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15
Ian pulled himself together, drawing on his training to compartmentalize so he could move forward. That meant breaking the assignment down into steps to take, with the first one being to ensure Sofia’s security. He called Eric.
“Better be important,” Eric answered, the familiar sound of his current favorite video game in the background.
“It is. I want you to take over Sofia’s security.”
“Hold up. You okay?” Eric demanded, his voice sharpening. Ian practically heard the thud of Eric’s feet on the floor as he stood from his gaming chair, ready to roll.
“Yes, fine. Sofia will be staying at her mother’s until her house is habitable again. She’s driving over there shortly and I’d like you to escort her. Make sure she’s safe.” He thought he did a good job of keeping his voice neutral.
“You got it. But what’s gone on?”
Tone or not, though, he should have realized that there was no way Eric would just let this go. He closed his eyes. “The story will have to wait, but the short version is that Sofia and I broke up.”
“Shit.” Eric was silent. “Be there in a few, bro,” he promised.
He was, of course. With a nod at Ian, he asked for Sofia’s car keys and checked over her car before escorting her from Ian’s door to it.
“Sofia,” Ian said as she went to get into the driver’s seat. He wanted to reach for her, but the look on her face made it plain that it was a bad idea.
“Goodbye, Ian. Thank you for all your help,” she replied, sliding into her vehicle.
Those words—formal, cool, final—were still drilling into Ian’s head as her taillights faded into the distance.
He pushed that aside and concentrated on the next task—finding his son before anything happened. The image of Gavin lying in that hospital bed kept forcing its way into Ian’s mind’s eye. Deep breathing didn’t stop his fear, but it did focus him. He grabbed his laptop, pulling up Sofia’s notes.
Gavin wouldn’t be at any of his regular friends’ houses this late, so no point wasting time calling up Zé’s parents, or Cal’s. No, Ian needed the names of kids at Southwest who were known for having parties, and Sofia had included a list of them in her file while Charlie’s research had turned up home addresses. Ian scanned the list, seeing that after one of these parties, another kid, a sophomore this time, had OD’d. That was the house he’d start at.
The addresses were all in Nestor, the same neighborhood as the high school and Ian’s house, so he was at the first place in a matter of minutes. As soon as he arrived at the house, it took him mere seconds to see there was nothing going on there. No extra cars in the driveway or along the street, no lights on, no noise. Fine, so that was one down. Onto the next.
His back stiffened when he pulled up at the second and saw lights were on in what appeared to be a rec room. Approaching, Ian didn’t hear the blaring music he’d expected—remembered—from the parties he’d been to in high school, but he did glimpse light and movement behind the dark drapes at the window.
He pounded on the door. “Open up!” he ordered.
“Jeez. Chill, pizza dude,” a voice yelled from inside before the door finally swung open.
“Not pizza,” the kid at the door remarked.
“Very astute.” Ian surveyed the room that was half storage dump and half den. There was no keg or vat of cheap alcohol, the rock music playing wasn’t loud, and the guests were just a few teenage guys crowded round a game console and huge screen. He didn’t recognize any of them, but then he only really knew by sight his son’s closest friends.
“Was Gavin here?” he demanded.
“Gavin?” someone within repeated blankly.
“Campbell. Freshman. Blue hair.”
“No.” The kid who’d opened the door shook his head. “We don’t hang out with freshmen.”
“Any idea where he might be?” Ian asked.
This led to a conference and “Lasky’s” being tentatively suggested. “All kinds there,” said his host.
Trent Lasky was one of the names in the notes, and Ian’s fear and anger grew as he drove there. This time, the gathering was in a basement or cellar, and Ian, in no mood to be playing hide-and-seek, grabbed a kid as he emerged into the night.
“Is Gavin in there?” he questioned.
“Get off me, man!” the kid spluttered, flailing with shock. Ian just held on, waiting for the kid to stop squirming. “Gavin? New kid?”
