As Everett gaped at them, his mom glanced up and visibly jumped at the sight of him. “Everett! Oh hi!” She set down the sandwich and slid to her feet. “This is my son, Everett! Ev, this is Alex.”
Alex. His name was Alex. And when he got to his feet and smiled, there was no mistaking that face. This was one of the teenagers from those pictures in Alex Bennick’s house.
“Hey there, Everett!” Thankfully he didn’t come closer or reach out a hand; he just gave a little wave.
Everett gawked at him.
“We’re having sandwiches,” his mom said, her voice a little strained. When she took a step toward him, the bubble of shock around his brain popped, and a thought floated to the surface. He’s in town taking care of things for his uncle . . .
Holy shit. Oh holy shit.
“Ev?”
“Yeah,” he managed to say, because he couldn’t let this guy know. He couldn’t give anything away. “Sorry,” he muttered, moving again, walking past the alley, leaving them alone, because what if he said something, what if he gave something away and this man sensed danger, and—
“I’ll be back in a few minutes!” his mom called after him, and that was good, because he would watch carefully until then. Make sure that guy left, and then he could tell his mom, warn her.
He was sprinting again, not back to his dad this time, but to his bedroom and the snapshot he’d hidden in his backpack. He slammed through the front door and raced to kneel next to his bed and dig through his bag. When his fingers touched the stiff corner, he pulled the Polaroid out to check. That guy was definitely the teenage boy in this picture. He had to be. There was no mistaking that stupid wide grin.
But what the hell did it mean? Was he dangerous? Or was he just helping his dangerous uncle?
Shit. Josephine probably wasn’t back from church yet. He couldn’t text her for advice. But then it didn’t matter because he heard the front door open, and he only had time to stuff the picture into his backpack and flop down on the bed.
“Hey, are you all right?” his mom asked as she appeared in the doorway. She was okay. She was home.
“Who was that guy?” Everett blurted out, unable to think of some subtle way to ask.
“The one I had lunch with? That’s Alex. He’s in town going through his uncle’s things.”
“His uncle?” When she nodded, a good thought seized Everett, and he sat up. “He died?”
“What? No, his uncle is in a nursing home in town. He can’t take care of himself anymore, so Alex is here to help go through his things and make some decisions for him.”
“Oh. So is that who you had dinner with too?”
“I . . . Um. Yes. And today he was working here so he picked up lunch for me. That’s all. It’s not . . .” Whatever she’d been about to say, she decided not to say it and closed her mouth.
“But who is he? Do you know anything about him?”
She shrugged. “I mean . . . He lives in Memphis. He worked for a newspaper.”
Memphis. “But he grew up here?”
“No, he didn’t. I think he said Ohio.”
Everett relaxed a little. That was good news. Very good news. Tennessee and Ohio, those places were far away from the murders. And if he wasn’t involved . . . Was it possible Everett could ask him why his uncle had collected the information? But he couldn’t ask without revealing his trespassing.
His mom moved closer, then sat on his bed, her hand reaching for his knee. “Ev, are you upset that I went on a date?”
“No,” he protested immediately.
“Because it wasn’t even really—”
“I’m not upset about that.”
“Well . . . you did tell me to do something on my own.”
He frowned at the awkward smile his mom pulled. “What?”
Sighing, she slumped a little. “Nothing. Look, I’m home now, so it doesn’t matter.”
“Is he gone?”
“I’m not sure. Probably. He was just grabbing a few more things. And he’s leaving town soon.” She patted his leg. “Want to go get ice cream?”
Everett’s eyes slid away toward the open door and the computer beyond it.
His mom sighed again, and he felt guilty, though he wasn’t sure why. “It’s fine. I need to study, anyway. Maybe later.” She sounded tired. But she was safe, and that was all that mattered.
When she went to her room, Everett tensed, waiting for the slide of a drawer, a shout of outrage, but instead she emerged quickly with a textbook and a stack of papers. He heard her quietly arranging stuff on the kitchen table with none of her usual humming.