Page 8 of Second Story

What the fuck you looking at?

Then I catch a glimpse of the same expression the moon showed me last night. Surprise comes first. Then hurt. It fills doe eyes so like his little brother’s. Anger comes last. The proof is right there in his chin lifting even higher before his jaw clenches. And it’s visible in him turning his back on me like he must have thought I turned mine on him when I had to add the name Lenny Webber to another welfare officer’s list of kids at risk.

Isaac reaches into the side of his van to grab a pair of suit trousers that he pulls on in a hurry. Over the phone, my brother speaks just as quickly.

“Listen. I know you’re in Cornwall.”

I can’t blame that knowledge on some spooky twin prescience. Him knowing my location is down to the tracker in this car we share, a joint restoration project set by our father. It was a wreck, like our relationship after acid burned me. Now it’s an enduring link between us, a reason to break a silence I never wanted, although on days like this, it’s tempting to wish I could press mute on Josh.

“Why did you drive all the way down there?” He answers his own question. “Ah. The train strike.”

“Got it in one. Came down last night. Might stay a few more days. Cornwall’s pretty.”

“No. I need the car.” He doesn’t have time for any more small talk. “Just tell me if you’re seeing the Emerson kid, then bring it back.”

Him mentioning the name of my client is either a lucky guess or proof he’s accessed the court calendar I use now that I advocate for minors. Finding backdoors into systems is Josh’sskill set. Mine is counting back from ten as he spits more questions. “You are seeing him, aren’t you, so don’t try to give me any cobblers about being down there for some other reason. Noah Emerson needs to give evidence?—”

Right now, I don’t care about my brother’s crime obsession. At least, I don’t care until he finishes speaking.

“—in the latest Wintergreen case.”

Hearing the name of where I earned my black wool as well as my scars does make me pause. It also makes me rub at what was etched into my skin in the stairwell of one of the Wintergreen housing estate’s brutal tower blocks. The whole place is as ugly as the sin that fills it these days, run by gang lords known as top boys. It is also where I came close to making a lapse of professional judgement I haven’t repeated since leaving the role that brought Isaac and his brother into my orbit.

What a mess I made of that by falling for him.

No wonder Isaac laces his shoes quickly, yanking hard like he can’t wait to get back in his van and roar away.

From me.

I guess that’s what I did to him, if for different reasons. For once, Josh’s voice buzzing again is a welcome distraction from reliving a night I bet Isaac doesn’t remember fondly. “Listen, Joe. I’ve been digging into phone tower signals. For a few minutes, I can place?—”

“Stop. We agreed not to do this, remember?” Josh demanding intel from me only ever hurt us, and I’m a burns-ward old-timer, so I already have a painful metric. Maybe that’s why I can’t drag my eyes away from Isaac, who has also had to face life while missing a loved one. Now Isaac wrestles with knotting a necktie, whipping it off for a second try only to make an even worse hash of tying a neat knot. “Josh? I need to go.”

I don’t say that because I’m late for my meeting. I need to get him off my back because Isaac and I have unfinished business.

Isaac can’t think so—the minute I kill my call and get out of my car, he shouts, “Stop.” He also casts a quick glance into his van, and lowers his voice. “Turn around and walk away, Joe.” His tone turns icy. “Again.”

I don’t—can’t—notafter how things ended between us. And not after I witness a repeat of pain I wasn’t sure I saw last night at midnight. There’s no avoiding it in this bright late spring sunshine as I crunch over lay-by gravel to reach for that dangling necktie, and I won’t lie, it hurts when he flinches. That stings like a real wasp. So does him glancing sideways again, then issuing an instruction so bitten off that each word sounds punctuated.

“Walk away now.”

“I will. But listen to me first, will you?”

“Listen to you?” His chin rises again, his stare that pretty amber I told myself to forget. It used to be warm and trusting. Today’s ice suggests his trusting days are long over, and his statement confirms it. “You’re the last person in the world I’d listen to, believe me.”

I nod because I do. Believe him, that is, which doesn’t stop me from saying, “At least let me help with your tie.” I hold out a scarred hand, and apart from last night, Isaac is one of the few people who never stared or asked,What the fuck happened to you?He only ever focussed on one thing—doing whatever it took to keep his brother. That’s who I can’t stop myself from asking after.

“Where’s Lenny?”

“None of your business.” That once soft gaze flicking sideways for a third time is a telltale. I might have given up my school welfare officer role, but old instincts mean I take another step to look into the van’s open side door, and those instincts pay off.

Lenny.

Isaac’s little brother is bigger than the last time I saw him. Of course he is. That was about a year ago. He’s got to be seven years old now. That’s too old for daytime napping when he should be in school and learning. Instead, he’s out for the count on a mat in the back of what it takes a beat too long to realise is a mobile library crowded with what looks like all of their possessions.

They didn’t have much when I first met them, but that’s definitely Lenny’s superhero bedding. I know because I bought it. He’s hemmed in by the suitcases I helped Isaac carry into emergency accommodation when everything they owned became part of a crime scene.

“What’s going on?” I meet eyes that were icy a moment ago. Now they’re panicked.

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