Hailey glanced at her fourteen-year-old sisters. They stared at her with wide-eyed amazement.
Her father shouted, "Look what you've done to your mother!"
One of the twins giggled.
"Was it Conner?" he asked. "I'll kill that son of a bitch."
"Eugene, no. Don't talk like that!" Her mother wiped at her cheeks. "Settle down. No more talking. Let's get home. Please."
Again, he locked eyes with Hailey in the rearview mirror.
Again, she averted her eyes to the window and slyly smiled at her reflection. Although her declaration wasn't technically true, the sense of satisfaction she'd achieved was like a burst of sunshine on the gloomy, overcast Sunday. She was confident God would not hold the little white lie against her.
* * *
Lou stood outside the surf and turf restaurant while Dave went inside to claim their table. Shivering in the cold air, he lit a cigarette before Stella and Walter arrived. Huddled against the restaurant's brick wall, Lou envisioned the pilot episode the team could create to wow the Hollywood producers. After interviewing the priest on Tuesday, he was confident that they'd be able to construct a compelling episode that would secure their production deal.
How much money would the network be willing to pay upfront for the Jared Smith possession story? It had to be worth a pretty penny.
As he flicked the cigarette butt to the street, Stella and Walter rounded the corner from the parking lot. Upon seeing Lou, she smiled broadly. Walter, on the other hand, displayed an expression that seemed suspended between boredom and restrained joy. Lou wondered how the clash of personalities worked so well together, but then acknowledged that he and Dave also appeared as a contrast of character.
"You should kick that nasty habit to the curb," Stella said, "instead of cigarette butts."
"One of these days." He followed them inside the moderately lit but warm lobby. "Wouldn't be surprised if it snowed tonight."
"Not in the forecast until Wednesday," Stella replied.
"Just in time for Thanksgiving."
The high-school-aged hostess escorted them to their table. Before sitting, Lou weighed the value of asking if she knew Jared Smith. But he kept his mouth shut, knowing the interview with the priest was the only remaining dialogue needed to close the story.
Stella draped her coat over the back of a chair, then sat. "Speaking of Thanksgiving, I'll be heading home Wednesday afternoon."
"Both of you?" Lou asked.
"Well, Walter has his family, and I'll be having dinner with mine. You don't have plans for Thanksgiving?"
"I can eat a big-ass turkey dinner and give thanks next week. It's just another way they trick us into spending money."
"Black Friday is worse," she said. "Besides, Thanksgiving is about getting together with family and friends."
"Eh," Lou grunted. "I guess."
She interlaced her fingers and set her cupped hands onto the table. "Let's talk about your interview with the kids."
Leaning forward, Lou perused the wine menu. "We met with all four boys. At one point, Levi cut the interview short and never returned. But that's okay—"
"Why? What happened?"
"He provided a few details about Jared, but the other three had the more interesting story to tell. And it involves all three of them . . . well, all four actually, including Jared."
"Great. Let's hear it."
Lou revealed several carefully folded sheets of paper from the inside pocket of his jacket. "Dave and I started piecing together bits from each interview to construct the full story."
SEVENTEEN
Conner awoke early the first Saturday of summer break, June ninth. To celebrate the end of the school year, Adam's parents had reserved a cabin at Lake Bantam for the week. It was only an hour drive to the lake, but they'd decided to eat breakfast out and do some shopping for supplies before hitting the road.
The previous night, Conner and a group of buddies had hung out, drinking beers, recalling moments from junior year, and planning for the summer. He was slightly hungover, and he imagined that Adam, Jared, and Trevor likely felt the same. Still, Mrs. Wheeler had insisted that everyone be on time, so he jumped out of bed and quickly dressed in basketball shorts and a tank top. He'd already packed a small suitcase with clothes and shoes. Now he just needed to wash his face, brush his teeth, and then shove his toiletries into the suitcase. Before running out the door, he'd say goodbye to his parents and brother. Then it was a week of hanging with his best friends, swimming, lying out in the sun, and fantasizing about life at UCONN, studying sports medicine.
A knock on the bedroom door stirred Adam from sleep. "What?" he shouted, although his face was pressed into his pillow.
The door cracked open, the sound followed by his father's voice. "Are you guys up? We're leaving in forty-five minutes."
"We're up now." Groaning, he shifted onto his side and nudged Trevor's arm. "Time to get up."
"I'll let you guys get to it. But seriously, up and at 'em. Your mom wants to get settled in the cabin by noon."
"Yeah, yeah. Okay. Fine. We're awake."
Trevor stretched and released a muffled yawn. "Is it really time to wake up, or is your dad tricking us to make sure we're on time?"
Adam fumbled for his phone on the floor. He glanced at the time. "No. He's not tricking us. We gotta get our asses in gear."
Tossing the blanket aside, Trevor swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. "I gotta go get Jared." He looked over his shoulder. "You think I should take a shower?"
Adam moved close to his buddy and sniffed. "Yeah, you stink."
"Screw you. I do not."
"You asked me, and I told you. So hurry up and shower first, then I'll take one while you pick up Jared."
* * *
Parked in front of Jared's house, Trevor only had to honk once before Jared rushed out to the car. He jumped in the passenger seat and threw his duffle bag in the back. Grinning, he scratched at the stubble on his chin. Anxiously, he said, "Let's go, man."
"What?"
