An hour later Ethan found himself overdressed, superheated, and standing out like a sore thumb as he strolled down West Southerland Avenue wearing a hoodie, jeans, and sunglasses. He should have had shorts and a T-shirt like everyone else in this circle of hell they called Phoenix, but even then he’d feel the weight of the heat. He breathed shallowly, trying to put his misery behind him.
They’d spent the better part of the hour arguing. She wanted to go, but he didn’t want her to. Part of it was out of sheer obstinacy. He totally recognized that. He didn’t want her to get hurt. Another part was that he’d felt some of the excitement she talked about when they’d driven through earlier. Getting chased had been totally terrifying, but afterward he couldn’t help but laugh. Part of him wanted to feel that again even in the face of possible danger.
Shannon waited in the comfortable confines of the air-conditioned Magnum, which was parked in the church parking lot, blocked from street view by a long green-and-white bus that read Iglesia Camino de Viga along with the church cross.
Their plan was for Ethan to walk through the neighborhood on foot. If he got into trouble, he’d climb the wall and meet her in the parking lot for a quick getaway.
The plan was foolproof.
Who was he kidding?
Ethan shoved his hands in his pockets, rounded his shoulders, and lowered his head. He channeled each of the students he’d had who’d hated being in math class, attempting to project the same juvenile disdain and arrogance. He shortened his steps and walked sloppily, letting his feet shuffle inelegantly beneath him. He acquired the teenager sag, letting his back become the eternal question mark for Why the hell should I care?
He turned into the trailer park, taking the same route he’d taken earlier in the Magnum. Now, walking through, it felt different. Seeing it through the windshield had been bad enough, but now he realized how being in the vehicle filtered the pure desperation of the place. Walking along the cracked asphalt, seeing the edges littered with cigarette butts and a thousand pieces of confetti-size garbage and with the hot smell of decay pungent to the nose, it took on a whole new reality.
Ethan passed the old woman on the porch. She sat in the same position as before, sucking on both oxygen and a cigarette. If she’d gone inside, he couldn’t tell. Now closer, he noticed how wrinkled and parchment-like her skin was. Her head didn’t move as he passed, which made him wonder if she might possibly be blind behind those dark sunglasses she wore.
The kid with the baseball bat wasn’t there, but Ethan did see the teenager. He’d stopped working on his car and sat in the shade of a shed, smoking a cigarette and listening to something on an MP3 player.
Ethan shot the kid a nervous look, then continued down the street. He could see the blue-and-white single-wide that was unit 24. Butterflies mummerated in his stomach. The distance to the trailer was a rheostat of fear, turning higher and higher the closer he got. His hands were shaking in his pockets when he was two trailers away. He felt his legs stiffen as they threatened to lock.
He halted in front of the trailer. Teeth chattering, butterflies now pounding against his insides with glass-coated fists, he wondered what the hell he was even doing there. He was a math teacher, not a fighter. What was he going to do? Sneak into the trailer and suddenly find the proof he was looking for?
The voice made him jump.
“You were here before.”
Ethan jerked around. The teenager. Ethan didn’t know what to say.
Tall and lean as a metal pole, the kid wore baggy camouflage shorts and a muscle shirt from a Papa Roach concert. Acne pocked his round face at regular intervals. It looked as if he might have been trying to grow a mustache. His head was covered with a shock of black unruly hair that seemed dyed. He took a long pull on his cigarette as he looked Ethan up and down. “That’s a crap disguise if that’s what it’s supposed to be.”
“It’s not a disguise,” Ethan mumbled.
“Dude, you’re like sweating terribly.”
Ethan wanted nothing more than to be somewhere else. But he had to do something. “Do you know the man who lived here?”
“You mean Matt?” The kid laughed, finished his cigarette and stomped it out, then laughed again.
“What’s so funny?”
“No one knew shit about him when he was alive. Now that he’s dead everyone wants to see him.”
“How’d he die?” Ethan asked.
“Hit by a car.” The kid paused, then said, “Dumb-ass way to die.”
Ethan nodded. His fear was leaving him in millimeter increments. This kid was just like any of the others in his class. Just a kid. Ethan cleared his voice. “Other people looking for him?”
“Like every day.” He lowered his voice. “I saw you here earlier with that girl. I also saw that guy pull a gun on you.”
“Know who he was?”
The teen turned and checked behind him. “Wasn’t a cop, that’s for sure. Someone called them, and he scat. I’ve seen him around here three times now.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what Matt was into, but it was something for sure.”
Ethan frowned as he nodded. “Ain’t that the truth,” which meant nothing at all.
“Wait a minute. Are you Steve?”
Ethan wasn’t sure if he should answer, so he was surprised that he did. “Steve is my dad. Why you ask?”
“Matt gave me a message to give to Steve.”
So Matt had known he was going to die. Interesting. “What’s the message?”
The teen shook his head and gave a toothy grin. “Only for Steve. You couldn’t be him anyway. Matt told me that Steve was one of his army buddies and Matt was old.”
“Yup, that’s my dad. They spent time in Special Forces. Now he’s dead. Like Matt.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Died. Aneurysm.”
“Dude, that’s fucked-up.”
“Dumb-ass way to die,” Ethan said. “Listen, I know that Matt left a message for my dad. But now he’s dead, and I took over the mission. Can you tell me? Could you?”
The kid’s eyes narrowed. “Mission? You’re on a mission? For reals?” The teen glanced down the street. “Oh, shit. Guy’s back.”
Ethan spun to see the man with the gun he’d seen earlier, running down the middle of the street at full speed, his pistol out in front of him.
The teen took off behind the nearest trailer, which happened to be Matt’s, then dove under it. Ethan followed, managing to get his feet completely under mere seconds before the man skidded to a stop by the side of the trailer. Not seeing them, the man didn’t hesitate. He ran to the stairs and thundered up them. Ethan and the teen were on their backs, eyes wide. They listened as the man ran from one end of the trailer to the other.
The teen rolled out the other side.
Ethan hastened to follow, but got his hoodie caught on a nail. He jerked at it several times, then heard two shots.
The teen went down face-first into the dirt.
Ethan froze.
He heard the man exiting the trailer, then watched his feet as he strode around the front.
Ethan glanced at the teen and saw him roll onto his back. He turned his head and stared at Ethan with a look that said he knew he was going to die. He pointed with his hand and mouthed one word several times. Church.
Ethan mouthed, Thank you. But he was still caught. In a frantic acrobatic move, he shrugged out of the hoodie and rolled out from under the trailer, the same place he’d entered. He was on his knees and couldn’t take his eyes off the scene happening on the other side of the trailer.
“Hey, you fucker, why’d you shoot me?” yelled the teen, clearly trying to get the shooter’s attention.
“You need to shut up.” The voice had an accent Ethan couldn’t place.
“I’ve already dialed nine-one-one.”
“Where’s the other man?” Maybe Eastern European. Maybe Israeli.
“What other man, you fucker?”
Ethan paused. Maybe the man would let the teen go. Maybe it would be okay. The man’s legs moved into view as he strode over and stood above the teen.
“Where is the other man? I saw you talking to him.”
“That guy? He was just a Bible salesman. I told him to fuck off.”
Even in the face of danger, Ethan couldn’t help but grin. The kid had balls.
The man didn’t find it funny, though. “I don’t have time for this.” Then he fired three shots.
Dumb-ass way to die.
Ethan’s jaw dropped as he watched each shot impact the kid’s chest. Thump. Thump. Thump. Then he bolted. He tore around the back of a trailer, then another, until he’d passed seven trailers. Then he leaped over the back wall. He kept low until he got to Sunland Avenue, waited a moment for traffic, then ran across all four lanes and back into the cul-de-sac they’d been in earlier.
He didn’t dare turn around, but he felt crosshairs on his back and knew the man was behind him. It was only four blocks later, when he was forced to stop—chest heaving, barely able to catch his breath, sweat pouring off him, hands on his knees—that he looked behind him. No one was there.
He thought about the teen and shivered.
If the lady with the shotgun hadn’t convinced them that they’d kill to keep things a secret, the kid lying faceup and dead in the trailer park certainly did.