Orlando let himself be herded, but he shook his head. “I promised. And it doesn’t have anything to do with Cal’s death. I swear.”
“That sounds exactly like what someone would say in a novel when something was secretly the key to the whole mystery.”
“You’ve read a novel?” Theo murmured.
Auggie looked around for something to throw.
“So, um, what are you going to do now?” Orlando said when they got to the parking lot.
“Drive around the block,” Theo said, “and wait for you to do something stupid like try to break into the apartment.”
The shock on Orlando’s face almost made Auggie lose it; he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from slipping. After a moment, Orlando managed to say, “I’m not even going to do that.”
“Ok,” Theo said. “But we’ll stick around just in case anybody else has any crazy ideas.”
“Augs.” Orlando paused as though not sure how to finish, and he settled for repeating in a slightly more pathetic voice, “Augs.”
“Go back to the house,” Auggie said, patting his shoulder. “Relax. Take your mind off things.”
Orlando took a few steps toward his slate-gray BMW. Then he looked over his shoulder.
Theo held up his flip phone and waved it. “Just so you know, the tracker I planted on you pings me every time you come near this place. I like to get a full eight hours, so don’t wake me up in the middle of the night.”
“You can’t do that!”
“Oh my God,” Auggie muttered. “Go home, Orlando.”
Orlando marched to the BMW with wounded dignity. He refused to look at them as he pulled out and drove away. When the sound of the car had faded, Auggie shook his head.
“How long before he decides to risk it?” Theo asked.
“A day or two.” Auggie shook his head. “You decided to pretend you have a GPS tracker synced to your flip phone?”
“He didn’t even blink.”
“Yeah, but Theo, that’s not the point.”
“What’s the point?”
“It’s so lame.”
Theo blinked. “Sometimes I honestly forget you’re eighteen.”
“Nineteen.”
“Right. Nineteen.”
“Come here. Let me see that other arm.”
Theo grinned and angled his body away from Auggie. “What’s that dumbass up to?”
“Orlando? God, who knows? Whatever it is, he wouldn’t be doing it if he thought it would hurt his family. Or—or us.”
“Or you. Orlando would push me into a thresher if he thought he could get away with it.”
“No, he wouldn’t.” Auggie cocked his head. “Ok, he might.”
“Did you believe him when he said it had nothing to do with the murder?”
“I believed him. I’m not sure that’s the same thing as it being true, though. I think the right person could convince him to do something, make him believe it was totally unconnected to Cal’s death, even if it was actually very important.”
“Yeah,” Theo said, “that’s what I was afraid of. Come on. Maybe Orlando’s ex can help us figure out what goes on inside his head.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Auggie muttered.
22
Genesis Evans lived with her parents in a suburb that looked like it had been built in the late 1950s, on the southwest side of Wahredua. Most of the houses had two stories, and they either featured Tudor-style timber and stucco or a mixture of fieldstone and wood siding. Her home was one of the latter, and the fieldstones were small and round and reminded Theo of going to the dentist as a child and seeing models of human teeth. The home sat at the end of a long blacktop driveway; the yard had a pair of willows in front that acted as a screen. A sporty black BMW was parked at the end of the drive, a sticker in the rear window proclaiming WROXALL TENNIS.
Auggie parked on the street, and they headed up to the house together. Theo knocked. A moment later, the door opened, and a young woman looked out at them. She was black, her hair done in neat braids, and she was wearing shorts and a t-shirt that said Black Nerds Unite.
“Genesis?” Theo said.
She nodded. “May I help you?”
“I hope so,” Theo said. “We wanted to talk to you about Wayne and Cal Reese.”
Her expression flattened, and she shook her head as she began to close the door.
“Please,” Theo said. “We have reason to believe Cal Reese was murdered, and the family has asked us to look into his death.”
She hesitated, the door still open a crack. “Orlando sent you.”
“He mentioned you,” Auggie said. “He told us there was a difference of agreement about a contract.”
“Oh my God.” Genesis shook her head. “He’s still the baby, huh?”
“What do you mean?” Theo said.
“Genesis,” a man shouted from inside. “Who’s at the door?”
“Nobody,” Genesis said over her shoulder. “I said nobody.”
“I heard you,” the man said. “So who are you talking to?” The door opened wider, and the man standing there was tall and big, wearing a button-down shirt and suit pants. He had his graying hair in a tight flattop. “May I help you?”
“We just needed to talk to Genesis,” Auggie said.
“Regarding what?”
“Dad, leave them alone,” Genesis said.
“We’re just asking a few questions,” Theo said.
“I understand that,” the man said. “And I asked you what those questions are regarding.”
Genesis shook her head.
“The Reese family,” Auggie began.
“No,” the man said. “You can speak to our lawyer.”
He shut the door. On the other side, Genesis said something, her tone familiar to Theo: the disenfranchised late adolescent. Her father said something back. Then the deadbolt went home, and Theo looked at Auggie.
“So much for that,” Auggie said.
“We’ll try again later. Is she a student? Do you think we could catch her after class?”
Auggie shrugged. “I’ll see what I can find.”
They were halfway down the drive when an angry shout came from behind them. Mr. Evans, Genesis’s father, was coming toward them in a pair of fuzzy moccasins, and next to him was a younger man who was even bigger—possibly Genesis’s older brother, to judge by how he resembled Mr. Evans.
“Hey,” Mr. Evans shouted again. “Stop right there.”
“Jesus,” Theo said. “Keep going. Get in the car.”
“What?” Auggie said. “Are you kidding?”
“You promised, Auggie. You promised to do what I tell you.”
“Theo, please don’t do this. Please.”