The Stranger Next Door (8 page)

“We knew when we agreed to do this,” Blake said, “that it might mean we would have to give up our home and our business and move to a new area. We feel it’s important
to put a stop to one of the biggest drug-smuggling operations in the world, even if it requires some personal sacrifice.”

“If the drug smuggler used A-One Auto,” Rocky said to Blake, “why aren’t you the one who has to testify? Why aren’t the henchmen after you? It’s your shop; Mother only helps part-time.”

“I answered the phone when he first called,” Mother said. “I’m the one who talked to him, and I’m the one who told him yes, we would do it. I was the only contact person; I made all the arrangements.”

“Not that it would make any difference at this point,” Mr. Valdez said. “No matter which of your parents was testifying, your whole family would still need to go into the program.”

“Program?”

“I work for the United States Marshal’s Office,” Mr. Valdez said. “We run the Witness Security Program. It’s designed especially to help people like you, people who need to assume different identities and begin new lives because they’ve agreed to be witnesses for the government.”

Rocky stared at his mother and stepfather, and at this stranger who was so deeply involved in his family’s future.

“We pretended to go along with the drug deal,” Mother said. “Two weeks later, one of the cars was
brought to the shop, and we found the packages of cocaine. I called the number I had been given as a contact and gave the code word. When that person came to pick up the drugs, he handed me an envelope containing ten thousand dollars in cash.”

“The FBI arrested the contact person in the parking lot of A-One Auto,” Mr. Valdez said. “An hour later the head of the whole operation was arrested, too. He’s the one who made the phone calls. He’s the one who made all the arrangements. He’s the one we’ve been trying to put out of business.”

“The man that your mother will testify against knows that he got caught because of his contact with A-One Auto,” Blake said. “He knows that he’ll likely spend many years in prison as a result of her testimony.”

“If she could be prevented from testifying,” Mr. Valdez said, “the government would have no case against him. The outcome of the trial rests on her. We could still prosecute the contact person, but not the man who actually shipped the cocaine. We’ve known for years that this man was head of a huge drug-smuggling operation, but this is the first time we’ve had the evidence we need to convict him.”

“So once the trial is over and he’s convicted, we can go home?” Rocky had asked.

“I wish we could,” Blake said, “but after your mother
testifies against him, his mob will seek revenge. We’ll never be able to go back.”

“Your mother is a courageous woman,” Mr. Valdez told Rocky. “It isn’t easy to go on the witness stand and testify in a major trial of this kind, especially when you know the accused so well.”

Riding now in Mr. Franklin’s car, Rocky’s eyes flew open. His thoughts returned to the present, to the night of the fire, when his mother was in Washington, D.C., preparing to testify during the trial.

Those were the words that he had not fully understood at the time. They had been bothering him subconsciously for weeks: “especially when you know the accused so well.”

Mother didn’t know the accused man at all—did she? He was only a voice on the telephone, someone who had made arrangements to have a car delivered to the shop, someone who gave her a phone number and a code word to use after the drugs were found.

“Blake?” Rocky said.

Blake turned in his seat, to look at Rocky.

“I just remembered something. That first night, when you told me about the drug smuggling and why we have to hide, and about the man that Mother’s going to testify against, Mr. Valdez said that it would be hard for her to testify against somebody she knows. What did he mean?”

Even in the dark car, Rocky could tell from Blake’s expression that the question was important.

“Your mother and I were hoping you wouldn’t ask that,” Blake said, “but since you have, you deserve an honest answer. The reason the drug smuggler called A-One Auto—the reason your mother was offered the chance to get ten thousand dollars per deal—is that the drug smuggler, the man she’s testifying against, is your father.”

Rocky could not answer. He felt as if he were living a bad dream, hearing words that could not possibly have been spoken.

“We think he called A-One Auto as a way to help you,” Blake said. “He never sent any support money because he didn’t want anyone, even you and your mother, to know where he was. If we had gone along with the scheme, we still wouldn’t have known his location. We believe he felt guilty about neglecting you, and he was trying to get some large sums of money to you through the shop. He knew that if your mother and I were involved in the illegal drug deals, his connection would be kept secret. He gambled that your mother would cooperate in order to make your future financially secure.”

“That’s why she is the only witness who can convict him,” Mr. Franklin said. “She recognized his voice. She can swear that he made those phone calls.”

“How did the police know where to find him?” Rocky asked. “Were the phone calls traced?”

“The FBI has had him under surveillance for years,” Mr. Franklin said. “All we needed was proof that he’s sending drugs into this country.”

His father. Rocky had wondered dozens of times what his father was like, but his mother had given only vague answers.

“Is that why she divorced him?” Rocky asked.

“She suspected he was connected with illegal activities, but she didn’t know what they were. She divorced him because he lied to her.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry she isn’t here to tell you this,” Blake said. “We probably should have told you from the start, but we worried how you would feel if you knew. Your mother has always wanted you to think that your father is a good person who loves you but doesn’t know how to show it.”

“Instead, my father is an international drug dealer,” Rocky said.

“In spite of what he did, I think he loves you,” Blake said. Then he added softly, “And so do I.”

Rocky nodded. He didn’t remember his father at all. Blake was the one who had fixed broken toys and played catch and gone to conferences with Rocky’s teachers. Blake was the one who coached Little League and read
bedtime stories and made him (at age five) take a piece of bubble gum back to the store when he had stuck it in his pocket without paying. Blake was his real father.

Still, it hurt to know that the man who was his biological parent was a criminal. In the last couple of days, he had begun to feel that his life was returning to normal, and now this happened.

All the anger and fear that he had felt the night when they first moved returned. He had done nothing wrong; why should he have to change his name and leave his friends and his dog? Why should he have to be afraid that someone, whose name he didn’t even know, was hunting for his family, wanting to kill them?

“Doesn’t it seem odd,” Blake said, “that only five days after we move in, our house goes up in flames?”

“It is very strange,” Mr. Franklin said, “especially on the eve of your wife’s testimony. The arson squad will look at the evidence carefully, and so will the FBI.”

“What do we do now?” Blake asked. “We can’t live in motels forever, and we don’t want to leave this area unless we have to. Rocky just got started in school; it wouldn’t be fair to yank him out and start over again somewhere else.”

“I don’t think this fire is related to your situation,” Mr. Franklin said, “so you can stay here for now. I’ll talk to Thurgood or Alicia Woolsey tomorrow. They have several unsold houses that are ready for occupancy; I’m confident
that you can rent one of those. You should be able to move in within a day or two, as soon as we can buy some furniture and get the utilities turned on.”

At least I won’t have to go to another new school, Rocky thought. Even so, he knew it would be a long time before the memory of waking up to smoke, flame, and instant fear would fade.

Half an hour later, Rocky sat shivering on the motel bed as Blake and Mr. Franklin watched a newscast about the fire. Although he wasn’t cold, he couldn’t stop shaking. He kicked off Mr. Kendrill’s too-big shoes and got under the covers.

He longed for the real Rocky, the one with four legs and a wagging tail. He wished his dog would jump on the bed beside him right now, and lick his hand, and beg to be petted. He knew it couldn’t happen.

“A dog is too easily tracked,” Mr. Valdez had explained. “Airline or hotel employees see hundreds of people each week but only a few animals. If questioned, those employees could remember a dog and provide information about you or your destination.”

Rocky knew Mr. Valdez was right, but he still wished he could have kept his dog. In his imagination, he could feel once more the coarse fur and the velvety ears and the cold nose.

Rocky closed his eyes, fighting back tears. He wanted
to be Clifford again; he wanted to quit pretending and quit being scared that someone would recognize him. He wanted his mother to be home, reading or listening to music or making popcorn, instead of on the other side of the continent getting ready to testify that her former husband, Rocky’s father, was a drug smuggler.

Rocky wanted to go back to his old life, when he wasn’t so afraid.

A
lex hurried into
his classroom the next morning, hoping to see Rocky, but Rocky wasn’t in
school.

Duke stopped beside Alex’s desk, just before the bell rang. “My brother and I drove through Valley View last night. We saw the fire.”

Saw it or set it? Alex thought, but he said nothing.

“Bad things happen when you go where you aren’t wanted,” Duke said.

Henry came to stand beside Duke. “That’s right,” he said. “Bad things happen.”

“Bad things happen to people who break the law, too,” Alex said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Duke said. “Are you accusing me of something?”

“No. I’m only saying that the arsonist will get caught, and so will the vandals who cut down all our street signs.
The fire trucks got lost trying to reach the fire because the street signs were missing.”

Alex watched Duke’s face for signs of surprise or concern, but Duke was expressionless. Alex wondered again if Duke and Henry were responsible for cutting down the signs and setting the fire. He had heard that arsonists sometimes stay to watch the fires that they set. Is that why Duke and his brother had driven past? If so, he hoped they were plenty worried about getting caught.

“Where’s your pal, Rocky?” Duke asked.

“I don’t know. It was his house that burned.”

“It was?” Duke looked surprised. “I thought it was yours.”

Alex realized that the night Duke, Henry, and Duke’s brother had walked past, Alex and Pete had been on the Morrises’ front porch. Duke had probably assumed Alex lived there. If Duke had intended to set fire to Alex’s house, he would have been at the wrong place.

Other kids reacted immediately to the news that a classmate’s house had burned.

“How bad was the fire?” someone asked. “Did Rocky lose everything?”

“I gave him some clothes,” Alex said, “but my shoes didn’t fit him. Maybe he’s buying shoes this morning.”

By the time the bell rang, the class had agreed to bring household goods and clothing to school on Monday, to help Rocky’s family.

As Alex listened to the concern of the other kids, he felt better. They apparently had no resentment toward Rocky because he lived in Valley View Estates. Perhaps Duke and Henry were the only ones who felt that way.

Alex made up his mind to try harder to make new friends. At morning recess, when some of the boys started a game of kickball, he joined in. At lunch, he headed toward where two of those boys were sitting, but before he got there Duke blocked his way.

“Trouble always comes in threes,” Duke said.

Alex had heard his grandmother say the same thing. “What are you getting at?” he asked.

“Just warning you,” Duke said.

“You seem to know an awful lot about what goes on in my neighborhood,” Alex said.

“I make it my business to know what’s happening.”

“Right.” Alex walked away from Duke. His stomach churning, he abandoned his intent to sit with some of the other boys. If Duke picked another fight, Alex preferred to be by himself. He chose an empty table near the food line. Duke did not follow him.

Alex wondered again if he should tell an adult about Duke’s comments. If Duke was responsible for the vandalism and the fire, it was important for Alex to report that. But what if he told his parents or his teacher, and they questioned Duke, and then it turned out that Duke had nothing to do with either problem?

Duke’s probably just a big blowhard, trying to make me nervous, Alex thought. Unfortunately, he was succeeding.

Duke’s remark about trouble coming in threes worried Alex. First the street signs, then the fire. What was next?

I shouldn’t let him get to me this way, Alex told himself. That’s just an old superstition, and I should ignore it. Instead, he spent most of the afternoon wondering what the third trouble would be.

*   *   *

Rocky and Blake spent the day after the fire shopping for clothes.

As he looked at a rack of jackets, Rocky remembered last year when he had asked for a new jacket before school started.

His mother had said, “There’s nothing wrong with your old one. You can wear it a few more months, until the sleeves get too short.”

Now, as he chose a new jacket for the second time in three weeks, he wished he didn’t have to do it. New clothes weren’t fun when the reason for buying them was arson.

Even though the witness program was paying for their purchases, Blake insisted they shop carefully and spend as little as possible. “It’s our money in the end,” he said. “Ours and the other taxpayers.”

They didn’t have to shop for furniture; Mr. Franklin said he would order duplicates of what they had gotten a week ago, all of which was either burned up or too badly damaged from smoke and water to be usable.