CHAPTER FOURTEEN

BARON

 

 

 

 

 

 

Baron rolled down the winding, oak-lined drive to the house on the South Shore. A boxy, modernist mansion painted dark taupe, the architect had broken up its patterned lines by off-setting the picture windows. From the inside, the vast sheets of glass practically brought the lake and the woods indoors, mixing nature with minimalism. It wasn’t a bad place to call home.

Tonight, two extra cars sat in front of the garage. Apparently the Hacketts had company. Not unusual. On any given day of the week, Baron’s mom might have friends over or his dad might have brought home a business associate.

Baron pulled up beside the extra cars and killed the engine. Then he sat staring at the blue and white BMW emblem in the middle of the steering wheel.

Today was hard.

After tryouts, he’d worked a full-lake tour on one of the paddle wheel boats. The slow sojourn around the lake had mostly provided a chance to dwell on the last few days. The stress simmering just below the surface. The exhaustion it brought on. But it wasn’t in a Hackett’s nature to be tired. Work twice as hard as the competition. That’s what his parents had taught both him and his sister. It was their ethic. It’s what had won Baron a spot on the mail jumping team and everything else he’d accomplished in life.

But he was sorry Bailey hadn’t made the team, too. She had been nervous and it had interfered with her performance. But a single fall into the lake wasn’t grounds for disqualification. Other candidates had simply been better.

Well, in good news, she might still have a chance. Depending on what fate had in store for Baron. Each second of the clock felt like a bomb ticking down toward an inevitable detonation. The only question was how many seconds were left. A million? A thousand? Ten? It depended whether Bailey had ever reported him. Some of the kids at school thought she was stupid because she was quiet. But they were wrong. She was an observer. She took in everything around her. The question was whether she ever let the things she knew back into the world again.

He grabbed his backpack, got out of the car, and mounted the beige-painted porch to the front door. As he walked into the living room with its vaulted ceiling and dark hardwood floors, the smell of steaks and sizzling onions greeted him, and with it laughter and conversation. Baron kicked off his shoes and walked around the massive, double-sided fireplace into the kitchen.

“There’s our Baron!” exclaimed his mother’s cousin, holding her arms out wide.

“Hey, Deb,” Baron said, stepping into the hug. When she released him, her husband Jerry gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder. Baron exchanged nods with their son Chad, who sat at the black marble island with a beer. Baron’s sister Regina sat next to him, dunking crackers in jalapeno dip.

“How were tryouts?” Baron’s mom asked. Tonya Hackett stood behind the stove in the middle of the island, a petite woman with messy brown hair stuck through with chopsticks. Silver bangles glinted on her wrists and around her neck.

Baron joined her behind the stove and leaned in to give her a kiss. “Great. Made the team again.”

The family erupted into cheers. While the Hacketts held high standards, they also offered high praise. It wasn’t a bad arrangement.

“Nice job, Baron.” His mom’s smug smile said she’d known all along he wouldn’t fail.

“Will we see you on the news tonight?” Baron’s father, Richard Hackett, was still wearing his business suit but held a glass of wine in one hand.

“They gave me an interview at the end,” Baron replied.

Richard checked his watch. “We’ll be sure to turn on the TV at six.”

Baron smiled, but a little sadly. For the first time, he didn’t deserve the accolades. The clock was ticking down. The things he had done would catch up to him. He wouldn’t be on the team long enough to have earned the celebration. But none of his family knew that. Not yet.

Tonya turned to her cousin Deb’s son. “But back to what we were talking about, Chad. This incident isn’t going to be counted against your probation, is it? Will this affect your ability to be confirmed on the police department?”

Chad Rauch stared at his beer bottle. “God, I hope not. I only just got signed off by my field training officer.”

Baron slid a Ritz cracker off his sister’s plate and dipped it in the creamy white sauce. “What happened?”

Instead of answering, Chad continued to stare at his beer, his face turning warm pink.

Regina offered the explanation for him. “His key to the police station went missing.”

Chad sighed through puffed cheeks. “No, it was stolen. It had to have been. I just can’t think how. Then somebody used it to break into the PD and attacked one of the telecommunicators…” He raked his hands through his hair. “I’ve been wracking my brains, thinking over every contact I made with the public that day. I just can’t think how it could have… Did I drop it?”

Baron looked Chad in the eye. “I’m really sorry, man.”

Chad merely leaned his chin in his palm and shook his head. Of course, he had no way of knowing what Baron really meant. He was sorry for lifting the key card and putting Chad into this position. Such a simple thing, to slip it out of his jacket pocket two nights ago. And yet the regret sat in Baron’s soul like a well, the bottom so far from the surface that the water swirled inky black. But Baron had already laid a thick layer of ice over the top. He couldn’t afford to get hung up by the profoundness of his regret. Chad had no idea the depths of the game Baron was navigating. There had been no other way… Chad would understand. One day. A long, long time from now.

Tonya reached across the counter and patted Chad’s arm. “It’ll be fine. You made a mistake, but this doesn’t have to be the end.”

Chad nodded miserably. “It’s just hard.”

“Harder makes you stronger,” Richard said.

Chad flashed him a smile, then forced himself to sit up a little taller. “Yes, sir.”

Richard lifted his wine glass toward him. “Atta boy. You’ve got this.”

Harder makes you stronger. Another Hackett family mantra. Baron held it in his mind. He’d need it to help him endure the road ahead.

Tonya scraped her caramelized onions over a platter of steaks, steaming and stewing in juices. “Let’s not dwell on it. New topic. Deb, you have no idea how much we owe you for recommending Lake Geneva when we decided to leave LA. Reggie just needed someplace quiet to focus on school until graduation…”

Baron’s mom and her cousin chattered on about Lake Geneva and everything it had to offer—not least of which, more privacy for the Hackett family. A privacy Baron was about to ruin again. He studied his parents’ happy faces. They would understand. They would see why he did what he did. They would support him, like always.

Just as they were trooping to the dinner table with serving dishes piled high, the phone rang in its cradle on the kitchen counter.

“I’ll get it,” Baron said. He put down the salad and picked up the phone as the rest of the family moved into the dining room. “Hello?”

A female voice replied. “Hello. May I speak with Baron Hackett, please?”

He didn’t recognize the voice, and yet something cold twisted in his stomach. In his soul, he knew this was it. The clock had ticked down to zero. But he would have turned himself in anyway if the wait had dragged on too long. “This is Baron,” he replied.

“My name is Special Agent Emory Mullins,” the woman went on. “I’m with the Wisconsin Department of Criminal Investigations. I was told you might have some information that could help with a case I’m working on.”

She was told he had information? Not that he was a suspect? An interesting angle—one Baron hadn’t anticipated. But in a heartbeat, he adjusted to the tactic. It made sense. They wanted information. They assumed he would be reluctant to give it to them, and thus they would “lure” him in by suggesting he was only a witness and not a suspect.

On one point, they had miscalculated. He was more than ready to give them information.

“How can I help you?” Baron asked.

“Would you be willing to meet me at the Lake Geneva Police Department for an interview?”

“Yes. When?”

“I can meet you in an hour.”

Baron checked the clock on the kitchen wall—a sheet of glass with silver hands, no numerals. It was five P.M. Agent Mullins was working overtime and they wanted him in fast. Because they were that sure he was their man? Because they knew his dad’s lawyer could make the drive from Chicago in ninety minutes?

“I’ll be there,” Baron replied. And the lawyer wouldn’t. The man would have a heart attack if he knew what Baron was about to do.

“Great,” the woman said. “Just tell them at the PD lobby that you’re there to meet Agent Mullins. They’ll show you where to go.”

“Will do.”

“Thank you. See you in an hour.”

“See you in an hour.” And then the wait would be over. The anxiety in his chest could be released.

Baron hung up. He inhaled slowly and let it all out, then followed his family into the dining area.

“Did you bring the salad, honey?” his mom asked.

Instead of answering, Baron looked at her and his father. “Mom, Dad, can I talk to you? Privately?”

“Of course.” His dad set down the water pitcher with which he’d been filling glasses. “What is it?”

Baron met his parents’ gazes steadily. “I’ve gotta tell you something.”