Unspeakable by Kevin O'Brien

cop friend would be moving on eventually. But right now Ian was like the big brother he never had. Collin didn’t want to lose that. So when he promised his grandfather that he’d leave the young detective alone to do his work, it was a total lie.
    He wondered why, after three weeks, the police were still parked outside his grandparents’ house. Was his life really still in danger? Or was it because they suspected he’d killed his mother and her boyfriend? He kept coming back to that question. Ian scoffed at it. Did he really think he’d murdered two people in his sleep? How had he tied them up by himself? Where did he get the gun? Where were the shoes he’d used to create the bloody footprints? He couldn’t have done it by himself—and certainly not while asleep. He was being ridiculous. The double homicide had all the earmarks of a drug-related hit, and until they found the killers, the police would be protecting their only witness.
    Collin had decided to believe him. But it meant the police had every reason to think someone wanted him dead.
    Maybe it wasn’t so crazy to imagine some killer on that boat watching the house. Had the guy really been waiting for the last bedroom light to go off? With everyone asleep, it would be easier to break in undetected and then start the killing.
    No witnesses , he’d heard the man say on that awful night.
    Near the gate at the end of the driveway, Collin stopped dead. From where he stood, he could see the front of Ian’s Honda Civic. He pictured himself going up to it, only to find Ian at the wheel with his eyes wide open and his throat slit.
    Wouldn’t the cop guarding the house be the first to go?
    He pressed the button for the gate, and with a hum, it slowly swung open. Collin took a few more steps to the end of the driveway, all the while staring at the car. There was no one in the front seat, and the passenger window appeared to be cracked. Or was it a reflection on the dark glass? He couldn’t tell.
    Somewhere behind him, a twig snapped.
    â€œCollin?”
    He swiveled around and accidentally dropped the can of Coke.
    Ian gaped back at him. He stood a few yards in front of the car—near the side of the road. He wore a gray T-shirt and jeans, and held a gun. Collin hadn’t seen him with a gun in his hand before.
    â€œGod, you scared the crap out of me!” Collin whispered. “What’s going on?”
    Ian tucked the gun in the back waist of his jeans. “I thought I heard something,” he said. “I was checking it out. I’m a little jumpy tonight. They put us on alert.”
    â€œWhat do you mean? What kind of alert?”
    He picked up the can of Coke from the pavement. “Was this for me?”
    Collin nodded.
    Ian tapped the top of the Coke can several times. “Every once in a while, they try to scare us with something—some tidbit—so we don’t get too comfortable in the job. Today happens to be one of those times.” He held the Coke away from him as he opened it. A bit of spray came out. Then he raised the can at Collin. “Thanks,” he said, taking a swig.
    â€œSo what happened?” Collin asked.
    Ian warily glanced toward the house. “We need to talk.” He nodded at the car. “Hop in—and don’t slam the door. You might wake up your grandparents.”
    Collin climbed into the passenger side of the Civic and carefully closed the door. He noticed the window wasn’t cracked at all. It was just the shadows of tree branches. Ian ducked behind the wheel and stashed the gun under his seat. With the key, he turned on the car’s electric system for a moment to raise the windows. Then he turned it off again.
    â€œThis alert you’re on,” Collin said. “Did they put an extra guy on a boat to watch the house from the beach side?”
    Frowning, Ian shook his head. “No. Why?”
    â€œThere was a guy out on this small