Харлан Кобен - Found

Spoon looked distracted.

“You okay?” I asked him.

Spoon didn’t answer right away.

“Your text said you found something huge?” I said.

“You first,” Spoon said.

“What?”

“Tell us about Luther.”

So I did. I told them about Dylan Shaykes, about how he’d been rescued as a child, about how my father had rescued Luther, about the death of the little boy Ricky, about how Luther blamed my father. Ema listened in shock. Spoon stayed distracted.

When I finished, before Ema could say a word, Spoon said, “Now tell us about Jared Lowell.”

That question puzzled me. “What do you mean?”

“Tell us about your visit to Adiona Island.”

“I did already.”

Spoon looked up at me. “Tell us again. Everything. Everything that happened from the moment you arrived on that island to the moment you left.”

“Why?”

But Spoon just looked at me. He didn’t have to say more. So I went through it again — the ferry ride, the walk down the street, the narrow road where Jared lived. I recounted as best as I could the entire conversation Rachel and I had had with Jared Lowell. Spoon interrupted several times, asking for more details, most of which seemed completely irrelevant.

After I was finished, Ema followed up with the first question, but it wasn’t for me. It was for Spoon. “What was that all about?”

“You really care about this guy, don’t you?” Spoon asked her.

I had never seen him so serious.

“Yes.”

“So do you buy it?”

“Buy what?”

“That Jared Lowell was just flirting with you online and decided not to do it anymore for no reason and, oh, decided to go back to Adiona Island?”

Ema looked at me, then back to Spoon. “No, I don’t buy it.”

“Because his feelings for you were real.”

“Well, I could have been fooled—”

“You could be fooled a million different ways, Ema,” Spoon said, a hint of impatience in his voice, “but not in this case. Not with the feelings. You could be fooled by the outer trappings. But not by your heart.”

We both looked at Spoon, dumbfounded. Who was this guy? As if to show us he was still the same, Spoon arched an eyebrow and said, “I’ve been reading romance books on the side.”

“I still don’t see what you’re getting at,” I said.

“Adiona Island,” Spoon said.

“What about it?”

“The name.”

I tried not to look as confused as I felt. “What about it?”

“You know who Abeona was, right?”

“What?”

“Abeona, the Roman goddess of outward journeys.”

“What does that have to do with—”

“Adiona is her sister,” Spoon said.

I froze.

“Adiona is the Roman goddess of safe return. They both protect children. That’s their roles. They are partners. They watch over children — Abeona on their departures, Adiona on their return.”

Ema and I stood there, not saying a word.

“Either of you think the name is a coincidence?” Spoon asked.

We didn’t answer.

“Neither do I,” Spoon said. “You need to go back to that island. You need to go back as soon as you can.”

Ema and I started home.

“I’m going this time,” Ema said. “I want Jared to look me in the eye and say it was no big thing.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“We leave in the morning?”

I nodded again.

“What else?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

Ema just frowned. “Aren’t we past that, Mickey?”

She had a point. “We are,” I said.

“So?”

“It’s about Troy.”

Ema sighed. “Are you still trying to prove he didn’t do steroids?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“I think he was set up.”

“By?”

“By Buck.”

Ema shook her head.

“What?” I said.

“Buck doesn’t put ketchup on his French fries without asking Troy first.”

“Buck’s brother might have been involved.”

“How?”

I filled her in on what I’d learned so far. We kept walking. We reached the road where Ema would — before I knew the truth about where she lived and who her mother was — peel off and walk on her own.

“So that’s what you’re doing now?” Ema asked, when I finished. “You and Troy are going to break into this shed.”

“I could use help,” I said.

“Me?”

“Sure.”

Ema shook her head. “No.”

“Why not? This is what we do, Ema. We help people.”

“I don’t want to help Troy Taylor.”

“But this could lead to the truth.”

“I don’t care, Mickey. You don’t get it. He’s been cruel to me my whole life.”

“Okay, then,” I said.

“Okay what?”

“I won’t help him either.”

“Oh no,” Ema said. “You don’t get to put that on me.”

I stopped. We turned and looked at each other. I was far taller, so she tilted her head up. I knew that it was maybe wrong to think this, but she looked so vulnerable, gazing up at me. Young and innocent, and the idea that those eyes would see something that would hurt her made my heart ache.

Darkness had set in. Her face glowed in the moonlight.

I wanted to protect her. I wanted to protect her always.

“People change, Ema.”

She blinked and looked away. “I don’t think so, Mickey.” Ema took a step back and started toward the woods to the right. “I’m going home,” she said. “Don’t follow me.”

“You’re really not going to help me?”

“I’m really not going to help you,” she said. “But, Mickey?”

“Yes?”

“If it all goes wrong, I’ll still be there for you.”

“It won’t all go wrong,” I said.

But she had already turned away and started down the path.

The town circle was bustling with late-night joggers of all ages, genders, and persuasions. The track was well lit and had no car traffic. It was safe, comfortable, and for those who liked to be seen working out, it offered something of an audience. I stood by a statue of Robert Frost in front of the library on the southern tip of the circle. The municipal buildings and YMCA, not to mention, I guess, the Schultz family shed, were on the other side of Kasselton Avenue.

My phone rang. It was Troy.

“Where are you?” I asked him.

“Look toward the Y.”

I did. It was too dark to see much.

“The right side,” he said. “Toward the back. I’m holding up my phone.”

Now I saw the glow of a phone, a pinprick of light in the dark.

“I see you,” I said. “I’m on my way.”

I hung up the phone and followed the light. Kasselton Avenue is the town’s busiest road. I waited for the light and crossed at the walk. No reason to jaywalk and break any extra laws tonight, thank you very much. I veered toward the YMCA and met up with Troy near the back of the building.

“Thanks for coming,” Troy said.

“No problem. Where is this shed?”

“It’s down that path. Come on, I’ll show you.”

We walked on a concrete pathway into the darkness. I glanced behind me. The circle was lit up almost like a distant dome. It provided a modicum of illumination, enough to see the faint outline of a small building maybe thirty yards in front of me.

All the lights were out in the shed.

“Mickey?” Troy whispered.

“Yeah?” I whispered back.

“Buck wouldn’t set me up. I don’t care what he was taking or doing. He wouldn’t do that to me.”

“What about Randy?” I asked.

“Maybe,” Troy allowed. “But why would he do it?”

“Why would Buck? Why would anyone?”

That question kept coming back to me. Why would anyone want to set Troy Taylor up for a positive drug test? Who gained from it? Who hated him enough...?