Bringing up the camping trip at Charlie's Diner wouldn't be a smart decision. Trevor didn't want to talk about it yet. And any discussion about Jared should take place without the possibility of being swarmed by friends from school, which is exactly what happened as soon as they sat at a booth.
Zach and Eric strutted to the table, each with a smirk that could have carried a soda on one end and a side of fries on the other. Pushing the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows, Zach said, "I got a message from a ghost hunter."
"How'd they get your number?" Conner asked.
"No. On Twitter." He tipped his head toward Eric. "Both of us, actually. What about you guys?"
Adam stared at his menu, the words blurring behind the lamination. He was still pissed at Zach for leaking his secret about Lisa Reynolds. Now he wondered if Zach had blabbed about it to others.
"Yeah, we did," Trevor said. "But not on Twitter."
"This shit is blowing up," Eric said to Zach. Then he exhaled a hoot. "Man, this is getting crazy."
"This isn't funny," Conner said. "And it's not entertaining either."
Eric appeared embarrassed. "Well, no, it's not entertaining, but it's interesting."
"Whatever," Conner huffed. "If it's true about Jared, he had no control over it. Like, would you make fun of someone if they had cancer or something?"
"Hey, I'm not a dick, man."
"You're being a dick right now," Trevor said and then stood. He looked at Adam and Conner. "Let's go. We can eat at my house."
"What's your problem?" Zach asked as Trevor nudged him out of the way. "You weren't even friends with Jared anymore. Why do you guys even care what people are saying about him?"
"Because he was our friend, you dumbass."
"Jeez, pretty hostile," Eric muttered. "Maybe the devil gotcha, and now you need an exorcism too."
Trevor pressed his palms against Eric's chest with a thump. "Screw you."
When Eric moved forward like he was going to retaliate, Adam and Conner jumped from their seats.
A waitress stepped up and said, "Nope. Not in here. Sit down or get out."
"Sorry," Trevor said to the woman. "We're leaving."
Adam and Conner followed Trevor out to the parking lot, where Trevor stopped and spun around.
"Let's get our stories straight," he said, "before any of us do the interview with Lou and Dave."
"What do you mean?" Adam asked. "Tell the exact same story?"
"No. I mean, if one of us is going to talk about the camping trip, then we should all talk about it." Cleary frustrated, he started walking to his car. "But we're not going to talk about that here."
Adam slid onto the back seat. "Do you think it was our fault?"
Driving out of the parking lot, Trevor glanced at Adam in the rearview mirror but said nothing. Adam knew Trevor was fuming and decided not to push it by asking more questions or saying anything until Trevor was ready to talk.
A moment later, Conner mumbled, "If it wasn't Jared, it could have been one us instead."
TWELVE
Other than Lou, the hotel's lobby was void of guests when Stella pranced through the revolving door. The instant she spotted Lou seated against a wall, her smile stretched to such a degree that he wanted to verbally express his bitterness. However, he couldn't risk the possibility that she'd turn on her stiletto heels and leave him without a vital piece of the Jared Smith story. He needed the priest's account of events just as much as she needed Mr. Smith's personal statement about the case.
"Well, a woman doesn't smile like that," he said, "unless she has something good to share."
Standing before him, she replied, "Better than good. I have Father O'Leary's commitment to a sit-down interview on Tuesday."
"I knew you'd get it."
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, did you?"
"Of course." He rose to his feet and grabbed his cell from the side table. "A few minutes ago, I got off the phone with Mr. Smith. He agreed to an interview tonight."
"Fantastic, Lou." She glanced around the lobby. "I'm not sure the front desk of a hotel is the best place to discuss our work. Should we go somewhere a little more private?"
"Such as?"
"There's a coffeehouse down the street. Let's take a stroll."
"My car's right out front."
"Mine is too," she said as she walked toward the entrance. "C'mon, Lou. The fresh air will do you some good."
Outside, he buttoned his coat and then pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket. "What direction are we headed?"
Lou and Stella settled at a small wooden table in a secluded corner of the coffeehouse. He sipped his nearly black coffee as she shrugged off her black puffer coat.
He asked, "Think we're gonna pull off this pilot episode?"
She nibbled on a piece of cinnamon scone. "Are you interested in this just because of what it could mean for your pilot?"
"No. Sorry if I've given you that impression."
"You have."
"I wanna know Jared Smith's story. I wanna know what happened and how much truth is layered within the fabrications." He straightened his posture and dipped a chocolate-covered madeleine into his coffee. "But I can't ignore what this could mean for my production deal."
"All right. I understand. I don't mean to give you a hard time."
He leaned forward, grinning. "Your involvement with the pilot means good things for you as well."
"True."
Bored by Stella's attempt at chitchat, Lou scanned the crowd of young couples, teenagers in small groups, and a few older folks on laptops. He inhaled the strong aroma of coffee grounds and sweet pastries, then he cut to the chase. "So, this Father O'Leary, what did he tell you?"
"Basically, he flat-out told me that Jared Smith was possessed by a demon. He'd gotten involved when Mr. Smith reached out to him to counsel Jared. At first, he suspected Jared was only experiencing the usual bouts of teenage rebellion and maybe even some psychological issue."
"What convinced him?"
"Initially, it was Jared speaking to him
