Two cop cars and an ambulance were parked in front of the house when we arrived in Wilmette again. I got out and locked the doors. Rachel walked next to me.
An African American officer stepped in front of us. "Yes? Who are you?"
"Tom Jurgen. Mr. Greenhill called me about his missing son. This is my associate, Rachel."
"You family?"
"I'm a private detective." I reached—very slowly—into a pocket for my business card. "I was working for the next-door neighbor, Nessa Brigani, but she died last night."
He peered at my card. "Oh. You're that guy." He reached for his phone. "Ruiz? It's that Jurgen fellow and his girlfriend."
"Girlfriend?" Rachel poked me in the ribs. "Associate! And, okay, girlfriend."
"Hey, he said it, not me." I rubbed my side.
Ruiz marched down the steps in front of the house. "Jurgen? What the hell are you doing here?"
I was used to "Jurgen—what the hell?" So I just shrugged. "Greenhill called me about his nephew being missing. Apparently right after he called you. And he said he saw a bright light."
"Shit." She glared at us.
"Where is he?"
"Coming out right now."
Two paramedics rolled a stretcher around the side of the house. I couldn't see the face, but—"Greenhill?"
"Uh-huh. Found nonresponsive in his backyard. Come on."
She led us into the house, down the hallway, and out onto the back porch.
A crime scene tech took pictures while another one clipped grass from around the body.
I leaned against the railing. "What happened?"
"Don't know. EMTs say it looks like a stroke. Still breathing, heartbeat weak, so we don't know."
"Any sign of the kid?"
"No." She shook her head. "We searched the whole house. There are cars searching the streets. We went to a few neighbors, but we can't go waking everyone up in the middle of the night."
I checked my phone for the time. 11:32. Most people would be in bed—asleep, or watching late-night TV. Or maybe Poldark.
"So, you got anything?" Ruiz crossed her arms.
I sighed. "Nope. Except—" I hated to say it— "Maybe we should wait around until two o'clock. To see if the kid shows up." I hesitated. But I've always made it a policy to tell the truth, especially to cops—even when it sounded crazy. Especially then. "I think he's been taken over by aliens."
"Oh, god." She rolled her eyes.
Then her phone beeped. She looked almost relieved at not having to answer me. "Yeah?"
"Some guy out here. Winters. Says he wants to talk to Greenhill."
Oh hell. I shook my head. Rachel groaned.
Ruiz looked at us. "You know him?"
"It's . . . a long story."
She crossed her arms. "If we're sitting here until two o'clock, I guess we've got time."
Craig Winters sat next to me in a patrol car. "It's got to be the Boku. It has to be!"
Ruiz was twisted around uncomfortably in the front seat. Apparently we couldn't just sit in Greenhill's kitchen while the scene was still active.
"So they attack people now?" I sat as far from Winters as I could. "Greenhill is in a coma."
"N-no." Winters looked at me. "Never, from when we were studying them—"
"When you were sending children up to their ship, you mean?" I glanced at Ruiz. "He and his team were experimenting with children who'd been abducted, trying to get them to learn the aliens' language—"
"And you stopped it!" Winters slammed a fist against the door. "We were making progress! And now we've got a chance—"
"Both of you shut up!" Ruiz had listened as we argued, but now she seemed ready to cuff us. "I don't have any guidelines for what to do here. I ought to take you guys in and have you committed."
"I've heard that before." I sat back. "Any luck finding Will in the neighborhood?"
She didn't answer.
Rachel was standing outside the car, tapping her foot on the concrete.
"All right." Ruiz checked the dashboard clock. 12:04. "Looks like we're sticking around until 2 a.m. You two stay here." She opened her door.
"Until two o'clock?" I wasn't sure I could tolerate Winters for two hours. "Can't I wait in my own car? I won't drive away. Neither will he. We both want to see this."
Ruiz sighed. "Fine. I should make you give up your keys and your phones and cuff you to the steering wheel. If any reporters show up here I'll cuff you and drag you behind the car back to the station."
I gulped. "Deal. Thanks."
"I'm going to need a bathroom in a bit," Winters said. "Sorry."
"Hang on." She talked for a while into her phone. "Okay, come on."
We got out on opposite sides. Rachel took my hand. "You okay?"
"No funny business in the car, you two!" Ruiz waved an arm. "This way. Be quick."
Winters followed her into the house. Apparently the quarantine was over, at least for bathroom breaks. Rachel and I retreated to my Acura.
"No funny business, huh?" Rachel tilted her seat back. "So what are we going to do?"
"I haven't done it in a car since I was a teenager. I don't think my back could take it." I sipped a little water, my mouth dry from nerves. "We wait until two. See if Will comes back. Try to stop Winters from doing anything stupid."
"Oh, I bet Ruiz has the handle on that." Rachel sighed. "Look—I think I might have spooked him. This could be what's happening."
"What? When you . . ."
She nodded. "Like I said, he was scared. Maybe . . . It's my fault."
I took her hand. "Whatever happened, it happened because of them. Not you."
She shivered. "I hope that's right."
I sighed. "Mom's right. I should have been an accountant."
"Then we wouldn't be sitting in a car together after midnight. And where would the fun be?" She grinned.
I managed a laugh. "I love you."
"Shut up, jerk." But she squeezed my hand. "Me too."
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