What Happened to the Bennetts(26)

I stared at the laptop. It was Monday morning, and I didn’t have to leave for the office or a job. I had nothing to do. I had always worked: on the farm after school, work-study during college, construction in the summers, and legal research at a law firm while I was in law school. My first dollar bill was hanging in the office that had just burned to the ground.

I remembered something. I picked up my phone, opened it, and scrolled to the photo of the car driving past my house, which I had taken from Dom’s laptop. I couldn’t enlarge it on the phone, and it was too small to be able to tell the make or model.

I held the photo up to the laptop and used the Photo Booth app to take its picture, then saved it to the desktop. It gave me a larger view of the car, and I made it even larger. I wished I had Adobe Photoshop, but I couldn’t order anything online. I made the photo one click bigger and tried to discern the make of the car. The outline looked like a BMW.

I scrolled to the BMW site and scanned through the lower-end models, a remarkably similar silhouette. Then I noticed something on the photo. There was a shadow on the right side of the car’s bumper. It could be a flaw in the enlargement. Or it could be a dent, but an oddly vertical one, as if the driver had backed into a pole.

Who’s the driver?

I went back online and searched through the court index, then called up the most recent cases with George Veria, Jr., or Milo as defendants. I clicked the first one and skipped ahead to the Facts section, where the facts to support the charge were explained in detail. Most people didn’t realize that a vast amount of information was available to the public in legal papers, especially in a criminal case.

The Facts section described how Milo had attempted to sell cocaine, and the transaction had been observed by police and caused his arrest on the spot. I kept reading, and paragraphs set forth the locations at which the other codefendants had been caught selling drugs, specifying what they had attempted to sell.

I skimmed the pleadings, getting an idea of where GVO was doing business—on street corners they actually called “stores.” GVO operated all over Chester County, in Downingtown, Thorndale, Coatesville, Parkesburg, and most recently New Cumberton, as well as the towns around Kennett Square like Toughkenamon, Avondale, West Grove, even as far west as Paradise in Amish country. Some towns were more rural than others, and they represented an array of ethnicities and economic levels, evidence that opiates had spread everywhere.

“Jason, you up?” Dom called through the screen door.

“Yes.” I closed the laptop, pocketed the phone, and went to the door to find him in running clothes, carrying a brown bag. “Good morning. Come on in.” I let Dom in, and he handed me the brown bag.

“Purina kibble. How are you?” Dom smiled, uncertainly, as if unsure of our new footing after last night.

“Okay, thanks. How did you know I was up?”

“You open the door at the same time, every day. People are creatures of habit. It’s my job to notice yours. You’ll see what I mean when we get to work, in about two weeks. I’m trying to give you and Lucinda some time.”

I sensed he was trying to clear Allison’s TV funeral, which I appreciated. “Anything new on Milo’s whereabouts?”

“No, not yet. We’re on it.”

“What about the fires?”

“On that, too.”

“I looked online, and there’s nothing more in the news about them.”

“There won’t be. Again, I’m sorry.” Dom winced, and I felt a flicker of our former connection.

“Don’t beat yourself up. Look, after last night, I’m grateful we’re safe.”

The crease in Dom’s forehead relaxed. “How’s Lucinda?”

“She barely slept.”

“We have a doctor who can get her Ambien or something.”

“She’ll never do that, she’s too organic. We’re worried about Ethan, too.”

“If he needs to see somebody, we can do that.”

I had wondered about that. “You can get him a therapist in witness protection?”

“Yes.” Dom met my eye, earnestly. “This goes without saying, but I care about your family, not only because you’re witnesses.”

“Thanks,” I said, glad to be reassured. In my experience, things that go without saying sometimes need to be said.

“Hey, you wanna go for a run? I waited.”

“No,” I answered reflexively. The last time I had run was with Allison.

“Don’t worry. You’re safe.” Dom pointed at a fold in his maroon polo shirt. “Waist holster. That’s why the dark shirt.”

“Are you a good shot?”

“The best.”

I didn’t think he was kidding. His manner was steady and calm. He exuded reliability.

“Anyway, I’m safer with you than alone.” Dom grinned crookedly. “Not a lot of brothers in the neighborhood.”

I laughed, uncomfortably. “So why did you choose it?”

“It’s deserted this time of year.” Dom started for the door. “Come on, let’s go. Lucinda and Ethan will be fine. Wiki will keep an eye on them. You can’t help them if you don’t stay strong.”

“Okay,” I agreed reluctantly.

“Good. I’ll tell him.” Dom texted, and I slipped into my socks and sneakers, which I had left on the living room floor. Dom set the burglar alarm, produced the key from a pocket in his running shorts, and locked the door. We went down the porch stairs.