Page 56 of Skeletons in the Closet

“Yes. Sort of. I’m closer to my nana. Boone was always working. Never stopped. Worked until the day he died, but I loved spending time with him when he was home. He liked fixing stuff in his shop. He invited me to help sometimes. Clunky toasters. Radios. A gramophone once. I’d never seen one of those before. He bought it at a junk store for three dollars. He loved going to junk stores. Took me with him sometimes. He’d be a hundred and one today if he was still alive.”

“Incredible.”

Diem trailed off. I watched his expression in the shadow of the Jeep. He seemed far away in his head. Lost in time and space. I wanted to ask about the scars on his face, about his disfigured ear, and the tattoos along his forearm under his coat, but I knew those topics were out-of-bounds.

“I don’t know my grandparents. Mom’s parents are out in New Brunswick, so I’ve seen them maybe five or six times my whole life. I’m not in touch with my dad’s side of the family anymore, and my stepfather is older than Mom, so his parents were longgone before they met. It’s why I love hanging out with Kitty. She gives me grandma vibes.”

“Ms. Lavender is good people.”

“She is. She makes me laugh. Spunky old broad. Smart too. Did you know she’s a witch?”

Diem made that same noise again. Not a laugh, not a grunt. Something in between. I liked it. It suggested contentment, and I wasn’t sure Diem was ever content. Were we making progress?

After one, I grew tired and fought a battle with my eyelids to stay awake. My head dipped more than once before I gave up and leaned against the side window. I wasn’t sure when I fell asleep, but I was awakened with a start.

“Wake up,” Diem hissed. “We’ve got action.”

I jolted upright, confused and disoriented. “I’m not asleep.” I totally was.

It took a second to get my bearings. The world was fuzzy and indistinct.

The rain had abated at some point, and as I peered out the window, I realized why everything was so blurry. My glasses were gone. Before I could ask what had happened to them, Diem passed them to me. “Here. Didn’t want you to break them.”

I fit them on. “Thanks. What’s happening?”

Diem gestured out the windshield as Beth and the man we knew only as the elusive bastard left the motel room.

Beth went to her car, and the man followed. He wore tan trousers and a white buttoned shirt. No tie. He carried extra weight around the middle and was balding—something we’d assumed but hadn’t been able to confirm until now. I couldn’t pin an age on him, but he looked as old as my stepfather. Sixties maybe?

“What do we do?” I asked.

“We wait until he gets in his car and follow him.”

The man saw Beth off, staring after her vehicle as she drove away. When Beth’s taillights vanished down the empty road, the man scanned the parking lot. I slumped in my seat, and Diem did the same, tipping his hat over his face.

“Does he see us?”

“Doubt it. Windows would be too dark to see through at night.”

The man persisted, scanning everywhere like he had a sixth sense we were out there watching. After a few minutes, seemingly satisfied, he ducked his head and walked toward the sidewalk before heading toward the closest main intersection.

“Where’s he going?” I asked.

“No idea.”

Diem waited until the man was almost out of sight and turned over the engine. I wasn’t skilled in surveillance or trailing people, but following a pedestrian when we were in a vehicle seemed tricky.

“Shouldn’t we go on foot? If he’s walking, we can’t exactly follow without him seeing us. The streets aren’t busy at this time of night. We’ll stand out.”

Diem seemed to consider and turned off the Jeep. He didn’t praise me for my idea, but it felt good he considered my advice. We followed the man, hustling to catch up before we lost him but staying a good fifty or sixty yards back, sticking close to the buildings where it was more shadowed.

Between the weather and the time of night, the streets were empty, and there was a much higher chance of us getting caught, especially since the guy seemed squirrely. The man turned around more than once, but we slipped out of sight easily. He kept a steady clip for several blocks, turning onto a busier road that was more lit up.

We’d gone five blocks when the man stopped about fifteen feet from an intersection. I was about to open my mouth and askwhat he was doing when a city bus pulled to the curb, and the man got on.

“Shit,” Diem muttered. “Motherfucker.” He spun and hightailed it back to the Jeep at a sprint.

I was not a runner on a good day, and it took effort to keep up. Diem’s legs were much longer than mine, and it was clear his gym time was not strictly spent lifting weights.

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