had imagined big things for him.

Drugs only subtracted from a person's life. They had clearly made more than its share of withdrawals from Kerry's.

“Can you tell us anything about the man who asked you to shatter the windows?”

Kerry closed his eyes. The movement under his eyelids suggested he was replaying recent events. “He smelled like my grandma's.”

“Your grandma's? Like mothballs?” Ellie prompted, not understanding.

“No.” His forehead wrinkled, as though he was slightly annoyed. “My grandma's kitchen. Her house smelled awesome.” A dreamy look descended into his eyes. “When she hugged me, even her clothes smelled like cake.” A half smile quirked the corner of his mouth.

A cool dread pooled in Ellie's gut. No, no...it couldn't be. She glanced over at Johnny. Was he thinking the same thing she was?