to him. “I’m glad he has you. He does, doesn’t he?”
He assumed she’d talked to Trish. “Yes, he does. No matter what happens, he does.”
* * * *
Lee had gone—and damned relieved that an excuse to get away from Lee for a little while had
manufactured itself—Gev showered, got dressed, and was sitting in the middle of the living
room doing stretches with the dog’s help when the doorbell rang.
He got up, stretching his arms back, wincing a little—only a couple days off routine and he
was already tightening up. He opened the door for Nina, who was looking over her shoulder.
She whirled around to face him, her eyes wide. “Oh, Gev!” She threw herself into his
arms. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Your eye! What the hell is going on?”
He pulled her into a hug, pushing the door closed behind her. “I’m okay.” He released her.
“Chad’s dad gave me that. Don’t worry.”
“Oh. Good.”
He snorted. “Good? He packs a mean punch.”
She brushed his hair back and examined his eye. “I am so sorry for him, but he didn’t have
to hit you. Did you hear about the ballet studio?” she said, walking into the living room. She sat
on the couch, and Khyra jumped up with her.
“Yeah, I was there.”
She stared at him. “Dammit, Gev—”
“I know, I know. I’m okay.”
“The news said it was a gas leak, but no one was seriously hurt.”
That was a relief. “Want something to drink?”
She dug into her purse and pulled out a small, battered-looking blue book with gold
etching. “Yes, do you have any soda? Where’s Lee?”
Gev fetched a coke for Nina and water for himself. No more indulging. Even two days was
already causing a problem. “He’ll be gone for a while. Went to take care of the rental.”
She took the coke as she passed him the little book. “Well, here you go.”
Gev hefted it in his hands. It was a typical journal, the type any kid gets from his or her
grandparents for Christmas. Most kids probably never actually broke theirs open, but this one
had obviously been well used. “How’d you get it?
“Waited down the street in Mason’s new car until she left on an errand, then snuck in, of
course.”
“Maybe you should reconsider professions.”
“Yeah, if I could have a job like Neal Caffrey’s? I’d love it.”
“
White Collar
?” asked Gev.
“Yup.”
“I didn’t know you liked that show.”
Long Way Home
163
“Two words: Matt Bomer.”
“Oh yeah,” Gev said in approval. He uncapped his water and then opened the journal. “Did
you look at it?”
“Not yet, but that’s not all.” She took two bound booklets out of her bag. “I went up to
Mason’s work last night after I got it, and made copies.” She handed him one.
“Fantastic.”
“That way I can put the journal back today, and she’ll never know we read it.”
Gev set the journal on the coffee table. “She’ll know.” He looked at his sister. “I intend to
tell her.”
“Oh. You’re serious.”
He sat back on the couch, opening the copy. “She should’ve turned this in to the cops ages
ago,” he said, starting to flip through it. “They might’ve found something in here to help find
Stefan.”
“You seriously think Mom knows something she’s not telling, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do.”
She hesitated, a troubled look on her face. “It makes me really sad to think she’d do that.
But why would she? She was as desperate to find Stefan as anyone. More so. She loved him.”
“I know.” He thumped the booklet. “It doesn’t make any sense at all, but this is the one
thing we have that could provide something.”
“Guess we better get reading.” She handed him a yellow highlighter. He took it silently
and began to read. He hoped Lee would be gone for a while. The booklet wasn’t that thick,
printed out like this, but it would still take a couple of hours to go through. He figured it took
about a half hour to get to the station, and almost thirty minutes had already passed. Hell. “I
think we should go somewhere else.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I think Lee will be back before we can go through it all.”
“Didn’t you tell him you were going to work out? We can head over that way and get some
coffee instead.”
“Sounds good. I’ll leave a note.”
A few minutes later, note written and journal safely back in Nina’s purse, he followed his
sister out to the car, a black Lexus SUV.
“Mason’s new one?” he asked, sliding in.
“Yeah, and don’t say it. I tried to talk him into red, but he is such a conformist.”
Boring
, he wanted to say, but he didn’t fancy Nina’s justified smacking him. “Good ol’
Mason.”
Nina pushed his shoulder. “Be nice. At least I get to drive it for a while.”
As they took off, Gev scanned the street, looking for the hoodie guy. No one seemed to be
out. “Clean getaway,” he said softly to himself.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He didn’t want to tell her about the guy. At least, not yet. He opened his copy
of the journal. “Messy handwriting.”
164
Carolyn Gray
“Typical boy.”
“My handwriting is nice.”
“Only because you’re gay.”
“So was he.”
“Good point. Read, and tell me if you find anything.”
Gev began to read. At first, it was a little hard to understand what Stefan had written, but
mostly it was typical journal stuff one would expect any kid to write. He had to smile at that.
Stefan wrote about his dog, his classes at school, what he wanted to be when he grew up—a
conductor, apparently—his pesky little brother… Gev was glad to see that Stefan really had liked
him. He’d written about Gev more than he would have expected. Gev was kind of surprised at
the affection that came through.
“He liked me,” he said, his throat oddly tight.
“Yeah. I know. I wish I’d known him better.”
He reached out for her hand, and she grabbed it and squeezed. “I’m sorry you didn’t.”
“Sucks being the youngest.”
“Is that why you liked that Mason has triplets? So none of them would be the youngest?”
She released his hand and wiped her eyes. “Yeah, right.” She cocked her head to the side.
“Actually? That’s a great point.”
They arrived at the coffee shop on Inwood, ordered, found two empty chairs, and began
reading again. They kept apace then, not really finding anything. Eventually Lee’s name came up
more and more often. Finally, Nina said, “What page are you on?”
Gev checked. “Thirty-two.”
“This is about where he and Lee…you know.”
“I feel like a voyeur.”
She set her copy down. “Keep reading. I’ll be right back. Want anything else?”
“Water would be good.”
“Okay.”
She left him alone—him and his brother and Lee. He did feel like a voyeur—or worse, an
intruder. But he knew he had to read this. With a deep breath, he started reading again, rather
taken by his brother’s writing skills. He was quite good at description; Gev found himself
completely drawn into his world.
Quiet and reserved, the younger Lee had been nothing like the Lee that Gev had discovered
the night before, commanding and sure of what he was doing. Stef and Lee had really been too
young to know what they were doing, but his brother had clearly led. He and Lee had almost, not
quite, had an intimate relationship. Stef had loved him—and he, Stef—as much as two kids could
at that age.
That part didn’t last long, but there had been other times he’d written about Lee. They’d
spent every moment they could together. Lee had always been there, and though Gev had been a
few years younger, he’d usually been allowed to tag along.
There was a time or two, he remembered now, when he’d been shut out by Stef, told to go
away. A memory surfaced of Lee standing behind Stef, his dark eyes glittering, as Stef, his hand
Long Way Home
165
on the door, told Gev to go away and leave them alone. He remembered Lee’s apologetic
expression. He remembered being hurt too, rejected.
It was around then, he realized, when Stef had started to get more and more secretive. He
wrote about arguing with their mom, fights that left him angry, his writing dark, heavy lines. Gev
had had no idea there’d ever been any real fights between them. He was kind of shocked. As he
read on, he realized it wasn’t, as he’d thought, because Stef’s relationship with Lee had started to
deepen, but something else entirely.
Or, rather, someone else.
A new name started to appear in the journal at that point, a name he didn’t recognize. Mr.
K. Where Lee’s name had once been prominent, now it was Mr. K—who, Gev surmised, had
been a teacher at the school Lee and Stef attended.
Nina returned with their fresh drinks. “Find anything?”
“Look at this,” he said, scooting forward on the chair. “He fought a lot with Mom. Did you
know that?”
“I saw that, but I didn’t get past it. Was it because of Lee?”
“No. Did you read this part about a Mr. K?”
Nina sat on the chair arm, bracing herself so she could peer over his shoulder. “Karsonov,
remember? That’s who I asked you about, but you didn’t know any of Stef’s teachers.”
“Oh yeah. I remember.” He flipped through a couple of pages. “You were right. He does
talk about him a lot.” Reading Stef’s words made Gev uncomfortable, he realized.
“Think it means something?”
“Maybe. Look. At first it was a few mentions, but now look. Here”—he pointed to a
passage—“and here.”
“What is he saying?”
“Stuff a kid normally wouldn’t say about a teacher.”
Nina stiffened next to him. “Not unless there was something going on. Oh, Stefan…” Nina
picked up her copy, flipped to that part, and read some of it while he watched her. “Do you think
this is why Mom hid the journal? But why?” She thumped the paper. “This guy should’ve had
his ass hauled in first thing.”
“I know. It doesn’t make any sense. The cops should’ve seen this,” Gev agreed.
“But she didn’t show it to them.” The dismay and confusion on Nina’s face mirrored his
own feelings. “We have to tell Detective Ramirez. There’s no choice.”
Gev sat back. “I know. It might be nothing, but read on a bit.”
She did so. “He idolized the man.”
“He gave Stefan presents. Books and a watch. I think I remember that watch.”
She slid back onto her chair, clutching the journal to her chest. “Gev,” she said, her eyes
shining, “something was going on between them.”
Gev kept on reading, but then suddenly he’d reached the end. By the last few pages, all
mentions of Lee had dropped out, and it was all about Mr. K and the things they’d talked about.
Until the very end. On the page dated a week before he’d disappeared, Stefan had written,
I’m getting out of here. She fucking lied to me.
166
Carolyn Gray
There wasn’t any question in Lee’s mind who “she” was.
* * * *
door. It’d been a while since he’d driven anything like it, but he’d wanted something big and
formidable. Only Texans would drive trucks like this one, much less rent them. It was one of the
most common trucks around, which he hoped would help them blend in, if needed.
Detective Ramirez had had to go out on a call by the time he got to the police station, so
he’d opted to take care of the rental car and head back to Drew and Trish’s, then start looking for
a different place for Gev and him to stay. He knew they couldn’t stay with the women much
longer. It was too much of an inconvenience, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that whoever had
been stalking Gev would find them there soon. If they hadn’t already.
Lee knocked on the front door. The dog barked, but that was all he heard. Drew had given
him a key to the back door, but… He looked around and realized he didn’t see any strange cars
that could be Nina’s. The hair on the back of his neck prickled, but he fought down the sudden
stab of worry. He quickly sent Gev a text, relieved when he got an answer:
Sbux on Inwood and
Lemmon. Back in a bit.
He texted,
want me to come
, and grinned at what instantly came back:
not without me you
won’t
. Lee hesitated for a minute, then got back in the behemoth, put “Starbucks Lemmon Ave”
into the GPS, and headed off. He had to know if the hoodie guy was around.
He had to know Gev was safe.
Lee was on Lemmon when he saw him. The guy with the hoodie was across the street,
holding a cell phone. Lee drew the truck closer to the guy, hoping he wouldn’t turn around—the
sight of a giant black truck closing in might scare him off, common vehicle or not. Lee turned in
to a parking space not twenty feet away.
The guy put his cell back in his pocket, then turned and faced the coffee shop. Ice rushed
through Lee’s veins as he stared in disbelief—the way the guy stood completely echoed how
Gev stood. He was considerably thinner than Gev, lacking the muscles Gev had, and his curly