Page 21

CHAPTER 21

Later that afternoon

“T.J. why are you in foster care?”

T.J. stopped moving the brush through his sleep-tangled hair. He was almost used to getting up super early so he could leave David’s house and make it back to the Johnson’s before they came home from work. They’d said it was “really wild” and expected it to get wilder as the New Year holiday approached. “People just don’t use good sense,” Mrs. Johnson would say, and Mr. Johnson would just nod. They always looked super tired when they came in and would go to bed soon after they ate. T.J. would have breakfast almost ready for them when they got home. He was getting good at making omelets and frying bacon and some other stuff. He hoped that would keep them from getting suspicious about where he was spending his nights.

He turned to face David who was still at the table in the downstairs den at his house. There had been a huge among of food upstairs, so they just had to carry it down here. They needed, T.J. had warned, to stay downstairs as much as possible so no one would suspect they were here. So far so good. But, geez, the questions the kid could ask.

“My parents got caught passing counterfeit bills,” T.J. said.

“What’s that?” David asked, his cereal spoon half-way to his mouth.

“Fake money,” T.J. explained. “It’s illegal to do that. You know, against the law.”

Curiosity wrinkled David’s face. “Why’d they do it?”

T.J. withheld his sigh of impatience. “I don’t know, little dude. They didn’t tell me.”

David considered this. “Did they have to go to jail?”

“Yep, and before you ask, none of my grandparents wanted me after that, so that’s why I got put in foster care. Enough questions for now.” T.J. put down the brush. “I gotta go. Do you have everything you need?”

“Yeah. T.J., when my grandparents get back from vacation, you can come and live with us.”

The kindness shining on the younger boy’s face nearly made T.J. lose it and he had to bite his lip hard to keep from bursting into tears.

“That’s okay, David,” he finally managed to say. “The Johnsons are okay, so I’ll just stick with them for now. I need to go. See ya, bye.”

And with that, he was out the den’s door and taking the back way to the Johnsons house.

Later that same night.

“They know!” the man bellowed. “Or at least are highly suspicious. If you screw this up, The Cadre will carve you up like a Thanksgiving turkey.”

“I d-did what you told me.” Henry Tate grabbed the chair’s arms to halt their frantic trembling. “Ev-everything by the book. You said it would be easy. How was I to know those other girls would see what happened? Seems to me that the Taylors are to blame for this.”

“The Taylors were careless,” the man snapped. “And now they’re dead. Do you want to be next?”

“N-no, sir.” Sweat ran down Tate’s neck and pooled under his collar.

“Then go get those children from that other shelter and have them at the rendezvous site no later than midnight tonight. Don’t even think about talking to the police. You do, and you’re dead. Now get out of here.”

Tate stumbled from the room and the man fought the urge to throw something against the wall. They’d probably need to kill Tate after he delivered the kids, but later. Three deaths in less than three days would only add to the firestorm of investigation and The Cadre didn’t need that. Things had been going so well until those Campbell girls had opened their mouths to Mercy Phillips and she had told Suzanne Bennett. The sooner that bitch was dead the better before the operation collapsed like a house of cards.

He placed the call to expedite that.