The Big Time

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

THE TREES ABOVE SHIFTED restlessly in a steady wind that smelled like coming rain, and stars blinked between tattered holes in the clouds. Behind the toolshed lay his gramps's fourteen-foot aluminum ladder, and Troy knew he could lift it on his own. He found the middle two rungs and picked up the ladder, bumping his finger and cursing to himself. Struggling, he poked his head through so the ladder rested on his shoulders like a bizarre collar that balanced nicely. He knew the way through the dark pinewoods to the railroad bed almost without looking. The dull glow of the tracks lay like discarded stilts, pointing the way to where his friends lived and making him wish they were with him. He stood for a moment, thinking, then decided it would take too long to get them, even if they could sneak away.

Besides, this was something he needed to do on his own.

This was a family thing.

He stepped carefully through the weeds onto a once-familiar path now overgrown and filled with ruts and gopher holes. Through the trees, he navigated the big ladder, his eyes recognizing the dull gray lines of the concrete wall like an old enemy's face in a crowd. It surrounded the entire Cotton Wood Country Club. He spotted his old way in-a gaping crack-that had since been patched with concrete and cobblestones. Troy raised the ladder off his shoulders, breathing with deep relief at the lifted weight. He braced the ladder against the wall, scaling it quickly.

Nearly a foot thick, the wall provided an ample perch for him at its top. He stood and stared, listening for any sign of life from within, but the wind cloaked all other sounds. He wiggled his feet, setting them firm, and lowered his center before raising the ladder up and over to the other side. After planting it in the dirt below, he swung out and around and climbed down. Because he'd been inside the country club so many times before-as an intruder, but more recently as Seth's guest-he knew well the way he had to go.

Even so, he kept to the shadows, avoiding the glow of street lamps and hustling along with his feet swishing through the grass shoulders of the quiet streets. The maze of winding roads and mansions nestled back in the trees or on hilltops behind iron or brick fences led him to an enormous home on the biggest hill in Cotton Wood. With lights shining up from the bushes and grass, the huge white building looked more like a museum or an old government statehouse than one man's home. The stone wall that ran along the street was for decoration, not defense, and Troy scaled it with ease. He snuck through the bushes up along a curved driveway until he came to a courtyard with a hissing fountain in its center. The driveway was crowded with glossy cars whose glittering grillwork reminded Troy of the rap star's own teeth.

Amid the Bentley, Mercedes, and Lexus vehicles-all midnight blue or black-Troy spotted the orange Porsche his father had driven into Seth's driveway. His heart pattered, but he wasn't certain if that was because he knew his father was inside or because of the men in dark suits with walkie-talkies he now saw prowling the perimeter of the house. Troy looked down at his own gray hooded sweatshirt and simple white V-neck T-shirt with faded jeans and sneakers. He sighed and popped out of the shrubbery, heading up the stone walkway for the broad front steps. A man in a suit stepped out from behind one of the tall, fluted columns. He met Troy halfway up, arresting his progress with an iron hand. He spoke softly but urgently into his walkie-talkie about a kid appearing out of nowhere.