21

It was full dark by the time we got back to the house on Becklea. A plastic-lined paper bag on the floor of the car leaked the mouthwatering smell of mozzarella, tomatoes, and pepperoni, and if I hadn’t already been stuffed to the gills with pizza, I’d have been tempted to dive in. As it was, I’d eaten enough for two people, or at least someone a lot bigger than myself, and Brandon was welcome to the calzone.

Everything looked just as it had when we left earlier, except that more lights were on in the houses we passed. I saw the blue flickering of TVs from behind curtains up and down the street, including in Lionel Kenefick’s house. Arthur Mattson and Stella the shih tzu were just coming home from their evening constitutional, letting themselves in through their front door as we passed, and in Irina’s house, I saw her shadow walk past the brightly lit front window, arm crooked at the elbow as if she were holding a telephone to her ear.

Venetia ’s house was, as expected, dark and deserted. More surprisingly, so was ours.

“That’s weird,” Derek said. “ Brandon ought to have turned on some lights by now.”

I nodded. “Maybe he fell asleep. It’s been a stressful day.”

Derek rolled his eyes as he withdrew the key from the ignition. “He’s not a toddler, Avery. I’m sure he doesn’t take naps anymore. And what’s there to lie on, anyway? We ripped up the carpets, remember? All there is, is unfinished floors. There’s not even a bathtub he could curl up in.”

“You’re right. That is weird.”

I let him help me out of the car, and we walked up to the front door side by side.

“Maybe he’s gone somewhere,” Derek said.

“Or maybe he’s investigating.”

He glanced at me. “In the dark?”

“On TV, they’re always investigating in the dark. Haven’t you noticed? It’s always nighttime, and they never turn on the lights; they’re always waving flashlights around instead. Maybe it’s easier to detect things that way.”

“That’s for entertainment purposes,” Derek answered. “When you watch one of the medical shows, it’s the same thing. They twist stuff around to make it more exciting. Most people don’t have weird, undetectable diseases with bizarre symptoms, and believe me, interns do not have sex on examining tables between patients.”

“Really? You and Melissa never…?”

He turned to me, eyebrow quirked.

“Never mind,” I said. He chuckled, but then his expression turned serious.

“Melissa and I have been divorced for over five years, Avery. Longer than we were married. She’s in the past.”

“She’s still around,” I said, as we started climbing the steps to the front door. “I see her often enough. And she’s always telling me how happy she is that we’re together.”

“So?” He tried the door, and when he found it locked, knocked on it.

“So, she doesn’t mean it.”

“How do you know she doesn’t mean it? She’s shacked up with Ray Stenham. She’s got what she wanted. Why wouldn’t she be happy that we’re together?” He knocked again, a little harder this time.

“She would rather you be single and pining for her,” I said, folding my arms across my chest.

He laughed. “That’s ridiculous. Melissa doesn’t care what I do anymore. And I never pined. Dammit, why isn’t he coming?” He fumbled in the pocket of his jeans.

“You don’t think anything happened to him, do you?” I stepped aside, to give him as much light as possible when he tried to insert the key into the lock in the dark.

“He’s guilty after all, and now he’s hung himself from the beams in the den? I hope not.”

He turned the knob and pushed the door open. “ Brandon?”

There was no answer. “I don’t like this,” I whispered.

“Just stay close,” Derek answered, his voice low. His hand fumbled in the dark and found mine. We moved forward side by side.

The lights in the rest of the house seemed to work just fine; it was just the porch light that didn’t. As usual. Derek flipped the rest of the lights on as we went: through the living room and dining room to the kitchen, through the nook to the den, down the hallway to the bedrooms. Detour into the bath to turn on the light there and into what had been Patrick’s room, ditto. There was no sign of Brandon anywhere. Everything was-pardon the pun-deathly quiet, and the closer we got to the back of the house and the master bedroom, the harder my heart beat.

Derek snaked his hand around the door jamb and flipped on the light in what had been the guest bedroom in the Murphy house. Leaning in, he took in the room with a glance. “No one here.”

We moved as one to the dark hole that was the open door to the master bedroom, and as I took a deep breath, I heard Derek do the same. “Ready?” he asked. I nodded, swallowing. He flicked on the overhead light, and we peered in. After a second, Derek let go of my hand and stepped into the empty room. He stopped in the middle of the floor, hands on his hips. “Where the hell is he?”

The room was just as we had left it. The dresser was sitting there, two precise holes cut into its gleaming teak top, and the two top drawers missing. My brown paper bag sample panel leaned against one wall next to the missing drawers from the dresser. Pieces of wood and scraps of paper littered the floor. The only thing missing, that had been here earlier, was Brandon.

“Dammit,” Derek said, his voice disgusted, “he’s done a bunk.”

I was still looking around, trying to come to terms with the fact that Brandon wasn’t here. I’d been concerned that he’d tried to mess with the electrical system and had electrocuted himself, or something. “You mean…?”

“You have a better idea? We invited him to come with us earlier, in front of Wayne. When Wayne gave permission, Brandon couldn’t refuse. So he waited until we suggested going to dinner, and then he said he just wanted to stay here, and would we bring something back for him. He was probably gone before we turned the corner. Dammit!”

He reached for his phone.

“I don’t know…” I said, but he wasn’t listening. He’d already dialed Wayne ’s number, and a second later, was telling the chief of police what had happened.

“Yep, gone… nope, no explanation… what, you want a signed confession?” He rolled his eyes as he listened to Wayne ’s voice squawk. “Yeah, you do that. Good luck.”

He turned to me. “He’s gonna put out an APB on Brandon and then head over to Brandon ’s house. We’re four or five miles from the Village, and if he’s on foot, he may not have gotten there yet.”

“We didn’t pass him on the way,” I said. Derek shook his head.

“No, but he would have made sure no one saw him.”

“Unless you’re overreacting, and he just got tired of waiting and went home.”

“You don’t really believe that,” Derek said.

“It’s possible. Isn’t it?”

He shrugged. “Don’t you think he would have called to tell us? Ask when we were coming back? Tell us not to bother spending money on food he wouldn’t be here to eat? He’s got a cell phone, doesn’t he? If not, he’d at least leave a note, don’t you think?”

“I guess.” I looked around, but there was nothing like that to be seen.

“I have his phone number,” Derek said. “I’ll try to call him.” He started dialing. No sooner had he put the phone to his ear, than we heard a distant ringing.

“What the hell…?” Derek said, taking the phone away from his ear again to stare at it. I was already on my way into the hallway.

The sound came from the front of the house somewhere. It got steadily louder as I hurried down the hallway to the den and then into the living room. I stopped in the middle of the floor and looked around.

“Out there,” Derek said, brushing past me to go out through the open front door onto the stoop. He stopped on the top step and looked around.

“There,” I pointed. A small, pulsing, green light glowed in the weeds next to the front porch. As I watched, it winked out, and the sound stopped. “It went to voice mail,” Derek said.