The Boy from the Woods(49)

“So you think, what, that Crash did something to Naomi?”

“All signs still indicate she ran off on her own.”

“But?”

“But something isn’t adding up for me.”

Matthew smiled at that. “Didn’t you teach me that there is always chaos?”

“Anomalies are to be expected, but there is still a certain pattern to the chaos.”

“A pattern to the chaos,” Matthew repeated. “That doesn’t make much sense.”

True enough, Wilde thought.

“I think…” Matthew stammered. “I think what I did to Naomi that night. Not showing up. I feel guilty, I guess. This is all my fault in some ways, right?”

Matthew waited. Wilde waited.

Then Wilde said, “You want me to say something comforting here?”

“Only if you feel it.”

“I don’t.”

They arrived at the Ecocapsule. Matthew, the only guest he ever had out here, liked to do homework in the tighter confines. “Fewer distractions,” he told Wilde. Matthew wanted to study for a physics test. The kid was good in the sciences. Wilde stayed outside and read his book.

Two hours later, Matthew emerged.

“Good study sesh?” Wilde asked.

“Yes, thank you. And never say ‘sesh’ again.”

They made the trek back toward Matthew’s house. When they arrived, Wilde said he wanted some water. Normally he’d leave once he made sure Matthew was inside, but what with the strangeness around Naomi and even Crash, it might pay to hang around until his mother got home.

He also wanted to see Laila for two reasons. The first was what Matthew had just told him—that Laila still questioned the official account of what happened on that treacherous mountain road all those years ago.

“Matthew?”

“Yeah?”

Wilde thought back to Ava’s conversation with Crash. “Anything you’re keeping from me?”

“Huh?”

“About Naomi.”

“No.”

Matthew handed him the glass of water. Then he headed up to his bedroom and closed the door. He didn’t tell Wilde what he was up to and Wilde didn’t ask. Wilde sat in the den and waited. At seven p.m., Laila’s car glided into the driveway. He stood when she opened the door.

“Hey,” Laila said when she saw him.

“Hey.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Laila said.

This was the second—and more important—reason Wilde had stayed.

“Yeah, I know,” Wilde said.

Laila stopped. “You know?”

“I was here the other night with Matthew when you pulled up. I ducked out the back.”

“Oh,” Laila said.

“Yeah.”

“Early days,” Laila said. “I don’t know if it’ll go anywhere—”

“You don’t need to explain—”

“—but it might.”

Laila just looked at him. He got the message. She was ready to take the relationship with Designer Threads to the next level. The physical level, for those slow on the take.

“No worries,” Wilde said.

“Plenty of worries,” Laila countered.

“I mean—”

“I know what you mean, Wilde.”

He nodded and stood. “I better go.”

“It won’t be weird, right?”

“It never is, is it?”

“Sometimes it is, yeah,” Laila said. “And sometimes you stay away too much.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“You won’t intrude. But Matthew still needs you. I still need you.”

He crossed the room and kissed her cheek with almost too much tenderness. “I’ll be here when you need me.”

“I love you, Wilde.”

“I love you too, Laila.”

He smiled. She smiled. Wilde felt something in his chest crack a little. Laila…well, he didn’t know what she felt.

“Good night,” he said, and left by the back door.





CHAPTER

TWENTY



Hester chose the restaurant—RedFarm, a modern dim sum joint that mixes delicious with casual and a touch of food humor. Her favorite dumplings, for example, were called “Pac Man” and looked like the ghostly creatures from the old video game. RedFarm didn’t take reservations, but Hester came often and so she knew a guy who could get her a corner table when she needed it. The vibe here was creative and cool rather than romantic and quiet, but hey, first date.

No pressure, right?

Oren had trusted Hester to order. Now the table was loaded up with dumplings—three-color vegetable, shrimp and mango, pork and crab soup (another favorite), crispy oxtail, black truffle chicken.

“Heaven,” Oren muttered between bites.

“You like?”

“It’s so delicious I’m almost forgetting how wonderful the company is.”

“Smooth line,” Hester said. “Can I ask you about your ex-wife?”

His chopsticks had just clamped down on a dumpling. “Seriously?”

“I’m not good with subtlety.”