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The guard’s eyebrows went up. “I’m pretty sure.”
“Never mind,” Victor said, offering a sympathetic smile. He’d have to ask her why her phone wasn’t good enough to send a message directly to him anymore. “I’m sorry for the disruption. I’ll let you get back to...”
“Mr. Morgan,” a monotone, feminine voice drifted from the house.
Victor and the guard turned. Muriel, one of the new maids, stood with a small tray on the porch. She was a plain-looking girl, with straight, brown hair. She often appeared dazed to Victor, like she was always sleepwalking. She was always very formal with him in front of other people, despite repeatedly being told it was fine to address him by first name. She only ever called him Victor in private.
Victor cringed and waited for her as her hard-soled shoes thunked down the steps; she scurried, making a swishing noise with the suit pants she wore. Her hair was tied up in a bun on her head, making her appear older than she really was. She got the job done and often got him things before he knew he needed them. Even if she was new, she was good at her job and Victor could tolerate her awkwardness.
Muriel reached them and took a long look at the blond man, but then ignored him while presenting the tray to Victor. On it was an envelope, and beside it, a small, brown paper bag, neatly sealed with a sticker. “I had the chef put together some breakfast to go. And there’s a letter here for you. I brought it just in case it was important.”
Victor raised an eyebrow, ignoring the breakfast, and picked up the long, plain white envelope. The return address said Richmond, Virginia, but the stamp from the post office said it had been mailed from Charleston.
The address was probably a Wal-Mart or some random abandoned warehouse. Random was code for Academy. Someone was using an old-fashioned method of contact within their system.
“Thanks, Muriel,” Victor said, and then picked up the breakfast. He didn’t want it, as he suspected it was probably over-sauced salmon or something else rich and expensive. The new cook was great, but fish breakfasts were too salty and out of place for him. He couldn’t convince the cook to make something simple. The last time he asked for pancakes, the cook used zucchini in the batter, made tiny ‘cups’ out of it and filled them with caviar.
Victor waited until Muriel started toward the house before he passed the paper bag to the guard. “I hope you like salmon roe,” he said.
The guard looked surprised and then smirked. “I always see her lurking around the garden, and then taking a walk around the perimeter. Like she doesn’t trust us to be on guard.”
Muriel had been vetted by a reputable staff service, so it was odd he’d note her behavior, but then, it was his job to be aware of anyone near the house. Victor tilted his head to one side, surprised. “I only ever see her inside,” he said. Maybe she liked to take walks, get some fresh air. That didn’t seem too odd; maybe she enjoyed the old house and the gardens? Maybe she was more human than she let on. “Maybe she’s just getting familiar with the grounds—she is new, after all.”
Victor left the guard and got into the BMW. He tossed the envelope onto the passenger seat for now. He buckled in, started the car, and headed out toward the highway.
???
The long stretch from his house to Kota’s was one that Victor had taken a number of times, and every time, he wished he lived closer. Traffic piled up before he even got onto the highway. The glare off cars from the sun rising behind him was blinding. He found a pair of sunglasses in the glove compartment and put them on, just as he felt the edge of a headache.
Once they started their new school project in Goose Creek, he’d have to do this every day. Not only that, but he’d have to go pick up Gabriel, who lived in a poor section of North Charleston. That meant getting out of traffic, and then getting back in line to get onto the highway.
Maybe he should take Silas with him and pick out roads around the highway that would be better and faster if there was a wait. Victor had GPS, of course, but that wouldn’t tell him if there was construction or which roads would have tight traffic.
Silas would appreciate the driving around, and may have a few recommendations. Victor made a note to talk to him sometime before school started.
Victor kept his foot on the brake, releasing slightly when the car in front rolled forward. His eyes fell on the envelope on the seat next to him. He was going to wait until he got to Kota’s house, but since he was stalled in traffic anyway, he needed the distraction.
He reached over, opened the envelope, and pulled out the one sheet of paper. There was a single paragraph printed inside.
Seeking volunteers for new harvest. Experience with ill crops required. Two days maximum. Meet up at the address below. Overnight may be needed. Seven.
Messages like this normally went to a group leader, like Mr. Blackbourne.
He hadn't heard from Mr. Blackbourne in a week, as everyone was getting ready for the new assignment at the high school. Mr. Blackbourne was busy working his way through required coursework for principals, a requirement for the job.
So why had this message been sent directly to him? Or had Mr. Blackbourne given them permission?
Two days maximum. With it being so vague and with only an unknown address as a contact point, Victor was unsure if he could get involved. Not when they were so close to starting a new job.
Would they have written to him if they didn't think he could help?
He would have to ask Kota. He’d have to get his involvement approved anyway.
???
As he turned onto Sunnyvale Court, Victor passed by a little blue car belonging to one of the new homeowners. They’d taken the two-story, gray house not far from Kota's. The man inside the car had thin lips and pressed them together, focusing on the road. Victor waved, but the man ignored the gesture. Perhaps he wasn't fully awake yet or hadn’t expected anybody to wave at him that early in the morning.
Oh well. He’d tried to be friendly. Normally he wouldn’t have bothered, but it felt like he should be on friendly terms with Kota’s neighbors. They saw him regularly on the street.
Max wagged his tail as Victor pulled into the driveway of Kota’s house, a light-colored brick two-story. The Golden Ret
riever was tied to a long lead, most likely had already been given a walk, and was allowed to roam a bit to let out some energy before being allowed back inside.
Victor parked behind Kota’s sedan in the far corner of the driveway. Max stretched his tether as far as it allowed, and opened his mouth, almost like a smile, as his tongue hanging out. He didn’t bark, but simply sat on his haunches and waited to be greeted.
Once Victor emerged from the car, Max started panting. Victor patted him on the head, and when Max lay down on the driveway, exposing his furry belly, Victor gave it a friendly scratch.
“Nice to see you, too,” Victor said. Max smelled a little too much like wet dog. Had it rained or had he just gotten a bath?
It was the first time Victor noticed the pools of water around the yard. It hadn’t rained downtown. Summerville must have had a shower pop up last night.
Victor left Max, and the dog jumped up and went back to sniffing around the yard.
He went into the open garage door, passing Erica’s car inside, and to the inside door that would let him into the house, knowing Kota would be up already. He knocked once softly and opened the door slowly. Kota’s mother and sister saw Kota’s friends coming and going and encouraged them just to come in and make themselves at home. It’s what Victor loved about their home: very inviting.
He closed the door behind him and listened. There was a noise, but it sounded like it was coming from upstairs in Kota’s room.
Victor opened the door to Kota’s bedroom, the finished room over the garage, and climbed the steps, stopping at the landing, scanning for signs of life.
At first, he thought no one was there. The bathroom door was open, the light off. The closet was closed, light off. The room was as neat and tidy as usual, yet it didn’t feel right, something Victor couldn’t place.
He was about to return downstairs when he noticed the lump in the unmade bed. Kota always made his bed neatly once he was out of it.
Then he took in the shape of the lump—it was obviously a body lying completely flat under the covers.
