Jeffery Deaver - Solitude Creek

She fell silent for a moment, then asked, ‘All right. What is it?’

‘Something happened today. I have to tell you.’ Then he turned his head, rose again and shut the door. As if he’d meant to do that when he walked in but had been so focused on what he wanted to say that any other thoughts had scattered, like dropped marbles.

Something happened...

‘The hate crime I’ve been working?’

‘Sure.’ Had there been another defacing? Was it an actual attack this time? Hate crimes often escalated from words to blood. Dragging to death gays, shootings of blacks or Jews.

‘Goldschmidt’s house again.’

‘The perps came back?’

‘They did. But it seems Goldschmidt wasn’t completely honest with us. Apparently he found their bikes and kept them. He wanted them to come back. He was using the bikes as bait.’

‘So, they were bikers.’

‘No, bicycles.’

‘ Kids were doing it?’

‘That’s right.’

She looked at him levelly. ‘And what happened, Michael?’

‘Goldschmidt had a shotgun. Didn’t listen to you the other night.’

‘Goddamnit! Did he shoot anybody?’

‘He was going to,’ O’Neil said. ‘He denies it but — why else keep a loaded Beretta by the garage door?’

‘“Going to”?’

‘While they were on the street, getting closer, I got a call. It was from one of the perps, calling. He was warning me that something bad was going down. He was worried about weapons. I should get TAC and backup there immediately. He said TAC.’

‘One of the kids? Called you? And said that?’

‘Yep.’ He took a breath. ‘I called PG police and they had cars there in a minute or two. They secured everything. Kathryn, the one who called me was Wes.’

‘Who?’ Curious for a moment. And then the name settled. ‘But you said one of the perps!’

‘Wes, that’s right. The others were Donnie, his friend, and another boy. Nathan.’

She whispered. ‘A mistake. It has to be a mistake.’

He continued: ‘It was Donnie tagging the houses. Wes was with him. Nathan and another friend were doing other things. Stealing traffic signs, shoplifting.’

‘Impossible.’

O’Neil said, ‘That game they were playing?’

‘Defend and... I don’t know.’ Her mind was a whitewater rapid, swirling, out of control.

‘Defend and Respond Expedition Service.’

‘That’s it. What about it?’

‘It’s an acronym. D-A-R-E-S. There were teams. Each one dared the other side to do things that could land them in jail.’

Dance gave a cold laugh. She’d been so pleased that the boys were playing a game with paper and pen and avoiding the violence of the computer world, which had seduced Antioch March and helped turn him into a killer. And now the analog life had proven just as destructive.

A game you played with paper and pen? How harmful could that be?...

‘And Wes’s team was dared to commit the hate crimes?’

‘That’s right. Donnie has some juvie time under his belt. Troubled kid. And tonight? He had a weapon. His father’s gun. A thirty-eight.’

‘My God.’

‘He said at first he just brought it for protection but then he admitted he was going to rob Goldschmidt. Some dream of moving out of his home. I’ve spoken to his father. Frankly, hardly blame the boy. Whatever happens, he’ll be better off out of that household. I think he confessed so he didn’t have to go back home.’

Well, I’m not sure what to call you.

Mrs Dance...

‘Wes actually wrote those horrible things on the buildings and houses?’

‘No. He was just a lookout for Donnie.’

Still, that didn’t absolve him. Even if he hadn’t tagged the house himself he was a co-conspirator. An accessory. And with the gun? It could be conspiracy to commit armed robbery. And what if someone had been killed because of a stolen stop sign? Homicide.

‘I’m just setting the stage, Kathryn. There’s more.’

Seriously? How the hell much more bad can there be?

A cramp spidered through her right hand: she’d been gripping a pen furiously. She set it down. ‘I was concentrating on Maggie, who was upset about singing a damn song, and here was Wes committing felonies! I didn’t pay him any attention. His life could be over—’

‘Kathryn. Here.’ He set a mobile phone on her desk. And dug into his pocket and placed an envelope beside it.

She recognized the Samsung as Wes’s. She looked up, frowning.

‘There’re videos on the phone. And this’s a police report that Wes created.’ He pushed the envelope toward her.

‘A police report? What do you mean?’

‘Unofficial.’ O’Neil offered a rare smile. ‘He’s been working undercover for a month. That’s how he put it.’

She picked up the envelope, opened it. Pages of computer printouts, a diary, detailing times and dates.

28 April, 6.45 p.m. in the evening, I personally observed subject Donald, a.k.a. Donnie, Verso paint on the south-west wall of the Latino Immigration Rights Center, at 1884 Alvarado Drive, with a Krylon spray can the words: ‘Go back to Mexico you wetbacks.’ The color of the paint was dark red.

O’Neil took the boy’s phone and ran the camera app. He scrolled through until he found a video. It was shaking but it clearly showed Donnie tagging a building.

‘And the other dares? The ones Donnie challenged the other team with? Wes documented those too. And the stolen street signs? Wes followed Nathan and some friend Vincent when they dug up the stop sign. He called nine one one right away to report it. And stayed at the intersection to make sure nobody was hurt.’

She stared at the video. In a quiet voiceover: ‘ I Wes Swenson am personally observing Donald Verso place graffiti on the Baptist New World Church... ’

O’Neil continued, ‘A month or so ago a friend of Wes — I think his name was Rashiv — had a run-in with Donnie and Nathan and another one of Donnie’s crew.’

Dance told him, ‘That’s right. Rashiv and Wes were friends. Then Wes just stopped seeing him. I don’t know what happened.’

‘Donnie and the others were bullying him, extorting money, beating him up. They stole a games console. Rashiv told Wes about it. There wasn’t anything they could do themselves — you’ve seen Nathan?’

‘Yes. Big.’

‘He was the muscle in the crew. He’d do anything Donnie told him. Including hurting people badly. Wes’d heard that Donnie and his friends were into some illegal things — the DARES game was being talked about in school, though nobody knew exactly what it was. Wes decided to find out and — these were his words — “collar the bastard”. He talked his way into the clique and finally got Donnie to trust him enough to let him play.

‘He even set it up with Rashiv to meet “accidentally” and Wes’d pretend to steal a comic or something from him, threaten to hurt him. Donnie bought it all.’

‘And today? At Goldschmidt’s?’

‘Wes’d noticed Donnie acting strange lately. More erratic. The night Donnie tagged Goldschmidt’s house? Wes saw him pick up a rock. He was going to attack somebody who was approaching where they were hiding. Near Junipero Manor.’

Dance whispered, ‘Me. That was me.’

O’Neil said only, ‘I know.’ He continued, ‘Wes couldn’t give himself away to Donnie that night but he turned his phone volume up and scrolled to ringtones. It played a sample, like he was getting a call. Donnie got spooked and took off.’

Dance closed her eyes and her head dipped. ‘He saved me. Maybe saved my life.’

‘Then tonight he caught a glimpse of something in Donnie’s pocket and thought it might be a gun. So he decided, whatever evidence he had, enough was enough. It was time to call in the cavalry.’