Page 133 of Sapphire Spring

Naser.

Suddenly he was terrified.

He had no way of knowing how the guy had reacted to hisletter. He wanted to stay hopeful, but if there was onethinghe’d learned about Naser during their time together, it was that past eventssometimes caused the guy to swiftly withdraw from anything he foundoverwhelming. Even something that might be overwhelmingly good. Of course,Mason had given him his fair share of bad along with the good this past month.

Time to tip the scales in a positive direction.

When he told Shirley and his dad he needed some time alone,they both nodded, but neither one of them made a move to leave the house, a signthey both wanted to keep an eye on him as he transitioned back to normal life.

He grabbed the bulging envelope that contained his departurepackage and headed upstairs.

He’d need to get Naser’s number up from his contacts. Itshamed him a little that he hadn’t memorized it.

After finding a charger in his nightstand drawer, he toreopen the envelope and shook its contents free onto his bed. Pamphlets andstapled pieces of paper slid out along with the small, familiar envelope thathad his first name written on it. The one he’d passed on a regular basis whereit had sat tucked into a cubbyhole for all to see—an invitation to quit PineRise or a token of his persistence, depending on whatever mood he’d been in atthe time. The sight of it now filled him with a vivid memory of that firstterrifying day.

The envelope was the wrong shape.

He picked it up. Something blockier and heavier than hisphone shifted inside. Then he saw the flap had been opened and taped shut.

Heart thundering, he tore the entire envelope in half. Alittle box of business cards thudded to his comforter. Tony’s business cards.

Replaced.

His phone wasn’t just missing. It hadn’t just been stolen.It had been replaced so that nobody would know it was gone until…until…

He ran for his bedroom closet and tore the laptop off thetop shelf where he’d left it. His pounding footsteps drew Shirley and his dadupstairs. The questions started flying, but he waved them off as he tappedkeys. He was about to open the app that would locate his phone when he saw thebig red number next to the Messages tab. Hundreds of texts had come in whilehe’d been at Pine Rise. When he clicked on the tab, he saw Naser’s name at thetop of the list.

A conversation between him andNas.

It had been happening all morning.

Only Naser was talking to whoever had stolen Mason’s phone.

35

The minute Naser left San Clemente inhis wake and crossed into San Diego County, the dry, rugged mountains of CampPendleton charged east from Interstate 5. To the west, dramatic bluffs plungedto rugged, isolated beaches popular with intrepid surfers and campers.Somewhere out there, in the wind and the sun, Mason was waiting for him.

He parked in a lot that also serviced the campgrounds to thenorth, then he started walking south on the trail that should lead him to thepin drop Mason had sent that morning. He tried to send a few texts updatingMason, but they all had red dots next to them indicating they’d gone unsent.Cell service cratered out here by the sea.

Up ahead, the trail traveled a gently sinuous line along thetop of the bluffs. Most of the brush was low scrub, perfect for offeringendless vistas on all sides.

An empty bench waited for him next to a bend in the trail.

When he reached it, there was no sign of Mason. He turned,looking out at the sparkling sea. Over a hundred feet below, the beach wasmostly empty, save for a few lone sunbathers and surfers bobbing farther out inthe sparkling swells.

A branch crunched behind him. Naser turned.

The smell hit him first, the kind of body odor and boozestench he’d associated with someoneliving on the streets.Chadwick Brody’s eyes were wild and bloodshot. When he saw the terror onNaser’s face, his leering grin was replaced by something harder, meaner.

Then he lifted the gun he was holding in one hand andpointed it at Naser’s chest.

“Jump, Prancer.”

Naser had never had a gun pointed at him before. He’d alwaysassumed you wouldn’t be able to take your eyes off it. Instead, even though theweapon was black and oily, the sight of it struck him like a wall of bright andblinding flame, and his first instinct was to bow his head and throw himself tothe dirt.

But everything inside of him coiled at the thought. A tremormoved through his muscles. At first, he thought it was terror. It was somethingelse. Something more powerful, something he might be able to use. It was aresistance that bordered on rage.

Look up,he thought.You spent years lookingaway from thisasshole. If this is really the end,buck a trend and don’t give him the satisfaction.

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