Shelter (Book One): A Mickey Bolitar Novel

WE WERE GOING TO MEET at Myron’s house, but a quick call to his cell phone stopped that.

“Where are you?” Myron asked me.

I didn’t like the tone in his voice.

“I’m with friends,” I said.

“Driving what car?”

Uh-oh. Ema was studying my face. I mouthed the word “Trouble.”

“I know your father taught you to drive,” he said to me. “But it’s illegal. You know that.”

“I’m just at a friend’s house,” I said.

“Whose?”

“Rachel. You met her last night.”

“You couldn’t walk there?”

“Uh, I, look, she’d never go out with a kid. So, well, I told her I was older.”

Wow, could that have sounded any lamer?

“You lied?”

“No, not really. I just let her believe . . . Look, I’ll tell her the truth. Then I’ll drive the car home and not use it again.”

“Mickey,” Myron said, putting on his parental voice, “do you know what will happen to you if Chief Taylor catches you driving?”

I said nothing.

“Just leave the car there,” Myron said. “Walk home. I’ll find a way to get it back here.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thank you. But can I stay a little while longer?”

“Only if you promise to tell her the truth,” Myron said. “You shouldn’t lie to her.”

Oh boy.

“You’re absolutely right,” I said, choking on the words. I wanted to tell him to stick it, but more than that, I did not want him looking for me. “I’m so sorry. I’ll tell her right away. Bye.”

When I hung up, Ema started laughing.

“What?” I said.

“Your uncle bought that?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “He’s new to this.”

“I guess so.”

We called Rachel back and changed the meeting spot to her house. The gate guarding the driveway opened the moment I turned into it. Rachel must have been watching. Ema sat in silence. She didn’t comment at all as we drove up to the mansion.

“I still don’t know where you live,” I said to Ema.

“We got bigger worries, don’t you think?”

She had a point. When we pulled up to the house, Rachel was already standing in the doorway. Ema stared at her with an expression on her face I would have to call resigned.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“She is beautiful, isn’t she?”

I didn’t know how to reply to that, so I didn’t. I pulled the door handle and stepped out. Rachel smiled when she saw me. The smile dimmed a bit when she saw Ema. We both headed up the walk toward her. Rachel watched Ema. Ema watched Rachel. I didn’t know what to do.

Rachel said, “Ashley didn’t want anyone to know about this.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “Ema’s been in on this from the beginning.”

Rachel didn’t look happy about my answer. Neither did Ema. I tried to move us forward.

“You said you had a clue about Ashley?”

Rachel looked wary.

“It’s okay,” I said.

She sighed and led us into the house. We sat in the same opulent room where Rachel and I had been just a few short hours ago. “This laptop was in the pool house. Ashley used it to check her e-mail. I was able to get into her account.”

“How?” I asked.

Rachel looked uncomfortable. “My father is rarely around,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like to keep an eye on me. Last year, he put this parental spy software on all the home computers so he could monitor what I was doing.”

Ema said, “Yuck.”

“I know, right?”

Ema shook her head and said, “Parents.”

I could see a softening between the two. It wasn’t much. Softening might be too strong a word. Thawing might be more accurate. But it was there.

“But the thing is, my dad is pretty bad with computers. He just bought some package online—he really doesn’t know what he’s doing. So I figured out what was going on and then I found his codes, and, well, now he sees what I want him to see, if you catch my drift. Not that I have anything to hide anyway. That’s the thing. I don’t, but—okay, never mind.” Rachel tucked her hair behind her ear. “Anyway, the point is, even though Ashley deleted her history, I was able to see what she’d done on the computer.”

“And?” I said.

“She got this e-mail earlier today.”

Rachel handed me a printout. It was short and sweet:

Ash—

I’m in big trouble. He thinks I hid you. You know how he gets. You know what he can do. Please, Ash. Please come back and help me.

And then, on the bottom, I saw who had sent the e-mail:

Candy

“So,” Rachel said, “the question is, who is Candy?”

“I know,” I said, feeling the fear return. I didn’t see any other option. I had wanted more than anything to stay away from that awful place, and yet somehow I knew that it would end there. Even if it meant going up against Buddy Ray and his big bodyguard again. Even if it meant going up against Antoine LeMaire. Even if it meant facing the White Death.

I could see Bat Lady, who was somehow connected with my father, somehow connected with the Abeona Shelter, mouthing the words to me: Save Ashley.

My father had spent his life working for the Abeona Shelter. Now maybe I understood what his real job was. I didn’t believe in fate or destiny. I didn’t even believe in a calling or a purpose. How had Rachel put it?

“It just felt like the right thing to do.”

It was that simple and yet that deep. It was an obligation. Even if I wanted to turn away, I couldn’t.

I had to save Ashley.