Ethan peeked around the corner of the airplane hangar he and Graham hid behind. A Ford Taurus rolled toward them.
“This is probably her,” Ethan said.
As the car pulled up alongside the hanger, and the shadows inside broke apart, he saw Lazaro's face peering through the windshield.
Ethan didn't move.
Lazaro buzzed down his window and waved his hand for them to hurry up.
Graham peered around the hanger alongside Ethan. “Mom must have sent him.”
Yesterday Ethan had told Lazaro he didn't want or need his help. Now here came Laz cruising up in Rain's place, and Ethan in no position to turn him away.
“Let's go,” Ethan said.
“We're going with him?”
“We don't have a choice.”
He put an arm around his son and walked him to the car. Graham got into the back seat and Ethan took shotgun, slamming his door to let Lazaro know he wasn't happy to see him.
“Easy on the door,” Lazaro said and put the car in drive.
“Why? It's probably just another stolen vehicle.”
Lazaro shook his head as he circled the hanger and coasted through the small airport. “Was I supposed to pick you up on a tricycle?”
Ethan ducked low in his seat, unable to shake the feeling of total exposure. Running from the woods onto the airport grounds had been a big risk, but Ethan couldn't think of a better place for a quick and quiet pickup, so had told Rain where to find them behind the hanger. Yet the entire time they stood there, he kept expecting to hear the cry of sirens or the thump of a police helicopter overhead.
“Relax,” Lazaro said, picking up on Ethan's tension. “I've got you covered.”
“I called Rain, not you.”
“You got a real sweet way of saying thanks, bro.”
“Would you get off the whole 'bro' thing. I'm not your brother.”
“Used to be.”
“Brother-in-law, and 'used to be' is God damned right.”
Lazaro slammed on the bakes at the end of the drive leading out of the airport. A black pickup truck rumbled by on the intersecting road, the wind in its wake making their own car shimmy.
“You want to get out?”
Ethan peered out at the world like a goldfish looking out of his bowl. Everything looked exposed, dangerous. Every wall had a pair of eyes. Every street a searching patrol car. Ethan really wasn't sure how extensive a search the police would put out for them, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he had stepped into some Orwellian world where even his thoughts could betray them.
“Sit low,” Ethan told Graham.
He kept his mouth shut the rest of the trip. Even as they took the expressway and wound their way downtown through the shadows of burnt-out and abandoned buildings.
When they exited the expressway and drove deep into a subdivision where only one house for every five looked occupied, Ethan squirmed in his seat, yet somehow managed to keep his comments to himself.
It wasn't until they pulled into the driveway of a house with a cement porch half sunk into the ground and boards instead of glass in the windows that Ethan couldn't keep quiet any longer.
“You've got to be shitting me.”
Lazaro put the car in park and cut the engine. “Don't bust my balls. It's temporary.”
“We can't move into an abandoned building.”
“It ain't abandoned. Belongs to a friend.”
An acid taste filled Ethan's mouth. “So you've taken my son to a crack house.”
Lazaro twisted in his seat to face Ethan. He leaned one meaty arm across the top of the steering wheel, the posture adding width to his already imposing torso.
“You expect a royal palace with the short notice you gave us?”
“I expected . . . not this.”
“Guess what? You get what you get. You're running from the cops. That was your choice—”
“I know damn well whose choice it was.”
“Then chill out. If you'd thought this through ahead of time, we could have had Graham good and hidden before the police ever showed up. Would have caused a lot less trouble, and would have given us time for nicer . . . arrangements.”
Ethan rubbed his face. He didn't want to see Graham in jail. But running? And pushing that cop down? Consequences hadn't been a concern at the time. Now he had his wish. Graham wasn't headed for jail.
Alison murdered.
Graham on the run from police.
Ethan consorting with the very people he had sworn would never touch his life again.
He'd had a plan, damn it. A mission. How had it all come to this?
“What's it gonna be?” Lazaro asked.
Ethan glanced back at Graham, who still sat low in his seat with his arms folded around his slight waist. He met Ethan's eyes, showing all the fear within.
“Are you okay?”
Graham shrugged.
Neither of them would be okay for a long time, whether they hid out in a crack house or watched TV at home. “Okay” was nothing but a memory.
“Fine,” Ethan said. “But we have to work on finding something better.”
Lazaro dropped his arm from the steering wheel and hit the power lock button to snap open the locks on all the doors. “I've already got some people working on it.”
Funny. That didn't make Ethan feel any better.
All three of them got out of the car and headed for the porch, treacherous ground with the way the cement slab tilted away from the house.
Lazaro rapped on the door in what sounded like a predetermined rhythm. A code knock. How very cloak and dagger of him.
A moment later, Rain opened the door. At the sight of them she sucked in a deep breath then let it burst out between her lips in a tremulous stream.
“Thank God.”
Lazaro motioned Graham in first, then waved Ethan by. When they filed into the living room, Lazaro closed and locked the door, both the knob and the deadbolt.
It seemed a fruitless gesture to Ethan. If the cops found them, a dead bolt wasn't going to keep them from getting to Graham.
Lazaro, either picking up on Ethan's line of thought or to provide a warning, said, “Not such a nice neighborhood. Keep the doors locked at all times.”
Graham gave Lazaro a nervous look. Ethan put a hand on his son's shoulder. He could feel the tension in the muscles around Graham's neck.
Rain stepped forward, tapped Graham on the shoulder. “You cool?”
Graham offered his shrug again.
Her next move surprised Ethan. She wrapped her arms around Graham and hugged him, pulling him out from Ethan's reach. The hand he'd put on Graham's shoulder slipped off.
When she released Graham, she looked to Ethan. The bruise on her face didn't look as nasty as he thought it would. And her lips had healed some, the swelling down.
“I'm glad you're all right,” she said.
Ethan didn't bother arguing that he'd buried “all right” next to the grave of “okay.” He shrugged. “Thanks for helping out.”
Lazaro's large hand cuffed Ethan on the back of the neck. “This is good, don't you think? That we're in this together.”
“There's nothing good here.”
Lazaro grinned. “You're safe. You're with family. Right now, that's all that matters.”
“We need a plan.”
The four of them sat in the kitchen around a poker table that took the place of a proper dining table. The green felt was torn in places and held a pattern of various-colored globs of dried food and petrified crumbs. A salt and pepper shaker sat next to the cleanest item on the table, a caddy that held multi-colored poker chips and two decks of playing cards.
“I've got one,” Lazaro answered. “Just relax.”
Ethan looked to his right where Graham sat. Since arriving at what Lazaro insisted on calling the “safe house,” Graham had only spoken once, to ask where to find the bathroom.
The adrenaline had finally drained from Ethan's body, but it left him with a twitch in his stomach that felt like a rat trying to chew its way out.
“I'll relax when this is done.”
Rain took a drag on her cigarette. “And when will that be?”
“It's done when I figure out who killed Alison, so the cops stop gunning for Graham.”
“The best thing to do,” Lazaro said, “is lay low until the heat blows over, then get you and Graham the hell out of Dodge.”
Ethan scrunched up his face. “Are you crazy?”
“You're a fugitive, bro. Time to start acting like one.”
“Don't blow this out of proportion. We're not fugitives. We ran from the cops. Resisted arrest at most. It's bad, but not enough to make a run for the border.”
Lazaro waved a hand through the air. “Fuck Mexico, man. I can get you hooked up in L.A. or Chicago. L.A.'s probably better, though. Further away.”
“Then what? Fake IDs? New names?”
Lazaro hitched his shoulders as if saying, Of course.
“That's the dumbest thing I think I've ever heard out of you.”
Lazaro's eyes narrowed and his lip curled. “You watch it. I've been real patient with your ass, but I'm starting to lose it.”
“You lost it a long time ago.”
Lazaro shot to his feet. His chair flew away from him and clattered to the cracked linoleum. He reached down, grabbed Ethan by the ear, and tugged so hard Ethan thought he heard something rip.
He was forced to stand to keep from losing the ear altogether. He grabbed at Lazaro's hand with both of his, trying to pry the grip off.
Lazaro had all of the leverage and two times the strength. He pulled Ethan over until their faces met. “Take it back.” His breath smelled like month old gorgonzola.
Rain slapped the table. “Christ's sake, let him go.”
“Not until he takes it back.”
Pain wrung Ethan's ear and pounded through to the center of his head. He could hear the blood throbbing in his brain as his heart tried to make up for the sudden lack of circulation.
“Go to hell, Laz.”
“Take it back, or I'll tear it off.”
“Dad, just do it,” Graham cried.
Ethan rolled his eyes so he could see him. The red horror on his son's face made Ethan want to slam a fist into Lazaro's mouth. But he didn't have a chance of striking with much force the way Lazaro had him gripped.
“All right,” he shouted.
“All right what?”
“I take it back.”
“What do you take back?”
“Jesus,” Rain said. “Let him go already.”
“What,” Lazaro said, his voice mostly breath, “do you take back?”
For a second, Ethan couldn't remember what he'd said to spark this reaction in the first place. He felt sure Lazaro would tear his ear off before he could come up with it.
He's just nuts enough to do it.
“You're not crazy,” Ethan said. “You haven't lost it. I take it back, now let go of my damn ear.”
Lazaro’s fingers sprung open.
The pain in Ethan's ear sharpened for a second as the sudden release allowed some of the nerves to reawaken. Cringing, he staggered away from the table. It was all he could do to keep from shouting what he really thought of Lazaro's mental condition.
Graham came to Ethan's side and tugged Ethan down to get a look at the ear. “It's not bleeding or anything.”
“Don't be such a baby,” Lazaro said. “I barely touched you.”
Ethan patted Graham on the arm. “Thanks.”
“It's all red, though.”
“I'll be fine.”
Glowering at Lazaro, Ethan crept back to the table. The last thing he wanted to do was sit back down next to him, but he wasn't about to show any sign of weakness either. He took his seat, folded his hands on the table, and pretended that his ear didn't feel as if it were engulfed in flames.
Lazaro picked up his chair, set it right, and sat. He laughed. “I don't even remember what we were talking about.”
Ethan noticed Rain watching him. “What do you think?” he asked her.
She flinched, as if he'd caught her at something embarrassing. “Running to Mexico sounds a little drastic.”
Lazaro sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. “What ev.”
Rain cast Lazaro an annoyed look then moved on. “I don't think you can go running around playing detective, either. Not with cops looking for you.”
“Then bring Joshua to me.”
Lazaro groaned. “Here we go.”
Rain's eyes narrowed. “What is your deal with him? Are you jealous?”
“He tried to dent your face and—”
“I was there, remember?”
“You don't act like you were. Your daughter was beaten to death. Your boyfriend tried to beat you to death. Does it really sound like I'm going out on a limb here?”
“Ali didn't even know Josh,” Lazaro piped in.
Ethan stared Rain down. “They've never met?”
Rain shrugged. “Once or twice.”
“But why the hell would Josh do something like that to Alison?” Lazaro asked. “He's got no reason for it.”
“None of this matters,” Rain said. “I'm not talking to Josh. I can't.”
“Then tell me where to find him.”
“So you can get picked up by the cops? How does that help?”
“As long as Graham is safe, it doesn't matter what happens to me.” Even as he said it he realized leaving Graham with Rain and Lazaro was the last thing in the world he wanted.
“No,” Graham said. “Forget that. Let me turn myself in. I didn't kill Ali. They'll find that out eventually, won't they?”
The whole table erupted into shouted objections.
Graham shrank back in his seat.
“Hold it,” Ethan said above Rain and Lazaro. “Let's chill. It's clear that isn't an option.”
Graham scrunched up his face. “But—”
“Forget it. We'll find some other way.”
Graham bowed his head, jaw set.
“But I'm not going to leave you, either. I won't do you any good in a cell of my own.”
Graham looked up, expression softened, hope in his eyes.
Ethan's head swam for ideas. The last thing he wanted was to remain stuck in this dump with Lazaro and Rain. Bringing Graham to them had been a desperate last resort. Now he needed to do everything in his power to clear Graham's name and get him back to some sort of normalcy.
Lazaro leaned his elbows on the table. “How about this? I go talk to Josh, ease your mind about him. Since, for once, it ain't me the cops are looking for.”
Sounded perfectly good except for one thing—Ethan didn't trust Lazaro to ask the right questions. First off, he was clearly predisposed to think Joshua was in the clear. Secondly, Ethan had witnessed Lazaro's interviewing techniques first hand, and while he couldn't give two shits about Joshua's physical health, Lazaro's methods probably wouldn't produce the kind of answers Ethan could use to redirect the investigation.
Which brought up another point. What, exactly, did the detectives have to warrant Graham's arrest? Ethan was functioning completely in the dark. How would he know what to look for in clearing Graham when he didn't know what the police had against him?
They needed someone who could find out these kinds of things, someone without a criminal record, someone the police weren't hunting down in connection with their investigation.
Ethan only knew one person like that.
“That's no good,” Ethan said. “You might be able to get to Joshua, but we're going to need someone who can find out what the cops know, too. I doubt they'll talk to an ex-con.”
“They won't talk to me, either,” Rain said. “They're probably at my apartment right now. That Randy guy didn't like me too much.”
“I have . . . a friend who might help.”
Lazaro made a farting noise with his mouth. “Not that little girlfriend of yours.”
Rain lifted her head. “Girlfriend?”
“Her name is Sadie. She helped us out earlier. I'm hoping she managed to stay out of trouble herself for what she did. If not, then we're back where we started. But if she played it right, she could do a lot of the footwork for us.”
“Or,” Lazaro said, “she could turn your ass in to cover her own.”
“She wouldn't do that.”
Lazaro waved his hands. “No way. The more people we bring in on this, the bigger the risk. I don't know her. She might be real sweet, but I ain't betting my ass on that. Last thing I need is to give cops an excuse to put me back in the pen.”
“You'd rather run for Mexico.”
“Weather's a hell of a lot nicer than it is here. I could go my whole life without another snowflake in it.”
“Then have fun. That's not an option for us.”
“I don't know,” Rain said. “She could get in trouble.”
Graham scooted to the edge of his chair closest to Ethan. “I don't want to get Sadie in trouble.”
“That's it, then,” Lazaro said. “Votes are in, Ethan's girlfriend is out.”
Ethan threw up his hands and leaned back in his seat. “Then we've accomplished nothing.”
“We're all wigged out,” Rain said. “We just need some time to chill.”
Lazaro hitched one shoulder. “Fine by me. I could use a beer.”
Ethan checked Graham.
Graham chewed on his lip while staring at his lap. It pained Ethan to see his son so scared. Wasting time “chilling out” wouldn't do a damn thing to get Graham out of this place. This was his son. How he decided to help him wasn't up to Lazaro. As for Rain, she had given up her claim to parenthood years ago.
This was Ethan's call.
“Fine,” he said. “We'll talk it out in the morning.” He stood, stretched his back. “Think I can avoid getting mugged if I step out back for some air?”
“Ain't exactly quality air out there,” Lazaro said. “But suit yourself. I brought a six pack if you want one.”
“I'm good. Graham? You want to come with me?”
Graham shrugged.
Rain reached over and brushed a hand through Graham's hair. “I brought a stack of books if you want to sit and read.”
Graham looked up at Ethan as if asking for permission.
“Whatever you want, bud.”
Graham turned to Rain. “Have you read the new Connelly?”
Ethan pulled away, leaving them to their conversation, knowing he wouldn't have heard of any of the authors they discussed. Funny how the two women in his life were both voracious readers, as if part of Ethan's choice in a potential mate after leaving Rain was based on finding a good match for his kids.
Not all that funny, really, when he thought about it. Half the reason he had started seeing Sadie was because he felt she would be good for Alison and Graham.
While Rain and Graham discussed books and Lazaro hit the rusty-hinged fridge for his beer, Ethan strolled out to the overgrown backyard. The square of lawn wasn't much bigger than the living room inside. Calling it a lawn was more a technicality than anything, since the foot-high grass, dead in spots, probably hadn't seen care in at least a decade.
It was almost noon and the sun did little to cut the September chill. Ethan's head spun from a sudden rush of blood, perhaps an after affect of his adrenaline overdose. Coming down now, but no time for rest.
He dug into his pocket and drew his cell phone. After a glance back at the house to make sure no one could see him, he dialed Sadie.