Caught Looking Read online

  She slapped her hand across her mouth, her eyes frozen, fear and pity battling in her chest to the point of pain. The older one sneered with such fury she blinked. Before she could say a word, the little one sneezed.

  “Bless you,” Frankie said automatically. The middle one arched a dark eyebrow and his lips quirked slightly. The oldest one, perhaps because Frankie had found her voice, pushed forward from his crouched position, putting the other two behind his body. His military-style haircut made the anger shining in his eyes that much more noticeable. She glanced down to be sure the nine-one was still on her phone.

  “Who are you?” he asked, his voice deeper than Frankie expected. She almost smiled at his bravado, but fear and mild curiosity held her back. She straightened her shoulders, but in sizing him up, she realized he would be taller than she was if he stood up.

  “I’m the owner of this house. I think the better question is, who are you three?” Frankie stayed still and kept her face neutral, even when the youngest one peeked around his brother. His dark-skinned face was somewhat sallow but showed a softness the other two didn’t. Frankie hoped her voice sounded stern as she held their gazes. Show no fear.

  “Have you guys been staying here?”

  The oldest put his hand on his little brother’s face and pushed him behind his back.

  “You’re real quick, ain’t you lady?”

  “Dude. Don’t be an ass,” the middle kid muttered behind him. He leaned against the closet wall and pushed one of his thin dreadlocks behind his ear.

  “We don’t say ass,” the youngest reminded him.

  “No, you don’t say ass,” the middle replied.

  “Shut up,” the oldest demanded. And they did.

  She needed to call the police. Or social services. Someone. Jesus, she’d been worried about finding a cat. Biting the inside of her cheek, she took a small step forward.

  “Stop fighting. Why are you in my closet?” They looked at Frankie then at each other. The little one started a coughing fit. His little body shook. Middle put his hand on his shoulder, holding the boy against him and both boys watched him with more fear than they’d shown at Frankie finding them. They might not have manners, but they cared for their brother. His coughing eased up slightly as he attempted to clear his throat. Frankie hunched down but kept her distance, wanting to be on eye level with them.

  “How long have you been here?”

  Oldest eyed her and measured her up, and some of the ice in his eyes melted.

  “Since before Aunt Beth died. She let us stay here,” he said, his eyes darting away. Frankie’s heart skipped a full beat and she stood. Who are these kids and how did Aunt Beth know them? Tears burned her eyes as wariness came back into the boy’s.

  Her voice hardened. “How did you know my aunt?”

  Had they been here when Beth died? Her heart beat in a slow, dull thud. They hadn’t been close, she and her aunt. In fact, the few times Aunt Beth had torn herself away from this house to visit Frankie’s family in the Hamptons, she’d been impossibly hard to please. Frankie had always thought her attitude was a way to cover the pain of losing the man she loved and not being able to have children. Or maybe Frankie just had a soft spot for the woman who had taken her and Dean in during the summer their parents couldn’t decide whether or not to divorce.

  The oldest stood up, signaling to the others to do the same. “She let us stay here, okay? We don’t want no trouble. We’ll grab our stuff and go.”

  The middle grabbed a bag he’d been sitting on and the older one helped the little guy zip a worn, too-large sweater that dwarfed his small frame.

  “I asked you a question. How do you know Beth?”

  “I answered your question. You deaf?”

  Frankie arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. He glared at her, unmoving. Middle met her gaze.

  “She did let us crash here. We met her at the soup kitchen that’s attached to the shelter where we stayed. Actually, Miles met her,” the middle one said, pointing to the youngest, “and Beth said we could come stay with her.”

  “And then?” Had Beth just decided they could stay indefinitely?

  “Then she died,” the oldest said. The anger in his voice crumpled Frankie’s, unbalancing her emotions.

  They cared about Beth. Beth had cared about them. The woman wouldn’t send Christmas presents because of overpriced postage but she’d take in three strays. They could be lying to her, but she didn’t feel like they were. Their expressive faces hid nothing.

  “Come out of the closet for God’s sake. And give me a minute to think,” Frankie said, backing up. The youngest sneezed again. Frankie looked at him and frowned. “Do you have a fever? Miles…that’s your name?”

  “He’s fine,” oldest snarled. Frankie stepped forward, intending to feel the boy’s forehead but the brother automatically shielded Miles, who flinched and stepped back.

  “I was just going to feel his forehead,” Frankie said, her voice barely audible.

  “He’s fine.” The middle put his hand on Miles’s shoulder.

  Twenty minutes ago, Frankie had thought figuring out dinner was going to be a tough decision. Now, it seemed a whole lot easier than learning about the three kids in front of her.

  “What are your names?” She kept her eyes on Miles and her voice clipped.

  “What’s it to you?”

  She shook her head and used his brother’s words. “Dude, don’t be an ass.” She was sure she saw the middle one smile.

  “I’m Travis. This is Carter,” middle said, earning a glare from Carter. “Look lady, we’ll just go and then you got no trouble. We didn’t take nothing.” Miles sneezed again several times in a row. Frankie sighed.

  “Go on into the living room. Miles, go get yourself some toilet paper out of the bathroom. I haven’t bought any Kleenex,” Frankie instructed.

  Miles looked at Travis, who nodded. The other two followed after him but Carter kept glancing over his shoulder at Frankie. The all waited in a silent train while Miles blew his nose and washed his hands, then she ushered them into the living room. Travis sat on one of the sagging couch cushions with Miles glued to his side. She walked into the kitchen, dug around in her purse, and found her stash of Tylenol. She grabbed a bottle of water from one of her bags and walked back into the living room. Carter immediately cut off whatever he’d been saying to his brothers. Frankie kneeled in front of Miles.

  “Can I touch your forehead to see if you have a fever?”

  He nodded. His face was hot to the touch and she was nobody’s mother but she figured Tylenol could only help. She passed it to him.

  “Don’t touch that,” Travis said to Miles, blocking her hand.

  “Travis. It’s Tylenol. He has a fever. If I was going to drug one of you, it’d be Carter just to get the scowl off of his face.”

  Carter glared at her but Travis smiled, considered her, looked at the pill, which was clearly marked with a trademark T, and told Miles it was okay.

  “I’m Frankie. Beth was my aunt, and this house is mine now. You need to get some sleep and more importantly, I need some sleep.” What she really needed now was time to think.

  “You’re gonna let us stay?” Carter asked, his eyes wide.

  “For tonight. I’m trusting you guys aren’t going to do anything. Mostly because your brother is sick,” she said, saying a silent prayer that she wasn’t an utter fool. She grabbed her car keys from her purse and clutched them in her hand a moment. Leave them all in her house while she ran out to get her bedding or send the oldest one? Biting her lip, she decided Carter wouldn’t do anything if his brothers were inside. With a sigh, she handed the keys to Carter. “I have some blankets in the car. Grab them. Looks like you guys are already set up in the spare room so you can sleep there. Stay in there until you’re sure I’m up and moving around in the morning. Clear?”

  “You gonna lock it?” Travis asked.

  Frankie tilted her head. “Did Beth lock it?”<
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  “No! Ain’t no reason to lock us in,” Carter growled.

  “Prove it. Go onto bed and stay put.” She pursed her lips together and looked at Miles. “Unless your brother gets any warmer. Then, knock on my door and wake me up.” Kids or not, she’d sure as hell be locking her own bedroom door.

  The three of them studied her with a mixture of surprise and wariness. Miles leaned against Travis, his head resting on his brother’s arm. He couldn’t be much more than seven or eight. Carter nodded to them and they went back to the bedroom. He slipped out of the house and came back a moment later with the blankets. Neither of them said a word as he handed her the keys but his eyes softened and his mouth twitched like he wanted to say something.

  When he walked away and she heard the door shut, she let out a harsh, rattling breath. With her hand to her chest, she felt her pulse galloping like a racehorse. Moving quickly, she went to the kitchen, grabbed one of the retro dining chairs, and took it to her bedroom with her. She unpacked her charger and put her phone on the nightstand then locked the bedroom door and pushed the chair underneath the knob. Looking around the room, she wondered who had taken Beth’s bed. Perhaps they had been in better shape than the rest of her retro furniture. Frankie rolled her shoulders and decided it didn’t matter. She got her air mattress sleep-ready, using the task to smooth out her uneven breathing. If only I’d found a cat.

  Chapter 3

  Frankie wasn’t sleeping soundly anyway, so when dry coughing pierced the darkness, she just sat up, blinking herself the rest of the way awake. Leaning against the wall, her air mattress deflating with every move, she let her eyes adjust to the night. A slant of light came through a small part in the paisley-patterned curtains. In between the fits of coughing coming from the room next door, the house groaned and from somewhere in the expanse of greenery outside, Frankie could hear howling.

  Brushing her hair out of her face, she grabbed her iPhone from where it lay beside her and looked up cough remedies. She ignored the several texts from her mom. As she scrolled through, she tried to think of the last time she’d been sick. She winced, remembering it had been last year. Her cough had been nowhere near as bad as Miles’s but Robert, her ex, had asked her to sleep on the couch so he could be well rested for work the next day. He’d loved her, as long as it didn’t interfere with anything else. She clicked on a pediatric site and read some of the suggestions, her eyes gritty from lack of sleep. The coughing continued and she wondered if they had some water in there at least.

  Pushing back the sleeping bag, she pulled a tee shirt on over her tank top and slipped into her yoga pants. The coughing continued and she wondered how much more his poor little body could take. With her phone in hand, she padded into the hallway and noted the light under the door. She knocked once, even as she pushed it open. The boys were propped up against the back wall with blankets strewn around them. Miles was hacking while Travis rubbed his back and Carter’s face twisted with worry.

  “Hey,” she said. She moved into the room, ignoring Carter’s glare. The kid was going to fall over with the weight of the chip on his shoulder. Miles looked up, his watery eyes tired and scared, and continued to cough. Frankie frowned, uncertainty arguing with her growing concern.

  “He didn’t mean to wake you,” Carter said gruffly. His eyes looked tired too and Frankie caught the briefest glimpse of his youth. And his fear. Travis made Miles sit up a bit more.

  “I’m not worried about being awake, Carter,” she said, keeping her tone soft and steady. She stepped toward them and crouched in front of Miles, who was breathing in short bursts. She reached forward, like she’d done hours ago and checked his head: clammy, but no fever. She looked at Travis, who definitely gave off a more approachable vibe than Carter.

  “I’m going to run the shower. The steam is supposed to be helpful,” she said firmly. Someone needed to make decisions and all three of the boys looked helpless in a way that pulled at something inside of her, something she couldn’t name and didn’t want to look at too closely.

  Carter’s voice was flat. “He gotta be in the shower?”

  Frankie shook her head and looked back at him, watching as he stifled a yawn. Travis stood and Miles started to cough again. His small frame shook with the exertion, small tears trailing down his dark cheeks. Frankie’s heart twisted in her chest painfully, like someone had tied a string around it and pulled. She held out her hand to Miles, noticing the subtle way Travis swayed on his feet. These boys were exhausted.

  “Let me take him, okay? You two try to get some sleep,” she said, taking Miles’s small hand.

  “No way. We can take care of ourselves,” Carter said, standing up.

  Frankie appreciated the steel in his voice; it was clear they were able to look after each other. It amazed her that they’d done so in the month since Beth’s death. Frankie had never been put in the position of having to take care of herself, and when she’d decided she wanted to, the idea was ludicrous to the people around her. She had no doubt they didn’t want to need her or anyone else. Still, she had a phone with access to Google, so she figured she was one up on them there.

  “You guys are exhausted. I trusted you to stay in my house. Trust me to sit up with your brother while you get some sleep. You trust me, right Miles?”

  Miles nodded, his lips trembling, and Travis’s shoulders slumped. Carter’s stance was strained, like he was poised for fight or flight. When Miles leaned against her, resting his head against her stomach, not so much showing affection as needing the support, she made the decision for them. She picked him up, surprised by how heavy he was given his small body. His head fell to her shoulder and the feel of his forehead pressing into her neck made her heart pinch again. She gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile to the older two.

  “Just lie down for a bit okay?”

  Travis nodded and sank down against the wall, but she felt Carter’s eyes on her as she left the room, her arms wrapped around Miles. Moving into the small bathroom, she set Miles down on the lid of the toilet and turned the faucet to hot. Miles’s coughing started up again and she took the small glass she’d left by the sink earlier and filled it with water for him.

  “Take a couple sips,” she said. He did as he was asked, in between coughs, then laid his head against the counter. She shut the bathroom door, hoping to keep the steam in the room so it would settle into his chest. She leaned against the wall, unsure of what to do as the vapor rose around them. Her gaze locked on Miles’s watchful one. His eyelids looked heavy, but his coughing subsided into small bursts.

  Taking an uncomfortable seat on the cold linoleum, Frankie wondered what they’d done before Aunt Beth had brought them home. If she hadn’t stayed with her aunt one summer long ago, she’d never have believed her capable of such a thing. Frankie mentally reprimanded herself, starting the phrase, “You can’t judge a book,” before cutting off her own thoughts. There was always more to people than what you saw. Frankie knew that more than anyone. Sometimes, a rough exterior housed a gentle heart and, in her family’s case, sometimes a shiny surface was a façade for a stark reality.

  Miles fidgeted on the lid of the toilet, trying to find a way to be comfortable. His eyes were shiny when he sat straight up and came over beside Frankie, sinking down so his head could lean on her arm.

  “How you doing?” She didn’t know why she whispered.

  “I’m tired.”

  She nodded her head, even though he wasn’t looking at her. “Just close your eyes.” His weight fell more heavily against her side as the steam pumped into the air. His breathing was shallow but definitely more even than it had been. Her eyes drifted closed and for a little while, everything was silent.

  Frankie wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Miles started coughing again but she bolted upright at the sound. His shoulders were hunched as though he was trying to cough into himself. She rubbed his back gently, wishing there was something she could do, wishing she knew what to do. The door opene
d, hitting Frankie in the leg, just as Miles threw up. Before Frankie could respond to Travis’s questions, Miles began to cry in earnest.

  “I’m sorry,” he sobbed and her heart splintered into tiny pieces of helplessness. Travis crowded into the room with them.

  “It’s okay, buddy,” Travis grabbed a towel, shooting Frankie a sheepish glance.

  Frankie turned off the spray that had gone cold. “You’ll be all right, honey. I think you just needed to clear your chest. “

  Miles nodded miserably and Frankie again felt useless and in the way.

  “I’ll be in the living room,” Frankie said quietly.

  The thick green curtains that hung over the living room windows were open, but the night was so dark it didn’t matter. Frankie stood by the window, looking through the trees to Ryan’s house. Had it only been a few hours ago that she’d made her way into this house? She felt like she’d aged since showing up. Settling herself into a corner of the couch, where she could see the stars like spotlights in the sky, she leaned her head back and listened. The coughing had stopped for now, and she could hear creaks of movement down the hall.

  The long drive from Southampton, every mile closer to the unknown, coupled with seeing the house and finding the boys was catching up with her. Her eyelids felt heavy, but she was reluctant to sleep, despite the fact that the coughing storm seemed to have passed. Maybe the steam had helped. She smiled, happy her presence mattered to someone.

  In the last few months, she’d felt less and less that what she did every day made a difference in anyone’s life. Even her own. She loved freelance writing and it filled a small space in her heart, but it felt like all its other parts were missing. Puzzle pieces lost—maybe never there to begin with—leaving her incomplete. She’d fallen into the same trap as the rest of her family: Putting on a show. Pretending to be something she wasn’t. Frankie had no idea what or who she was, but not knowing seemed far better than pretending.