Page 1 of Summer Holiday Lifeline

PROLOGUE

A Few Weeks Earlier…

“Hold that thought.” Lucky held up one finger to Tris and Ozzy, who stood one on either side of the Oak’s B and B kitchen/dining pass-through. Hip-deep in renovating Lucky’s youth shelter next door, Ozzy had come to pick their brains on outfitting the shelter’s topmost floor of study space and cyber nooks, and they’d just started talking when the B and B’s phone interrupted them.

The ring blared through the main floor for a third time as Lucky scooted to the counter to answer it. “The Oaks B and B. How can I help you?”

“Lucky?” The voice on the other end shook slightly and hitched over the end of his name, so he almost didn’t recognize it.

“Micky?” He glanced over at Ozzy in time to see his head snap around from where he’d been leaning over the counter to kiss Tris.

“Yeah.” A small sniff and gently cleared throat. “Yeah. Hey. I… um.” There was a crackling and shuffling and the dim sound of Micky saying “Jet, what did I tell you about that? Put it away.” Then the line cleared and Micky sighed. “Hey. Sorry about that. Listen.”

There was a long pause.

“Mick. What?”

“I know you probably have a lot on your plate.”

“When haven’t I? So what? What’s wrong?”

“I need.” He huffed, and there was another sniff. “Shit. I need help, Lucky.”

CHAPTER ONE

It had taken a few weeks after that desperate call for help, but Micky—Myles now, because it seemed wrong while he lived in his pacifist sister’s home to go by a name his army buddies had given him—had worked with Lucky to sort out details for a summer vacation for himself and his niece and nephew. To Myles’s relief, Lucky had been able to rent him a suite in the B and B he owned with his partner, Kreed, for as long as Myles needed it.

Now, on the day of departure, he hoped he was doing the right thing for everyone.

He wasn’t sure where in the house or yard the kids were. Some days, it felt like the building dampened all the sounds, and others, that it amplified and echoed them so that Myles could never be sure where anyone was when he couldn’t see them. Today, everything was so muffled it felt like he was underwater.

At least he could be satisfied they’d done what he’d asked. Shelly’s little pink princess suitcase sat by the front door, next to her school backpack bursting with drawing and painting materials.

Some of her favourite drawings peeked from an outside pocket, and he pulled them out to look. The top one showed an incomprehensible tangle of blue, red and yellow lines over the entirety of a piece of printer paper.

She had produced dozens of such images, none of them depicting anything except a tangled, dark mass of scribbled lines in various colours. She’d always explained them. A man walking a dog. Kites in the sky. A flower garden with a sprinkler. She told him what each picture was, and though he didn’t see what she described, he’d stopped trying to figure it out weeks ago.

He was staring blankly at the artwork when Jet appeared, snatching the pages out of his hand.

“Jet.”

“You shouldn’t let her keep these.” Still, careful not to wrinkle them, he tucked the drawings back where Myles had found them.

Myles watched him and wondered, briefly, if there were any actual clothes in the suitcase, or if it, too, was filled with drawing supplies. He let the thought go. He was too tired to look. Jet probably had already. He wouldn’t thank Myles for double-checking his work.

“Why does it matter if she keeps them?” Myles asked. “If they make her happy…”

“It’s disturbed. She literally thinks she’s drawing something, and it’s nothing. Just scribbles.”

“Keep your voice down.”

Jet pursed his lips, but he glanced at the stairs, then returned his glare to Myles. “Why? So you can keep lying to her? Like you lied to us about Mom?”

“Jet—”

Jet snarled at him, spun on one heel, and stormed past him to the kitchen.

Almost, Myles let him go. Almost. Instead, he gripped his cane in a tight fist and hobbled after him.