THE CAR CHIRPED WHEN MAYOR BURKE deactivated the alarm. “It’s unlocked,” he said. “Go ahead and get in.”
I could’ve run. Almost did. Sheriff Hill watched me from the station window the way a hyena watches a gazelle on Animal Planet. I wouldn’t have made it far on foot.
The longer I hesitated on accepting his ride, the more Mayor Burke’s grin shifted to something less pleasant. “Get in.” Not to be mistaken for a request this time.
I moved toward the Beamer. I palmed my cell and brought Mom’s number up on the contact menu, my thumb resting on Talk. Worst-case scenario, at least she’d hear my screams and know I didn’t just disappear from the face of the earth like people tended to do back in our old lives.
Burke entered from the driver’s side, pressed the ignition button. The engine hummed while the automatic locks engaged with a volume that could’ve drowned a rock concert. At least that’s how it sounded to me.
“I bet you want to know why I’m here.” He pulled into midday traffic.
“Kinda.” Ghostly building reflections sailed across my smudge-free window.
“Whenever an incident occurs at the schools, my office is notified. It’s a policy that was instituted shortly after the Virginia Tech massacre. Do you remember Tech? You would’ve been awful young.”
I nodded.
“When the call came in, it got routed through my secretary. I happened to see it pop up on the shared server. When I noticed your name, I came right along.”
That sounded plausible enough, but also rehearsed. A lot of detail without an answer mixed in. “That’s how, not why.”
His fingers flexed around the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. “Pardon me?”
“That’s how you knew I was at the station. It doesn’t explain why you came.”
A moment passed. He nodded like I’d asked him a yes-or-no question. “Your father works for me.”
The way he admitted it with, like, no BS’ing, threw me. I played dumb, hoping my shock didn’t show. “My dad’s a discount accountant.”
“Yes, which is what got my attention. The man’s good with numbers and I needed him on a special project.”
“What project?”
He turned off the main road, south. Away from school, and his offices at city hall, and my house. We were leaving town.
I massaged the lock release button. This new stretch of road was wide, long, and clear. We accelerated to seventy and any thought of me making a dive for it was left in his dust.
He said, “It’s complicated. Nothing for a child to worry about. But I have to tell you, your father is gifted.”
“With numbers? So’s that vampire on Sesame Street.”
“You underestimate him. Boys never understand just how difficult, and sometimes unpleasant, their fathers’ work can be. I know I didn’t. Mine was a carpenter, and I never appreciated the lengths he went to—how much blood and sweat he spilled—to provide for our family. Not until I was a provider myself. You’ll see one day.” He laughed at a joke I couldn’t hear. “If you’re lucky.”
He slowed down as we approached a side street. Thick trees bordered it; between them I caught glimpses of exposed cinder blocks and partially finished walls. Construction equipment became visible through gaps in the tree line, faded yellow-and-green backhoes, bulldozers, and cement mixers. We passed a big caution sign attached to a wooden post on the shoulder: HARD HATS REQUIRED BEYOND THIS POINT.
“What is this?” I asked. The asphalt snaked closer to the work area.
“Progress, Nick. Progress.”
He turned onto an unpaved track. The BMW bumped and bounced for about a tenth of a mile before the road opened up into a level patch of mud. Buildings in various stages of completion surrounded us. Most looked as close to being torn down as put up.
“This is Stepton’s new municipal campus.” He brought the car to a stop and pointed to specific half structures. “Courthouse, police station, DMV, physical plant. Son, this is the new core of our town.”
“Is this the project my dad’s helping you with?”
“In part.” He silenced the engine and popped the locks. “Come on.”
I got out of the vehicle while he disengaged another lock. The trunk. He went to the back of the car and the sounds of him rummaging around in there reminded me of plastic sheeting, shovels, and lye for disguising the signs of human decomposition. I shook off old memories of a ride gone wrong.
The mayor lowered the trunk, held two royal-blue hard hats. “Here.” He passed one to me. “Rules are rules.”
I put it on; he did the same. Mayor Burke walked me toward the skeletal frame of a building in midconstruction. “Welcome to the new city hall.”
There was no activity on the site. I observed the machines—the ones with closed cabins for people to drive when they needed to dig and lift and push. A thin layer of grime was on the windshields and digger buckets and wheel treads. They hadn’t been moved in days. Or weeks.
“Where are the workers?” I suddenly wanted there to be workers around.
He sighed. “Unfortunately, this project has created cash flow problems for our city. My constituents look for me to be a steady hand on the till, something I can handle most of the time, but, on occasion, I need the assistance of a strong crew. That’s why I brought your dad in on this, to help us right the course.”
I couldn’t tell if he was talking about money or sailing, but I was sure he didn’t answer my question. “No offense, but this doesn’t mean a whole lot to me. I’m just a kid. Like you said.”
“Not just a kid. You’re James Pearson’s son. That’s why I brought you here. To show you how important your dad’s work is. So you can tell him how much Richard Burke appreciates him and wants him to continue on the path we started down together.”
Burke faced me, gave me a smile that probably showed up on a lot of flyers and posters at election time. He stared thoughtfully into the distance. “I hope you’ll let him know that I’m looking out for him. I always look out for my friends.”
This didn’t feel like he was doing me a favor. Or Dad. This felt like a threat. A subtle one.
Screw subtlety. “Does this have anything to do with Whispertown?”
The mayor’s fake-friendly tone blew away on the wind. “Did your father tell you that?”
“No,” I said, improvising, “I was in his office and saw it on a piece of paper. When I asked him about it, he told me to mind my business. With what you told me, I figured it was related.” The best lies were the ones closest to the truth.
Burke gathered himself. “You were right. That’s what we’re calling our little project and it’s best you keep it to yourself.”
Whispertown struck a nerve. I didn’t know much more than I did before, but the connection was huge. Eli was researching it. He died. My dad was involved in it. He was scared. The sheriff was covering things up. He was pissed. The town’s freaking mayor was involved in Whispertown and he was . . .
. . . trying hard to convince me he’s a good guy.
Half-constructed buildings surrounded us. A lot of deep holes. A cement mixer ready to go. A locked shed with a big, red sign: DANGER FLAMMABLE CHEMICALS.
Someone who believed the mayor wasn’t being straight up could have an accident real easy.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“It’s been a long day.”
“I bet. Why don’t I take you home?”
“That’d be cool.” I handed over the hard hat, still thinking of construction site accidents.
As the mayor drove us away, he said, “Your father ought to know about your run-in with the police today. Be honest with him so he doesn’t have to hear it from someone else. Word travels fast in small burgs like ours.”
We took the rutted road to the main stretch leading back to town and I noticed a stone-and-mortar marquee that I had missed earlier because it had been on his side of the car. An iron plate was mounted in the stone, ID’ing the new town center as BURKE MUNICIPAL CAMPUS.
No wonder this was such a big deal to the mayor. His name was all over it. Literally.
“Is there something you want me to tell my dad? Specifically?” I asked, cutting through the crap.
“Tell him Mayor Burke had his back when he needed it. Tell him Mayor Burke hopes he can count on the same.” He flicked on the satellite radio and some guy yelling about “civil liberties” and “big government” filled the cabin.
The mayor bobbed his head like he was listening to good music.