RED was as good as his word and woke Carter in good time to drive back to the center, though he insisted on a cooked breakfast of eggs and bacon first. They stopped briefly for Carter to pick up clean clothes, but neither had bothered with more than a quick decency wash and brush-up. They knew they were going to get filthy at the club. The journey was quiet, but comfortably so, as if they didn’t need to talk about what had happened the night before. Red did dart a few glances Carter’s way, as if expecting there to be further discussion. Carter was thinking things through, sure, but not to the point where he wanted any soul-searching in view of the work ahead.
In the morning light, the youth center looked even bleaker. The door opened to Carter’s keys, and the alarm kicked into action until he turned it off. So there was nothing wrong with the mechanics. But as they trudged up the corridor to the office, they had to walk through dust and ripped paper and the contents of the rubbish bins scattered everywhere. It was very depressing.
“I suggest we get the office done first,” he said. “Then we can be sure nothing’s been taken. Then do what we can with the games room. We’ll need to take a note of everything that’s been damaged, for the insurance.”
“I’ll replace the equipment,” Red said.
Carter nodded. It wasn’t just that, though, was it? He wished Red could see that more clearly. He paused when Red put a hand on his shoulder.
“I know it’s not about the money, Carter. It’ll be okay. We’ll find out who did it, make the center safe again.”
Carter blinked hard at him, disconcerted, but Red had already walked over to the filing cabinet. He crouched to pick up a pile of copy paper and plastic folders that had been dumped down the back of it. Carter couldn’t help but see Red looked a little less graceful than usual. He wanted to grin—he wasn’t as physically limber as he usually was, either, after their night together—but the situation was just too miserable for levity.
They worked hard together for half an hour in the small room. They came into close contact plenty of times, but Red seemed to anticipate the fact that Carter wouldn’t want to be intimate with him in this setting. Red would pat his shoulder as he passed, and often smiled at Carter, but nothing more. Carter found that he was the one craving touch. He’d brush against Red when he could have walked around him. His gaze settled too often and for too long on Red’s mouth as he suggested the next place to clear and on Red’s long, strong fingers as he lifted paper or stacked the drawers that needed repair in the corner of the room. They filled a large number of rubbish bags and hauled them out to the front of the building for disposal. Then they swept and vacuumed the room as best they could so that it was habitable again.
“I’m hoping we can get the furniture for this room fixed quickly,” Carter said. “The other rooms are very cramped as office space, plus this is where we’ve always worked. I want Pam to feel comfortable here again as soon as possible.”
“Do you still have no idea what they were looking for?” Red brushed dust off his hands. “All I’ve seen are stationery and textbooks. You don’t even keep personal records here, apart from contact details. And no cash tin. Even your PC is….” He grimaced. “Barely this side of Neolithic.”
Carter shrugged. “That’s what makes me hope it was an opportunistic break-in, not one of our own crowd. They didn’t take any sports equipment that I can see or any of the food and drink stocks.”
“Nothing valuable the young people might have left here?”
“There are the lockers in the third office, but they only use them occasionally. The girls keep their handbags with them, the guys carry backpacks….” Carter paused.
“You’re thinking of something?”
Carter shook his head, but slowly.
“Carter.” Red’s voice sounded strained, and Carter glanced his way in surprise. “I’m on the same side. Trust me, will you?”
“I’m not sure,” Carter said slowly. “I… just don’t want to make a mistake.”
Red stared at him and nodded, also slowly. Carter had the strangest feeling he’d given much more away than worry about a young person. “Just tell me. Maybe we won’t both make the same mistake.”
“When I surprised Owen the other day, I confiscated the weed.”
“Of course you did.” Then Red’s eyes narrowed, as if he’d just tuned in to Carter’s train of thought. “What did you do with it?”
“I flushed it away, of course.”
It looked as though Red was trying not to smile. “Of course. That’s the smart and prompt thing you’d do. Did Owen know what you did with it?”
“No. You saw me escort him off the premises at the time, and he hasn’t been allowed back yet. Pam’s in favor of allowing him a ‘sin bin’ time, until he has a chance to show us he’s not going to do it again.”
“So no one knows you got rid of it? Or even the fact it’s no longer in the center?”
Carter’s protest rose swiftly in his throat. “Red, Owen wouldn’t have done it! Didn’t we both agree on that?”
Red held up a hand to pacify him. “I know, I know. But strange circumstances provoke strange behavior. Even so, I agree with you about Owen. Have you ever seen him use drugs before?”
“No.” Carter paused for thought. “In fact, I don’t think he even smokes cigarettes, he knows it’d interfere with his asthma. He doesn’t drink alcohol either. Ruchi told me he doesn’t like it. I expect he’s seen the scary effect it has on his dad and now his brother. He really seems to enjoy the center, but he’s still very timid. He hangs about with Jag a lot. There’s definite hero worship on Owen’s part.”
Red raised his eyebrows. “And Jag smokes?”
Carter felt his irritation rise. “Maybe. That doesn’t mean either of them’s a habitual user or, God forbid, a dealer.”
“But you caught Owen with it, Carter. The evidence was there. He could have come back looking for it. Searched the building and, when he didn’t find anything, trashed the place.”
Carter shook his head. He didn’t even need to consider the scenario. “It’s not credible. He wouldn’t have come back for the weed. He was really scared when I caught him. And he wouldn’t have smashed up the center. That kind of violence just doesn’t feel like Owen. He’s not a very bright boy, Red. I just can’t see him planning all this.”
“But that is a motive for the break-in, isn’t it?” Red said quietly.
Before Carter could reply, there was a noise from along the corridor. He glanced back toward the front door. They’d closed and locked it behind them, but through the glass panel, he could see a small group of young people on the steps outside. Red stepped up close behind him.
“Let’s go and see what they have to say about it,” he murmured.
JAG and his sister Ruchi were at the front of the small group. Carter also saw Ethan and Niamh, and a few of the other regulars. Surprisingly, Owen was there too, but he kept close to Jag as if he were in Jag’s protective circle. They were all in jeans and trainers, the girls wearing bright T-shirts and fully made-up as usual, and the boys in hoodies. Jag’s clothes, as always, were the same style but an indefinable cut above anyone else’s. Maybe it was just the self-confident and slightly swaggering way he wore them.
“What’s up?” Ruchi asked, her pretty face twisted with confusion. “We was on our way to the swimmin’ baths, but then Jag says there’s someone in the club. We come over to see, and there’s all this rubbish outside. You still workin’ on the kitchen?”
“No,” Carter said. “We’re clearing up after a break-in.”
“What?” “No!” “The fuck?” Several voices exclaimed together.
“Someone broke into the center last night. I’m afraid the new sports equipment is mostly ruined.”
The youngsters’ exclamations were of disappointment and shock. Carter couldn’t help himself—he glanced over the group for any signs of guilt. But there was nothing obvious. Owen had his head down and was keeping to the back of the group, but he always acted that way. He was probably embarrassed at the fact he wouldn’t be allowed to come in. Today, he looked even paler than usual, and there was a new bruise on his jaw. Carter sighed to himself. He wanted to ask the youth if he’d been beaten up—if he needed help. Trouble was, Owen would inevitably use the familiar “fell off my bike” excuse.
“Who did it?” Ethan asked.
“Why’d they do it?” one of the other kids said. “Did they steal stuff?”
“We don’t know who or why,” Red said. “Unless any of you does.”
They all shook their heads, protesting “no” and “no way.” Ruchi looked tearful and Niamh had grabbed hold of her arm. Carter saw Jag glance behind him, at the other kids including Owen. Was it a general look or specifically toward Owen?
“Jag, you’re quiet today,” Carter said. Getting nothing but a shrug and a glower from the young man, he directed his question to them all. “Do any of you know anything about this?”
“Nothin’,” Ruchi said, as confidently as if she spoke for them all. “You want us t’ help clear up?”
“We’re meetin’ at the pool,” Jag said to her sharply. “Got no time to piss about here.”
Carter thanked her, pointedly ignoring Jag, and said, “No, but thanks. We’re nearly finished here, anyway, and Pam is due in soon. But please keep your eyes and ears open in case you hear anything about why it happened and who’s responsible. Will you do that?”
Jag didn’t reply, but Ruchi and many of the others nodded earnestly and enthusiastically.
“When’s it gonna be open?” The inquiry came from Owen, any swagger in his tone negated by his wide, worried eyes.
Carter knew this query probably wasn’t only about the center opening after the clear-up but also Owen’s own return. “It’ll be open as soon as we can finish clearing the games room,” he said. “Obviously this has been a setback. Maybe a couple more days, we’ll let you know.” He looked specifically at Owen, suddenly and inexplicably filled with sympathy for the young man. “Soon.”
They all turned and started to move away across the drive. They were already engrossed with gossiping about the news among themselves and passing information on their phones. All except for Jag, who paused for a moment longer.
“He workin’ with you now, Carter?” He tilted his head sharply toward Red. “Holdin’ your hand?”
Carter met Jag’s scowling gaze. “Red’s not on staff, Jag, as you well know, so yes, he’s here as my friend. And he’s definitely helping out. He’s the one who started the fundraising for the sports field, and he kindly donated the games room equipment. I think we should be grateful for his commitment.”
Jag shrugged. His gaze flickered over Red and came back to Carter. “He’s okay,” he said, and his mouth clamped shut as if he wished he hadn’t let even that escape.
“Thanks,” Carter said wryly, though he smiled at Jag to soften the sarcasm. Jag’s humor was mature, but the young man himself wasn’t always a match for it. “I wouldn’t be without him.”
Jag’s pupils widened for a moment, and Carter heard Red suck in a breath behind him. The words had been heartfelt, but Carter wondered exactly where they’d come from—and whether, like Jag, it was something he shouldn’t have spoken aloud.
Too late now.
RED stood on the steps outside the center and disconnected his smartphone for the third time, shaking his head as he did so. Yet another new PA was working for him and had been trying for the last ten minutes to send Red a text message. It came through as complete garbage or not at all. Red had tried to call him back—name? Bas? Huw? Dammit—but reception had gone. What was going on? Was it an important message or did the kid just struggle with technology?
Red wondered why he didn’t feel more aggrieved. He’d never been very tolerant toward his assistants, but today he couldn’t even find the time to get properly annoyed. Sure, there was a certain amount of running around after Red, but Red called on that a lot less than he used to. And ever since he’d taken time out from working for Alexander De Vere’s companies, there wasn’t a lot of business administration either. In fact, if Red thought about it a little more carefully—did he really need a PA at all? He drove himself most places nowadays, he liaised with Carter and Pam on anything to do with the center, and it wasn’t even as if he needed anyone to run interference for him with a string of social invitations and/or the overeager dates involved at each event, because that just wasn’t happening—
There was a sudden, loud, intrusive clatter on the gravel of the driveway as half a dozen cars drew up. He barely had time to register the fact he didn’t recognize any of them as belonging to youth center staff, before the doors were flung open and people started scrambling across the drive toward him. He heard the snap of cameras before he heard the all too familiar cries. “Red! Red! Over here, Red!”
“Did you manage to pick up your message?” Carter stepped out of the door behind him. It took all of two seconds for Carter to take in the scrummage at the foot of the steps. “What’s going on?”
A cluster of flash photography went off in Red’s face, leaving spots before his eyes. As he turned away, trying to clear them, all he could see was the horror on Carter’s face.
“Red, for God’s sake!”
“I didn’t invite ’em here,” Red snapped back.
“But it’s you they’re following,” Carter growled. “This is just the kind of publicity we don’t want! And today of all days.”
“What the hell am I meant to do?” Red was angry, and not just at the paparazzi. Did Carter really think he would carelessly—or, God forbid, deliberately—land all this shit on the Greenlake doorstep?
“Red! Red! You’ve been dodging us. Is this visit business or private? How long have you been coming here? What’s the story?” It was just a babble of questions, confusing him, infuriating him. The open mouths spewed words at him, microphones waved threateningly toward his face. Instinctively, he nudged Carter behind him.
Another car pulled up behind the press vehicles. Red didn’t have time to worry about whether they’d sent for reinforcements or if this was a new horror. “There’s nothin’ to see here,” he announced. He projected his playboy drawl, slipping easily back into it, at the same time despising himself for it. “I don’t know why you think there’s anythin’ interestin’ about me these days—”
The babble of voices spilled out again.
“Your PA told us you’re hanging out here—”
“Why aren’t you working in the De Vere businesses anymore, Red?”
“Did you and your father fall out? Does he disapprove of you? Have you been sacked?”
“Who’s this week’s partner, Red? Who are you bringing to the red carpet event at next month’s Music Maestro Awards?”
“Is it true you’re on the catwalk for Ralph Lauren next season?”
“Red, any gossip on the royal family? Did you compare notes with Harry after the naked-at-the-Hilton event?”
Red rolled his eyes, inwardly seething. Another PA was headed for the unemployment queue, was all he could think. He realized with a shock how little he welcomed this, now: how he resented this attention being sprung on him; how little he wanted to share with the press, even though only a few months ago he would have blossomed in the glare of the flashbulbs. When had he started to withdraw? Was it when he’d been caught in the hotel or some time before? Even his father had commented on Red’s waning enthusiasm for public scrutiny—on his unhappiness with it all.
Or was it since he’d grown closer to Carter?
“No comment,” he said, firmly and clearly. As expected, they took no bloody notice.
He caught sight of two people walking toward the crowd from across the car park. Both figures were female and slight, one looking very young, pale but determined. It was Marie Atherton, with Fiona in her wake. She walked straight through the bunch of reporters, who barely registered her, up the steps of the building and stopped in front of Red. She smiled at him, and nodded very slightly, as if acknowledging the situation and extending sympathy for how harassed he was. Then she turned to face back down the way she’d come. “Thank you all for coming,” she said in a high, clear voice.
The reporters paused. The photographers turned their lenses slowly to cover Marie more than Red.
“I don’t know how you found out about my visit today,” she said, with just the right hint of a deprecating laugh. “But I’m glad you did.”
Fiona stepped up to stand at her side. Red thought perhaps he was the only one to see how Marie reached discreetly behind her and grasped Fiona’s hand. Fiona Quinn-Marchant looked less like the calm, objective family lawyer today. Her expression was a mix of fierce caution and compassionate defense.
Marie looked around slowly, checking that she’d gained everyone’s attention. “You may know me as Lord Atherton’s daughter. I’m also a cancer sufferer.” A camera flashed. Fiona took a threatening step forward. “That’s okay,” Marie said. “But I’d prefer if you took photos at the press release. It will be held next week in London. My father will be announcing the information soon, and my good friend Fiona Quinn-Marchant will be able to update you on the details.”
Fiona and Red exchanged looks over Marie’s head. “What press release?” Red mouthed. Fiona shrugged almost imperceptibly.
“Why’s Red De Vere at the center with you, Miss Atherton?” someone called from the back.
Marie gave a light, charming laugh. “Coincidence. Red and his father are both friends of my family, as I’m sure you know. Red offered to meet me here today and act as chauffeur, because I’m visiting various youth centers as part of my project.”
“Can you tell us about this project?” The reporters had moved gradually away from Red and Carter in the doorway, now engrossed in Marie’s news. Red tried to catch Carter’s eye this time, but Carter was still scowling at the visitors.
“My father supports fundraising efforts and providing resources for young people in the community. That’s common knowledge. But I think there’s a role for education, not just equipment, assuming it’s at the young people’s request. And that’s allowed me the opportunity to think of my illness as a door that can open outwards, as well as inwards.”
Her voice wobbled slightly. Red recognized and admired good public speech writing at the best of times—Marie, and presumably her father, had obviously worked on this pitch already—but he was also overwhelmed by her courage.
“I think it’s important to offer information and support to young people about serious illness in the community, especially if they encounter it within the family. It’s a frightening and saddening thing for anyone, but younger people are often ignored in the misguided view of sheltering them from horror. I’m not saying that isn’t a worthy viewpoint, but many youngsters are already much more mature than we give them credit for, considering their age. Yet they don’t always find it easy to seek emotional support and, frankly, plain speaking. I’m hoping to open up the topic for them, in a way that’s suitable for their age and understanding, but that also doesn’t patronize them as children.” She smiled fleetingly. “It won’t be another kind of school.”
“It’s a marvelous idea,” Fiona blurted out.
Marie flushed and bit her lip. “Of course, Fiona is fully in the loop with this. Both she and my father are part of the research committee. Over time, we hope to extend the project to other topics, other speakers, other initiatives.”
“Miss Atherton! A picture over here, please!”
“Can we see around the center?”
Red couldn’t see Carter’s reaction but he could imagine the tension stiffening his body.
“Miss Atherton would rather you viewed the project as a whole,” Fiona said smoothly. Marie looked startled, then nodded gratefully to Fiona to continue. “This is just one of the potential venues, and none of us wants its daily work interrupted. We’ll announce the plans and timetable at next week’s meeting, including access where appropriate. Now, that’s enough for today. You’ll appreciate that Miss Atherton must not be overextended.” She announced the end of the interview as if she’d been running interference all her life. Though of course, with the De Vere family in her portfolio, maybe she’d had more than her share of practice.
She gestured Marie on into the center. The reporters started following up the steps, until Fiona flipped open her mobile and announced she would be calling her contacts in the police if there was any perceived harassment. The press grumbled, but only halfheartedly, and jogged or strolled back to their cars. Some of them were already dictating into their mobile phones or scribbling in notebooks.
Red waited for another moment. He thought he saw a couple of young people at the far side of the car park, but no one noticed or approached them, and they withdrew at the same time. They may not even have been known at the center, he supposed.