Page 67 of Anchored to the Storm

Silence…

“What to do? File complaints or cash in a favor later?” He didn’t give either officer a chance to respond. “I choose favor later. They come in handy.” He was barely containing his anger and sounded eerily friendly. “Come on in, upright officers of the law. I’ll do ya another solid. I’ll walk you around this house personally, so you can report no piss marks or stolen portraits back to the pastor, oh, excuse me, the Captain.”

That was my cue, so I took it.

Quiet as could be, I finished my way up the stairs, ran into my room, grabbed the portrait of Blue, then stood there, wondering how the fuck I was going to hide this huge frame.

When my blood oath palm began to itch, I remembered Johnny’s sliding mirror.

In the hallway, in the blink of an eye, I raced to Johnny’s—now Finn’s—entrance and set Blue on the stairs. I shut the door, then slid the mirror over it. Not a trace of a doorway to be seen.

Then I snuck to my room, grabbed a book, jumped into bed, and faked reading. As soon as I heard Dale talking and coming up the stairs, I realized my book was upside down. Shit! I fixed it just in time.

Dale walked in. “Hey, Sebastian. These officers just need a minute to look around.”

“For what?” I asked as if not concerned.

“A portrait of Blue. By the way, do you have a bladder infection by chance?”

I smirked, loving this immature side of Dale. “No, sir. Not that I know of.”

Once the officers went through each room, I followed them down the stairs. Dale was still pissed. His clenched jaw proved it. “Since there is no portrait in sight, and it is clear my boys know how to use indoor plumbing, am I free to presume they will be left alone?”

Headed toward the front door, Monroe said, “As long as they don’t try to be altar boys again.”

Dale lifted his chin. “Four young men inspired to get closer to God is hardly a crime. Whether or not it was a foolish endeavor, hearts were in the right place.”

Or I was trying to murder the pastor. Heart still in the right place though.

With barely a goodbye, the officers left. The door shut. Dale faced us all, then pointed to the dining room table.

No questions asked, we all took a seat.

Then we all jumped when the front door swung back open. Harmony cried out, “What happened?” When she saw us all, she dropped groceries and bent over. “Oh my God. I thought something happened when I saw those cops leaving.”

What are we doing to these poor people?

We all got up and either picked up fallen groceries or went outside to get the rest from the van.

Putting them away, Sarah made Harmony tea, and we boys apologized for scaring her.

“Not your fault,” she explained. “You had nothing to do with cops paying us a visit.”

Daled glared at us boys.

She noticed. “Oh.”

He told her, “Family meeting.”

Harmony tapped her cup while teasing Sarah, “Is this a tea with a special treat?”

At the dining table, we sat quietly, the Misfits staring at each other like guilty squirrels who had hidden away our best treasure. Not that we were apologizing about it. We had been given a gift, and it was stolen away, violently. I would do anything possible, including breaking the law, over and over, to keep the only Blue I had left.

Dale sat back in his chair casually, although his arms were straight, resting on the table. Then his fingers tapped. When they stopped, he asked, “Who is the spokesperson?”

There was a pause until Finn raised his hand. The way he did it felt like he was doing much more than speaking for us. He was ready to take the punishment, too.

Dale dipped his chin. “Fine. How did you know about the mirror?”