Three

"Kay," she said.  "I know you're probably scared right now."

Scared?  I didn't even realize how badly I'd started shaking and how little I could breathe.

"But I need to ask you a favor."

If anything, I thought she was going to tell me to call the police.  But her next statement were as if she'd read my mind.

"Don't call the police."

Don't.  Don't call the police.  Did she really just say that?"

"What?" I demanded.  "You want me to not call the police when the most wanted man in the United States of America is right next door?"  I had to keep myself from yelling.

"I know it must be scary, Kay, but please just hear me out!"  She started to speak quickly, probably afraid I was going to hang up on her and call the cops anyways.  "Clark is a good boy!  He's my brother and I couldn't stand to see him getting busted with Axton!  He'll probably face life in prison and he doesn't deserve that!"

"Cal, he's with a murderer!  And they're both next door right now!  You really expect me not to call the police?"

"Please!" she yelled.  It sounded like she was starting to cry.  "Please, Kaylee!  I'm begging you not to!  This is my brother we're talking about!  If our positions were switched and it was your mom or dad or Jason next door instead of Clark, would you want me to call the police on them?"

". . . No.  No, I wouldn't want you to."  My voice became really soft as I took a deep breath.  "I won't call the cops, Callie. Okay?  But if I have any reason to think Axton is going to hurt me or my family-"

"Thank you," she cut me off.  She probably knew what I was going to say anyways.  "I'm going back to sleep, Kay.  Ask your parents when they wake up..."  She waited for a reply, but I couldn't make one.

"Bye," she said and hung up.

I set my phone down on the nightstand and took several deep breaths.  In, out.  In, out.  My head was starting to spin.  What did I just agree to?  There's a murderer next door!  And if Clark is with him... Clark is a murderer, too.  Is Cal blind to that fact?  Does she think her brother is innocent, even though when he told her about his initiation he killed two men?  Is he really all that innocent?

I stood up from my bed and slowly walked back to the window.  Axton, Clark and the other guy were standing in a triangle, talking about something.  Axton's back was to me, I could see Clark's face, and the other boy was turned so he could face both of them.

Clark.  He did look like an innocent boy.  He looks innocent, but he can't be.  I need to call the police... but I promised.  I don't break my promises.  No matter how important the circumstances might be against it...

"Clark."  I whispered his name.  "Why did you join him?  I know I don't know you too well, but... you could have achieved so much more."

I leaned my head against the glass window and suddenly Clark looked up at me.

My heart started pounding as our eyes connected and Axton, who was making hand-gestures while he spoke, suddenly stopped and his head moved as though he looked at Clark's face.  When his head started moving again, I gasped and jumped away from the window.

Oh my God!  Did he see me?

Axton

"Clark," I said.  "What are you looking at?"

The boy didn't reply to me.  I looked at his eyes and turned around.  I was looking up at a window, but nobody was there.

"Clark!" I snapped, turning back to him.

Clark

"Huh?" I asked, turning my attention back to Axton.  "Sorry, it's just..."  That girl.  I know her from somewhere.  Where, though?  Agh, come on, Clark!  You've seen her before.  It was a while ago, back when you lived with Mom and Dad, I told myself.  Yeah, she was over one day... she was hanging out with Callie... Callie... Callie...  Kaylee!  Kaylee Conrad...

"Just what?" Axton barked at me.

"That house looks funny to me," I told him.  He gave me a strange look and glanced back at the house.

"What is he going on about?" Axton asked Michael.  Michael shrugged and looked back at the house, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Beats me," he said, speaking with his Australian accent.  "The boy did always have an eye for architecture.  Probably something we can't see."

Axton considered this being a reasonable explanation.  "Houses around here have always been built strangely.  Anyways, Clark, keep yourself focused.  We have to keep this house looking like it's abandoned and we have to avoid drawing attention to ourselves.  That means no partying," he looked at Michael, "no loud music," he looked at me, "and no bringing business associates to the house."  He looked at the ground, as though looking at himself.  If it had been any other person, I would have laughed.

"Are the others going to be coming here?" Michael asked.

"No.  They're staying in Minnesota for now.  The fuzz may still be on a trail... speaking of which, let's get inside now.  Michael, go park the van somewhere away from here and get back here.  I don't care how far away, but the further the better."

He nodded and stalked off toward the van, soon pulling away after I followed Axton inside.

A few hours later around ten o'clock, Axton and I were working on fixing up some loose parts of the house.  The railings needed to be settled down, a few floorboards creaked a lot, and there were some holes in the roof.  We were used to staying in places like this, but when we left, they usually were in better condition than before.

"Clark!" Axton called to me from downstairs.

I was in one of the rooms upstairs--one that was supposed to be a bedroom.  I was looking for possible things we might need to fix up, but I dropped my task at hand and ran down the hallway and down the stairs.  Every other step creaked and squeaked.  Had I been in anybody else's presence, I would have stopped and jumped back and forth between the steps, making my own little symphony, but I disregarded the thought.  Save it for a time when Axton's away and it's just me and Michael.

Although Michael seems like a big bag guy, when Axton isn't around he's a really chill dude.  He joined Axton because he needed the money- similar as me, but our one difference is that I also joined because I wanted to feel like I was in a family that had my back.  Yeah, I could talk to Callie if I needed to, but could I ever turn to my family if somebody wanted to fight me?  I couldn't.  They wouldn't help me.  They would just turn their backs on me.

When I met Axton, he defended me from eight --eight-- guys in an alleyway!  All by himself.  And when he was finished, I expected him to turn on me and beat me down, too.  I was well aware of who he was.

There were two guys in the beginning.  Just two.  I took them down by myself, but then the eight of them jumped on me all at once and I couldn't handle it.  Axton took one look at me and knew I had potential, so he extended a personal invitation to his gang.  With it came professional training on fighting, picking locks and pockets, shooting all sorts of guns and bows, and how to get out of handcuffs-- which I've never had to do yet.

"Yes, Sir?" I asked, coming to a halt in front of him at the stairs.  I may as well have saluted him with how professional I sound.  Michael stood in the background, softly chuckling at me and even Axton cracked a small smile, but it didn't stay long.

"Nobody knows you around here as a bad guy.  I can trust you taking strolls around here, right?"

"Yes..."  I was curious about what he was going to ask me to do.

"Go to the neighbor's house.  Ask if they have an adjustable wrench."  I saw him looking at a loose bolt that was really small, and I started nodding.

"To the Carson residence?" I asked.

He stared at me for a long while.  "You know the neighbors?"

"Not really.  But I know her family is friendly and they may try to chat for a while."  I needed an excuse to see if I could talk to Kaylee.  I actually have no idea how her family is.

I walked out the front door and started toward's the neighbor's house.  There were a white car pulling out of the driveway as I approached but they didn't notice me.

It was Kaylee's parents leaving, which meant she was still most likely in the house.  Alone.

"Mom!" I called, running down the stairs to catch them before they left for work.

She was just about to walk out the door but she stopped and looked at me.  "Yes, darling?" 

"Callie wanted me to ask you if I could hang out with her around noon."

"For what?"

"Her sister is having a baby shower and she wants me to help her shop."

My mother smiled at me, "Sure, sweetie.  Have fun, okay?"

I nodded and watched as she left the door, then I ran back up to my room.  I pushed my door open and looked around.  Every time I left my room, I always had to give a cautious glance around when I returned.  I still was clueless about if Axton saw me or not.  I know Clark did, but... that doesn't necessarily mean he told Axton?  But what if he did?  And now I was home alone, so what if they tried coming in to my house?  What I was supposed to do?

I couldn't run anywhere and there weren't really a lot of places to run and hide in my room.  I listened to my parents pull away in the car and suddenly my stomach sank.  I wanted to run to the window and watch them pull away.  I wanted to take out my cellphone and ask them to come back or to take me with them, but I couldn't go to work with them and instead, I was doomed to be home alone.  Only for another two hours, I told myself.  Two hours... a lot can happen in two hours.  A lot can happen in an hour.  Or thirty minutes.  Or ten.

Agh!  I clasped my head in my hands and slowly made my way over to my bed.  Well, I started to anyways, trying to completely avoid my window, but then the doorbell rang throughout the house and I felt my heart sink.  Oh no, I said to myself.

It could just be Callie... she could be early.  But she would have texted me.

It could be a neighbor simply asking for something.

Axton's a criminal.  He wouldn't ring the doorbell if he wanted to kill me because I saw him.  He'd break right in...  or he could take the polite way around and have a gun when I meet him at the door.  If it's even him!  It doesn't have to be him.  Callie could have decided to just drop by.  No reason to always jump to the worst conclusions.

I walked downstairs, my chest getting heavier with every step.  My breathing was nowhere near steady, and I felt like I could go lightheaded and fall at any second.  My knees were about to give out as I reached the door.  I looked out the peephole and saw-

Clark?  Just Clark...  he was standing there, perfectly fine, perfectly normal.  His hands were in his jean pockets, and he was absentmindedly staring away from the door.  He looked way too casual.  Could it be an act?

Please, Callie, I begged.  Do not let me regret this!

I opened the door with an expressionless mask.  I think I may have looked a little tired though.

"Yeah?" I asked.  "Can I help you?"

Clark gave me a big smile, "Yeah, actually.  Do you have an adjustable wrench?"

In Dad's garage.

"Yeah...?"

He laughed and smiled, and it just hit me that I probably seemed more awkward than I thought.  I was shaking a very little bit, and while I didn't notice, he probably did.

"Can I borrow it?  I'll bring it back," he said.  You need to come back to my house...

"Uh, yeah, sure... I'll be right back," I turned to leave.

"Hey," he called, making me turn back.  "Can I come in?"

I turned back to look at him and the fear must have shown in my eyes.

He gave me a warm smile.  "Kaylee," he said my name and my heart started pounding.

He remembers me!  Does he know Callie told me?  Or does he think I'm afraid just because I saw him?  Callie swore she wouldn't tell anybody and I'm the only person she would break swears like that to.  But he doesn't know that.  He doesn't know I'm her best friend.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said.  "Please, just let me come in."

"And what if I don't?" I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders and laughed, smiling.  "Then I'll stay right here at the door.  I just want to talk."

He just wants to talk?  Or does he want to threaten me because I saw him?

"Do you have any weapons on you?  Anything that could be considered dangerous?"  Did I really just ask that?  I got a sudden burst of courage that quickly fled away.

He gave me a small smile and pulled out a ring of keys and tossed it my way.  I just barely caught them and set them down on the table besides me, then I thought better of it and stuffed them in my pocket.

"That all?"

He patted his pockets and his shirt then nodded.  "Yeah, pretty much.  That was actually all I had on me but I'll need them back or-"

"Axton will kill you...?" I whispered to finish his sentence.

He fell quiet and stared at me for a long second.  I felt a knot forming in my throat as I slowly backed away.  To my surprise, he started laughing.

"Metaphorically.  He would only be mad at me and tell me to find them.  Can we go into the kitchen, though?  I told him you guys were a very friendly family and I might be stuck here for a while and I don't want to lie to him so can you be friendly and invite me to the kitchen or at least in the house?"

I stared at him for a few seconds and gave an exasperated sigh.  "Fine.  Come on in to the kitchen."

I led him to the kitchen and he followed but kept a few feet worth of distance from me, probably to make me feel safer than not.

"Stay away from the knife block," I tell him as my eyes hit that first on the counter when I see it.

He laughed and, as I turned around to face him, he walked right to the dining table and sat down.  The table was currently empty and he said, "I'll just stay here.  Okay?  Will that make you feel better?"

I stared at him for a long second, again.  I couldn't find an answer to his question, so I disregarded it and went to take a seat at the table then stopped.  I turned around and walked to the kitchen cupboards and I pulled out two coffee mugs.  I took a few minutes and started making some coffee, one of the few things I could remember that Clark liked.  He was always asking Callie to make him coffee.

I put some specialized whip cream on the top that my father flavored and brought the coffee to him, setting it in front of him.

He raised an eyebrow at me.  "What's this?"

"You said you didn't want to lie to Axton, so I'm being friendly."

He smiled and took a sip of the coffee, then licked whip cream off of his lips.

"But I still don't trust you."  I looked at the knife block and questioned if I should pick up one or not.  But if he wasn't making any rude advancements, I wouldn't make any either.

"Should I go get the wrench now or later?"

"You can get it now," he said.  "Or later.  I really don't care.  I was hoping to find an excuse to talk to you."

My stomach dropped again.  Lower.  "Why?  About what?"

"You saw me this morning.  And you know who I'm with.  I need to talk to you.  About that."

I turned my back to him and bit my lip, questioning what I should say to him now, if anything at all.  My hand reached up and started to caress the handle to one of the nine knives we had in the block.

"Does he know?" I asked.

"Huh?"  Clark asked.  He didn't understand what I meant?  Really?

"Axton, Clark.  Does he know I saw you guys this morning?  Is that why you're here?"  I started to shake and tears started to line my eyes as I became more and more afraid.  I was terrified to know the answer.

Was my death about to be right in front of me?  Was Clark, a boy so innocent, going to be my killer?

"No.  No, Kaylee.  I didn't tell him."

"Did he see me?" I asked again.  "Does he know I saw you guys this morning?"

"No.  He didn't see you and he doesn't know you saw us."

I turned back to him, my hands letting go of the knife.  I regretted it as I turned around because I expected to see him creeping towards me with a gun or knife or something pulled out to attack me.  But he didn't.  He sat there, sipping at the coffee --like a gentleman.

"Why?" I demanded.  "Why didn't you tell him?  I could be a threat to your 'new hideout' and your buddies, you know."

He laughed.  Just laughed.  "You would have called the police on us.  You wouldn't have let me into your house.  You wouldn't have made me coffee so I wouldn't be lying to Axton.  And I know why you're doing this," he said.

"Why?" I replied.

"Callie," he said.  "It has to be because of Callie.  I don't know if she broke her promise and told you what she promised me she wouldn't tell anybody, and honestly, I don't care.  Because," he licked at the whipped cream from the cup and smiled, "I know that as long as we don't give you a reason to, you won't call the police on us.  Isn't that right?  You're a trustworthy girl, aren't you, Kaylee?  I don't have a reason to be worried about you running to the fuzz.  You won't."

"Axton is a wanted criminal," I said.  "The most wanted Criminal of the U.S.A.  What really makes you think I won't go to the fuzz?"

"You would have already," he said again.  "I see it like this:  As long as Axton doesn't do anything rash--or to bring harm to you or your family-- you won't call the fuzz.  Right?"

I turned to him, wondering how he knew.

"Right..." I trailed off, wondering where he was going with this.

"So then I have nothing to worry about.  Now, can I get that wrench?"

"I... yeah."  I turned and walked off to the door in the corner of the kitchen that led into the garage.  I walked over to where my father kept his tools on the wall and I grabbed one of the wrenches and looked at it to make sure it was adjustable.

I walked back in and found Clark staring at the coffee.

"What?" I asked, handing him the wrench.  He stared at it for a long minute.

"I really like this coffee," he said.  "But you've given me the wrench and now I have to go.  But I really like this coffee."

I stared at him and I just couldn't help but laugh.  I really couldn't help it.  That was the free kind of spirit I expected from Clark.

He sighed and went to grab the wrench but I pulled it back and sat at the other end of the table after getting my own cup of coffee.  I looked at it, still untouched, and gently pushed it over to him.

"Then stay awhile and drink it," I said.  "I won't give you the wrench until both cups are gone... and you can explain to me why you joined Axton's gang and give me a good reason to trust at least somebody from you people living next door now.  Deal?"

"Hm... that depends," he smiled.

"On?"

"If I finish both of these cups before I finish explaining myself to the 'Grand ole Juror,' can I get more?"

"Sure you can.  Now, deal?"

He smiled at me and drank a little more of the coffee.  Then he leaned back in the table and said, "Deal."