Page 54 of Ultimate Justice

The tension stringing his muscles tighter than a board eased some. He should have warned his parents he’d be bringing guests, but he couldn’t have risked them objecting.

Elsa cleared her throat, smoothing a hand over her short, mostly gray hair. She smiled at Marlie and Noah. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

“Thank you.” Marlie shook Elsa’s hand.

“Do you like animals, Noah?” Neil’s thick gray brows rose. “There was a great man named Noah who lived a long time ago. He had a big ship—an ark—that he filled with all kinds of animals.”

“I like dogs.” Noah knelt and wrapped an arm around Blue’s back.

His mother pulled a seven-inch-tall chocolate cake from the refrigerator and set it on the table between the framed photo of Gracie and the pot of yellow-and-purple flowers, courtesy of Neil’s personal greenhouse. Beside the flowers sat a stack of brochures for the Amazing Grace Foundation—the charity his parents had set up.

“Wowww.” Noah’s eyes bugged out. “That cake is awesome!”

His mom laughed, something she’d ceased doing on his birthdays. “Thank you.” She picked up a large knife, about to cut into it.

“Wait!” Noah shouted. “Don’t you have candles for Evan to blow out? And we have to sing ‘Happy Birthday.’”

His mom’s jaw dropped. Nobody spoke. They hadn’t lit candles or sung “Happy Birthday” in forever. Evan was loath to alter the ritual, but Noah had a kid’s birthday expectations. He looked from his mom to his dad. “Don’t you think we can dig up a candle somewhere?”

His father cleared his throat. “I’m sure we can.” He dug into a drawer and pulled out a small box.

A minute later, two lit candles graced the top of the cake.

“I can start, if you want.” Noah began singing, then Marlie joined in.

Evan shook his head, partly in disbelief and partly in relief, as they all sang “Happy Birthday.” When they were done, he stared at the cake. The significance of two candles, not one, wasn’t lost on him. One was for him. The other was for his sister.

Noah made room for him at the table. “Now make a wish and blow out the candles.”

He stared at the tiny flickering flames. For more years than he could remember, he’d wished for only one thing. That wish had never been granted. Maybe it was finally time to wish for something else, something that might actually come true. What that was, he had no clue. He leaned over, preparing to blow out the candles without making a wish. At the last second, he looked across the table. The hesitant smile Marlie threw him was both sad and warm. Silently, he wished her a happy life, then blew out the candles.

Two slices of cake and two cups of coffee later, he couldn’t put it off any longer. “Mom, Dad, I need to speak with you for a few minutes.” Privately, was the unspoken message he sent his father.

His father stood and pulled out his mother’s chair.

“We won’t be long,” Evan said to Marlie.

“Okay,” she answered quickly, then returned her attention to the Wilsons, who were trying to recruit her to join them as a volunteer at the Foundation. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, but beneath the table, he’d seen her hands twisting together. The Wilsons had piqued her interest, but she still seemed hesitant to counsel kids again.

When they were in his dad’s study with the door closed, he pulled out the copy of Frank Manello’s driver’s license. “I’m working a case that hasn’t hit the news yet, and I need your help.”

“That isn’t normal.” His dad frowned. “Doesn’t the FBI always enlist the media for help with missing kids?”

“True.” Evan nodded. “This isn’t a normal case. It involves as many as twenty runaways who may have been recruited into a forced labor camp.”

His mother gasped. “What can we do to help? Do you want us to ask around at the Foundation? I’m sure Elsa and Neil would help.”

Evan thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, but please be discreet.” He unfolded the sheet of paper. “We’re keeping quiet about this case because if we go public before we know where this labor camp is, they might close up shop and leave before we can find it and get those kids out of there.” Now for the hard part. He handed his mother the photo. “This is one of the lead suspects in the case. His name is Frank Manello. Does he look familiar to either of you?”

After a few moments, his parents shook their heads.

“No,” his mother said. “Should we know him?”

Evan took back the picture. “He owns Mile High Pool Cleaning. A number of the missing kids’ families used that company to service their pools.”

“We never used that company.” His dad scratched his chin. “We used Blue something or other until we drained the pool and stopped using it altogether.”

“Blue Waters. The owner is Arthur Constantino. He retired about five years ago.”