Come Out and Play

Chapter 1

Graduation Day, Boston, Massachusetts

Crevan Conall

Tiny beads dotted her upper lip, and she shifted from one foot to the other even though we were sitting. Her fingers gripped the sides of the metal folding chair so hard that her knuckles were ashen. Her chest barely moved, and were it not for those dark, fluttering eyelashes, I’d have wondered if she had lost consciousness. I imagined that from a distance, she looked like carved, pale marble in the shaft of morning sunlight illuminating her and underscoring the ivory skin. Dust motes swirled around her, as if she were some precious antique, unveiled after a light breeze disturbed the coat of passing time she wore.

How much longer is this going to take? her voice a disconnected whisper through dry, pale lips. I don’t think I can take much more of this.

He’s with his family right now—

"I am his family! a shock of red slashed onto her cheeks. I’ve waited nine years to be with him again, Mr. Conall. They could at least…"

The words strangled in Gia Malone's throat when a pair of graffiti-decorated, pink Converse All Star’s came into her field of vision. Her eyes hadn’t lifted from the patch of grass right in front of where her chair rested on the lawn of the swanky preparatory high school’s commencement ceremony since we’d taken our seats.

They moved now, slowly, like a sated man might devour the sight of that which he still craved with what lingered of longing. There was no rush, no fired urgency to take it all in at once. I could see her head lift incrementally from the large pink shoes adorned in paint, to the hem of his denim, up higher to the white robe that hung just past his knees.

She was taking too long, probably freaking out the poor boy.

Micah? I asked softly as I rose and extended my hand. I’m Crevan Conall…an acquaintance of your sister.

G, he said softly, is that really you?

Their eyes finally met, chocolate to chocolate. The family resemblance was as undeniable as the one I share with my own twin sister.

Gia didn’t answer, but she did finally stand up. She scuffed the toe of her own shoe into the turf. It’s me, she said. You okay?

He nodded. It’s weird. I mean…it’s not like we haven’t talked since your friends found me. I guess—

Whatever he planned to say was cut off abruptly when Gia flung herself at him. Micah’s eyes drooped just a little bit, head dipped down until hers was tucked securely under his chin. The tassel on his cap tangled in her curls when he planted a quick succession of kisses on the dark crown of her head.

It was that tilt of his head that revealed something, long and white, faded, but the puckering of the flesh made it prominent somehow, in contrast with his dark hair. The jagged mark extended from his left temple down, under the jawline, as if something intended for his neck had slipped, had sliced through the side of his head as it sought the softer and infinitely more vulnerable underside of his skull. The thin snake of scar tissue reminded me of razor sharp piano wire, for some reason, with its path thwarted by four obstructions…

My eyes widened and drifted to the hands gripping Gia, to the left, the ones missing the very tips of all four ends.

Good Christ, what had Gia saved this child from when she beat a man to death with a symbolic artifact of the remission of sin, the chalice of Christ?

Hey, G, it’s all right. It’s all right, honey.

Are you happy? her whole body trembled as she pulled back only far enough to peer up into the handsome, youthful face.

Now I am, a single tear sluiced down his cheek. I’m so sorry about what happened to you.

It’s okay, she said. It was worth everything to make sure you were safe, and look at you!

Gia pulled back a bit more without letting go of her long lost brother. Her hands gripped his waist. You’re so tall! Much bigger than Séraphin!

He lapsed into rapid and very fluent French, while I waited for Gia to smack him for showing off. Much to my surprise, she merely grinned.

"So you’re smart, huh? Maman always said you were our étoile brillante. Will you go to college in the fall? Did you get into a good one? Oh, you must’ve, Micah! Your parents would’ve made sure of that."

MIT, he admitted. But G, tell me about you. Where have you been all this time? I asked my parents probably a hundred times if they knew what happened to you. They even hired someone to try to find you, but—

Shh, she pressed one finger against his lips. "It doesn’t matter anymore, mon frère. All that matters is right now, and tomorrow and the wonderful life that you will have."

It was an odd moment for another revelation to strike. Gia was speaking French. Malone —wasn’t that an Irish name? Not that an Irishman had never married a French woman before, or maybe her parents simply liked the name Gia regardless of the ethnicity. It still didn’t explain why our scarcely educated Gia spoke French so fluently, even if there was still a bit of Boston twang in her inflection.

Gia had repeated the story she told to Helen to me, before we left Darkwater Bay yesterday, and again on the flight to Boston last night.

Their mother, Louise Malone, vanished when Gia was ten years old. Her disappearance left them in the care and custody of a step-father, one Gia had yet to name, for the next three years until he too vanished. It was at that point, that Gia had taken little brother Micah, five years her junior, and slipped through the cracks.

I wondered though, if the slip was more of an intentional dive. Clearly Gia had trust issues, and while she hadn’t elaborated much about her childhood, she’d given both Helen and myself a distinct impression that her life had not been a happy one, that she had observed some sort of misery at the hands of men, the step-father being the most likely candidate.

It was how Gia managed to finagle her deal with my sister. We would do everything humanly possible to find out what happened to Louise Malone. We'd even track down this elusive and unnamed step-father and bring him to justice if our suspicions could be confirmed and Louise was the victim of a fatal domestic abuse incident.

My eyes were drawn back to that scar on Micah’s face again. It was harder to even see it now that his head was held at a normal angle. How rude could I be with these two? At some point we had to have a more detailed conversation about what their lives had been like before Louise disappeared. The scar had me itching to ask what had happened, if it was part of the assault on Micah that Gia had stopped when she killed Father Jean-Baptiste Chevalier.

If my sister were here, she’d be dragging the two of them off for that conversation without a moment of hesitation.

But, I am not Helen Eriksson. Gia and Micah had a past together. They’d been separated for ten years. Gaining cooperation seemed the more prudent move, at least to my way of seeing things.

Come back to the house, Micah’s voice dragged me back into their conversation. Mom and Dad are dying to meet you, G. They said you’re family too.

I… she hesitated for a moment. "Micah, I really can’t. And before you argue with me, remember that they’re strangers to me. You are my family. I accept that you have other people who love you, and I’m grateful, I really am."

She waived one hand lightly and encompassed the opulence of a high school graduation beyond what even I could imagine. They gave you this. You have a beautiful life now, and a future. I don’t want to shit all over it.

G, he began to protest.

Her fingers slipped over his lips. "No, mon cher, this is your day with them. Our time will come tomorrow, and then you can tell me all about this beautiful life you have, and I can tell you why I’m not here alone."

For the first time, Micah Malone seemed to notice that Gia had a man standing behind her. He appraised me almost as slowly as Gia had looked at him a few minutes ago.

You’re kind of old for her, aren’t you? his chest puffed, and one arm wrapped around Gia’s shoulder tightly.

It’s not like that, she scolded. Besides, he has a boyfriend, a very jealous boyfriend from what I’ve heard.

The kid didn’t relax one little bit.

Then who the hell are you, and why are you here? You’re a cop, aren’t you? G…, please tell me you’re not in trouble again.

I’m not a cop anymore, Micah, I said. But I am an investigator. Your sister isn’t in trouble. I’ve just been helping her for awhile now.

His face cracked into a broad smile. You’re the guy who helped her find me!

He’s one of them, Gia said. I’ve met some good people, Micah.

Mike! a voice boomed from several yards away.

His eyes sparkled as he turned, dragging Gia along with him.

Over here, Dad, he called, waving with the hand that wasn’t clenching his sister tightly to his side.

Maybe Micah sensed it, that Gia was about to twist free and run, but he prevented it with the even grip of his slightly truncated fingers.

Micah—

"Oh, c’mon G. It’s not gonna kill you to be sociable and at least meet them."

I agreed, and now that I had perhaps another source of information on at least Micah’s past, I was very eager to meet his adoptive family. Surely they’d be able to fill in the vast majority of blanks about the lives of these two children.

Home is not a geographic concept, but something we all carry inside ourselves. I read that somewhere once, and at that moment, I couldn't stop thinking about it, wondering if this was my experience wherein understanding the true meaning of philosophy would occur.

Chapter 2

Crevan Conall

It was what Helen described to me, occurring right before my eyes this time. She told me that Gia’s tough girl façade evaporated the moment she was incarcerated again. While there were no bars on the doors or windows, no concrete cells here, Gia withdrew like a moon flower at dawn.

This didn’t stop Micah—who everyone but Gia called Mike—from dragging her around his graduation garden party, introducing her to older adopted siblings, aunts, uncles and cousins.

She drew the line when they came to Micah's adoptive brother, a rather handsome young man who appeared mostly amused by the hullabaloo surrounding his much younger brother.

Gia yanked her hand away from Micah and rushed toward the back gate.

I was with her brother’s adoptive father, listening raptly while he explained that Mike could’ve gone to any Ivy League school, that he’d been offered enough scholarships to attend the best of the best.

I’m sorry, I said. It’s Gia…I’m afraid all of this is a bit overwhelming for her.

I had only taken two steps toward the back gate when he laid his hand on my shoulder. She’s bound to be frail. Lord knows that Mike had enough to deal with at his tender age when he came to live with us.

I’d like to hear all about it, sir, but right now, I need to make sure Gia’s not running for the nearest bus station.

Quite right. I apologize.

She was just outside the gate, leaning against the solid brick wall that provided privacy to the estate’s back lawn. Her hands braced against her knees, and she bent over them. The tips of Gia’s hair bobbed against the gravel in the drive behind the wall on every gasping breath.

Intense, huh, I squatted down in front of her.

She nodded and struggled to conceal the depth of her emotional reactions behind her tough-girl mask. Sorry…it’s just so many people in such a…a small place.

Small? The backyard was half an acre if it was an inch. Yet to Gia, she probably felt packed into to a very small can like one of a hundred sardines. Helen would probably label her with PTSD. Maybe it was true. Only God knew how bad her life had really been. The rest of us could barely imagine.

Perspiration dotted her upper lip again.

Are you too warm?

No, accompanied by a shiver. I just need some space.

Do you want me to make our excuses and set up a time when you can see Micah alone? I asked.

Gia nodded. I just can’t face all of those people. They know what I am…and they must be horrified that I showed up here today.

It was pointless to argue with her on that point. I doubted that the shocked expressions I’d seen had been anything more than surprise that Micah had a sibling at all. Micah's adoptive parents, James and Susanne Hartwell, hardly struck me as the type of people prone to idle gossip of any kind. But Gia had made up her mind. Maybe in a less overwhelming setting, she’d see that these people were willing to accept her simply because Micah loved her so much.

I stretched as I rose, but Gia’s hand slashed out and clasped my fingers before I could move away. Crevan?

A day for firsts. Up until that moment, I’d been nothing but Mr. Conall. Do you want me to stay with you a little longer?

She shook her head. Will you tell Micah that I’m sorry to leave so suddenly, but that I’m very proud of him?

Of course I will, Gia. You can tell him yourself too, when we get the two of you together without the crush of a crowd.

Investigating without a badge to encourage cooperation from people was a new gig for me. I’d spent seventeen years of my adult life as a cop, most of those as a police detective. It’d been nearly a year now since the job changed forever. And for me, there was no turning back this time.

I liked the challenge of getting people to confide in me without fear of some unspoken consequence whispered from that ring of metal with my rank and ID inscribed onto it. Though to be honest, I hadn’t spent very much time working on that skill for the past six months.

My brother-in-law is a good guy, through and through. More than that, he’s been my best friend for most of my tenure as a cop. Johnny Orion was a friend before he was my brother-in-law, and he was my boss before that. When our last job as investigators for the powerful special state police task force back home in Darkwater Bay collapsed under the pressure of political intrigue and corruption, Johnny pretty much made the decision for me.

I was out. I needed to take the opportunity to have a life I’d never been able to enjoy from behind the badge, but still put my skills to good use. Johnny owned his own security business, an inheritance from his late father. He decided there was no better place for me as an investigator, or as a human being still struggling to understand my identity, than working out of the spotlight of police scrutiny.

His wife, Helen, is my sister. Not just a sister, but a twin. Helen’s a very non-traditional…human? Sometimes it feels like she’s a species of her own. We didn’t actually meet outside the womb until we were thirty-eight years old. It’s been nearly two years of drama, one of which has taken place under the glaring light of full disclosure. She didn’t know who she really was. I knew, but considering her skills in hand-to-hand combat and precision marksmanship, and her refusal to believe anything without scientific evidence prepared well in advance, it would've been accurate to say I was reluctant to confide my well-founded suspicions.

But there was always a camaraderie between us, an easy sort of comfort and flow. I get her. She understands me too, and without explanations. Helen just knows things about me, and she tapped into them almost from the very beginning. She didn’t care that I love men. It didn’t matter to her that I was torn between two worlds—the reality of who I am, and the perception that others demanded I fulfill.

When she sat me down two months ago and outlined her plan for Gia Malone, my initial reaction was to balk, one-hundred-percent.

Crevan, I promised this girl that we’d help find out what happened to her mother. You of all people should be sensitive to this.

No, I’d argued succinctly. "You of all people are sensitive to her plight, Helen. You were the one ripped from your family as an infant without any idea who your real mother and father were."

"I have my real father," she muttered in soft protest.

True enough. Wendell Eriksson raised her and loved her, nurtured her more than our biological father was capable of doing. That adoptive mother on the other hand, was more like our biological father than either of us had ever discussed. Then again, the twin thing sort of made that conversation unnecessary. In the end, I accepted her father as mine, and she accepted my mother as hers. It was a bumpy road for Helen, but everybody’s happy now.

"You know what I’m saying, Helen. Finding this girl’s mother was your promise to her, and you’re the one who—"

"Has two infants who need their mother around the clock. We know what you’re going to find. Gia Malone's mother is dead. The likely culprit in the crime is the step-father. This is a no-brainer, Crevan. Get the girl face to face with her long lost brother, get the particulars on the death of Louise Malone, and if possible, assure Gia that this step-father is behind bars where he belongs, and be done with it. It’s not like you’re really investigating anything anyway. Johnny’s about wrapped up his end of the new division of the state police, and you’ll be left twiddling your thumbs if he decides to bow out of public service completely and return to the business you've been running for him. Believe me. At some point, you’ll be bored and itching for anything to relieve the tedium."

Is that a confession that motherhood is less thrilling than chasing monsters and serial killers and corrupt politicians?

She punched me in the arm, hard enough to leave a bruise large enough for my significant other to notice that night. Helen got a pretty irate phone call from Alex almost before I spit out that I’d certainly provoked her, and that she has a long history of underestimating her own strength.

Simple. Wasn’t that what Helen predicted?