Chapter 2

Ever since I caught that glimpse a few days ago in Aunt Susan’s shop, of her massaging my dad, the image had been stuck in my head, refusing to fade.

These past few days, my mind kept replaying what Aunt Susan had done to him. It wasn’t out of some sense of loyalty to my mom or anything like that. No, it was more the way Aunt Susan toyed with him behind closed doors that left me unsettled. Even now, that evening scene played back in vivid detail, and part of me wanted to sneak another peek at one of his sessions. But when I thought it over, I realized I had no good excuse to wander into her shop again without raising eyebrows.

Lately, Dad had been coming home later than usual each evening. One night, over dinner, I brought it up casually, asking why he’d been out so late these days. His response was casual too, almost offhand. “Getting a massage,” he said, not hiding a thing, laying out his routine plain as day.

I pressed a bit further. “At the hospital?”

He didn’t pause. “Just a small clinic.”

A small clinic. So that’s how Dad saw Aunt Susan’s place, huh? He was lying to me, plain and simple.

I wasn’t buying his polished explanation. Sure, it stung a little that he wasn’t being straight with me, but I wasn’t exactly shocked. To these adults, I was still just a kid. What could I do if he spilled the truth anyway? He probably figured I’d run straight to Mom with it.

That day when I got home, I saw Dad had beaten me there. He was in the living room, lighting up a cigarette and taking slow drags. The ash on it was already ridiculously long by the time I walked in, so I figured he’d been back for a while.

Curiosity hit me out of nowhere. “Dad, you’re home early today. No massage?”

He glanced up from his newspaper, met my eyes for a second, then said, “Not today.”

For some reason, that news left me oddly disappointed. I couldn’t help asking, “You won’t go anymore?”

He must have noticed the ash dangling from his cigarette, because he stubbed it out in the ashtray right then. “Yeah,” he muttered. I stood a few feet away, watching him get up from the couch like it was no big deal and head to the kitchen to start dinner.

I’d been scheming ways to slip back into Aunt Susan’s shop for one last look at him getting worked on, but hearing that answer crushed the excitement, like a rollercoaster drop straight into disappointment.

Maybe his back really was better now. The news mixed joy and sadness in me, all tangled up. Joy because he wouldn’t have to deal with the pain anymore, sadness because his visits to get massaged were over.

My plan to spy on him might have fallen apart completely, but the pull of his body toward me only grew stronger, more tempting.

One afternoon after school, I took the usual bus route home. As we passed Aunt Susan’s salon, I noticed a crowd gathered out front, blocking the entrance completely.

Puzzled, I joined the throng to see what was up.

Being on the smaller side, I slipped through the adults easily and got a clear view inside. There were a couple of cops in uniform standing in the shop. One was jotting notes, the other listening to Aunt Susan gesture wildly as she talked.

Panic fluttered in my chest. Had someone reported her little den of vice?

If the cops hauled her away, would they drag my dad in too?

As my mind raced with how to warn him, I started piecing together that it wasn’t what I feared.

Turns out, a burglar had broken into the shop the night before. While everyone slept, he’d ransacked the place and made off with valuables. Aunt Susan hadn’t noticed anything off when she opened up that morning, but as she geared up for business, she realized the safe was cleaned out: cash, jewelry, all gone. She called the cops right away, but by now, the thief was probably long gone.

The police weren’t there for her shady side gigs after all, just to help catch the crook. Once I got that, relief washed over me.

Still, with so much time passed, the guy’s likely vanished without a trace. What leads were there to chase some stranger no one knew?

Unless you had x-ray vision or something to spot his face from afar.

When the cops asked if there were security cameras, Aunt Susan slapped her forehead. “Officer, I totally forgot! Yeah, we’ve got them in every room.”

The older cop nodded. “Lead the way, then. Might’ve caught the guy’s face on tape.”

She ushered them up to the second floor, into a little room tucked in the corner. The crowd of us onlookers trailed after.

The room was in an overlooked spot on the upper level, so nondescript that you’d miss it unless you looked hard. The door blended seamlessly with the wall, just faint outlines marking it.

I’d been there before and never spotted it.

It was a long, narrow space, deep but barely wide enough for three adults in a line.

At the far end, two shelves held boxes of hair and shampoo supplies, judging by the labels and ads.

Closer to the door, a table sat with two computers displaying feeds from every room in the shop.

A stool was in front, but it looked unused for ages, covered in dust.

Aunt Susan shoved the stool deeper in, clearly not planning to sit. She waved the cops inside while we hung back at the door.

The middle-aged officer leaned over the table, one hand steadying it, the other on the mouse. They scrolled through the feeds, and when they hit the room from Dad’s last session, my face heated up, like I’d been caught red-handed.

I glanced at Aunt Susan quick, but she was unfazed, so I shoved the awkwardness down fast.

They pulled up the previous night’s footage and spotted the intruder, actually a pair working together: one tossing the place, the other keeping watch.

No clear faces, thanks to masks, but their shifty looks stood out, distinctive even covered up.

The female cop turned to us gawkers. “Anyone here recognize these types?” She pointed at the screen, as if the features were unique enough to ID despite the masks.

Heads shook all around; no one knew those weaselly faces.

She looked frustrated.

The cops left soon after, the older one reassuring Aunt Susan on the way out. “Don’t worry, these things take time, but with tech these days, nabbing the perp’s no big deal. Just patience.”

“What about my stuff?” she asked.

“Lost property’s a crapshoot by now, probably spent already. But once we get them, the law’ll sort it fair, and you’ll get compensation.”

She still seemed anxious. I figured she was just out of luck on this one.

As she saw the cops off, Aunt Susan spotted me. Her worried face softened into a warm smile. “Hey, Ryan? What are you doing here? By yourself?”

I nodded.

“How come you’re not with your dad?”

“I just got out of school. He’s busy at work, so I head home alone.”

Her mind seemed to wander for a second, mumbling, “Yeah, he’s been tied up. Hasn’t been around in days.”

“What?”

She snapped back. “Nothing! I’m just flustered from all this.”

I could tell she was thinking about Dad. Looked like he really hadn’t shown up for massages lately.

She ruffled my hair. “Look at you, handling school and the bus all by yourself. So grown up!”

She knew I’d been taking the bus home this semester, yet here she was acting surprised, like the theft had her all mixed up.

I couldn’t tell if she was covering for almost spilling that Dad came to the shop, or if the break-in had her head spinning. Either way, her scattered talk cracked me up.