Never Tell Them, N.L. Hinkens [unputdownable books txt] 📗

locked on the fresh-faced teenager staring accusingly up at him. This little piece of plastic in his hand was as incriminating as a lock of her hair. A killer’s souvenir. He’d watched enough crime shows to know that murderers often kept something belonging to their victims as a trophy of sorts. He slumped to the ground and dropped his face into his hands, rocking back-and-forth on his knees as he moaned softly. What had he done? Had he abducted Katie Lambert? Buried her and marked a trail to her grave?

A sound behind him startled him. He spun around to see Henry watching him intently. Pulling out his thumb he asked, “Is you sad?”

Sucking in a jagged breath, Ray took a moment to compose himself. He couldn’t remember Henry directing a question at him since he got home from the hospital, or taking any interest in him at all, for that matter. Yet, Henry always seemed to be looking at him as if he knew something Ray didn’t. If he could keep him talking, he might get some much-needed answers. Maybe if Ray displayed some vulnerability, Henry would reciprocate.

”Yes, I am,” he answered. “I’m sad, and frightened, and confused. Sometimes dads get that way, you know.”

Henry blinked solemnly at him. “I’m sad too.”

Ray scooted over the carpet and lifted Henry into his lap. His first inclination was to reassure his son that he would always be there for him, but the words stuck in his throat. If he had something to do with Katie Lambert’s disappearance, then he was a criminal. For all he knew, he could be on the run. Thanks to the concussion, he had no way of knowing what the truth was. He swallowed the barbed knot in his throat. If he was arrested, Henry would face a life without either of his parents. He fought to calm his thumping heartbeat. ”What are you sad about, buddy?”

Henry squirmed in his lap, avoiding looking directly at him.

“It’s okay,” Ray said, softening his tone. “You can tell me anything. You’re not in trouble.”

”Never … tell … them,” Henry whispered into his fist, almost as if he was reminding himself. With a valiant wriggle, he escaped from Ray’s grasp and darted out of the room.

“Wait!” Ray called after him, scrambling to his feet. He caught up with Henry in the hallway and swooped him into his arms in a playful fashion. Whatever was troubling his son, he couldn’t force it out of him. First, he needed to build some trust—beginning with keeping his promise to have some fun together. He would figure out what to do about Katie Lambert’s driver’s license later. ”How about you and I grab some water bottles and head to the park? It’s about time we got out of here.”

After Googling the closest park, Ray reached for Henry’s hand and set off down the road. Henry insisted on bringing his toy truck, and Ray gave up on trying to dissuade him. The last thing he wanted was to instigate another tearful outburst. To his relief, Henry seemed content to hold his hand as they strolled to the park. Several times, Ray tried to engage him in conversation, commenting on the various dogs they passed, talking about the different things they could do at the park, even suggesting they go for ice cream afterward—but Henry trotted along at his side in silence, his little face only lighting up when the playground came into view and he saw the other kids laughing and chasing each other around.

“What do you want to do first, Henry?” Ray asked, surveying the scene as they approached the play equipment for younger children. ”That slide sure looks like fun.”

Henry stood on the sidelines observing the other children for several minutes, then took a tentative step toward them.

“Want me to hold your truck for you?” Ray offered. “That way you have your hands free to climb.”

Henry shook his head, tucking his toy truck protectively under his arm, before trotting over to the play equipment.

Ray folded his arms across his chest and watched him make his way laboriously up the steps to a slatted rope bridge connected to a bright red plastic slide. Henry’s one-handed progress soon began to frustrate the other children, drawing attention to himself. Ray glanced around, catching the curious glances of a couple of the mothers watching from the benches dotted around the park. He smiled uneasily back at them. The last thing Henry needed was an ardent mom brigade descending on him to hurry him up. He watched as Henry crossed the bridge and went down the slide, a smile breaking out on his face. A little girl with pigtails and glasses laughed and grabbed his hand, and the two of them ran back around to the steps to climb up again. Ray blew out a relieved breath. It looked like Henry had made a new friend.

It wasn’t long before the pair abandoned the slide and moved on to the sandbox, digging with what Ray assumed were the little girl’s plastic shovels. Her mother, or nanny, sat off to one side on a bench, rocking a baby in her arms. She was carrying on a conversation with the kids, and Henry appeared to be conversing with her, but Ray couldn’t make out what they were saying. He was deliberately standing close enough to keep an eye on Henry, but far enough away so as not to intimidate him into silence. He didn’t want a stranger at the park picking up on their awkward father-son dynamic.

After a few minutes, the kids grew bored with the sand and ran back over to the slide. Ray waved and smiled encouragingly at Henry, but he merely stared at him in passing. Ray couldn’t help feeling deflated that his son warmed more easily to anyone other than him. He watched as the little girl skipped over to the woman to take a drink from the water bottle she was holding out to her. After taking a