CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
J ean
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T hey didn t make it to Santa Monica Airport until four in the morning. It was too dark out still to get a proper look at the house, but Laila s uncle Gary Dermott knew they needed to see it before they could rest. He picked them up at the airport and took them straight to what was left of their home. There was a bag of flashlights in the backseat with them, so Laila passed them out as Gary put the car in park.
Jean noted first the security team parked outside to deter looting, then the jagged wrongness of the gutted house. The front wall was half-collapsed, and the roof above it had burned away in several spots. The hood of Laila s car was ruined, as were the motorcycles that were always parked between her car and the front of the house. Cat stood over the blackened bikes even as Laila followed Gary through the yawning doorway. Jeremy hesitated, not sure which girl to follow, so Jean motioned him after Laila.
Guess you have to buy a new bike now, Cat said when Jean moved up alongside her.
Jean knew she was going for lighthearted, but her tone was defeated and empty. Jean weighed every possible response: reassurances that sounded clumsy even to him, guilt he wouldn t voice but couldn t relinquish, and the simplest path of agreeing with her declaration. In the end he went with the least familiar, reaching for her like she d reached for him time and time again this summer. It was easier than he d thought it would be to fold his arms around her, and Cat came without resistance. She clung to him, fingers digging in like she could drag some strength out of him. Jean propped his chin on her head and waited for her grip to finally go slack.
We should head in, she said, so Jean let her step away from him. She took his hand as she started for the door, locking their fingers, and led him inside.
Jean regretted the decision immediately. It looked terrible, and Jean knew it would only look worse in daylight. Each room they visited was a charred mess, their furniture and possessions warped. He and Cat found Laila and Jeremy in the girls room, with Laila rummaging through a small safe.
Good? Cat asked.
They re all right, Laila said, slamming the door shut again.
Cat surveyed their ruined bedroom with a miserable look. Jesus, Laila.
Jean let a slow gaze drift over the walls. A few frames still hung, but the pictures inside were gone, and the corkboard where they d exclusively hung pictures of the two of them on dates was gone entirely. He left them to take it in and moved to the study. The desks had survived only in that they were recognizable as desks. Laila s was in the best shape, but Cat s and Jean s had each lost at least one leg. His blackened laptop was cool to the touch. Jean opened it already knowing what he would see, then set it aside with a quiet sigh.
The desk drawers were full of ash and scattered bits of paper. Kevin s gifts, first ruined beyond recognition by the Ravens themselves, were now truly gone. His gaze went unbidden to where Kevin s newest postcard should be hanging on the wall. Only the thumbtack remained. There was nothing left of Renee s picture, and only ash where his sand dollar and wristband ought to be. For a moment his anger wanted to eat him alive, but the sudden trill of his phone jarred him from his thoughts.
Jean stared down at the caller ID for three rings before finally answering. Yes, Coach.
There was a pause, as if Wymack hadn t expected him to answer. I just saw the news. Are you all right?
I am not one of your Foxes, Jean reminded him as he started down the hall. You do not need to feign concern.
You sound all right, was the dry response.
Jean said nothing until he reached his bedroom. The destruction awaiting him gave him pause, and he gazed at his ruined closet as he said, We weren t home. We had a game against Utah last night. He meant to leave it at that, except Wymack s welfare check gnawed at him. Laila s car was parked in the driveway out front, as were the motorcycles. Did they know we were gone? Did they even care?
I don t know, Wymack said, but his grim tone wasn t comforting.
Had the arsonists slowed to check, or was sending a message more important? What if it d been a home game, and they d all been asleep when it happened? Laila and Cat s bedroom wasn t far off from the living room where the fire started. This spring Jean had asked Wymack how much it would hurt to be burned alive; now he imagined the fire catching up to his friends and it almost took him to his knees. He knotted his free hand in his shirt, fighting to calm his roiling stomach, and turned away from the closet.
How can I protect them? he asked. The Ravens won t listen to me. They never have. They will only listen to their own.
We will think of something.
Jean turned his back on the charred beds and saw light bobbing in the hallway. A few moments later his friends stepped into the doorway to survey the room, so Jean said, I have to go, Coach. He waited for an easy affirmative before hanging up, and Cat tipped her flashlight past Jeremy to light up his chest. Jean put his phone away as he moved to meet his friends and said, We are on the news. Coach Wymack saw it.
Oh, I didn t know you were keeping in touch with him, Cat said.
I am not, Jean said. It was and wasn t true, but the details didn t matter.
Laila looked past Jean at the ruined room. Gary s willing to take us home with him so we can get some sleep, but I don t want to go so far from campus. I m thinking we ll stay at the Radisson where we put Kevin and Andrew last month. He can drop us off, and it s an easy trip back here when the sun s up. Thoughts? She looked from face to face as they nodded. Then let s get out of here for now. I can t keep breathing this in.
Gary accepted their decision without protest. He checked in with his security team one last time while the Trojans climbed into his car, and he had them over to the hotel just a few minutes later. Check-in was easy enough, and they ended up a floor apart: a king bed for Cat and Laila, and two double beds for Jean and Jeremy. Cat and Laila took the elevator to the fourth floor while Jean and Jeremy walked to the third, and Jeremy let Jean precede him into the room.
She s probably setting alarms for seven or eight, Jeremy said, with a glance toward the clock on the shared nightstand.
He tapped away at his phone, presumably double checking, and Jean left him to it in favor of getting out of his shoes. They had nothing to change into but the clothes they d worn on the ride north, as they hadn t planned on needing something to sleep in. Jean was tempted to simply sleep in what he was wearing, but denim made for uncomfortable rest. He stripped down to his underwear and peeled back his blanket.
Seven, Jeremy said, with a weariness Jean felt in his bones.
Jeremy fiddled with the alarm clock before setting backup alarms on his phone, then kicked out of his shorts and tossed his shirt after it. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, and Jean studied his slack face for only a moment before rolling over.
He was almost asleep when his phone beeped on a message from Renee: Coach just told us about the fire. Are you okay?
Yes. Are you?
She returned the same easy lie: Yes.
Jean turned his phone off, stuffed it under his pillow, and willed himself to get what little rest he could.
-
M ost of the morning and early afternoon was a series of miserable conversations. First was a call to Jean s psychiatrist, who accepted and rescheduled his appointment to the following morning. Jean had that handled before they left the hotel, and the Trojans went home via Exposition Park so Jeremy could collect his car. They were nearly to the Gold Court when Jeremy finally heard from Kevin, but their worried exchange was almost immediately interrupted by Jeremy s family. Jeremy passed his car keys to Laila so he could deal with the call.
Hi, Mom, Jeremy said as he climbed into the passenger seat. Jean wasn t sure what she said, but Jeremy s expression shuttered almost immediately. Yes, I should have called, we just- He paused to listen before offering up a tired, I m sorry. I wasn t trying to embarrass you. We ve just been dealing with this since we left Utah. Yes, Utah, the state. We had a game last night.
Jean glanced across the backseat at Cat. Cat didn t need him to ask but curled her lip in scorn and said, He s only been playing for fourteen years, you can t expect his own mother to know how an Exy season works. Jeremy grimaced at her over his shoulder as he pushed his door open again, but Cat didn t wait for him to get out. She raised her voice and called, We won, Mrs. Wilshire! It was a great game!
Jeremy slammed the door behind him and walked away. Laila flicked Cat an irritated look before getting out as well, and Cat subsided with a fierce scowl. Laila waited by the hood of the car for a few moments as Jeremy paced, then sighed so heavily Jean saw her shoulders sag. She moved toward him, snagging his sleeve to haul him to a stop, and gestured between them. From this angle Jean couldn t see her expression, but the tight look that crossed Jeremy s face wasn t promising. Laila was insistent, and finally Jeremy relinquished his phone to her. Laila took over the conversation with Jeremy s mother.
Jean glanced over his shoulder at Cat and said, A Dermott is better than a Wilshire. Yes? At the blank look she sent him, he clarified, Rank. She implied as much when Bryson visited. She said the police would never side with him over her. But his grandfather is a senator. Who is hers?
It s not her grandfather, Cat said, and technically, it s not even her father. He s an FSO-a foreign service officer, she explained when Jean shook his head. If you square em up against each other on their own, then yeah, dear ol granddad Wilshire is going to win every time, but Laila s dad has much better friends. One in every alphabet, she said, ticking them off on her fingers, CIA, NSA, DHS...
She glanced over to make sure Jean was following. Pretty sure he s the only reason Jeremy s allowed to stay with us over summer breaks. Better to be friends with Hugh Dermott than enemies, and all that. Here we go. She sat back in her seat, and Jean followed her gaze to see Laila dragging Jeremy back to the car. Laila didn t get in until Jeremy was settled, and she turned them toward the ruins of her house without a word.
A no-nonsense representative from the insurance company stopped by the house only minutes after their arrival to take pictures and statements. Laila turned over the list of items they d lost in the fire, and he added it to their growing file. They walked the length of the house with him, and from him Jean heard more details of the video.
The arsonists had all been wearing dark hoodies, with the strings pulled tight to hide as much of their faces as possible. They didn t slow to ring the doorbell but went straight for the bay window: first to put a rock through it, then to throw in spare gas cans they d brought. The third had apparently lit a sopping USC t-shirt on fire before tossing it in to get the blaze going, and they d taken off as quickly as they d come. The man flipped back and forth through his notes before finishing with,
Security company called the fire department as soon as the alarms went off. You re lucky Station 15 is so close; they were able to get over here in under six minutes. But, he said, with a slow look around the house, there wasn t much that could be done at that point. Looks like there were heavy renovations done when it changed ownership?
It had been the landlord s on-site office, Laila confirmed. My uncle updated it so he could lease it out.
Doomed you in the doing, the agent commented as he made notes. Newer materials burn quicker. Not that I blame him for sprucing it up, of course, he was quick to add. It likely wouldn t have made that much of a difference either way. All right. He scribbled one last note at the bottom of the page before handing out business cards to each of them. I ll head back to the office and get all of this in the system. We ll coordinate with Mr. Dermott for the repairs, but I ll have someone from my team contact you about having your personal property reimbursed.
Thank you, Laila said.
Looks like you ve got company, he said, stepping over the crumbled remains of the front wall.
Jean followed his gaze to see the press were back. Security had said they d been by twice already before the Trojans made it over. The guards were running interference now, keeping the cameras in the street and refusing access to the porch. The insurance agent ignored all calls for comments as he climbed in his car and pulled away from the curb. Laila turned away, muttering under her breath, and surveyed the living room with a steady stare.
Something has to have survived, she said.
Jean doubted it, but he kept that to himself. They split up to opposite ends of the house: Laila to her bedroom, Cat to the kitchen, Jeremy in the living room, and Jean to his bedroom. For an hour they sifted through the wreckage for any trinkets that were relatively unscathed. Jean pushed the remains of their beds around, checked the gutted dressers, and poked at the charred cloth in the closet. Nothing here was worth salvaging, so he finally turned and left the room.
Laila was on her knees in her bedroom as he passed, face in her hands and shoulders shaking with silent grief. There was no sound from the kitchen where Cat was supposed to be working. Jeremy was sitting in the living room where the coffee table should have been, fighting melted plastic on DVD cases. Why he was wasting his time on such nonsensical things, Jean wasn t sure, but maybe hope was easier to lean on than common sense.
Jean settled at his side and picked up movies one at a time. Most cases were nothing more than misshapen hunks of plastic. The few that were vaguely rectangular still were melted shut. Jean gave one an honest effort before chucking it back to the pile. He watched Jeremy struggle a little longer before taking the case out of his hand. Jeremy reached for another, but Jean caught his wrist to stop him.
Enough, he said. They re gone.
I had all of Nan s movies here, Jeremy said without looking at him. Jean thought of the fond pride in his voice as he showed off the actress s memorabilia and slowly let go of him. Jeremy dropped his hands to his lap and studied the wreckage before him with a distant gaze. After a minute he finally said, It d be easy to replace them, I know, but I... Jeremy trailed off, gave himself a shake, and put on a see-through smile. It was worth a try, at least.
Jean wordlessly reached for a case.
No, you re right, Jeremy said, turning toward him. I ll just-oh?
Jean followed Jeremy s stare to the doorway. The man standing just inside the living room was almost familiar, but he wasn t one of Laila s security guards. Jean scanned his dark suit and serious expression before noticing the man at his back. This one was easier to recall. Two and a half months ago he d flicked a to-go box at Neil s head and demanded their cooperation.
Jean dragged his stare back to the first man as the pieces clicked. The last time he d seen this face, it d been on a TV screen. Jeremy was saying something at his back, but Jean could barely hear him through the heart pounding in his temples.
Agent Browning, Jean said, and Jeremy shut up immediately.
Moreau. Browning picked his way around the wreckage, taking it in with a slow gaze, and stopped just out of arm s reach. Wilshire.
He is not a Wilshire, Jean said.
Uh-huh. Owens, figure out where the other two are, Browning said, and his partner slipped away in search of Cat and Laila. Browning didn t wait for him to return but said to Jean, I don t care what name he s using; he doesn t need to be here for this conversation. Either he can make himself scarce, or you can come sit and chat in the car with me. Decide which one makes you happier in the next three seconds.
Jean? Jeremy asked.
Jean motioned an okay, and Jeremy slowly got to his feet. Owens returned and guided him out of the room when he didn t move fast enough for their liking. Browning came to crouch in the space Jeremy had left. He pushed aside the pile of wrecked DVDs with a bored hand, buying his partner time to force the Trojans further back in the house. Only when the other man returned to the doorway did Browning turn a steady stare on Jean.
When it was obvious he wasn t going to start, Jean said, I didn t do this.
Figured that much out, Browning returned, unimpressed. We ve already pulled call logs and the security footage. I know exactly where you were when the fire started, and I already know who started it. The good news is it wasn t an inside job; these morons have no connections to the Moreau or Wesninski businesses. Browning sighed at the look on his face. I don t know why you look so surprised. Try to remember you re a material witness in the biggest case of my career.
You ve mistaken me for Neil, Jean said.
This time it was fanatics, Owens said. Next time it might not be. Our office wants to offer you a spot in Witness Protection. You d have to leave Los Angeles and start over somewhere else, but in exchange I promise we ll get you to the other side of the trial in two or fewer pieces.
Leave, Jean echoed. We are only two games into the season.
I hate this sport, Browning said to his partner. Explain to me why they re all like this.
Owens only shrugged. You ve got me, boss. I m a Knicks fan.
I cannot stop playing. I- Jean caught himself at the last second, but the near-miss had his heart pounding in his temples. These people knew Nathaniel Wesninski and Jean-Yves Moreau; that familiarity had almost led him to admitting promises that were not their business. He swallowed hard and forcibly changed what he was trying to say. -promised I would see the Trojans to finals. It is important.
So is not ending up like this. Browning waggled one of the crumpled DVD cases at him. When Jean refused to look at it, Browning tossed it back to the pile. Can t say we didn t try, but maybe you ll be more valuable as bait. He motioned for Owens to approach. Jean eyed the proffered file warily until Browning said, Sometime today. My team already translated it into French for you.
Jean accepted the folder and flipped it open. There were stapled packets tucked into each of the two inside pockets. He started with the one on the left. Jean wasn t sure what he was expecting, but a writeup on a nearby apartment was not anywhere near the top of his list. The first page was a snapshot of the floorplan, and each successive page outlined details of the immediate surrounding area. The next packet was the same for a second property. Jean looked from one to the other before turning a blank stare on Browning.
I don t understand.
I need you alive for a few more months, and obviously we need a more hands-on approach going forward, Browning said. It doesn t matter to me which address you choose so long as it is one of these two. My office will offset your rent to match what you were paying here, and we will handle your security from now until the trial pro bono. That s all you see of us; your day-to-day life continues unchanged outside of the route you take to class.
There is a catch, Jean said. I do not have the information you want. I ve told you everything I know about my parents, and what little I know about his. I have nothing left that is worth this.
Browning s gaze was calm. I guess we ll see, won t we?
It felt very much like a trap, but Jean wasn t sure either man would tolerate refusal. This was not my house. It is not my decision alone.
Go on, then. Browning got to his feet and waved him toward the door.
Owens followed Jean out of the room and down the hall. His friends were standing against the back wall of his and Jeremy s bedroom, a line of crossed arms and tense expressions. Owens waited in the doorway, like he honestly thought they d make a break for it if he turned his back, while Jean went to set the folder on the remains of his bed. His friends came up on the other side to see what new problem he d brought them, and Jean laid it out as succinctly as possible. To their credit, they said nothing until Jean was done.
I want more details on this supposed security system, Laila said, looking past Jean at the agent. I refuse to have your cameras and bugs in my apartment. I d rather find my own place and pay full price than let you spy on my private life.
Nothing past the front door, he said. When Laila stared him down, he shrugged off her concerns and said, Miss Dermott, I know who your father is, and I know who Wilshire s grandfather is. We are not trying to start a fight with either of your families when we have so much else on the line. We want only to keep our asset safe and our case intact.
Until the trial ends, Cat said. Then what?
You ll have the lease and our security detail until the end of the school year even if the trial ends early. After that, two of you will graduate, and the remaining two will have to find a new place anyway. It s a good deal.
Supposedly, Laila said. I can t read any of this.
We would have brought an English copy if we d known him incapable of making his own decisions, Owens said.
Rude, Cat muttered.
Jeremy pointed at a word on the page and translated, Bedroom.
Jean motioned confirmation and summed up the features of both places. Most of it meant little to him, at least until he finally flipped to the last page of the second option and saw a printout of the neighborhood. These street names were familiar; his psychiatrist was only a few blocks away from this apartment.
I know this place, he said.
Jeremy leaned closer to see. There s Staples Center, he said, and squinted at the street names. Recognition set in a second later with a surprised, Oh. Yeah, you re right. He knew better than to elaborate in mixed company but dragged a finger down the road toward campus. Jean was terrible at reading maps and putting them into perspective, as he d never really used them, but after two trips to his doctor he knew this apartment was three times further away from campus than the house was.
Can we discuss it? Laila asked.
No one s stopping you, Owens said, blithely ignoring the implicit in private in her request. The best he did was turn sideways and feign great interest in his watch. Laila leveled a stony look at him before glancing from Cat to Jean.
What are you thinking, Jean? she asked.
I am not sure it is a real choice, Jean admitted. Their preference would be to take me out of Los Angeles until I ve testified. It didn t make sense. This was the kind of protection they should have forced on Neil, seeing how it was his father s empire on trial. Maybe they were leery of crossing Stuart, who was obviously still keeping tabs on his nephew, but Jean meant what he said: he had nothing left of value to give them. It would come back to haunt him later, but for now it offered them a way forward. I cannot decide this for us, but I will not fight it.
Laila was clever enough to know there d be a price to pay for the FBI s involvement, but she was also exhausted and defeated, standing in the wreckage of a home she d lived in for so many years and running on only an hour of broken sleep. She wanted to linger in this dreary place as much as he did. She scrubbed a weary hand over her eyes before tilting the packet toward Cat. Babe?
Yeah, Cat said, barely looking at it. Yeah, we ll make it work.
Lofts? Owens asked, squinting across the room at the papers Laila was brandishing. When she nodded, he did too. Good. How much longer will you be here?
Laila s response was quiet. I m done here.
I just need to grab what s in the kitchen, Cat said.
Then we ll meet you over there, the agent said, and he and Browning left.
Jean listened for a door before remembering there wasn t one. Jeremy sent a last look at the papers in Laila s hands, looking a bit spooked by this newest development. Are you sure about this?
I m sure we will have to sort it out later, if later isn t too late, Laila said. My father can get us some answers, or at least some trustworthy guarantees.
Jean followed Cat to the kitchen while Jeremy went out front with Laila. Cat had salvaged a half-dozen glasses and most of their silverware. The terracotta pot from the windowsill, long empty, was tucked into one of the glasses on the end. Jean instinctively looked for the framed photograph of Barkbark von Barkenstein, but its frame sat warped and dark on the sill. Jean knew better than to comment but helped collect the surviving dishes. Both Jeremy and Laila were on their phones, Jeremy tapping away a text message to someone and Laila finishing up a call to her uncle. Laila sent one last look at her house before following Jeremy to his car.
By the time they arrived at the Lofts, the agents had secured keys and all the necessary paperwork for them. That they d squared it away so quickly made it seem more a foregone conclusion. Either they d used this building before, or they d argued an arrangement into place before stopping by Laila s house.
Cat and Laila made the agents wait while they read the contract top to bottom, but Jean signed every spot dotted with a yellow highlighter. If he had to read through these endless paragraphs, they d be here all day. He trusted the girls to warn him if something looked wrong.
He was turning the last page over when Laila said, Dog.
Jeremy looked over his shoulder immediately, but Laila was staring at her paperwork still. She put a finger on the relevant paragraph and said, It s a pet-friendly building. One animal per lease.
Is it? Cat asked, flipping to see. Oh, wow.
What if- Laila faltered.
Cat was as gentle as she could be: Let s revisit the idea after everything s calmed down.
Laila subsided, but she didn t look happy about it. Owens took their papers back to the office when the girls were finally done, and Browning lingered only long enough to hand Jean his business card. To Laila he said, A maintenance crew will be by this afternoon to install the cameras on your floor. They won t need entry to your apartment, so it doesn t matter if you re home, but try not to draw attention to their work.
Seattle, Jean said before Laila could answer. Not Baltimore?
Browning glanced from him to his card. I ve been transferred to Washington until the trial. It was where Wesninski was first arrested, after all, he added, and it means I m not even a three-hour flight away should I need anything else from you. I will be in touch. Jean wasn t sure whether to take that as a promise or a threat, but Browning wasn t waiting for a response. He caught up to Owens at the front door, and the agents slipped out without a look back.
I don t trust him, Cat said.
No, Jean agreed.
Laila s expression said she concurred, but all she said was, Let s head up.
Their welcome package had their apartment listed as being on the second floor. Laila got the front door unlocked, and they filed one at a time down a narrow entryway. The first door opened into a bathroom, and then the rest of the odd apartment unfolded before them.
The living room, kitchen, and dining area were one giant, shared space, with two bedrooms neighboring each other on the nearer wall. The third bedroom was past the kitchen, with its own private bath attached. Half of the walls were painted, and the other half were exposed brick. The windows gave it a fair bit of light, but it was so empty and open it felt sterile. Jean noted the narrow glass door at the far end of the room that opened onto a square balcony, but he could tell from here the view would be uninspiring.
The four drifted apart as they inspected their new home. Cat opened every kitchen cabinet like she half-expected to see it stocked with goods. Most of the appliances looked newer than what she d lost, but she seemed more distressed than impressed by the upgrades. Laila ended up by the living room window, silent and grim. Jeremy stuck by Jean s side and said nothing, knowing his opinion on the place was the least important.
We will have to get some basics, Laila said, in a tone that said she was wearied by the prospect. Toilet paper, toiletries, something to change into that doesn t smell like a bus... She plucked at her dirty shirt but made no move to step away from the window. Thought I saw a sign for a grocery store when we made that last turn. We could start there.
Divide and conquer after that? Cat asked, before remembering, One car.
Jean glanced between them. I haven t sold mine.
Absolutely not, Laila said. I m not riding around in a Raven car after their fans torched everything I own.
The silence that fell after that flat rejection was heavy, and then Laila pushed away from the window and approached him. She took his hands in hers and stressed, Thank you, Jean. I know you re trying to help, and I know it s the smart thing to do. I just can t do it, I m sorry. I d much rather you stick to the original plan and get it out of your life as soon as you can.
She waited for his nod before backing away from him. Maybe you and Cat can go by the dealership tomorrow? I know she ll wither away to nothing if she doesn t replace her motorcycle as soon as possible.
I liked my bike, was Cat s quiet protest, but she rallied herself with a bit of forced cheer: The next one will be even better. Maybe we ll get a matching set. The smile she sent Jean was almost real, but it was her sly comment afterward that made her seem most like herself: And then you two will go on a celebratory ride with us to help cheer us up, right? I ve always wanted a biker bitch.
I ve always wanted to live to seventy, was Laila s dry response. She glanced toward Jeremy and asked, Are we going to regret this?
Only if we survive, Jeremy said.
You ve got a little time to steel yourselves, Cat said, waving off their lack of enthusiasm. Jean and I need to figure out what kind of ride he s looking for, and then I ll want him to practice with my weight first. Now let s get going, all this talk about the lack of toilet paper is making me need to pee.
They started for the door, with Cat still talking: Maybe we should invite the floozies over for dinner? I m sure at least one of them has some spare blankets we can borrow for a few days, and this place is a bit creepy with just us in it.
Company might be nice, Laila agreed. Jeremy?
I ll text them, Jeremy promised, and looked over at Jean. Ready?
Yes, Jean lied. He sent one last look around the barren space before following Jeremy to the door.