Unspeakable by Kevin O'Brien Page B

while.” He sat back in the driver’s seat again and heaved a long sigh. “Anyway, as usual, I’ve told you way too much. You probably won’t sleep a wink tonight, because of me and my big mouth. It’s probably for the best we pull the plug on our midnight bull sessions. Okay? In fact, you should head back inside now—before your grandfather wakes up and realizes . . .”
    Ian didn’t finish. His eyes shifted to the rearview mirror.
    A light swept across the car, illuminating the interior for a moment.
    Collin turned and squinted out the rear window.
    A car had turned into Skog-Strand Lane. Collin couldn’t see the make or model, just the headlights piercing through the darkness. “Is that one of your guys?” he asked.
    Ian shook his head. “They would have let me know backup was coming.”
    Collin watched the vehicle slow down. He still couldn’t see what kind of car it was. There weren’t any streetlights on the tree-lined private road.
    Eyeing the rearview mirror, Ian slowly reached under the driver’s seat. “Listen, do me a favor. Crawl back to the seat behind you, where my jacket is. Crouch down on the floor and cover yourself with the jacket.”
    â€œAre you serious?” Collin whispered. His heart was racing.
    â€œJust do what I’m asking you!” he hissed.
    Collin managed to squeeze through the space between the two front seats. Twisting himself around, he plopped onto the backseat. The car’s headlights illuminated the inside of Ian’s Civic for another fleeting moment.
    The lights suddenly went out. But Collin could still hear its motor humming—and the faint sound of gravel crunching under tires. Then it stopped. Peeking out the rear window, Collin could see the vehicle was a black SUV. “Maybe he’s lost—or he stopped to take a pee,” he murmured.
    â€œGet on the floor and cover yourself up.”
    Collin put the coat over the back of his head, but continued to peer out the rear window.
    â€œThe tires are riding low,” Ian murmured—apparently to himself. “There are at least two or three people in that SUV.”
    Collin didn’t say anything. But he remembered the newspapers reporting that two or three people might have carried out the murders of his mother and Chance. He studied the SUV, sitting there motionless. It was too far away to read the license plate. “Do you think they see us?” he asked.
    â€œWell, I don’t want them seeing you. So for the third and final time, Collin, stay down until I tell you the coast is clear.”
    Collin followed his instructions, crouching on the floor with the jacket over him. He hated the darkness—and the silence. He wanted to ask Ian what was happening, but decided it was best to shut up and just count to himself. He heard him shifting around in the driver’s seat.
    â€œHello, Bainbridge Island Police,” Collin heard him say. “This is Detective Haggerty with the SPD, guarding the Stampler house at 27 Skog-Strand Lane. I have a suspicious vehicle that has come up the street here and stopped, an SUV, black in color. I’m too far away to see the plates. Please stand by, officer may need assistance. . . .”
    Collin listened to the front door click open. The car’s interior light went on. He dared to peek out from under the jacket. Past the door opening, he could see Ian only from the neck down. He had one hand behind his back, ready to grab his gun. He murmured something into the phone.
    In the distance, the SUV’s engine started up. Collin listened to the gravel under its tires again. He peeked over the edge of the backseat in time to see the SUV turning around—with its headlights off. Only as it neared the end of Skog-Strand Lane did the vehicle switch on its lights. Ian was saying something into the phone about a false alarm, and then he thanked them for their help.
    Collin shrugged off