Yet as much as he wanted it — as much as he would have sold his soul to attain it — he knew that none of it was possible. He knew that telling Deputy Price anything would pose more problems than it would solutions, just as Jolaine had said. They’d listened to the radio in the car, and they’d watched television in the motel room, yet there’d been no mention of all those terrible things. How was that possible?
With no police reports to back him up, no one would believe his story anyway. And even if they did, and they drove all the way out to Antwerp to investigate, they’d find a lot of bullet holes and dead bodies, and then they’d start asking why he and Jolaine were on the run instead of calling the police in the first place.
And that would be a hell of a good question, Graham thought. Last night, it didn’t make sense to him why they didn’t call the police, and it didn’t make any more sense right now. They didn’t call because Jolaine said that it would be a mistake to call. That was the only reason, and what kind of reason was that?
Reason enough for her to risk her life to save me and Mom.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
Price’s shoulders sagged. “Son, I can’t help you unless you talk to me.”
Something about the deputy’s delivery rubbed Graham the wrong way, and his filters kicked in again. Maybe it was use of the word “son.” He already had a father, he didn’t need another one. “Let me ask you a question,” he said.
The deputy shrugged. “I’m all ears.”
“That ugly lady. Peggy. She said she wanted to help me, too. She told me that the best thing I could do was to tell her everything. Now you’re saying I should do the same thing. Why should I believe anything you say?”
Price took his time answering. “You can’t honestly tell me that you don’t trust me more than you trusted her.”
“That just makes you the good cop.”
“Excuse me?”
“The good cop. You know what I mean. It’s in every friggin’ cop show. She was the bad cop, and you’re the good cop. You work in a team so that she pisses me off, and then you butter me up.”
Price’s eyes narrowed to the point of squinting. “It’s not like that, Graham. I promise you.”
Graham wanted to believe him. He thought he did believe him, but trust was just too big a risk. “That’s exactly what you would say if I was right,” he said.
Deputy Price took a breath to reply, but then he let it go and smiled. “I got nothin’ to say to that,” he said. “You’re right. That’s exactly what I would say if I were trying to trick you. That’s not where I’m coming from, but I understand where you’re coming from. I got no answer that you can dare believe.”
Silence fell between them, and it lasted probably two minutes before a door on the far end of the room opened up and a young man and woman entered from the outside and walked to the front desk — a window thing with thick glass and a microphone. The couple didn’t look much older than Jolaine.
“I believe those are your foster parents for the next day or three,” Price said.
Graham felt a jolt of panic. “You mean I have to leave?”
“I promised you a comfortable bed. We don’t have any of those here. You’ll be fine. They’re the Markhams, and they’re very nice people. You’ll be safe with them.”
“But I was beginning to feel safe here.”
“This is a police station, Graham. It’s not a place for fourteen-year-olds. You’ll be better off there.”
Graham watched them at the little window as they talked to the lady in the uniform. They turned in unison and looked straight at him. The wife waved at him with the tips of her fingers. It reminded him of a cat scratching at a screen.
“I don’t like them,” he said.
“I’m telling you they’re good people,” Price said. He leaned over to the side to gain access to his back pocket and he pulled out a little black leather wallet. Inside was a stack of business cards. He slid one out and handed it to Graham. “This is me. My numbers are on it. If you have any problems or concerns, if you get scared, or if you just want to talk, you give me a call anytime — day, night, or early morning.”
Graham held the card in both hands. Why was this guy being so nice? What did he want?
Price pointed with his head to the Markhams. They were approaching, and he held up a hand to tell them to stay back for a bit. They stopped and moved to some chairs on the other side of the waiting room.
“Look at me, Graham,” Price said.
Graham looked. He saw a mask of concern on the deputy’s face.
“I know some bad things have happened. I don’t know what they are, but just in watching the emotion in your face and in your body language, I know that something really bad is going on. I know that you feel as though you can’t trust anyone.”
He paused, as if waiting for Graham to confirm or deny. He did neither.
“I’m going to tell you something important,” Price continued. “Whatever your secrets are, they’re yours to keep, from whoever you want to keep them. Now listen to me. If you’re not willing to tell me — and that’s fine that you’re not, I respect that — I don’t want you to tell anyone, understand? Whatever your secrets are, people are trying to hurt you to get them. That’s not right. That scares me, and it should scare you. You keep your secrets secret, understand?”
Graham’s sense of fear deepened. Price was serious, and he looked genuinely worried for him.
“Am I going to be okay?” Graham asked.
Deputy Price looked away. “I don’t know, Graham,” he said. “I just don’t know. That’s not the answer you wanted to hear, and I apologize for that. But it’s the only answer I know how to give.”
Price leaned forward and put out two hands in a clamshell gesture. “I pray to God that this is all just nothing,” he said. “But if the shit hits the fan — pardon my French — you give me a call and I’ll be there for you. Please trust me that much. If you find yourself without any other options, I’m worth a roll of the dice.”
Graham found tears tracking his cheeks before he knew that he was crying.
Price sat up straight. He shot a glance over to the Markhams. “No tears, Graham,” he said. “That’s no way to start with the new family. I hate to put it to you this way, but now’s the time to suck it up and roll with what’s coming. Don’t show weakness, know what I mean?”
Graham in fact did not know what he meant, but he knew that nodding yes was the right thing to do.
Price smacked the side of Graham’s knee twice. “Good,” he said. “I know this is all very scary, but try to think of it as an adventure.”
With that, the deputy stood and beckoned for the Markhams to come over and join them. They rose in unison and walked nearly in step. They stopped when they were six feet away and they smiled.
“Anita and Peter,” Price said, “this is Graham Mitchell. Graham, this is Anita and Peter Markham.”
Anita smiled wider and Peter extended his hand. “Hi, Graham,” he said. “I’m sorry that you’re going through tough times. I’d consider it an honor to have you join us at our home.”
The words sounded at once sincere and rehearsed. Graham wasn’t sure how they pulled it off, but it didn’t feel threatening. He accepted the hand and they shook. Peter treated him like a girl, accepting only Graham’s fingers in the handshake. That felt strange.
“Hi,” Graham said.
Anita’s hand shot out next. “I’m Anita,” she said. “This is Peter.”
Graham made a smile face and shook her hand, too. “I got that,” he said. He stood.
“Are you ready to go?” Peter asked.