Still, I bristle. “Seth wouldn’t lie to the police.”
“Lots of people lie to the police,” Luke says. “I did. I mean, I tried to tell them the truth, but the last part turned into a lie.”
“The truth about what?” I ask, trying to approach it gently. “Can you tell it to us?”
And then he tells us the real story of Jake’s accident on the roof, a story I lived too but saw through a lens I refused to remove. By the time he finishes, I’m crying and pulling my knees closer, fat tears falling to my arms as guilt slices me open again.
I didn’t see.
I didn’t listen.
I told him to push through the pain to get himself back on the court.
“I lied to the police too,” Kolt admits, tipping his head back like he might be trying to keep the tears in. “I knew he might have a problem with pills, and I didn’t tell them. They asked me straight-up, and I didn’t tell them.”
“I didn’t lie,” I say, my voice soft but full of false strength. “But I’m the worst of all. I’m the one who made him take them. When he first got injured, he didn’t want to. I told him he had to if he wanted to recover.”
Jake’s words circle the room. So sorry…all over…forgive me.
“They think he robbed the pharmacy.” Luke whispers the words. “Do you think that’s true?”
Kolt stares at the ceiling. “If he did, he’s probably getting ready to run. That’s what my brother would do.”
“What do you do when you are getting ready to run?” Luke asks.
Kolt thinks a second. “Try to get some cash. Anything else you can’t live without.”
Luke sits up straight, like a bolt of energy just came through the floorboards. “Cash and your favorite sweatshirt? Is that what you would need?”
“Luke,” I ask gently, “what are you talking about?”
“When Kolt’s brother came to my house yesterday, that’s what he took. That plus I’m not sure what else.”
My pulse quickens; I feel it throbbing at my temple. “Kolt’s brother came to your house?”
“Yes,” Luke says. “Yesterday.”
I spin to Kolt. “Why didn’t anybody tell me?”
Kolt sighs. “Because it’s not true. I didn’t know about the rest of it, but apparently Luke gave stuff to some rando who claimed to know Jake—which is its own problem. But I promise you it wasn’t Kmart. Luke just thought it was him because he’s projecting. That’s when—”
I cut him off. “I know what projecting is. Luke, did he say anything else?”
Luke hesitates, and there’s a little fear in his eyes.
“You can trust us. Did he tell you not to tell anybody?”
Luke nods. Thinks. “Well, maybe he just said not to tell the police….”
“Yes!” I say. “I’m sure that’s what he said. So you can tell us.”
Luke presses his lips together for a few long seconds, but then he lets the words out in a whisper. “He said Jake would be okay but I couldn’t tell them.” He looks up at me, eyes big and pleading. “Did I ruin it?”
“No,” I insist. “You didn’t ruin anything. Kolt, tell him.”
“She’s right,” Kolt says. “You did the right thing telling somebody. And I wish it was my brother, but it wasn’t. You want to see who my brother is?” He pulls out his phone, and two seconds later, he’s showing Luke a mug shot. “This is him. Kade Martin, a.k.a. Kmart.”
Luke takes the phone. Studies it. “Yes. That’s him.” He swallows. “But we still can’t tell the police.”
Kolt and I stare.
Finally he speaks. “You saw my brother.”
Luke nods. “The scar above his eyebrow is smaller now. Is this an old picture?”
Kolt answers with questions of his own. “And all he took was cash and some sweatshirt? What did he say?”
“He said not to call him Kmart and not to call the police. He said Jake will be okay.”
“Are you sure it’s him?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says, and I have to believe him.
We’re finally getting somewhere, and I realize it’s happening because we’re finally sharing everything we have—and finally taking each other seriously. So I pull out the receipt from Jake’s truck. “Look closer,” I say, pointing to the indecipherable words on the back. “Could this be his handwriting?”
Kolt grabs the receipt and flips it over. “No way,” he whispers. “No way no way no way.”
He gapes, then takes his phone back from Luke and taps the screen. My phone dings, and I look down, hoping it’s Seth or, even better, Jake.
But it’s that same mug shot staring up at me. I’m struck by how much it does look like Kolt.
“Send it to Seth,” Kolt says, and he’s up on his knees, bouncing. “He might not answer if it comes from me. Ask him if that’s who picked Jake up at midnight that night. If he’s with my brother, that’s seriously bad news.”
So I forward the photo and ask the question. We all stare at my screen, but the answer never comes, which is not like Seth. The call wasn’t like him, either. What’s he doing that he wants me to go home so badly? I’d be worried about him if I had any room at all left for more worries.
But I don’t, and I can’t wait any longer for an answer. If it really was Kmart who came for Jake’s stuff, then it’s looking more than ever like one or both of them might have been responsible for the pharmacy break-in. And the text makes it sound like things have gone downhill from there.
Still, this new information seems to mean Jake is finally found—and with his life on the line, that’s all we need. It feels like a wall has cracked open right in front of us, and we have to keep moving even before the dust settles enough for us to see what’s waiting on the other side.
“Do you know where he lives?” I ask Kolt.
“No,” he says, and my heart falls.
He gets up and paces along the half-court line. Then his head snaps up. “But
