Chapter Three

In the end it's not his baseball cap that I notice again. It's his truck. Nothing about it really stands out, but when you keep seeing the same car over and over again you notice. Or at least I notice. It probably helps that I'm on high alert at the moment. Mom and dad are still hiding their unease, and I'm still trying to figure out what's causing it. If I go with my "secret agents" theory, which I am because it makes perfect sense, I have to assume something bad happened at work. Maybe that something bad even has to do with them. Like someone is after them. Okay, yeah, that's probably a little bit farfetched. But there's that truck…

I notice it parked a few houses down from ours the day after I saw it at school. Mom and dad aren't home yet, which is normal. I usually have a few hours by myself after school before they get here. Since I can barely see the truck from the window, I can't say for sure that it's the same one. There could be another silver pickup floating around. I want to be sure, and the only way to find out is to get closer and see if I can spot the guy.

I decide to take a quick bike ride.

My parents have seriously strict rules about what I can do when I'm home from school and they're not home yet from work. Riding my bike down the street is definitely not one of them. I'm supposed to stay inside. Not use the stove. Stay out of my dad's office. Not doing anything that could potentially burn the house down or get me killed. Going for a bike ride would risk burning the house down, but it could very well fit into the second half of that rule. I totally know that, and in any other situation I wouldn't even consider it. Probably. But this is worth the risk in my mind. As long as I get home before they do, they won't have to know that I disobeyed. Plus, I'm not completely careless. I'll go with someone else.

There's a small creek not far away that my neighbor and I visit all the time and throw rocks. When we were younger it was all about how far we could throw them and who made the biggest splash. We're a little bit more sophisticated now. We focus on aim, whether you can hit a specific rock or sink a leaf that's floating downstream. I call Tanner up, and he agrees to come with me. Whether he knows my parents aren't home and I'm not supposed to be out I have no idea, but it doesn't matter. I'm not going to tell him, and he already agreed to go.

We head down the street, and I purposefully bike slowly. When we get close to the truck I want to be able to get a good look at who is inside. If I could, I would probably stare at him and try to memorize his features. That would totally give me away though, and I'm no idiot. My best shot will be to try and glance at him a few times as we go by. Hopefully he won't notice I'm looking. If he does notice I'm kind of screwed, but he probably won't do anything since I'm not alone. At least that's what I tell myself.

It's one of the reasons why I brought a buddy aside from it looking more realistic.

As we pass by I let me eyes flicker over. It's him. I know it. I have no idea how I'm so sure since he's not wearing the baseball cap, but I know. It's just this strong feeling. I quickly turn my eyes away and focus on where we are going. Once we're past the truck though I risk one more look under my arm. I can see his sunglasses in the side view mirror. He's watching me. I grip my handlebars tighter to try and calm myself down. It's okay. You already knew he was watching you. He showed up at your school and now at your house. Who else could he be searching for? It's good reasoning, but it doesn't make me feel much better. Until I get back inside I'm going to have to keep half an eye out for him. Not that knowing he's coming will help me much. I know how to defend myself, but against a grown man? It would take a hell of a lot of luck to win that. Or even lose and still manage to escape. Would that count as a win or not? I can't escape him on a bike no matter how hard I pedal either.

There isn't anything to worry about though. Tanner and I only stay down by the creek for fifteen or twenty minutes. The guy in the truck never moved once. I take that as a good thing. On our way back I don't even bother looking at him. All it could do is get me into more trouble. When I get back home I put away my bike, lock the door behind me, and head to the table to do my homework. I have to get my work done before my parents get home so everything seems normal to them. That gives me about an hour and a half.

I finish with at least fifteen minutes to spare. Five thirty is the earliest they've ever come home. They could be home a lot later than that too. All I know for sure is I can expect them home before dinner time at seven. After putting my homework back in my backpack I take a quick look out the window. The truck is gone. I guess he doesn't want to risk being spotted outside by my parents either. Huh. Does that mean I'm going to tell my parents about him? Nope. Unless they specifically ask whether anything strange has been happening lately I'm not going to say a word. Not yet. That may not be the best idea, but I don't want them to think that I'm scared of the boogeyman or anything. This whole thing could all be in my head. I seriously doubt it, but it's better to be safe. Maybe this guy isn't even related to whatever is going on with my parents. If I bring it up, it will only make them more worried. They have enough going on as it is. There's no way I'm going to add to it. At least not until I'm good and creeped out. A part of me is screaming that I'm already good and creeped out, but I ignore it. For now I'm just going to keep an eye out for him to see if he comes back.

An hour later I hear a car pull into the garage. Apparently it's a late day. When the door opens I poke my head over the couch to see who's here. Typically my dad comes home first, though sometimes he and mom come home basically together. Today it's my mom that walks through the door. I frown. That's odd.

"Where's Dad?"

Her head snaps toward me with a bit more force than I think is necessary. Did I just scare her? My mom? No way.

"Mickey," she breathes like she has to reassure herself that it's only me. "He's working late tonight."

I frown more and don't even bother to try and hide it.

"Why?"

"Because he has to, honey. There's a lot going on at his office."

She comes toward me and runs her fingers through my hair. Usually I would bat her hand away, but today I don't. There are more creases around her eyes than I remember seeing. The worry is etched into her skin. Even her eyes reveal how apprehensive she is. They aren't piercing and cold like when she's upset or involved in some kind of debate with my father, and they aren't glittering and warm like when she lovingly looks at me or dad. I can't tell what they are before she turns them away from me and heads toward the kitchen. I push myself up farther on the couch so I'm kneeling on it and drape my arms over the back.

"Are you okay, Mom?"

She turns halfway and gives me a warm smile. It doesn't look fake, but I think it is anyway.

"I'm fine. Just a little tired."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive, Mick. Now are you hungry?"

I beam back at her.

"Yup."

She smiles at me in return and almost laughs. This smile I'm sure is real. It lights up her entire face, including her eyes. Immediately she looks younger. Amazing how a good smile can do that to her.

"Of course you are. You're always hungry."