Page 59 of Fire
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Roger,still mostly asleep and wrapped in the cotton blur of dreams, fumbled for the cellphone buzzing on the end table by his bed. If some asshole was drunk dialing him at 2 a.m., he was going to trace the damn number and post it on several specialized message boards. “Yeah?”
“God damn it, Harper.”
He knew that voice, roughened with rage and pain. But it wasn’t quite... “Leon?”
“You knew. You fucking knew and you justleft him there,you heartless son of a bitch.”
That wasn’t Leon Hawthorne. Roger couldn’t remember the last time Leon had cared that much about something. “Jake?”
“Jake, give me the phone.” Tobias’s voice was loud, authoritative, and near enough to the receiver that Roger knew he had to be right next to Jake. “No, I saidgive me the phone.” There was the sound of a scuffle, a “Dammit, Toby!” from Jake, and then Tobias’s breathing was in Roger’s ear.
Whatever this was, Roger didn’t like it at all. Part of him was relieved that at least both the boys were in good enough shape to be calling and fighting over the phone, but the rest of him braced for whatever had gone down that had prompted that from Jake.
“Sorry about that,” Tobias said, tone flat with a mechanical edge that Roger hadn’t heard in a long time. “Someone s-sent us re-recordings of my interrogations in the camp. Jake watched one before I knew, and I... I tried to stop him from watching the rest, but... Well, he’s upset. I’m s-sure it’s just... sure he’ll come around.”
“Damn right we’re coming around.” Jake must have been shouting to come through that loud and clear. “We’re gonna come ’round T or C, and I’m gonna sock him in the jaw.”
“Jake!” Tobias snapped, and then the phone clicked off.
Roger stared down at the phone and didn’t even have the strength to swear.
All of Roger’s years in the hunting business told him that the question ofwho the fuck sent those recordingswas paramount, but his gut also told him it was going to have to wait. Jake had just seen the interrogations. And probably seen all kinds of fucked-up shit that Roger couldn’t even imagine.
Roger knew what that could do to someone, knew what it would do toJake, and had never once considered explicitly telling Jake what had happened to Tobias. He had assumed that living with Tobias, helping him cope, would be all the illumination Jake could need. Hawthornes in particular never needed any extra fuel for their deep-burning rages. Roger understood why Jake would be pissed, understood the rage, but why call?—
Balls. Jake must have seen the interrogation Roger had walked in on, all those years ago.
Knowing sleep was out of the question now with the live wire of adrenaline in his blood, Roger kicked off the covers and went to the kitchen.
He had tried not to think of that interrogation over the years, though it returned to mind fairly often regardless. That meant he could clearly recall—in sharper detail than he ever wanted—the scene Jake must have witnessed. The corner camera in that damn hellhole would have seen everything. All Roger had failed to do.
No good for anyone to say now that he couldn’t have done anything else.
Waiting for the boys to arrive was hell. Roger abandoned the thought of breakfast and instead tidied his office and kitchen, mechanically storing the booze in a locker, ignoring the shaking of his hands.
A couple hours later, Roger was fading even as the light of dawn grew stronger. He was just contemplating going back to his bed for whatever restless sleep he could get when his phone rang again.
“Harper.”
“Hi, Roger.” Tobias’s voice was more normal, but still too even and controlled for the shitfest that Roger knew had to be raging in his head (in both their heads). “We’re on our way to you now. Still about eight, maybe ten hours depending on how many times we stop.”
“We’re not stopping!” Jake’s voice was fainter, but clear. “We’re getting there in eight if I have to break every fucking law to do it.”
Tobias sighed. “Jake is probably still going to want to punch you in the face when we get there.”
“I’d deserve it, kid,” Roger said.
“It’s not your fault,” Tobias said quietly. “It’s not the fault of anyone in this conversation.”
“Like hell it’s not his fault! He?—”
“Shut up, Jake,” Tobias said tersely. “We’ll see you soon, Roger.” And then he hung up for the second time that morning.
The Eldorado pulled into the yard eight and a half hours later. Roger waited on his porch, not entirely sure what would come out at him, but pretty certain he deserved whatever it might be.
It took longer than usual for Tobias and Jake to get out with that smooth synchronicity that came from more than just practice. Jake’s movements were tight and angry, while Tobias carried his tension smooth and controlled like a piano wire ready to be struck.
