When Devils Sing(87)

REID

FROM A SAFE distance, Reid watched Isaiah saunter across the lawn, his steps sure and measured.

He greeted Casey Leblanc and his wife, Wendy, making a show with his camera. The couple rose, standing with their arms interlocked and party smiles on their faces. Isaiah’s film camera flashed, memorializing the well-dressed pair. Small talk was exchanged before Wendy stepped away to another conversation. But Isaiah lingered with Leblanc. A moment later, the young attorney passed something to Isaiah before clasping him on the back and returning to his wife’s side.

Several people stopped to shake Isaiah’s hand or ask him for a photograph as he made his way back to Reid. He watched the judge’s son move through the party with ease. Unlike Reid, Isaiah knew how to play the game, or at least, played it convincingly enough.

Finally, Isaiah appeared at his side, dangling something shiny in his hand.

Reid’s gray eyes widened. “Just like that, huh?”

“Trust is a powerful thing,” Isaiah said, smirking softly. “I told him I forgot my other camera lens on his boat. He handed me the keys without question.”

“Well, damn,” Reid said, impressed by Isaiah’s skill. “I guess you’ve been doing this for a while? Investigations and stuff?”

Isaiah began walking toward the Langley dock. “I’ve gotten pretty good at finding out the truth of things. Sometimes, the easiest thing to do is simply ask.”

“Noted,” Reid said, falling in step beside him. His family’s dock was no marina, which meant the handful of boats moored along it bobbed in near total dark. If they didn’t attract undue attention, they could board Leblanc’s boat with none the wiser.

“It’s this one at the end,” Isaiah said, pointing in the spare light from the party. He then noticed Reid hesitating a few feet back. “You ready, Langley?”

“I’m just … I’m gathering myself,” Reid said, anxiously glancing around them.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Isaiah said. “What we’re doing is objectively stupid.”

Reid relaxed a little. “I can’t tell if I’m more scared of what we may find, or the prospect of finding nothing.”

Isaiah nodded to the boat. “We won’t know anything unless we look ourselves.”

The boys waited until they were crouched aboard the cabin cruiser’s cockpit before pulling out their phones, switching on the flashlights. Reid was impressed by the size of the boat. For a man who’d started a campaign for solar energy in Lake Clearwater, Leblanc seemed to spare no expense when it came to decking out the cruiser like a second home. “What’re we looking for exactly?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Isaiah whispered as he struggled to open the door that led to the cabin. “But we’ll likely know it when we see it.”

“Here, let me,” Reid offered, finding the door’s hidden keyhole with ease. “Not much of a lake-goer, are you?”

Isaiah snorted. “I can proudly say I am not.”

Reid went down the steps first. He studied the small space, with its foldout leather couch by the bow, the kitchenette along the wall, then the tiny bathroom and stowaway closet in the corner. Isaiah shut the cabin door behind them, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked over the space beside Reid.

“Ah, there it is,” Isaiah said. He stepped toward the couch, pulling his lens from between two cushions.

Reid shook his head in confusion. “Wait—I thought you lied to Leblanc about the lens?”

“Partial lie.” Isaiah slid the narrow lens in his khaki pocket. “Leaving this behind was my insurance.”

“Jesus,” Reid said. “You’re good at this.”

“There’s no option to be anything less.”

The boys fell silent as they each took to a different side of the cabin, hands combing over the cabinets, the nooks, the crannies. Minutes passed, but there was nothing out of place. Nothing that screamed to Reid that Leblanc had any connection with Dawson at all.

From beside him, Isaiah dug through the small closet. “Look at this tackle box. There’s a lock on it.”

Reid moved across the floor, kneeling beside him. He studied the small cabinet, seeing an array of rods and nets with the tags still on them. The equipment looked as if it had never been used. “I’ve never taken Leblanc to be much of a fisherman.”

“Agreed.” Isaiah studied the tackle box, spinning it around. “This is weird, right? Who locks up their tackle?”

Reid eyed the box. It was an expensive brand, sturdy and nearly impossible to open without a key. “Someone with something to hide.”

Isaiah pulled the cruiser’s keys from his pocket, and they both stared at it. Neither one moved to open the box, as if they were both afraid of what they’d find inside. Finally, he asked, “You wanna do the honors?”

Slowly, Reid took the key from Isaiah’s hand. As he tried to unlock the tackle box, a howl sounded from outside the cruiser.

The boys fumbled for their phones and killed the flashlights. They remained frozen in the dark as a chorus of howls rang out, followed by laughter and heavy footsteps tapping along the dock. It must’ve been a group, and they were close.

“What do we do?” Reid whispered in growing panic.

“Quiet,” Isaiah said. “Listen.”