“It’s Pete. This is the second time he’s paged me with 9-1-1 in the last couple of weeks. Last time, he was having trouble with his folks. I guess they’re going through a divorce or something, but it seemed like something else was going on too.”
Dad scratches at the scruff on his chin, staring past me. “Hmm.”
“I will not be able to sleep unless I know what’s going on,” I say.
“Did you try calling his house?”
“It’s after midnight,” I remind him. Not that it matters to Pete, obviously, but his parents might not agree.
Dad glances down at his watch. “Brody, you’re not legally supposed to be driving at this hour. You just got your license.”
“What if he’s hurt?”
Dad presses his hands into his armchair and groans as he stands up. “I’m following you. I’ll stay far enough behind to give you space. But, if this isn’t something important, you need to set some ground rules with him.”
“I was planning too,” I tell Dad.
“Give me a minute,” he says.
I walk out the front door and hop in my car, waiting for Dad to grab whatever he needed so he can follow me. As I’m waiting, the pager goes off again. This time the message is:44 55 73 22
Shit. This will not go over well.
Dad walks out the door and unlocks his truck. I crank my window down and pop my head out. “You’re not going to like this,” I say.
“What now?” Dad says.
“He’s at this place near the bay. It’s a place kids from school go.” The fewer details about Razor’s Edge, the better.
Dad runs his fingers over his bottom lip. I can see he’s becoming frustrated. “So, he has been partying. That’s what it sounds like.”
“I don’t know.” Pete doesn’t party too much or at all, really. “It’s not like him to go to a party without mentioning it to me.”
Dad shakes his head and sits down in his truck. This is great. Parents shouldn’t know about this spot and I’m voluntarily taking my dad to the parking area. Who knows if he’ll insist on following me into the woods too. I’m bigger than Dad is so I don’t think there’s much of an argument of him protecting me from whatever the hell might be going on in the woods except for a bunch of drunken teens.
Thankfully, it doesn’t take long to get there since I live closer to Razor’s Edge than Pete does. I don’t know how he got here because there aren’t any other cars, which means there isn’t a party.
I step out of the car, praying Dad stays put. I hold my hand up to him, signaling to give me a minute. I can’t see much because of his headlights, but his truck door opens.
“Razor’s Edge, huh?” Dad says, knowingly.
“You know this place?”
“Brodes, I grew up here, son. I may be an old man now, but I was a teen once too. That’s a long walk in the dark,” he says.
“I’m fine,” I reply.
“Take this flashlight, please,” he says. He blinks the light on and off, so I see he’s holding it behind the glare of his headlights. I don’t know why Dad is being so understanding tonight, but I owe him big time for this.
“Thanks, Dad. I’ll be back in a few.”
With the help of the flashlight, I’m able to run down the paths toward the inlet. It takes me a minute to see Pete sitting on top of the tower, a place he’d never dare go alone. Maybe he had some girl up there and now he’s panicking about coming down.
I flash my light at him. “I’m coming up,” I shout.
He doesn’t respond.
It takes all the energy I have to storm up hundreds of steps, reaching him without an ounce of oxygen left in my lungs. “Dude, what’s going on?”
