Page 85 of Protecting the Nerd

“York said the teasing started when he was six or seven, so when you guys were thirteen or so, but it didn’t get bad until the last two years before Essex joined the Marines.”

Auden sighed. “Essex changed those last two years and not for the better. He was always cocky, but it got worse, and we had to rein him in all the time to prevent him from doing something stupid. My dad caught him joyriding once and put the fear of god in him, which worked for a while. I was glad he was joining the Marines. Figured that would straighten him out. I just don’t understand why he went after York so hard.”

I had wondered about that too, and I had a theory. One I’d never shared with York, for whom the subject was too painful, but I could talk about it with Auden. “There’s a bit of an age gap between Essex and York, so Essex was an only child for a long time, enjoying the sole attention of his parents.”

“What little attention they had for him, you mean? Like I said, they were mostly focused on running The Lodge.”

Another piece of the puzzle. “That actually fits my theory. I think Essex was jealous of York, of the attention he was getting, especially if Essex already got so little of it to begin with. And once York was a little older, Essex must’ve noticed how smart he was. Maybe he thought his parents would come to prefer York over him, or maybe they even did for a while, and he took it out on York.”

“Hmm, I can see that. I mean, he often complained to us about his annoying little brother, but my half-brother wasn’t born until I was fourteen, and both Marnin and the Banner twins didn’t have other siblings, so we had nothing to compare it to. I guess we figured it was normal for him to dislike his brother. It’s ironic that Essex is getting in death what he never had in life—his parents’ full and undivided attention.”

Yeah, the irony was thick and added another sad layer to the whole situation. I’d encouraged York to talk to a therapist, but he’d stubbornly refused. Would he ever get the chance now…or would he maybe need a different kind of therapy if he survived this ordeal? God, I hoped he was okay. Please let him be okay.

“We have another lead,” Dalia said, and we both rose. “Witnesses in Halford saw men carrying something heavy from the white van into another van, a darker one. Dark blue or black, they said. It turned out the first plumber’s van was stolen, so we checked for more stolen vans in Seattle and got a hit. The day after that white van was stolen, a dark blue Ford Transit belonging to a bakery disappeared. They probably changed the plates, but we at least know what to look for.”

“That’s great work,” Auden said. “Nothing at the roadblock yet?”

Dalia sighed. “Unfortunately, the local sheriff’s department in Monroe didn’t set it up in time. They were arguing jurisdiction, and by now, the van must’ve passed that point.”

“Fuck,” Auden said, and I heartily agreed.

“It’s a sad example of a pissing match between various agencies and local law enforcement harming an investigation,” Dalia said, the frustration in her voice clear. “So, unfortunately, we have no idea where to look now. Obviously, we’ll monitor traffic cam footage, but there are a lot of roads around Seattle, and they may not take main roads. Anyway, wanted to update you.”

“Thank you,” Auden said, and I nodded, unable to get words past the tightness in my throat.

Please let York be okay. He had to be because a life without him was…

I couldn’t bear to finish that thought.

29

YORK

By my estimate, my captors had waited about an hour after giving me breakfast to interrogate me. I’d seen three different guys so far: the two goons who had kidnapped me and another one whose English was much better, though still with a heavy accent.

“We want to know about chameleon technology,” he said.

“Sure,” I said amicably. “But can we start with an introduction? Like, what’s your name?”

He laughed. “You are funny.”

“Thank you. But I’m serious. I’d like to know who I’m talking to.”

I wasn’t stupid. They didn’t want to kill me right away, not until I’d spilled my secrets, but I wouldn’t survive once I’d shared my knowledge. I’d seen their faces, and all the movies and TV series I’d watched had taught me what that meant. My best chance was stalling them. I had zero desire to try to hold out under torture, so I’d decided on a different tactic. Hopefully, it would work, but that all depended on the level of knowledge of the person interrogating me.

“Call me Igor,” he said.

“Okay. I’m York Coombe.”

“I know who you are, Dr. Coombe.”

“Good. Just wanted to make sure. What can I do for you?”

“Chameleon technology. We want to know.”

“What’s your background?” His deep frown of puzzlement told me he wasn’t following. “Do you know math?”

His eyes lit up. “Yes. I am engineer.”

---