Donnie raises his glance to Ben’s.
“You want them to get any more of our friends?”
Donnie shakes his head.
“You trust me?”
Donnie nods this time. “Brothers from another mother.”
Ben nods. “That’s right. And you know what else?”
Jenna watches as Donnie stares in admiration at his best friend.
“They’re not going to get away with this.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
NICO
Nico traipses through the forest, branches smacking his face, the hum of insects in his ears. The old path through the weeds, the one they’d worn down trudging back and forth, isn’t visible. But he knows he’s headed in the right direction. He remembers the summer they built the tree fort—the sticky heat and fatigue of carrying lumber stolen from a construction site—Ben hauling more wood than all of them on his strong shoulders. And he remembers laying on the planks up high, watching the stars.
Today, the woods are dreary, the tree canopy making the day an even darker shade of gray. He hears a snap of twigs up ahead. Probably a deer, one of the Chestertown woods variety, thin and malnourished.
There’s a brief quiet from the insects, but they start up again. Whoever was chasing Nico didn’t track him here, that’s for sure. These woodlands are difficult to navigate, tangled and unkempt.
He’s on a fool’s errand right now, he fears. If the FBI is running a cell tower report tracking his movements from the last time he was in Chestertown, it probably wouldn’t ping out here. But he doesn’t know that, so he needs to assume they know he was trudging through this same area a month ago. He sees his marker up ahead, the tree he carved with a pocketknife so many years ago: N + A
It’s two trees behind this one. He stalks over, looks up. It’s still nearly impossible to see the fort if you don’t know it’s there. He finds the rusty nail that served as a foothold to start the climb and hoists himself up. It’s not as easy as it was when he was a kid. Even worse with one arm. He’s ditched the sling, but he can’t put much weight on his arm or shoulder. But this needs to be done.
He clasps a branch, struggles to pull himself up one-handed, swings his leg over, then stands, balancing on the huge limb. He continues to climb until he finally reaches the platform.
It’s four by eight. Wide enough for them to lie flat or sit cross-legged in a circle. It has plywood walls but no roof. He remembers how Annie brought them snacks. Donnie always managed to have a bottle, hiding his stash of convenience-store rotgut somewhere in the woods nearby. The summer they built the tree fort was exactly two summers after Mom took Nico to the beach that last time, and the only time since that he’d felt something close to happiness. Nico, Ben, Donnie, and Annie would spend hours talking and joking. Jenna hadn’t been there long enough to face the initiation ritual of the G.R.O.S.S. club, so named by Donnie based on some comic strip he loved. Artemis was too engrossed in his coding projects to screw around in the woods.
It had been their haven. Their place to talk about their dreams. Their place not to talk about their lives before Savior House. The place Nico fell in love for the first time.
He looks up at the sky and inhales deeply through his nose. It smells the same. But the sky is murkier. Maybe it wasn’t all as incandescent as he remembers. Maybe he’s rosied up the memories.
But that summer was the last time he felt something other than a void in his core. And it was that summer that also broke each of them. When Annie disappeared. When that cop took something from each of them at the riverbank.
He remembers afterward, leaving the library, pounding on Ned Flanders’s door. Arty and Flanders are at the dining room table that’s lined with computer monitors, the room strewn with cords.
Flanders brings in a tray that has glasses of lemonade, listens as Nico rants and rages and tries not to cry.
Flanders disappears to make a call. When he returns, he says, “I spoke to a different person this time, a supervisor. She told me that her records show that Marta is in a new home,” Flanders pauses.
“But she has no record about Annie missing or that she or the other girls are even staying at Savior House.”
“It’s because Mr. Brood’s brother got it fixed, he runs this town. Ben says we need to call the FBI.”
“I’ll call,” Flanders says, and Nico believes him. “But we need proof that the missing girls were residents of Savior House.”
Nico says, “You need proof? I’ll get you proof.”
Back at Savior House, Nico ventures into forbidden territory: Mr. Brood’s office. He was going to kick down the door if he needed to, but he’s in luck. The door is open an inch, the lights on like Brood had just been there. He needs to be fast.
He rushes to the metal file cabinet and riffles through the files. He finds a file for each of them, Nico, Ben, Donnie, but none for the girls. He goes through each drawer. But he’s sure of it. There’re none.
His heart jumps to his throat when he hears voices. Mr. Brood talking to someone. Nico dives under the desk and balls up as Brood and another man come into the room. The door is shut loudly and the other man sounds angry.
“I don’t need this headache,” the man says to Mr. Brood.
“You think I do?”
“Kids from your goddamn home go to the cops? Are you fucking kidding me? I went to a lot of trouble to get you this job. You’re lucky that detective owes me. And you’re lucky it sounded crazy.
Some lady buying girls.”
“Is it crazy? You’re the one who made the deal with these people and I’ve got a bunch of kids missing.”
“I didn’t have a choice. The Corporation dealt with that problem we had during the primary.”
“Your opponent’s sudden heart attack…”
“Are you fucking stupid? Shut your mouth. And I called the French lady. They say they haven’t
taken any of the girls. They want the new girl, but they didn’t take the others.”
“And you believe them?”
“Yeah, I do. Most of those girls went missing—under your watch, by the way—long before I got mixed up with The Corporation. But it doesn’t matter. It’s not like we could do anything about it either way.”
“Whatever you say.”
“I’m just telling you what they told me. They got no reason to lie. And you best watch your tone.
Mom made me promise I’d look out for you, but—”
“But what? You’ll plant me and my son somewhere worse than being some babysitter at a shithole group home?”
“Quit fucking whining. You get paid plenty. As long as you keep washing the cash—and don’t bring any more attention to this place.”
Nico listens. The two men are quiet for a long time. Then: “What now?” Mr. Brood asks.
“Russo’ll bury the report with the Chestertown squad. Maybe you and your friends keep your hands off the girls and it’ll die down.”
“It’s your friends from Men’s Club who—”
“Shut up.”
Mr. Brood is quiet again. Then asks: “What about the girl the French lady wants? It’s too hot right now for another one to go missing.”