Game of Secrets and Shadows (Book One in the Covert Operations series)

Five

The Lazy-Days Motel smelled like garbage. While it was an old, rundown building with highly revolting accommodations located just a few miles off the highway, the Lazy-Days clerk allowed me to pay full out by cash, meaning that there was no electronic trace of my stay here. And, while not much could be said for the rest of the place, at least I had a roof over my head.

Of course, the roof only helped when I was actually in the motel, which wasn't often. I spent the majority of my time camped out in the woods behind my parents' house. I'd spent many summer days growing up traversing the forest with my brother and Daniel. There was a little creek that ran through the Northern corner of the lot, about a mile and a half from where my house was. It opened to a small lake that was home to several little nooks and crevices, unnoticeable unless you were inside of them looking out through the tall plants that covered their entrances.

I'd gone there, to the little caves, just the other day as dawn was breaking over the trees. The largest one, located in the southwest corner of the pond, had been the one we'd frequented the most as and, when I'd climbed inside, wading through the water first to do so, I'd found that it was mostly the same as I remembered. The cave itself hadn't changed but, while before it had been adorned with images from comic books and hand-drawn pictures, it now held images of me. There was one of the three of us, Wes, Daniel, and I, in the centre of the back wall and around it were tons of newspaper clippings. They'd been ripped and torn and held up by heavy tape and several showed evidence of water damage, but they were unmistakable.

The clippings traced kidnappings and missing persons reports. Some had large red drawn 'X's through the centres while others held question marks. It was clear what the two of them had been doing. Daniel and Wes had been looking for me. Seeing the numerous articles and old photos caused a wave of guilt and nausea to shoot through my stomach and I'd felt the need to leave before I was sick.

Aside from that little excursion, though, I'd stayed near the house, keeping an eye on my father and brother. I noticed several things:

One—they ordered take-out for every meal. It seemed that neither of them could bear cooking in the kitchen which had been my mother's single favourite room in the entire house.

Two—my father was sleeping on the couch. He'd hardly stepped foot into their bedroom since I'd arrived.

Three—Daniel was a near-constant in the house. He was almost always there. Even if Wes wasn't home and it was just my father present, Daniel would stop by and the two of them would spend time together.

Of everything I witnessed, that was the strangest to me. Growing up, Daniel had always been close to my family. We'd spent so much time together it was like we practically lived together, but for some reason, I hadn't expected his familial relations with my family to continue after I was gone. It was as if they'd lost a daughter but gained a second son.

At least one good thing came from me leaving.

Of the three days that I'd been watching the house, it had never been completely empty. Someone was always inside, whether it was Wes or my dad or even Daniel who had gone over one afternoon when both my brother and father were out and made dinner for them before leaving again.

And then, on the fourth day, the house was miraculously empty. Daniel and Wes had gone out for the day, towing baseball bats and gloves as they'd marched down the street to the park. Every so often, I could hear the crack of a ball hitting against a wooden bat and knew that they were otherwise occupied. I wasn't entirely sure where my dad had gone, but he'd pulled out of the drive in his truck about fifteen minutes after Wes had left and hadn't returned.