Unhinged(Necessary Evils #1)(30)

Adam narrowed his eyes at Noah. “I feel like you’re making fun of me, but I can’t tell.”

Noah smiled big enough for tiny wrinkles to form on his nose and at the corners of his eyes. “If you’re ever unsure, just ask. But, in this particular case, I’m definitely making fun of you. But in a good way.”

“There’s a good way to make fun of somebody?” Adam asked, dubious.

“Of course.” Noah grabbed the handle on the door, but it wouldn’t give. “Can I get out, please?”

“No.”

“Adam.”

“Fine. Have a good night, I guess.”

Noah kissed him once more. “You’re ridiculous. Try not to miss me too much.”

“Impossible.”

Noah climbed from the car, giving Adam one last wave before bounding up the tiny staircase to his door and disappearing inside. Adam didn’t like Noah living in that flimsy trailer. He wondered if he could convince him to just move in or at least buy him a nicer trailer. That thing looked like it cost less than a month’s rent on Adam’s place. Though, he honestly had no idea how much his rent was. His father’s bookkeeper paid his bills.

He pulled out of the lot and was just heading onto the freeway when his phone rang.

Calliope.

He jabbed the button on the steering wheel, saying, “Tell me you’ve got something I can work with.”

There was a sigh of disappointment all around Adam before her voice poured from the Bose audio system. “Hello, Calliope. How are you? I’m well, Adam. Thank you ever so much for asking. And you?” Her voice was saccharine.

Adam sighed. “Hello, Calliope. How are you?” he asked dutifully.

She gave a put upon sigh. “Terrible. The store was out of my favorite Arctic Fox hair color—Poison in case you were wondering.” He wasn’t. “Then I broke a nail trying to open my Diet Coke, found a screw in my tire, found out my ex-husband died, and got a paper cut opening my mail just to find out it was some company asking about my car’s extended warranty.”

Adam blinked. One of those things was not like the others. “I’m sorry to hear your ex-husband died?” he asked.

She scoffed. “Me too. I thought the son of a bitch died five years ago. Guess I should have checked for a pulse before I left.”

Adam had no idea whether she was joking or not. It really was a crap shoot with Calliope. “This is why I never ask how you are,” he said, voice flat. “In case you were wondering.”

Calliope gave a delicate sniff. “You’re a rude and ungrateful child. Your father should have quit while he was ahead.”

Adam laughed. “You know you don’t mean that. Do I not buy you all the best Pop Funko dolls for your collection?”

Calliope gave a deeply bothered sigh. “I suppose.”

Adam shook his head, changing lanes to avoid getting stuck behind a minivan with a stick figure family getting eaten by zombies. “Calliope?”

“Yes, Adam?” she said, as breathlessly as if she thought he was about to propose.

“Did you find anything?”

There was the sound of a chair spinning. “No. Well, nothing related to Noah’s pervert party guest list. This Gary is no choir boy. He’s been in and out of prison for numerous petty crimes. Has a couple of domestic violence collars. The Secret Service is investigating him for money laundering, and his club has received numerous violations from the health inspector.”

“Yet, he has NSA-level encryption software.”

“All the most depraved losers do,” Calliope said.

“There has to be something on those hard drives. Something that proves what a piece of shit he is.”

“Proves to who? We know he’s a perv. You said Noah was one of his victims. Why not just put him down and be done with it?”

Adam shook his head. “Because he wasn’t the only one.”

There was a pause. “What?”

“Noah says there were others. Some participated, some only watched, but they’re all equally guilty.”

“Can’t you just torture the information out of him?”

“Yeah, obviously. But with these guys, it's hit or miss. Some of them sing at the first sign of a scalpel. Others, they’ll let you carve them like a Thanksgiving turkey and never give up a single thing. I can’t believe I’m going to say this but—in this one particular case—torture is a last resort.”

“I suppose,” she said begrudgingly, then, “Poor Noah.”

Poor Noah. Noah was strong. Tough. Had somehow managed to endure unspeakable things and still move on with his life with his psyche still somewhat intact, all without the help of anybody. No friends. No family. Nobody at all.

Something started to scratch at the back of Adam’s brain. “Noah’s dad, Wayne Holt. He was a school teacher, right?”

“Yeah, for a while. That’s what put him on your dad’s radar. He’d been repeatedly let go from various schools and, somehow, landed at Our Lady of Sorrows where he stayed and flourished for almost a decade. Your father was introduced to him by a friend of a friend, and it set off Thomas’s spidey senses. Why? What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking: What do a Catholic school teacher and a ten-time criminal loser have in common other than the obvious? Where did they meet? Were they childhood friends? How did they become close enough for Wayne to offer up his son to Gary?”