Харлан Кобен - The Boy from the Woods

Knowing the men’s ultimate destination made it easier. Wilde didn’t have to follow closely. He veered off toward one of his safe boxes. He had six of them in the woods, all hidden in spots no one would find, all opened by using his palm print rather than a combination lock. This one was up in a tree. He climbed, found it taped under the large branch, opened the box. Wilde took out the gun. He was about to close it up without taking out the false identity papers, but then he thought better of it. Suppose he had to run?

Better safe than sorry.

He slid back down the tree and made his way toward the Ecocapsule. He moved quickly now, wanting to arrive before the tentatively moving team he’d been following got there.

And then what?

He’d figure that out when the time came. He hurried ahead, moving with ease.

He located the hill approximately two hundred yards from where the Ecocapsule sat. He climbed a tree so that he would be high enough to look down on the clearing. He’d wanted to put the capsule in a denser part of the forest, but that blocked the sun, which made storing solar energy that much more difficult. Still, it would pay off now. Once he reached the top of the tree, he’d be able to see the men approaching from a safe spot.

Wilde grabbed a branch, pulled himself up, and looked down.

Damn. They were already there.

Four men. Surrounding the capsule. Armed. Two more — the two Wilde had been following — came into the clearing. So now it was six men.

The leader approached the capsule cautiously.

Wilde recognized him.

Wilde scrolled through his phone’s call history and hit the return-call button. Gavin Chambers was reaching for the Ecocapsule’s door when he must have felt the vibration in his pocket. He took out his phone, looked at it, glanced at his surroundings. He hit the answer button and put the phone to his ear.

“Wilde?”

“Don’t touch my house.”

Gavin took a harder look around now, but there was no way he’d be able to spot Wilde up in the tree. “Are you inside this thing?”

“No.”

“I need you to open it.”

“Why?”

“Something has happened. Something big.”

“Yeah, I figured that.”

“How?”

“Are you joking? You have at least four armed teams circling my place in the woods. You don’t have to be a trained detective to figure out ‘something big’ has happened. So what is it?”

“The Maynards.”

“What about them?”

“I need to look inside your home. Then I need to take you to them. Are you nearby or are you watching me on some kind of camera I missed?” He looked up again, shading his eyes. “Either way, I’m not going to find you, am I?”

“No.”

“I’m trespassing on your turf.”

“Yet here you are.”

“Had to do it, Wilde. Had to flush you out one way or the other.”

“So now what?”

“I could take an axe to your house and see what’s inside.”

“Not your style,” Wilde said.

“No, it’s not. Tell you what. I’ll send my men away.”

“Sounds like a good start.”

“But then I’ll need to see you.”

Wilde didn’t reply. Gavin Chambers barked out some orders. The men complied without complaint. When they were gone, Gavin Chambers put the phone back to his ear. “Come out now. We need to talk.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Another kid is missing.”

Hester still had the stomach flutters when she woke up.

The flutters had started last night at eleven p.m. when Oren had walked her to her door — he wouldn’t just leave her at the curb or even in that elevator, too much a gentleman — and kissed her. Or did she kiss him? Didn’t matter. It was a kiss. A real kiss. He wrapped one arm around her waist. Okay, yes, that was nice. But with the other hand — his big hand — with the other big, wonderful hand, he cupped the back of her head and tilted her face up and, in one word...

Swoon.

Hester melted. Right there. Hester Crimstein, attorney-at-law, knew that she was too old to melt or swoon or feel the same stomach flutters she felt when she was thirteen years old and Michael Gendler, the handsomest boy in her class, sneaked away with her at Jack Kolker’s bar mitzvah and they made out in the small room behind the rabbi’s office. Oren’s kiss was so many things at once. It surged through her, of course, making her heady and dizzy and totally lost in the moment, yet another part of her was outside the body, eyes wide open, watching in amazement and thinking, Holy shit, I’m being wrecked with a kiss!

How long had the kiss lasted? Five seconds? Ten? Thirty? A full minute? Not a full minute. She didn’t know. Did her own hands wander? She’d replayed the kiss — The Kiss, it deserved to be capitalized — a hundred times, and she still couldn’t be sure. She remembered her hands on his strong, round shoulders, how that felt right and safe and oh how she loved those shoulders — and what the hell was wrong with her anyway?

She remembered how soft The Kiss had started, how Oren started to pull away gently, how they came back together, how The Kiss grew hungrier, more passionate, how it ended so tenderly. He had kept his hand on the back of her head. He looked her in the eye.

“Good night, Hester.”

“Good night, Oren.”

“Can I ask you out again?”

She bit back several snappy rejoinders and went with, “Yes. I’d really like that.”

Oren waited until she was inside the apartment. Hester gave him a smile as she closed the door. Then, alone, she broke into a little happy dance. She couldn’t help herself. She felt both flighty and a fool. She got ready for bed in a daze. Sleep, she was sure, would not come, but it had, quickly, the adrenaline rush leaving her spent and exhausted. She slept, in fact, beautifully.

Now, this morning, Hester was left with the flutters. Just that. The flutters. Last night now felt surreal, like a dream, and she wasn’t sure whether this feeling was something she longed for or something she feared. Did she need this in her life? She was content already, satisfied in both personal life and career. Why risk it? It wasn’t just a question of being too old for such immature emotions. She was set in her ways now. She liked being set in her ways. Did she really want something like this upending everything? Did she want to risk hurt or embarrassment or any of the millions of things that could and probably would go wrong?

Life was good, wasn’t it?

She reached for her phone and saw a message from Oren:

Too soon to text? I don’t want to look desperate.

Swoon. Swoon all over again.

She typed back: Stalker.

She saw the three dots signaling he was writing her back. Then the three dots vanished. She waited. No reply. She felt a brief surge of panic.

I was kidding! No, it’s not too soon!

No reply.

Oren?

This was exactly what she meant — who wanted to feel this way? Who wanted their heart in their throat and to be worried that maybe she did the wrong thing or that maybe this was just a game to him and hey, it was only one date and one kiss (The Kiss) so calm the F down already.

Her phone rang. She hoped that it was Oren, but the caller ID displayed another number she recognized. She pressed answer and put the phone to her ear.

“Wilde?”

“I need your help.”

Wilde stepped into view by the Ecocapsule. He held his phone in the air.

Gavin Chambers frowned at him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m on a live video call,” Wilde said.

“With who?”

“Whom,” a female voice coming from the phone said. “With whom . Prepositional phrase, sweet stuff.”