Page 121 of Otto: The Hawthornes

“Did you just use the Rumi smile on her?” Micky asked, holding back laughter.

“Works every time.” Rumi grinned smugly.

When Esther’s mom answered the door, I would’ve known her anywhere. Both Esther and Noel looked just like her.

“Hey, I’m looking for my brother.”

“Sorry, I can’t help you,” she said, shaking her head.

I stuffed my toe in the jam, stopping the door before she closed it in my face.

“He’s friends with your daughter Noel,” I continued. “She here?”

“She’s at school.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

The sudden fear in her eyes killed me.

“Listen, I’m just lookin’ for Titus. Have you seen him today?”

“No,” she replied, pushing against the door. “Noel doesn’t spend time with—with boys.”

“You have any idea where they might be?”

“I told you. She’s at school. I don’t know where your brother is.”

“Otto, let’s go,” Gramps called from behind me.

Her eyes widened, and I nodded.

“I’m Esther’s husband. Nice to meet you.”

She didn’t respond in any way as I turned and jogged back down the driveway.

“Prospect called from the warehouse,” Gramps told me as I reached my bike. “Playin’ a game of telephone, so it took a damn minute to get to us, but he saw Titus and a girl in the back of a car. He was shittin’ his pants not knowin’ whether to follow them or not since none of us were pickin’ up our phones.”

“Please tell me he followed the car.”

“He did. They’re at the church. He’s been keepin’ an eye. They’re still there.”

“Don’t feel good about this,” my dad muttered, reaching for the ignition.

“Good news is the boys at the grocery store are closer, they’ll be there when we get there.”

I was trying like hell not to get distracted, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the way I’d laid into Titus the night before. He’d fucked up big time, but I also hadn’t given him any slack for being a fuckingkid. The kind of kid that I wished him to be, oblivious to most of the shit we dealt with on the daily. He’d been so freaked out and guilty and I’d definitely made it worse. He wouldn’t even meet my eyes when he’d shown up at the house that morning.

The church was a small one, tucked away down a dead-end road. It was the perfect place for a militia group to hatch their plans and get up to whatever they wanted with the outward respectability of a house of God. The place made my skin crawl.

Gramps was right. The rest of the group had beaten us there.

“I’m not waitin’,” my dad said, climbing off his bike the minute we stopped. “Don’t give a shit who’s in there.”

“With you.” Micky climbed off his bike.

“Don’t leave me behind!” Rumi almost sang, following them.

“I’ll coordinate out here,” Gramps said, nodding to my dad as he walked to the others. “No one’ll come out without us knowin’.”

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