It was comical, in a mean sort of way, watching Owen process what was happening.
After all, he’d been the one pressuring me to ditch Nora for practically the whole time I’d been going out with her. Or, barring that, to “quit being a complete wuss” whenever she said it was over.
Except, of course, now he wanted me back with her, for his own agenda, and here I was, sticking to my guns.
The truth was, I’d been on the verge of texting her a bunch of times. The only thing that stopped me was how tied up I’d been with other things.
Like spying on my father.
“Well, anyway, you guys always make up eventually,” he said at last.
“I dunno about this time,” I said. It was probably wrong that I was enjoying the slightly desperate expression on his face. “I guess we just have to wait to see what she does when I don’t make the first move.”
“I guess,” Owen said sadly.
“You want to know how things went this morning?”
“With you and your hired spy? Sure.”
“Let’s grab a coffee first. I’m parched.”
We walked half a block up the street from the gym to where a combination bakery and coffee shop was situated. Once we were at a table with coffee and a couple of raspberry strudels (at Owen’s insistence that it would be rude to ignore the bakery side of things) I gave him a quick rundown.
“So, you sat in a bush and followed some random old people,” Owen summarized.
I ignored that.
“I wish we could get inside the place. Without that I don’t know how we’re going to figure out what’s going on.”
“Maybe you can hire a burglar,” Owen suggested with a smirk. “Or see if your spy wants to expand his resumé to add breaking and entering.”
“If the back field wasn’t so wide open, we could probably get a look through one of the windows, which might tell us something.”
“There’s nowhere to hide there at all?”
“Nope. The only side with cover is the one we’re using. That faces a solid wall with one small window, which looks into the garage.”
“Is the garage locked?”
“Probably. We haven’t risked trying to get in there — all we’d see would be the car anyway.”
But as I was saying that an idea struck me.
“A drone!” I blurted. “We might be able to get some shots inside with a drone!”
“They’d hear it. Or see it.”
“You’re right.”
My shoulders slumped. It was so frustrating, being on the outside with no way to see what was going on in that place. Something where people of all different ages and, by what Aki and I had seen, varying financial situations, were going for about half an hour at a time.
“Wait!” I said. “There are some saplings on the lawn behind the house. Maybe we could mount cameras there, pointed toward the windows. Wireless cameras we could turn off and on with a remote!”
“So, actually mounted there, on their property, to record what’s happening inside?” Owen said.
“Yes! Do you think it would work?”
“I think it would be illegal is what I think. I mean, if your aim is to get a criminal record you could be on to something, but if not, you need to keep thinking.”
“As if my own father would press charges,” I said.
“Your father isn’t doing whatever he’s up to alone, though, is he? Who knows what the other guys might do.”
“Yeah, but —”
“But nothing. You have no idea what you’re messing with here, bro. You can’t assume anything. This could be dangerous.”
I had no answer for that. Which is my typical reaction when I’d like to argue but I think he’s probably right.
By that time, we’d eaten the pastries and drained our cups. Most of the shop’s customers were getting things to go, but it still seemed wrong to monopolize a table when there were only a few of them. We took our cups to the counter, Owen told the woman at the cash register the strudel was amazing, and we called for a ride home.
I went to his place for a bit, but it wasn’t a great day. Phil was on edge, and Owen’s mother was giving him a hard time one minute and trying to kiss up to him the next. It was easy to see Owen was embarrassed, even though I’ve witnessed similar performances lots of times. He looked relieved when I left.
I almost texted Nora that evening. The phone was in my hand, and I was composing what I wanted to say in my head. Or trying to. It couldn’t be a message about getting back together, or claiming I was sorry for whatever had provoked her. Because, for the first time, I was determined not to, as Owen put it, “crawl back to her.”
And that was a problem — trying to think of something to say that wasn’t one of those two things, but that would lead into a conversation about patching things up between us. I really hate it when we’re split up, even though it’s not scary like it used to be.
It got me wondering how many times she’d dumped me before I got so used to it that I more or less assumed we’d get back together. It had to be at least half a dozen. And how many since then?
I don’t get all that upset anymore. Now it’s basically a sort of unsettled, slightly anxious feeling, waiting for things to right themselves. Which doesn’t sound like anything much, but it’s not something I enjoy either.
I just wish things could go along smoothly, like they do for some couples. Owen and his ex were like that. Not that they never argued, but when they did, that’s all it was.
A text alert startled me as I was thinking about all this. Could it be Nora, reaching out to me for a change?
Nope. It was Aki. And he had something interesting to tell me. Could I meet him at the corner where we’d been connecting? He’d be there in a couple of minutes, and it shouldn’t take long. Half an hour should be plenty.
I was already stepping into my shoes as I let him know I was on my way. By the time I reached the corner he was there, waiting.
He spoke as soon as I was in the passenger seat with the door closed.
“I feel a bit foolish for getting you to meet about this. It really isn’t much at all.”
“If it’s more than what we’ve found out so far, then it’s something,” I said as Aki pulled the car away from the curb and drove slowly up the street. “Besides, you never know what could turn out to be important.”
“Okay, so I went back late this afternoon,” he said. “Mainly to find out what time they wrap up, in case that matters. And while I was there, watching the usual movement — people coming and going, the door on the side of the garage opened and one of the men came out.”
“Was it my dad?” I blurted.
“I don’t know what your dad looks like,” he said.
“Oh. Right.”
“But I got a picture,” he added.
With that, he passed his phone to me so I could take a look for myself.
The photo was from a distance and had clearly been taken in haste. Which was understandable since he wouldn’t have known how long he had to get it. It showed a man from the side, looking out over the back field.
“Is this your father?”
“No. But I think it could be one of the men I saw with him that first day.” My eyes moved from the face to his body. “What’s he wearing anyway?”
“That’s what I mainly wanted to tell you. It looks like a lab coat.”
“A lab coat,” I repeated. “That’s weird.”
“It has to mean something though. About what they’re doing there. Some kind of scientific experiment or maybe even medical testing.”
“Well, I can tell you this for sure, my dad has no background whatsoever in anything like that, or anything else that would need a lab coat.”
“He might be in charge, or have some other role, like, if they’re — I don’t know, working on something secret maybe.”
That seemed like a stretch. Something out of a movie. But still, I thought about it for a minute before answering.
“I mean, I can’t see it. At all. But I guess it’s not impossible. Except, what about all the people we saw going in and out?”
“They could be part of a test group of some sort. Clinical trials, maybe,” Aki said. “So, whatever your father is doing could be one hundred percent legit, but he’s not allowed to tell anyone.”
Did I ever want to believe that. Even though I’d never heard my father suggest he knew, or cared, anything about scientific studies or medical experiments, I really hoped Aki was right.
“We need to find out more,” I said.
“I agree, but this is a start at least,” Aki said. “So, what next?”
“He’s supposed to be home tomorrow, sometime in the afternoon,” I said. “Let’s go out mid-morning. With any luck we can find out where they go when they leave. That might help.”
“Sure. No problem.”
“Perfect. I’ll meet you at the corner at ten. And, by the way,” I said, nodding at the image on his phone, “great job on getting this.”
Aki smiled. “You want to send it to yourself, to look at again later?” he asked.
“You know what — I’d better not. At this point I don’t know what my father has access to on my devices.”
“Including your phone?”
“Especially my phone.” I couldn’t even explain how nervous that made me, but when it had occurred to me earlier, I’d taken a quick look through recent exchanges and activities. Luckily, Aki and I had only exchanged a few texts and there was nothing specific enough to raise suspicions. We agreed to text as little as possible, and to be careful to keep messages vague.
And then he said something that sent a chill all through me.
“You might want to disable your location tracking, just in case.”