“Hi, Dad,” Lilah said, barely looking up. “You’re home early.”
Stanley dropped his jacket on the back of the armchair beside Jace’s, then loosened his suspenders. “You’re damn right I am. Good ol’ Jack Petersen called the station to let me know that the owner of that hideous orange truck that’s been lurking around the neighborhood just walked into our house – hi, Jace.”
“Hi, Mr. Quinn,” Jace mumbled.
“That’s Chief Quinn to you,” Stanley remarked breezily. “Anyhoo, I figured I’d come by to check on things.” He plopped into his easy chair, casually knocking Jace’s jacket on the floor as he did. Kicking off his boots, he rested his feet – dirty, hole-ridden socks and all – right next to Jace’s mug. “So, what’s new, kids?”
“I was just apologizing to Jace for making the balcony disappear at the concert,” Lilah replied.
Stanley cast her a pointed side eye. “It’s not nice to make jokes to drug addicts, honey. They might believe you.”
His daughter rolled her eyes. “Dad, I thought we agreed – no more gaslighting.”
“‘Gaslighting’? How the hell can I agree to something if I don’t even know what it means?”
“It means manipulating a person’s beliefs so they question their own sanity. We learned about it in Psychology last month. Remember? You helped me study for the exam.”
Jace cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to cut in here, but… could someone please tell me what’s going on?”
Stanley started to wave him off, but Lilah spoke first. “I inadvertently bend time around me. It’s not something I can control when I’m having a seizure, but I’m starting to think that if I can control time, I can control my seizures.”
She continued to casually draw shapes in the bottom of her hot chocolate with the tip of her spoon, intentionally avoiding the stupefied stares of both her father and the boy she’d had a crush on since fourth grade.
Stanley and Jace exchanged wide-eyed glances.
“What, uh… What made you come up with that theory?” her father stammered.
“I was talking to Mom a couple of weeks ago and I didn’t even have a headache. Which reminds me – would you help me track down my birth mother so I can ask her some questions?”
A protracted moment of silence ensued.
“…Dad?” Lilah asked again, finally looking up from her cup.
Stanley abruptly stood up from his chair, then strode into the kitchen without uttering a word. When he came back, he had a small bottle of scotch in his hand.
“If you’ll excuse me, children, I think I need a drink.”
As Jace stared between the two of them, a look of pure confusion plastered upon his face, he couldn’t help but feel the same way. He raised a tentative finger as Lilah’s father yanked the cork from the dusty bottle. “Could I—”
“No.”
After a protracted moment of heavy silence, during which Stanley had gulped down two large mouthfuls of noxious-smelling liquor straight from the bottle, and Lilah was doing her best to keep the crimson flush from her cheeks, Jace finally found his voice.
“S-So… the other night, at the concert – you were controlling time?”
She nodded meekly, still not quite able to meet his eyes.
“A-And, just now, when you said you spoke to your mother…” He looked up at the mantle, his brow twitching in confusion. “Do you mean…?”
“My adoptive mother, yes. She died when I was a baby.”
All of the color drained from Jace’s face as he looked between Lilah and Stanley, waiting for one of them to burst out laughing. Neither one of them did. He did his best to swallow the growing lump in his throat. This had to be some kind of joke. It had to be… right? But the moment he met Chief Quinn’s hollow stare, he knew it was anything but.
He forced a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. What else could he do? “Well, I’d ask you to prove it, but—”
“No way!” Stanley bellowed, his shout quickly turning into a belch.
Jace held up his hands defensively. “I was going to say, I’d ask you to prove it, but based on my memory of that concert, the only thing that makes sense is that the balcony blinked out of existence as we were standing on it – and then reappeared right after we fell. If you’re telling me that you’re the one who caused that to happen, it means that I’m not crazy after all. And,” he added, shrugging sheepishly, “if you didn’t actually bend time around us – well, I guess we’re both out of our minds. And I’m sort of okay with being insane, as long as I have a friend who’s equally as nuts as I am.”
At that, an ecstatic grin broke across Lilah’s face.
Chapter 15
Mysticism, Mediums & Malachite
“It’s getting pretty late – I bet your family will be expecting you for dinner soon, eh?” Stanley peered at Jace over the top of the missing person case file he was re-reading; a baby had disappeared in western Idaho sixteen years ago and was never found. The problem was, the timeline was two months off. And the baby was a Honduran boy.
Jace shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Well, uh, my mother and Frank are usually just now sitting down to eat. I don’t eat my dinner until they’ve finished…” he trailed off, casting Lilah a sideways glance as he did.
Stanley raised an eyebrow. “Frank? You don’t mean Frank Wainwright?”
Jace grimaced.
“Frank Wainwright is your father?”
“Stepfather.”
“No wonder you’re camping out here,” Stanley scoffed. “That crook once tried to sell me a used car with a broken gearbox! I’d’ve had to replace the whole transmission within a week if I hadn’t brought my own mechanic to inspect it first… And whaddya mean, you don’t eat ‘til they’re finished? What kind of cockamamy arrangement is that?”
The tips of Jace’s ears grew red. “I don’t really—”
“Dad,” Lilah interjected. “Maybe Jace could stay for dinner? I can reheat last night’s stew. There’s plenty left over… That is, if he wants to?” she added, casting Jace a shy look.
Still blushing, Jace gave her a grateful smile. “I’d love to. Thanks.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Stanley grunted as he stood from his easy chair. “Except I’ll reheat the stew. You two stay right there and keep reading. Maybe you’ll catch something these old eyes might’ve missed over the years.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Lilah said, feeling a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. She supposed she still had every right to be angry with her father for keeping secrets from her, but as the days passed, she found it harder and harder to stay mad at him.
He gave her hair an affectionate ruffle while directing a pointed look at Jace. “Just give your friend a gentle reminder that nothing we discuss in this house is to ever leave this house. I am armed, after all.” With that, he disappeared into the kitchen.
Jace gave Lilah a startled look, but she just sighed. “In other words, he’s got two arms. It’s an old joke of his.”