Chapter 33
Later that evening, Mack and I sit with our feet propped on the railing of the second-story master bedroom porch, margaritas in hand. We’re both wrapped in towels from the pool. We swam for hours and came up here to watch the sunset which finished its show about five minutes earlier.
I tell Mack about my very long day, starting with what I learned about Alex. In the confusion and uproar about Daniel’s body being dumped on the front lawn at Shady Lake, I forgot what Sharon told me for awhile.
"I don't get it," I say. "How is Alex still clearing his tags?"
Mack frowns. "Do you think he can get remote access wherever he is and fix their computers that way?"
"I don't think so. Half of his work is explaining stuff to people.
Sometimes over and over and over again. It's one of the reasons he's actually perfect for the job--he has a lot of patience, at least when it comes to talking about computer stuff.
He's as happy to explain it the thirtieth time as he is the first."
Mack narrows his eyes. "So he never left town at all?"
"That's what I think.”
“Haven Security checked. He’s not using the empty cottage. None of his stuff is there, and one of the guys staked it out for two days.”
“I think what I'm going to do is call in a tag from Mrs. Petrovski's cottage on my day off and wait until he shows up to fix it."
Mack is staring down over the property. There’s a large hillside of trees at the bottom part of my house that slopes down to Shady Lake. I can see a hint of flickering light from the main buildings in the distance.
Mack suddenly stands and hands me his margarita. "I'll be right back."
I think he's going to the bathroom so I'm surprised when he takes the outside stairs down to the pool, strides across the yard, and lets himself out the back gate into the trees.
I pull my feet off the railing and lean forward, squinting into the blackness of the forest, trying to see where he went.
A half an hour passes with just the crickets and the faint sound of lake birds filling the night air.
I finish my margarita and start to tell myself that Mack wouldn't miss the rest of his.
Then suddenly, there's crashing through the underbrush and voices.
The back gate opens, and Alex tumbles through followed by Mack, who's got him by the collar. I jolt to my feet.
"You can let me go," Alex says, sullenly. "I'm not going to run or anything."
"Alex Michael Ramos," I yell down from the balcony. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Ah, man," he says to Mack. "She sounds mad."
"I can hear you," I snap. My bare feet slap against the wood and down the stairs. "And mad doesn't come even close. I'm furious with you."
When I get close enough, I yank Alex into a hug. I know he hates it, but I don't care. I don't care that he's way taller than me and his hands flutter awkwardly and that he doesn't quite hug me back.
I spent the last three weeks thinking my brother was dead at worst or that he'd run away at best. The best case scenario had him going back to prison at some point. And not the nice, white-collar one he'd been in before--the ones that you see on TV with shanks and soap on ropes and stuff like that.
Alex smells like campfire smoke and the detergent Shady Lake uses to wash their sheets. And he needs a haircut.
All at once I pull back and poke him in the chest. "Where on earth have you been?"
"I'm sorry, Gabby. I messed up."
"Damn right you did." I fling my finger toward the house. "Get your skinny butt inside. You have a lot of explaining to do."
His eyes brighten. "Do you have any mac and cheese?"
“No!”