Pushed Read online

  “Tess always says that it’s her goal to get every kid a scholarship. Every kid who wants one, anyway,” Lily explained. “She also has job training programs for people who don’t want to go to college.”

  “Do you want to go?” I asked. I was still having trouble wrapping my mind around the fact that Lily Fowler was living at the Haven. What had happened in her life to get her here?

  SUSPECT PROFILE

  Name: Tess Markham

  Hometown: Charlotte, North Carolina

  Physical description: Age 54, short silver hair, black eyes, 5’9”, approximately 160 lbs.

  Occupation: Director of the Haven.

  Background: Son ran away ten years ago.

  Suspicious behavior: Runs the Haven, so probably knows or is involved in whatever Evan found out.

  Suspected of: Being involved in something illegal. Killing Evan.

  Possible motives: To protect the Haven from the bad publicity Evan was about to give the center.

  Lily shrugged. “Right now, I’m in day-to-day mode. What about you? Are you planning to be a cop like your—” She snapped her mouth closed for a moment, then went on. “It seems like half the guys I meet want to be cops like, uh, your basic action heroes.”

  But that’s not what she had been about to say. She’d stopped herself from asking if I wanted to be a cop like my dad.

  Lily had recognized me and Joe. Why was she pretending she hadn’t? What was she hiding?

  8.

  SECRETS

  “So what do you think Lily’s deal is?” I asked. Frank and I had ducked into the empty dining hall so we could talk without being overheard.

  “Maybe she’s embarrassed,” said Frank. “Maybe she doesn’t want us to know that she ended up here.”

  “But we ended up here,” I pointed out.

  Frank shoved his hands through his hair. “True,” he admitted. “So . . . maybe she thinks we’d tell her parents where she is if we remembered her. Maybe she was hoping that if she acted like she didn’t know us, we wouldn’t recognize her. It’s been a while since elementary school.”

  “Again, we’re in the same situation she is. We’re supposedly runaways too. Why would we turn in somebody else who’d run?” I asked.

  “You’re right,” said Frank. “All I know is Lily’s behavior is suspicious. She’s definitely keeping secrets, and we need to know if they have anything to do with Evan.”

  “So what’s the deal with Lily?” I asked everyone at my table that night at dinner.

  “My brother has a crush,” Frank added.

  “I just think she’s cool,” I protested.

  “She’s very cool. I don’t think I want to help you get close to her,” joked Sean.

  “I’ll give you the Lily scoopage,” said Nina, one of the girls who’d been watching TV with Lily. “She’s from Minnesota. Raised by a single mom. Mom hooked up with a guy who was not kid-friendly. Mom kicked Lily out. Very nice, huh?”

  Very false, I thought. I didn’t know about the rest of it, but Lily definitely wasn’t from Minnesota. And last I knew, she had two parents, including a mom who wasn’t the mean type.

  “How’d she end up here?” I asked.

  “New York here or the Haven here?” Nina asked back.

  “Either. Both,” I said.

  “Her mom gave her a little dough to start out on. Lily figured Manhattan would be the coolest place to live. And she’s right,” Nina answered. “She figured she’d be able to find a job and get a place before she ran out of money. But the only jobs were McJobs, and you can’t even buy a piece of cardboard to sleep on with what they pay. So she ended up sleeping on the subway, just riding all night. Then she met Olivia, and Olivia sent her here.”

  “We met Olivia. She told us about this place too,” Frank said.

  “She sends everybody here. She’s kind of like the big sister to every homeless kid she meets,” explained Nina.

  “What does Lily—,” I began.

  “Don’t get your hopes up, Sparky,” another girl, Erin, interrupted. “Lily’s boyfriend just died. There’s no way she’s going to ready for a new guy for a looong time.”

  “What are you talking about?” Nina asked. “Lily never told me anything about a boyfriend.”

  “And Nina’s a top interrogator,” said Sean. “One conversation and she can suck out the contents of your brain.”

  “Well, you must have missed a little of Lily’s gray matter,” Erin told Nina. “She and Evan had a thing going. I can’t believe you didn’t know that.”

  “There’s no way. I never saw them together. Not even once,” Sean protested. “And I hung with Evan a lot.”

  “I walked in on them making out in the supply closet once,” Erin said. “They asked me not to say anything, so I didn’t. I know how to keep my mouth shut—unlike some people,” she added, looking at Nina.

  “Why would they care if people knew they were together?” I asked.

  “Did you forget your orientation already? No romantic attachments,” said Nina. “That’s probably why they didn’t ever eat together or sit together in the common room or anything.” Nina speared a cucumber out of her salad and stuck it on the side of her plate. “They were probably afraid Tess or Sandy would have made them break up.”

  After dinner, Frank and I sat in the common room watching Project Runway. The girls had gotten control of the remote again. Didn’t matter. What I really wanted to watch was Lily, and she was sitting on the floor a few feet away from me.

  Frank and I were waiting for a chance to talk to her—alone. But it didn’t seem like she was planning on moving away from her friends for a while. They were yelling at the TV screen and arguing about who deserved to get kicked off.

  I was getting itchy. And Frank looked like was about to slip into a fashion-induced coma. So I decided to make a move. I leaned close to Lily. “Mr. Orr would be pretty disappointed to see where we ended up, huh?” I said into her ear.

  Lily jerked her head toward me so fast that her cheekbone cracked against my nose. “Sorry,” she said automatically.

  “It’s okay,” I answered.

  “I need to—I’ve got to—” Lily jumped up and hurried out of the room. I elbowed Frank and we rushed after her. We caught up to her in the empty hallway.

  “Lily, can we talk to you for a second?” asked Frank.

  Reluctantly she turned to face us. “I didn’t think you guys recognized me.”

  “You haven’t changed that much,” I said.

  Lily gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Since the sixth grade? Thanks a lot.”

  “No, I mean, of course you’ve changed. Your hair’s a different color, and you’re—” I hesitated, then started up again. “But you’re still you, enough you for me to know it was you,” I said, stumbling over my explanation. And I’m always saying how Frank gets flustered around girls.

  “I knew it was you, too,” Lily admitted. “Both of you. I knew it the second you walked into the dining hall.”

  “So why’d you pretend you didn’t?” Frank asked.

  “It just seemed less . . . complicated,” she said. “I just don’t feel like that Bayport Lily anymore. Or the Concord, Massachusetts, Lily. That’s where we moved after sixth grade.”

  “I get that,” I said.

  Lily gave that harsh laugh again. “Sure you do,” she said. “Come on. You guys don’t really belong here. You’re working on a case, right?”

  Lily didn’t know Frank and I were with ATAC. Nobody outside the agency did. But Frank and I had a reputation in Bayport for being amateur detectives. We’d solved a bunch of mysteries in our hometown.

  I glanced at Frank. He gave me a little nod. It seemed like it was best to tell the truth—at least part of the truth.

  “Yeah. We’re working on a case. That’s why we wanted to talk to you,” I said.

  “And we wanted to see how you are, too. Are you okay?” I added quickly.

  “Pretty much,” Lily answered. “T
his is a pretty safe place. And that’s all I’m really looking for right now. I guess sometime I’ll have to figure out a plan. But right now, all I want is a place where no one will bother me. There aren’t many of those around when you’re a teenage girl with no money in this city—or anywhere else, I guess.”

  She frowned, and I noticed a sheen of moisture coating her eyes. Was she about to cry?

  “It used to be better here. I was almost sort of, you know, happy,” Lily added.

  “Before Evan died?” I asked.

  Lily blinked rapidly, clearing away the unshed tears. “What do you know about Evan?” she demanded.

  “We know how he died. We know it might not have been an accident,” Frank said. “That’s why we’re here.”

  “You think his dad killed him, don’t you?” Lily burst out. “That’s what I think. I just have no way to prove it. You guys have to find a way to put him in jail for the rest of his life.”

  “Evan’s dad? Why would Evan’s father want him dead?” I asked.

  “Do you even know who Evan’s father is?” said Lily.

  “We hardly know anything about Evan’s background. Anything you can tell us would be a huge help,” Frank told her.

  “Evan’s dad is running for mayor in Long Island. And Evan . . . he did some not exactly legal stuff when he was living on the streets. There are times when you pretty much have to, just to survive,” Lily explained.

  “You think Evan’s father killed him just to protect his political career?” I asked.

  “Just? His career is all Evan’s dad cares about,” Lily answered.

  “Did you ever meet him?” Frank said.

  “Only once,” Lily said. “But I heard all about him from Evan. As soon as I heard how Evan died, I was sure it wasn’t an accident. I was sure his father had something to do with it. Maybe he didn’t actually push Evan in front of the train himself. But he wanted it done. He made it happen. I know it.”

  “Evan had an appointment with a reporter the day he died. That’s why he was in the subway station in the first place—to get to the meeting. Do you have any idea what he wanted to talk to her about?” asked Frank.

  Lily’s brow furrowed. “He didn’t tell me anything about that. And he told me everything.”

  “We think he was planning to talk to the reporter about something he’d found out about the Haven,” I said. “Something bad. Did Evan ever talk to you about anything like that?”

  The lines in Lily’s forehead deepened. “No. I mean, we used to complain about Tess, how she has that rule about no hookups between the kids living here. Evan and I had to be really careful about not being seen together too much. It was a pain.”

  “That’s it? Nothing else?” Frank prodded.

  “Yeah,” Lily answered. “There were other little things about the place that neither of us liked. You have to keep a close eye on your stuff. Sometimes the food sucks. Nothing big. Nothing reporter-worthy.” She did the rapid blinking thing again. “I can’t believe Evan would keep anything big a secret from me. I don’t understand. . . .”

  “He was probably going to tell you about it when he got back,” I said. I had no idea if it was true or not. But I wanted to make her feel better.

  “Maybe.” Lily used the back of her little finger to wipe under her eyes. “I’m glad you guys are here,” she said. “I want Evan’s dad to pay for what he did.”

  “We’ll go talk to him. Do you have his address?” Frank asked.

  “Yeah, I went there with Evan once,” said Lily. “Evan wanted to make things right with his dad. He wanted to see if he could move back home. But his father told him to forget about that. He said he never wanted to see Evan again. It was horrible. You should have seen Evan’s face.”

  SUSPECT PROFILE

  Name: Martin Davis

  Hometown: Lake Ronkonkoma, New York

  Physical description: Thinning blond hair, 5’11”, approximately 170 lbs., scar across left thumb pad.

  Occupation: Aspiring politician

  Background: High school valedictorian. Top of his class at Harvard Law. Youngest partner at the law firm.

  Suspicious behavior: Told Evan he never wanted to see him again, that the best thing Evan could do was leave him alone.

  Suspected of: Killing Evan or having him killed.

  Possible motives: Thought Evan could ruin his political career.

  “We promise we’ll find out the truth,” I told Lily.

  9.

  GET OUT!

  “Evan’s dad is pretty popular around here,” I commented. I nodded toward an ELECT MARTIN DAVIS sign in the front yard of the house we were passing. We’d seen about thirteen of them since we got off the Long Island Rail Road at the Lake Ronkonkoma station. Plus there were posters stapled to telephone poles and taped in store windows.

  “How bad do you think Mr. Martin’s chances would be hurt if it came out that Evan was a runaway and had done some stealing while he was living on the streets?” Joe shifted Evan’s cardboard box under his arm. “Enough to cost him the election?”

  “Maybe. That article I was reading on the train said the race is pretty close. Although we seem to be in Davis town right now,” I answered.

  “Well, we are getting pretty close to his house,” Joe reminded me. “It should be on the next block.”

  “Right. Anyway, who knows how many votes he’d lose,” I said. “I’m sure some of his supporters would still back him. But some people might think that if a man can’t manage his own family, he definitely won’t be able to manage a town as mayor.”

  “This is a heartless question, but do you think Evan’s death will have any effect on how the votes come out?” Joe pointed out another ELECT MARTIN DAVIS sign.

  I thought about it for a minute. “Not in a negative way,” I said slowly. “Actually, and this is a heartless answer, it might even get him some sympathy votes.”

  “Still, it’s hard to imagine anybody would kill their own kid,” Joe observed.

  “It’s happened before. But, yeah, it is hard to believe.” I stopped and looked across the street at a big Victorian house with a perfectly manicured lawn and a new paint job. “That’s Mr. Davis’s place.”

  “Let’s get to it,” said Joe.

  We crossed the street and headed up the walkway to the front door. I rang the bell.

  Mr. Davis opened it himself, which sort of surprised me. I thought he’d be out shaking hands and kissing babies. “Hello. I’m Frank Hardy, and this is my brother, Joe,” I told him. “We’re friends of Evan’s.” Joe and I had decided that was the simplest explanation for our showing up at Mr. Davis’s door.

  “We’re really sorry about what happened to Evan,” Joe added.

  “I appreciate that,” said Mr. Davis. “Would you like to come in for a minute?”

  “Thanks,” I said as Mr. Davis ushered us inside.

  “Take a seat,” Mr. Davis told us, waving toward the living room. “I’ll get us something to drink. Soda okay?”

  “Sure,” answered Joe. He and I headed over to the big snow-white sofa.

  “I don’t think our pants are clean enough for that.” I sat in a wooden rocking chair.

  “It’s got to be killing you not to be able to wear clean clothes every day,” Joe joked. He plopped down in an armchair. A brown one. “Have you been trying my underwear method?”

  I ignored him. Sometimes that’s all you can do with Joe. Instead of answering, I scanned the room. There weren’t any signs of life. No books out. No shoes lying around. No empty glasses or anything. Aunt Trudy would love this place, I thought.

  “Check out the mantel,” Joe said.

  “What about it?” I asked.

  “No pictures. No family pictures anywhere around,” he answered.

  “Well, Lily said Evan’s mom died a long time ago,” I reminded him.

  “Still, it’s—” Joe broke off as Mr. Davis came in.

  “The couch scared you, huh?” he asked as he handed u
s glasses of soda.

  “It was a little intimidating,” I admitted.

  “I hardly ever sit on it myself,” Mr. Davis confided. “I had a designer do the room. She insisted, and since I was paying her for her taste—” He stopped and shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m talking about a sofa when Evan—” His voice broke. He tried again. “When Evan is—” But he still couldn’t get out the word “dead.”

  Mr. Davis turned away from us for a moment, and Joe and I exchanged an uneasy look. Grief was radiating out of Evan’s dad. Could he be that good an actor? Or if he wasn’t acting, could he be so busted up about Evan’s death and still be the one who killed him? If anyone had killed him. We still didn’t have proof that his death wasn’t an accident.

  “So how do you two know Evan? High school?” asked Mr. Davis.

  “No. We, uh, we met Evan at the Haven,” Joe explained.

  “I don’t—what is that?” Mr. Davis said.

  “It’s a center where homeless teens can stay,” I told him.

  Mr. Davis’s cheeks flushed a deep, painful-looking red. “You can’t have known Evan long. Why are you here? Are you looking for some kind of handout? I didn’t give it to Evan when he came asking me.” Mr. Davis’s voice cracked, but he kept on going. “I’m certainly not going to give anything to you two.”

  “We’re not asking for anything,” Joe said quickly.

  “Then why are you here? The funeral’s over. If you wanted to pay your respects, that was the appropriate place to do it,” Mr. Davis said.

  “We have something that belonged to Evan. We wanted to give it to you.” I nodded to Joe, and he handed Mr. Davis the cardboard box with the pictures of Evan in it.

  Mr. Davis opened the box, ripping one of the cardboard flaps in his hurry. He pulled out the pictures and let the box fall to the floor. I kept my eyes locked on Evan’s father as he flipped through the photos, but his face remained blank.

  “I want you out of here,” he finally said, his voice low and harsh. “Now! I have no problem calling the cops.”