Freider Grant's dark eyebrows joined as he surveyed his sons. A strange light crept in his muddy-brown eyes. Sam swallowed and shifted in his seat. The entire corny-movie-detective-office furniture his dad had filled the room with didn't help the feeling that he had somehow ended up in a bad movie.
"Are you sure?" Freider asked, his tone even. His hands balled into fists around a piece of paper that had been lying on top of his open file.
"Yes, we're sure," Jerry said almost hysterical. "They chased us through half of the mall."
"Shouldn't we go to the police?" Sam asked, glancing from his father's frown to Jerry.
Freider stood and turned to the window, clasping his hands behind his back. "You did good, coming to me first."
Jerry threw Sam an I-told-you-so look. Sam tried to keep the annoyance off his face, but this wasn't the reaction he'd expected. His father wasn't half as surprised and concerned as he should be. He acted almost as if he'd been expecting something like this to happen and was bummed that it finally did. "Dad, what's going on? What did those men want with us?"
Freider's right hand twitched. Sam squinted and noticed the piece of paper still lodged in his father's fist. What was on it that made Freider so nervous?
"I... I don't really know." His father walked back to the desk and leaned his fists against it.
"You sure don't seem surprised."
"I'm not surprised. I'm shocked." Freider's eyes narrowed. "And why are you so judgmental?"
Jerry shot Sam a warning look, but he ignored him. "I'm not judgmental. I just think we should go to the police."
"I'll take care of that. You and Jerry should go home."
"Go home? We didn't even tell you what happened properly!"
"Sam, let's just go," Jerry said quietly.
"No! Someone tried to kill us and that's his reaction? Go home?"
"Sam!" Freider's voice cut through the air like a whip and Sam flinched. After a few second, Freider sighed and slouched in his seat. "Don't make this harder than it has to be. Trust me to take care of this and go home."
"Shouldn't we...?" Jerry's voice died as if he was afraid of upsetting his father. Freider turned to him, frowning and Jerry cleared his throat. "Shouldn't we take some precautions?"
"Yes. You should from now on actually listen to what I tell you and not linger after school. I thought you knew better. I'm very disappointed in you, Jerry."
Jerry lowered his eyes and mumbled, "We were just buying books."
"You were out in the open and vulnerable."
"We're out in the open and vulnerable in school, on the street, everywhere." Sam narrowed his eyes. "You knew."
"I'll take care of everything." Freider waved them away. "Now go home."
Sam didn't budge. "What do you plan to do?"
"That's up to me. You're fifteen, Sam. You're not old enough to understand. Or argue with me." Freider put emphasis on the last words to make sure he got the message.
Jerry stood and backed a few steps toward the door. Sam weighed his chances and decided to quit while he was ahead. He might still get some information.
"Okay, Dad. Thanks. We'll see you at home."
Freider nodded and picked up the phone.
Sam nudged Jerry out of the office and pulled the door behind him, leaving it cracked the tiniest bit. He scanned the waiting room. The desk belonging to Mrs. Martin, his father's old secretary, stood empty except for a plate of homemade cookies.
"What are you doing?" Jerry hissed.
Grateful that he had the decency to keep it down, Sam gave him another nudge. "Keep a lookout."
"Keep a what?"
Sam shushed Jerry and turned his attention to the door. His father was already on the phone, talking animatedly, but unfortunately keeping his voice down. Only random words came through.
"...yes. No, they got away. Don't.... And how am I supposed to know?" Freider's voice finally raised enough to be heard properly. "Of course I'm sure it's him." Long pause. "I know that. But I also know Snitch Gravel better than anyone."
Sam frowned. Snitch Gravel? He'd never heard the name before and it ignited a shiver combined with the mad desire to laugh. He forced himself to focus on his father's conversation again.
"...a note. I recognized the writing right away."
The piece of paper! Sam pushed the door open. It swung slowly, revealing Freider, with his back to them, the phone perched between his shoulder and ear. The note he'd been crumpling in his fist lay on top of the open file.
"Sam, stop," Jerry whispered behind him, but he didn't listen.
As if driven by an invisible force, he strode the length of the room just as his father turned around. Sam snatched the note and stepped back before Freider could make a grab for it.
"I thought I told you to go home. Give that back!" Freider reached out one hand, hanging up with the other.
Sam threw him a murderous glance and opened the piece of paper. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but not the two lines in neat, slightly loopy handwriting.
I haven't forgotten about you. It's your turn.
Sam tilted his head and let his father take the note from him. "Explain."
"This... this..." Freider hesitated, looking from Sam to Jerry who had come up in line with Sam.
"Please don't say this has nothing to do with your phone call or what happened to us today." Sam wondered how his voice could be so calm. Inside, a giant tornado had pulled every thought and was twisting them around leaving nothing but a jumbled mess behind.
"I thought I raised you better than to spy on people." Freider let the note fall on the desk and dropped in his leather chair. "I won't pretend I'm not a little impressed by your determination to get the whole story. It's a useful trait for a PI."
Jerry walked to the desk and stared at the note blankly. Freider didn't try to hide it any more.
"Does the police have this?" Jerry whispered.
"No." Freider sighed heavily and indicated that the two should take a seat. "I thought I wouldn't be forced into this conversation. Not after eighteen years of silence."
Sam and Jerry looked at each other while their father stared at the ceiling, the tips of his fingers joined.
"This note," he finally said, "was sent to me by a man I know."
"Yes, this Snitch Gravel. We gathered that," Sam said impatiently. "Why didn't you take the note to the police?"
"Because they think he's dead." Freider leaned his elbows on the matte surface of his antique desk. "I thought - hoped he was dead. I can't prove it's his handwriting, but I know it is. I'd recognize it anywhere. And if you look at it without knowing the man, it's not exactly a direct threat."
"But it is. Why would he want to hurt us?" Jerry asked.
"Because..." Freider bit his lip and focused on his fingers. "You're both good kids, live a quiet life, have no rivals. It wasn't like that for me." He leaned back in his chair. "I had the misfortune to know Snitch Gravel. Bad to the core, vengeful and ambitious. Why lie? I never liked him either. And one day, he crossed the line. I was there to witness it and took action. Exposed him. He's apparently never been able to get over it, to see that I was only doing what was right." He turned his chair toward the window, disappearing from view. "He never did know what was right." Freider stood abruptly. His chair almost tipped over. "I've already taken care of this. There is no need for you to worry. So I don't want any of this to reach your mother. I don't want her to panic. Is that clear?"
Sam stared at his father, unable to believe it. Some mad man wanted to kill them to seek vengeance against his father, and this was his reaction? His advice?
"Yes, sir," Jerry mumbled.
"Wait, that's it?" Sam got to his feet, his fists clenched. "This is a big deal. Someone tried to kill us! Shouldn't we tell the police? Seek protection? Tell Mom? She'd want to know."
Freider's eyes narrowed. "Didn't you hear what I just said, Sam? I took care of it. You don't have to worry about anything."
"Don't have to worry? How did you-"
"Sam!"
The rest of Sam's question died in his throat. The way his father looked at him sent shivers down his spine.
"I won't let my family live in fear." Freider walked around the desk, and leaned against it, his arms crossed over his chest. "Do what I say. You two, your mother, are my responsibility and I won't fail you. I promise you, you will never hear the name Snitch Gravel again. But that doesn't mean I don't want you to be careful, especially over the next few days. No more detours. Anything suspicious, let me know." He waved his hand as though to dismiss them. "I'll have someone drive you home. Wait downstairs."
Jerry stood and backed toward the door. Sam didn't leave his position, clenching and unclenching his fists. There were a hundred things wrong with what his father had just said, but he was at a loss for words. This new threat in his life seemed to absorb the air around him, making it hard to breathe. He doubted that simply being careful would solve this problem. And he couldn't trust his father's solution when he didn't know what it actually was.
"How did you solve the problem?" he asked.
"I think we've already had this conversation." Freider rolled his eyes. "I swear, you're as curious as a toddler. You don't always have to know everything. Be assured and let it go."
Sam took in a deep breath and tried to relax. It was useless. As if things weren't hard enough, his father insisted on treating him like a baby. "You should call Kyle."
Freider's eyebrows rose. "Call Kyle?"
"Yes, you know, your other son. If this Snitch Gravel weirdo is after us, he might've tried to kill Kyle, too." Sam tried to keep the resentment out of his voice, but wasn't sure he'd managed it.
"Yes, I will call Max and tell him to take care of your brother." Freider turned his back on them. "I'll see you two at home. If you're late, your mother will get worried."
Jerry headed for the door, but stopped, once he noticed Sam wasn't following. Sam stood his ground, chewing on his lip, trying to find the courage to ask again what he'd been asking for months.
"Dad, why don't you bring Kyle home?"
Freider wheeled around, his smile so patronizing it made Sam sick. "That is a decision your mother and I have made in his and your best interest. Now, go home and let me work."
Sam opened his mouth to argue, but changed his mind. There was no point in pursuing the subject. He nodded and followed Jerry outside. "Do you believe his bullshit?" he mumbled as soon as the door closed behind him.
"Sam, language!"
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because I actually trust Dad. And I want to believe he can protect us." Jerry paused for a few seconds. "Why do you keep asking that?"
"Asking what?" Sam asked through clenched teeth, jabbing the elevator button.
"About Kyle. Why do you want him home so badly? You don't even know him."
"He's our brother. Doesn't it bother you that we've never seen him?" Sam asked. This was a subject he and Jerry never agreed on. Sam kept in touch with his oldest brother through email, IM and occasionally phone calls. He didn't know if Jerry had ever talked to Kyle.
Jerry shrugged. "If he's too busy to come home for the holidays, then no, it doesn't bother me." He entered the elevator and pressed the ground floor button.
Sam stared at him for a few seconds then sighed and stepped inside. There was no point arguing. Kyle wasn't coming home, and after the day's events, he and Jerry needed to get along and stick together more than ever.
* * *
"They're ready." The man lowered his binoculars and shook the russet locks out of his eyes.
"You can't be serious, Keeves!" His companion yanked the binoculars away. The car he'd been watching sped through traffic, out of sight. "They're children."
Keeves shrugged. "You saw how well they handled the situation. And if we don't hurry, someone else might get their hands on them."
"Nonsense." The other man studied the modern office building in front of them through the binoculars. "Who would recruit them at their age?"
Keeves scratched his stubble. He needed a shave. "You might have a point, James. No need to get paranoid. We should keep our eyes on the other one for now. Oh, and on Snitch Gravel."
James huffed. "Good luck with that."
Keeves smiled. James had a point, but lacked vital information. Maybe he was right about the kids being too young, but when the moment came, he'd make sure the plan followed its course.
So apparently, it might be Dad's old grudge. Or it could be the crazy stalkeres at the end. What do you think? What would they recruit kids for?
Also, how do you feel about Sam and Jerry's attitude towards their situation? Do you believe Freider was honest with them?
Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving a vote/comment.