Chapter 19

NINETEEN

"This is the last place I expected them to come back to," Aidan said as Berat swung his cruiser onto Deidra White's street.

Sure enough, a familiar black Charger was parked in the driveway of the third house down, and at the curb across the street, Ward stood leaning against the side of his truck.

"You said the kid usually has a good reason for what he does." Berat parked behind the truck. "That's why you didn't have Ward bring them in. Let's see what plays out here."

He pushed open his car door, and Aidan followed, the two of them joining Ward by his truck. "I told them they couldn't lose you," Aidan said.

"Amateurs." Ward's smirk reached all the way to his light green eyes. "You wouldn't believe the shit rock stars try to pull."

"I don't want to know," Aidan said with a laugh before turning his attention toward the house. "How long have they been in there? "

"About twenty minutes."

"Anyone else?"

Ward shook his head. "When I realized they were headed here, I beat them to it. Looked around. It's just the two of 'em."

Aidan asked Ward to keep watch, then crossed the street with Berat. "Mind if I go in alone?" Aidan asked as they navigated the crumbling pavers that led to the rickety front porch.

"Go for it," Berat said. "I wanted to look around more out here. See if we missed anything the other day."

He disappeared around the side, and Aidan entered through the unlocked front door. "Angel!" he called. "Bev!"

Two thunks echoed from somewhere down the hallway, followed by "Shit" in Angel's voice, then "Tonto del culo" in Bev's.

Aidan laughed, then immediately regretted it, the action causing him to inhale more of the stale, awful odors that had intensified over the past twenty-four hours. "Please tell me you came back here for a good reason."

His godson poked his head into the hallway. "How'd you find us?"

Aidan tipped his head toward the street.

Angel stepped to the end of the hallway and glanced out the front window—at Ward by the curb where Aidan had left him. Angel straightened with a sigh. "I thought we'd lost him."

"You can't." Aidan shoved his hands in his pockets and moved to lean his shoulder against a wall, then thought better of it and stayed in relatively unsoiled territory. "Now," he said, voice neutral, keeping the objective in mind, "give me a good reason we're here. "

"You're not mad?" Bev appeared at Angel's side, her blond hair gathered in a messy, wobbly bun. She had a pair of lab goggles hanging around her neck—and was that a piece of insulation on her shoulder?

Aidan grew even more intrigued. "I'm not happy," he said, "but I didn't put a guard on you only for your protection."

Bev elbowed her friend's side and muttered in Spanish, "Seems he knows you better than you think."

"Or," Aidan said, also in Spanish, "I just have enough teens and preteens in my life to know better."

"His Spanish is better than yours," Bev said to Angel, who elbowed her right back.

Aidan smiled at their antics. The resiliency of kids was a wonder. Angel had survived several hellish days, Bev countless more, and they were here today joking with each other, firmly in each other's corners.

"So, seriously," Aidan said, back to English. "Why are we here?"

Bev removed the goggles and lowered her chin, all of her earlier moxie vanishing. "My social worker called. Cara talked to Deidra and thinks ‘we can make it work.'"

"I'm not gonna let that happen," Angel said.

Bev leaned her head on his shoulder and batted her lashes up at him. "My savior," she teased, though by the way her arm wound around his, holding tight, there was some truth to her words. But Bev, who, according to her file, had been a foster kid since she was eight, was also wise to reality. "I appreciate that you think you have a say. But you don't." She lifted her head and turned her attention back to Aidan. "I'm also tired of being the damsel in this scenario. Not my style." As if the shredded jeans, rock tee, and battered camo jacket didn't give it away. "Yeah, this sucked." She gestured around the house and wrinkled her nose, the freckles across the bridge melding together. "A lot. And I do not want to be back here. Ever. But while I was here, I kept my eyes and ears open. I thought I could help."

"One," Aidan said, "we're getting you out of here. I've worked this job long enough and made enough connections to make sure that happens." He stepped forward and crouched in front of her, making Beverly slightly taller than him, giving her the power that life and the system had taken from her. "In the meantime, you're welcome to stay with me and Jamie in protective custody. But it's your call, completely."

"Can Angel stay too?" Tone neutral, she asked the question casually, as if it were no big deal, but the way she shifted on her feet, the fact she didn't look away from Aidan, indicated it was in fact a very big deal. He guessed she rarely asked for any favors—and this one was non-negotiable.

"That's his and Izzy's call," he answered. "But as far as I'm concerned, you're both in protective custody while this case is ongoing. You're all welcome at the condo." He pointed at Angel's Dodgers hoodie as he rose. "Though Jamie's getting twitchy about the LA sports gear."

"They're good people," Angel said to Bev. "Except that part." Then to Aidan, "And my answer is yes, assuming Mom says it's okay."

Aidan bit back the smile that wanted to stretch across his face, keeping it as measured and professional as his heart could stand. "Okay, now that that's settled, can we talk outside about whatever you saw and heard? The smell in here is about to do me in. "

"Need to show you a couple things first," Bev said as she turned on her heel, leading them back to the home's single bathroom at the end of the hallway. Despite the over tub window being open, the stench of mold and mildew made Aidan want to hurl, but seeing as Bev was climbing up onto the toilet lid, he had no choice but to hold it in. She lifted the picture off the wall above the toilet and handed it to Angel, then pointed at the writing on the wall. "Those are Darien's dealers and clients. I caught him scratching another name on here the other day."

Aidan squeezed into the narrow space on her left, between the toilet and sink, and skimmed the list of names, looking for anyone familiar. No one off the top of his—Wait. "Isn't your social worker's last name Dixon?"

"Yep," she said, popping the p like Angel had done the other night. She tapped the fifth name down with her blunt nail. "That's her brother."

"You are definitely not coming back here," Aidan said as he snapped pictures. "This is super helpful, Bev. Good job."

She preened as she rehung the picture, but once she hopped back down on the floor, some of her confidence diminished. "I should have pointed it out last night or taken a picture, but everything was..." She waved a hand in the air, as if that could summon the words.

"Moving pretty fast all of a sudden," Aidan completed for her. "And your job is to be a kid, not a detective."

"Okay, but, one more thing." She snapped her goggles back on and headed into the room she'd shared with Deidra's and Darien's junk, her space limited to the closet she'd kept in tip-top shape, a sharp contrast to the rest of the house. A step ladder was unfolded under a rectangular cutout in the closet ceiling, the heavy piece of wood that constituted a cover over it pushed slightly aside. It was the same sort of attic access as in the guest room closet of the home Aidan used to own before he'd move in with Jamie. "I hid up here once," Bev said as she climbed the ladder. "Before I realized the dust and insulation would kill my eyes. When Angel told me Darien got busted for smuggling stolen stuff, I thought about it again."

"That's what I was trying to open wider when you got here," Angel said, gesturing to the narrow attic opening Bev had slid through.

Wishing like hell he had his own pair of goggles and saying a prayer for the contents of his stomach, Aidan climbed the ladder. Reaching the opening, he pushed the cover the rest of the way aside and hefted himself up. On his knees, not enough clearance to stand, Aidan took one look around and covered his mouth with his hand. In part to keep out the dust and insulation, in part to cover his gaping surprise. "Hey, Angel," he called from behind his fingers. "Can you ask Berat?—"

A section of the attic's back slatted wall swung open—a hidden door beneath the structure's A-frame. Blinding light streamed in, dust streamed out, then a blink later, Berat's face and shoulders appeared at the opening. "Ask me what—" Berat started before gaping too. "I noticed this section of the siding didn't line up. Guess I know why now."

Aidan glanced again at the boxes of electronics and other electronic goods stacked at one end of the attic from floor to ceiling. "I think it's safe to say the two thefts are connected."