Counterfeit Son (13 page)

In his own room, Cameron examined the stacks of age-softened baseball cards, the shoe box of too-bright dinosaur models, the jigsaw puzzle of John Paul Jones's ship grappling with the British warship
Serapis,
the worn copy of
Goldilocks and the Three Bears.
He paged through
Treasure Island,
with its large colored pictures, and
Ships at Sea,
with its one-page stories of great naval commanders throughout history and its pictures of tall ships firing on each other. But he found no clue as to what Neil had really been like. Had he been the selfish, spoiled bully Diana thought he was? Had he been a boy who pushed his mother away when she hugged him? Had he been someone whose return was worth waiting for all these years, or worth dreading?

More importantly, Cameron hadn't found anything he could use to pay off Cougar. He discovered that Neil's parents had sentimentally kept a dormant bank account in Neil's name all these years. It had several thousand dollars in it toward a college fund, but Cameron knew they'd find out if he withdrew any, especially if he took out enough to keep Cougar quiet.

By Thursday morning he felt as trapped as if he'd been locked in the cellar all night. He'd lain awake far into the dark, trying to decide what to do. The Laceys weren't really rich, not like the boy's family who lived in the mansion. The Laceys had plenty of money, but it was in things, like the house and the boats and the cars. How could he pay Cougar what the man wanted?

And even if he paid off Cougar somehow, would he really be safe? For every moment of security, like the time with Neil's mother in the bedroom that day, and the time in the sailboat, he faced hours of suspicion from Diana and probably from Stevie as well. He'd seen the doubts flickering across his parents' faces, too. Did they really believe him, or were they just waiting for the evidence to come in? Evidence they hoped would set the doubts to rest, but evidence he knew would condemn him.

He had still been wide awake when Neil's father came in. The man paused at Stevie's bed but then came to stand at the foot of his own bed. Cameron breathed slowly and steadily, wondering whether the man really knew he was awake all along, wishing he could tell him about Cougar and ask for help. But Cameron didn't know how to ask anyone for help. He'd never done it.

Eventually the man walked quietly out of the room, and Cameron slid into an uneasy dream-wracked sleep, haunted by Cougar's scarred face and heavy fist.

***

When he told Mrs. Pierson he was going to the library again that Thursday, Diana insisted on coming along.

"I remember the way now," he told her.

"Mom and Dad don't want you going off alone," she said virtuously. Since the argument last Thursday night, she hadn't said anything more in front of her parents about his not being Neil, and she made a point of calling him Neil when they were around anyone else. But he knew it was just acting. When they were alone, she didn't call him anything.

He took the nylon duffel bag that Neil's father had brought to the hospital, tossed in the library books he'd checked out with his new card, then strapped it to the carrier on the back of Stevie's bike. Also inside the bag was the jewelry he'd taken from his parents' bedroom.

Cameron hated himself for stealing it. He'd gone into their room Wednesday afternoon, when Stevie was out playing baseball and Diana was washing her hair and Mrs. Pierson was busy in the kitchen. He'd miserably opened the dresser drawers and gone through the carved mahogany jewelry chest and taken some things he hoped wouldn't be missed for a while. Holding the earrings and cuff links and necklaces had made him feel filthier than any of the things Pop had made him do. But he felt cornered and helpless, also, the way he always had when Pop brought another boy home. And he felt angry—the way he had when he thought about how the grownups hadn't ever done anything to stop Pop. There was no one to stop Cougar but him.

After they parked the bikes and went inside the building, Cameron left Diana looking at videotapes and headed toward the children's room. When he was sure she wasn't watching, he doubled back and went outside the library. He left Stevie's bike in the stand, since she'd locked the two of them together with her chain again, and hurried on foot to the side street where Cougar had found him before.

The man was propped up in a doorway, waiting for him. There was a coarse black stubble on Cougar's pale cheeks and a haunted look in his eyes. He looked as if he hadn't changed his clothes since Monday. Cameron could almost see Pop shaking his head and thinking that if you stood out you got caught. Maybe the cops would pick Cougar up for vagrancy or something. But Cameron didn't know if that would help or just give Cougar the chance to tell the cops who Cameron really was.

"I knew I could count on you, partner," Cougar said, grinning at him. "What'd you bring?"

"I told you I couldn't get much," Cameron tried to warn him.

"Just give it here!"

Cameron fumbled with the zipper and pulled out the cloth-wrapped bundle of jewelry. Cougar spilled the pieces into his hand and poked them around with one dirty finger. "I can't live on this, brat! It's only a couple hundred dollars, maybe more if these pearls are real. What about cash?"

Cameron shook his head. "I told you—I can't get any."

"Blow it out the other side," Cougar said, smacking Cameron's head with a clenched fist. Cameron staggered a few steps, his ear ringing.

"Big house," Cougar went on, "boats, cars—there's money! You find it!"

"I can't!"

"You better." Cougar grabbed his T-shirt and pulled him so close that Cameron could smell that the man had been drinking. Cougar had always drunk more than Pop, and this was whiskey, not beer. Cameron remembered how vicious Cougar could be when he got drunk.

"No!" he cried, suddenly terrified. "Don't take me away!"

Cougar released him suddenly and laughed. "You? I don't want you! I want something I can sell to get some money. You're used goods."

Cameron felt as if Cougar had punched him in the stomach, even though this time the man hadn't laid a hand on him.

"I never get a break," Cougar mumbled, shaking his head. His voice turned whiny. "Always somebody else calling the shots. Even found a nice little mouse partner, like you, but I still can't get a break." He frowned. "Say—you got a key on you?"

Cameron shook his head numbly.

"Key to the house," Cougar said. "You get me the key, I'll get the money myself, or something I can sell easy."

"I can't," Cameron whispered, thinking in horror of Cougar going inside the Laceys' house.

"You get that key." The man's voice lost its bleary drunken lilt and sharpened. "I won't take you, but what about that pretty little boy the Laceys have—your pretend little brother? I could get real money for him in Knoxville."

"No!"

"You get me the key," Cougar ordered, "or little brother disappears."

Diana found him sitting on the front steps of the library, hugging the empty duffel bag.

"What's with you?" she asked.

"I just wanted to get out," he said shortly, jumping up and leading the way to the bikes.

"Hey, you were the one who wanted to come, remember?"

Cameron nodded. "I know, but I'm selfish and moody and untrustworthy, remember? I guess I changed my mind."

She piled her books in her carrier basket and unlocked the chain. "Look," she said slowly, "I want you to level with me. I told you—I don't care who you really are, but I do care what you're doing to my family. Okay? I think you're in some kind of trouble and you're lying about it. Am I close?"

When he didn't answer she went on, "Well, I guess it's your business, but I want to know if your trouble is going to hurt my parents, or my brother."

Cameron climbed on his bike. Part of him wanted to trust her, but he'd never had a friend before. He'd never told anybody the truth about Pop back in Buckeye, and he hadn't told anybody now that he wasn't Neil Lacey. He hadn't even admitted anything to Cougar If nobody knew the truth about you, nobody could see just how bad you really were.

"There's nothing to tell," he said, impatient to see Stevie, to make sure the boy was safe. "I just want to go home."

"Don't you want anybody to help you?" she demanded. "I told you—I don't care you're not Neil—I'm
glad
you're not. I like you, and I wish you really
were
my brother."

"I am," he said weakly.

"Come off it," she said. "Little things might change—okay, maybe Neil wouldn't remember the jokes he used to crack up over, maybe he'd even change what kind of books he liked reading. But what you're really like inside doesn't change, and you're not like Neil."

When he kept silent she folded her arms. "Okay. Then I'm going to talk to Dad tonight."

"No!" Cameron whirled on her. "You leave him out of this! And leave me out of whatever crazy story you're making up. I told you—I think you've always made things up. That's why your memories of me are so weird. And that's why you like acting, too, so you can act out your stories onstage. Well, leave me out of your pretend stories from now on!"

He stood up on the pedals and hit the street flying, not looking to see whether she was behind him. Cameron hated pushing her away when she wanted to help, but he couldn't let anybody get too close to him. She'd figured out too much already. And she was just a kid, like him. Even if he could trust her, she couldn't do anything about Cougar.

Diana caught up with him before they got to the lakefront road, and they coasted into the driveway together. But Cameron was off his bike and on his way down the back lawn before she could say anything, and that was fine with him. One lesson he'd learned early and well from Pop was that keeping quiet about things was always better than asking people for help.

He found Stevie down by the dock. The boy was wearing a life jacket and sitting half-asleep in the cockpit of the family boat, smiling as it rocked him gently. Cameron pulled on a life jacket and climbed in with him.

"Hey," he teased, "if you cross a lake with a leaky sailboat, what do you get?"

Stevie's eyes flew open, but he wouldn't play. "What do you want?" he demanded.

"Do you want me to take you out in the Sunfish?" Cameron asked, surprising himself.

"Why would you want to do that?" Stevie asked, suspicious.

Cameron shrugged. "I don't know. I just thought you might like it."

"You can't, anyway. Dad said I can't sail with anybody but him until I'm ten."

Cameron wondered why but didn't say anything. From what Diana had said, surely Neil used to sail alone, and he'd only been eight.

"Diana and me can't do anything on our own because of you," Stevie said angrily, as if he'd read Cameron's thoughts. "Mom and Dad think if they'd been stricter with you, you wouldn't have gone off. So they're taking it out on us."

Cameron looked at the water lapping against the fiberglass hull, urging the boat away from the dock, straining the mooring lines. "I'm sorry."

Stevie sighed. "You say that a lot now. You never used to."

"I've changed. Look, Stevie, I need to talk to you."

The suspicious look was back in Stevie's eyes. "About what?"

"I know you told me that you know not to go off with a strange man," Cameron began, feeling his way just like he'd ease the Sunfish into the wind. "But what about if somebody grabbed you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Suppose you were just walking along, say, and a car pulled up beside you and somebody opened the door and grabbed you and pulled you inside."

"Stop it!" Stevie shouted. "Nobody's going to do that!"

"Stevie," Cameron said, trying to be patient, "it happens. You know how you keep it from happening? You stay away from deserted streets. You don't walk close to the curb, and you never go near a strange car. And if a stranger comes up to you and tries to talk to you or tries to get you to go with him, you run away as fast as you can, and you shout for help. You find any grown-up you know, and you tell them what's happened, and they'll help you."

"Yeah, yeah," Stevie said. "Big deal. Nobody wants me, anyway, they only want you."

Cameron tightened his lips, thinking the boy didn't know how much someone did want him. "That's not true, Stevie. Look—you spend a lot of time alone, too much. I don't want you to go out alone—"

"
You
don't want?" Stevie yelled. "Who cares what you want? You're always off with Diana! You can't be bothered to spend any time with me, just like before. You don't care—so just let me do what I feel like, okay?"

"No, Stevie—" Cameron felt adrift. He thought of all the other boys who hadn't listened to him. Less than three weeks ago he'd tried to tell Josh to be good and do what Pop wanted, and Josh hadn't listened.
You're a chip off the old block,
Pop had always told him.
Only boy I ever found who knows what's good for him, and how to keep quiet about it—that's why I keep you around.
He'd tried to tell them, but none of them would listen. Somehow he had to make Stevie listen. "Look, this is important."

"
I'm
important!" Stevie retorted.

"Yes, you are!" Cameron yelled back. He stood up suddenly, towering over the smaller boy and rocking the boat wildly. "So you listen to me for once in your life! You never go off alone again, do you hear me? You stay with me or your sister all the time, okay? I promise to spend more time with you, and I'll ask Dad about taking you sailing, but don't go off alone!"

"I thought you'd changed," Stevie snapped back at him. "I thought you were nicer now, but you're just the same—bossy, telling everybody what to do. Today you want me to hang around you, next week you won't care! Well, I don't care—I'll do what I feel like!"

"Stevie—"

But the boy had already climbed out of the rocking boat and onto the dock, and was racing up the lawn toward the house.

Cameron climbed out of the boat himself and stripped off the life jacket, then stopped as he heard the sound of measured claps.

"Bravo," Diana said. She was sitting at the picnic table and had apparently watched the argument. "You're the actor—that was a great performance."