IT TOOKfifteen minutes to get to the Hartleys’ in the suburbs. They lived in a sprawling, seashell-white house just like all the other houses. There were two sports cars in the driveway. The dusty, scouring wind was doing a job on the glossy metallic paintwork, but Cloister supposed they had other things on their minds.
He parked behind the cherry-red Porsche and reached back to unhook Bourneville. She scrambled between the seats, jumped out, and shook her head as the wind tossed sand in her ears. Cloister gave her a conciliatory pat, looked around, and squinted into the low morning sun.
Javi had parked on the street. When he got out of the car, Cloister noticed that, somewhere between the trailer park and there, he’d managed to change into a fresh shirt and uncrumpled tie. He smoothed the second down over the first and held it against his chest as the wind tugged at it.
“You can tell me the truth,” Cloister said when Javi joined him, squinting into the wind. “You really were a Boy Scout, right?”
It wasn’t a great joke, but it wasn’t that bad. Not bad enough to warrant the tight-lipped grimace Javi gave him.
“Cloister,” Javi said as he touched his arm, “look, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. We’re not dating. You know that, right?”
Oh. Okay.
“Did not think otherwise,” Cloister said.
“It’s just that I don’t,” Javi said. “I don’t date or do relationships. I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
“I haven’t.” Cloister slapped him easily on the shoulder. He smirked. “Look, if I wanted to eat with someone that didn’t like me that much, I’d be heading home for Thanksgiving. We’re fine. It’s fun. It’s sex.”
Javi stared at him for a second, and with his dark eyes, he searched Cloister’s face for the lie. When he didn’t find it, the tight line of his mouth relaxed into a more natural-looking smile.
“And no reason it can’t continue to be fun sometimes,” he said. “As long as we’re on the same page.”
Cloister shrugged. “Maybe if I don’t have a better offer.”
He let Javi take the lead as they headed for the house and fell in behind him. Cloister buried his hand in the coarse hair of Bon Bon’s ruff. It was weird how good he was at lying about what hurt him. Maybe it was yet another leftover from his childhood. It always made Mom sad when she realized she was unkind.
Hell, it wasn’t as though he’d even had the wrong idea. He just—
Been an idiot, he cut himself off. He’d been an idiot, and that wasn’t exactly new. So get over it. There was a little boy out there who needed him to do something he was actually good at—find him.
Lara opened the door before Javi had a chance to knock. Whatever relief she’d felt about her oldest son not being a killer had been worn away overnight by the realization that her youngest son was in the hands of a serial predator. Her face was drawn, her skin stained with an undertone of gray all the way down to her lips, and her hair scraped back roughly. She glanced past Cloister and searched the street with bloodshot eyes.
“The press was here all night,” she said. “People are still saying that Billy did this. It’s all over the internet.”
“People are scared,” Cloister said. “They’d rather have a face to pin the blame on, rather than have to suspect it could be any face in the street.”
It wasn’t much comfort. He doubted anything would be right then. She sniffed and wiped her nose.
“I hate this,” she said. Her hands were raw. She was picking at her nails in the same nervous habit Billy had. “I don’t want this bitch… bastard… God, I don’t even know…. I don’t want them talking to my son.”
Javi stepped forward and put his hand on her arm. “We need to do this, Lara.” He gently urged her back into the house. “It will bring Drew home, and then we’ll lock this guy away. Somewhere he can never hurt anyone again.”
The rug under her feet—a tapestry of ochre and blue that looked expensively handmade—bunched under her bare feet as she shuffled back. She put her hand over Javi’s and squeezed her fingers around his knuckles.
“No,” she said. “You don’t get to touch me. We are not friends. You wasted time that you could have spent looking for this… this pervert trying to blame this on Billy. If it weren’t for you, nobody would have thought it was him. He wouldn’t have known we… they… thought he killed his brother. So we are not friends. You find my son, and then you will never come into my house again.”
She peeled-shoved his hand back at him and wiped her hand on her leg when she was done.
“That’s not fair, Lara,” Javi said. “I—”
She curled her lip. “My son being missing isn’t fair. So don’t expect me to feel sorry for you. Just do your job.” She flicked her gaze past Javi’s shoulder to Cloister. “Or let him do it for you. I don’t really care.”
She stalked away, and her feet slapped on the glossy wood floor. Javi stared after her, his jaw clenched on his own temper.
“Families always get angry,” Cloister said awkwardly. “Usually at us. The—”
“I don’t need my hand held, Deputy,” Javi said icily. “This isn’t my first investigation. Doctor Hartley’s dislike for me is why you’re here, remember?”
