At the Quiet Edge(65)

Lily hurried through the complex, managing a wave for a customer who drove by, though she couldn’t quite return the woman’s smile as she raced back to the office.

Everything in her paperwork was correct, legitimate, and clean. It was only guilt making her panic. She rushed into her office and immediately reviewed the tapes from the night before, though she didn’t have the guts to erase them.

What if Mendelson had decided to add a little more pressure by calling her boss about Connie’s late visit? What if Gretchen wanted to review that footage? Or all her footage?

Or what if . . . what if a client had seen Everett breaking into a locker and complained?

The recordings were stored for two full weeks, and with nine camera angles, she couldn’t possibly work all the way through them. But she knew where to look, at least.

Pulse fluttering, she called up the records for the camera closest to Alex’s unit, the one that currently showed his SUV parked there but didn’t quite reach to his doorway. She raced backward at the fastest speed, keeping an eye on the clock for the hours when Everett was home and awake.

Her tension began to ebb as she reversed through hours and then days and found no sign of her son even approaching the Bennick unit. Sunday, Saturday, Friday, and the only person she saw was Alex. And herself. She resisted the urge to slow down and watch those interactions.

But on Thursday, something moved, and she slammed the button to stop the feed. Then she backed up, slowed down, and watched. Everett was good, but he didn’t stay quite off camera. She caught the corner of his movements and saw him disappear from the feed right where Alex’s unit sat. Josephine followed him. They both reappeared minutes later, hurrying away.

Stomach twisting with the sickness of heartache, Lily backed up again and traced the hours into the past. There he was again, her son, by himself this time, glancing over his shoulder to see that he wasn’t being watched.

This time she knew what to expect. Everett disappeared, and even though it had happened days before and he was safely away from the property, Lily felt an urgent need to race outside and save him from his own actions. She eyed the timestamp until he reappeared, looking back over his shoulder. Five minutes. Five minutes of him disappearing right where Alex’s locker slipped off the screen. And this time he held something in his hand.

She shoved away from the desk, her chair flying into the metal cabinets behind her with a rattling explosion that ratcheted up her pulse again. She unlocked the apartment and ran to Everett’s room, a terrible anxiety burning up from her throat as if she might be able to breathe fire.

She dug through his dresser first, though that was pointless. She was the one who did his laundry, who folded it and put it away. She slammed the drawers closed, fabric now sticking wildly out of all of them, then pulled open his ancient nightstand, scarred by the stickers he’d applied at age six. There she found pens, notepads, dead batteries, and one pocketknife. A very nice pocketknife she hadn’t bought for him.

Still, maybe Mikey had given it to him. Lily would never have allowed it, and they would have known that. She cradled the heavy weight in her hand for a moment, then put it back.

His closet was fairly spare and took her only a few minutes to search. She was starting to wind down, draining of adrenaline. And she felt foolish, sticking her hand into his winter boots to check for contraband. At least she hadn’t found any drug paraphernalia.

Hands on hips, she stood there for a moment, staring at his bed. She got on her knees and peered under it, pulling out the two shallow bins she’d stashed under there, stuffed with every drawing and craft and award he brought home from school. She also found her old tablet. That would have angered her a week ago. Even a day ago. But now she didn’t care at all.

There was one last place to check. Lily took a deep breath and slid both hands beneath her son’s mattress. Her fingertips found a smooth edge of plastic.

Praying it was something innocent like porn, she tugged it free. Then she frowned. She stared at it for a long time, her heart sinking as she realized what it must mean.

In her shaking hands lay a Batman comic from the ’70s, encased in a protective sleeve. This wasn’t something a friend would give him. Kids exchanged comic books that were beat up and creased and reread a hundred times. This comic looked pristine and valuable. Exactly the kind of item people kept in storage.

She slipped her hands under the mattress again, and this time when she touched something, she growled and wrenched the mattress up, tossing it onto the floor so she could see the second comic hidden on the bed slats. And next to it, a clear plastic case that contained four coins. Two silver, two gold. There was also a video game disk inside its packaging, and she knew she hadn’t bought it for him.

The last item was a thin notebook of brown leather that gleamed with the quality of something expensive. A journal more than a notepad. The kind of expensive gift business people or writers bought.

Her knees giving way, she slumped down over the bare slats of his childhood bed and wept. Because her son was a thief. He’d lied right to her face, promising he never took anything, but he had. He was only twelve, and he’d already started stealing other people’s belongings, just like his father.

Oh God. Oh no.

No, no, no.

She’d get Everett into counseling right now. That would help. It had to. Maybe he was just trying it out to see what it was like, see if he felt closer to dear old Dad.