“Did they tell you they planned to rent a private jet for this trip?”
“No.”
“Had they ever rented a private jet before?” asked Mr. Hobbes.
“Not that I’m aware of.”
Hobbes stepped closer; he was big and wiry, much bigger than he’d looked from a distance. He had dark, dead eyes and gleaming white teeth. Will couldn’t read him, but he remembered this and it helped him:
He doesn’t know that I know who he is.
“Can you explain why they went looking for you in Phoenix if they knew you were here in Wisconsin?” asked Hobbes.
Will glanced at Rourke, who stepped to his defense. “Sir, you may have a job to do, but this young man just lost his parents.”
Hobbes never took his lifeless black eyes off Will. “The Wests chartered that jet last Wednesday in Oxnard. They flew to Phoenix and spent the night searching YMCAs and youth centers. Instead of returning to Oxnard the next day, they took off without filing a flight plan or notifying the owner. The plane disappeared from the FAA’s grid for the next two and a half days.”
Rourke looked at Will, who shook his head, mystified.
“The day before they chartered the jet, Mr. West set off an explosive device that destroyed a hotel room registered to him in San Francisco. He fled the scene before he could be questioned. That night, Mr. West’s offices at the University of California at Santa Barbara were broken into; files and valuable equipment, including two computers, were stolen. Mr. West remains the prime suspect—”
“Why would he steal his own computers?” asked Will.
“Two days ago,” the man said, talking over him, “a house rented by the Wests in Ojai, California, for the last four months burned to the ground under circumstances that triggered an arson investigation—”
“Will, did you know about this?” asked Rourke.
“No, sir.”
Hobbes took out a pair of handcuffs. “An impressive crime spree. The theft of a private airplane is no ordinary Class One felony; it’s the kind that attracts the interest of Homeland Security.” Hobbes smiled for the first time, but not with his eyes. “I’m taking Mr. West into custody for questioning. Social Services is waiting outside. Come with me.”
The sun crested the horizon, flooding the room with bright morning light. Through the window, Will saw a black SUV parked outside with four men in black caps waiting beside it. Hobbes pulled Will to his feet and prepared to cuff him.
Rourke grabbed the man’s wrist. “Take your hands off him,” he said.
Hobbes scowled. “I’m a federal officer—”
“And I’m his legal guardian,” said Rourke, raising his voice. “He’s not going anywhere.”
Eloni and Coach Jericho burst into the room, flanked by two Wisconsin state troopers, who made it clear they were ready to back Rourke’s play. The other detectives showed no interest in interfering.
“Do we have a problem?” asked Rourke.
Rourke put on his cowboy hat. Eloni and Jericho stepped closer to Hobbes. The man’s eyes burned hot. For a moment Will thought he might yell to the Black Caps and try to take him by force. But he didn’t.
Will shook Hobbes off and stepped next to Rourke, who put a hand on Will’s shoulder and guided him toward the door. Will followed but stopped at the door, turned, and slipped on Dave’s sunglasses.
A nimbus of light flared around Hobbes the Bald Man … and beneath his flesh Will saw a freakish armature of solid bone covering his entire head and neck, with overlapping scales as thick as armor plating.
Will’s numbed indifference fell away, and a blind fury for everything he’d been through, everything his parents had endured, ripped through him. Without Will’s even directing it, his anger coalesced into the shape of a war hammer and Will sent it scudding toward the man’s alabaster skull.
And if you can hear me, thought Will, that’s for my parents, you ugly son of a bitch!
Hobbes gasped as his head snapped back, hit by the invisible blow. Blood trickled from his nose and ear.
Will turned and followed Rourke out of the room. Eloni, Jericho, and the troopers fell into step around them, a protective phalanx that cleared the hall as they exited the building.
Will spoke quietly to Eloni when they stepped outside. “Sorry I ditched out on you, man.”
“S’okay, Will,” said Eloni softly. “For Miss Springer, I’d’ve done the same.”
“Mr. Rourke?” asked Will as they crossed the parking lot. “Are you really my legal guardian?”
“We’ll look into that, Will,” said Rourke, then winked. “But it didn’t hurt to let him think so.”
Within minutes, they were back in the Center’s helicopter, soaring above snow-covered forests and hills, a bright sun rising in a clear blue morning sky. Cerulean blue. Will noticed that the pilot was another Samoan from the Center. Rourke rode next to him. Will sat in back with Dr. Robbins, Mr. McBride, and Coach Jericho.
“What day is it?” asked Will, feeling shell-shocked.
“Sunday,” said McBride.
Coach Jericho laid his good hand on Will’s shoulder. Dr. Robbins took Will’s right hand between hers. Will caught a glimpse of the crash site—a vivid black scar in the white fields below—as they banked up and away.
If they were on that plane, I’ve lost my parents. I’ve probably lost Dave, too. He put his hand in his pocket and found the black dice. He had nothing else to hold on to.
Always and forever, Will. Always and more than anything.
“What should I do?” asked Will, to no one in particular. “I don’t know … what am I supposed to do?”
Will’s grief rose up with tidal force, all his anger and terror and grief washing out of him in racking, gut-wrenching sobs.
“It’s all right, Will,” said Robbins. “It’s all right.”
But it wasn’t all right. No one said another word until they touched down forty-five minutes later on a parking lot, near a flat, busy stretch of interstate. A cadre of state troopers had cleared out their landing area. Will was confused as they climbed out, until he looked over and saw the red neon sign. Rourke put on his hat, nodded at Dan McBride, and put an arm around Will’s shoulder.
“You need a good meal, Will,” said Rourke kindly. “As strange as it sounds, you have to eat at a time like this.”
They were at Popski’s.
OceanofPDF.com
IT’S ABOUT US
It was almost noon when they returned to the Center. Rourke drove them to Greenwood Hall and walked him to the door.
“Stay close to people who care about you,” said Rourke. “Tell them how you feel. They can’t help you if you don’t. That’s where you have to start.”
Dr. Robbins walked Will inside to the elevator. A line of yellow tape sealed the open doorway to Lyle’s rooms. Lots of uniformed officers were working inside.
“Are there any friends or relatives we should notify, Will?” asked Robbins. “We could have them flown in. I’m sure they’d like to be here for you as well.”
“Thanks,” said Will. “May I think about that and let you know?”
“Of course.”
He didn’t want to tell her the truth then and there: He had no living relatives that he knew about on either side of the family. Nor did his parents have any friends that he was aware of. In fact, the only friends he’d known in his own life were the ones who lived upstairs in pod G4-3.
They got off the elevator. Knots of students were grouped in the atrium whispering to each other, with a partial attempt at discretion, as Will passed.
The story had made the rounds already. He wasn’t just the “new kid” anymore.
A security guard waited outside the door to their suite—Tika, Eloni’s other cousin. She opened the door as they approached.