Like Father Like Son Read online

  It was kind of crazy, I know. We didn’t have to get inside a game just to talk to one another, but it was like a habit. And Gabe’s place was like our headquarters.

  My avatar was called Cassius Play, and I could see QUB (Gabe), Lowkey-Loki (Cedric), Blackhawk (Ruby), and Cagey-B (Mateo) literally just sitting around in their own skins, too. It looked like walking into the teachers’ lounge at the Justice League.

  But I wasn’t here to play or make jokes.

  “Hey, guys, I’m here,” I said.

  “Any word from your dad on Zoe?” Ruby asked.

  “He’s still at the hospital,” I said. “I’ll text you all as soon as I hear anything.”

  “I don’t get it,” Mateo said. “Who would do this? Nobody hates Zoe.”

  “Maybe it was just random,” Gabe said. “Maybe it was some psycho trucker or something.”

  “Right?” Cedric said. “She goes back there looking for her mom, maybe sees some guy by his rig, doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing—”

  “Like what?” Ruby asked.

  “I don’t know,” Cedric said. “I’m just saying, I agree with Mateo. It’s not like Zoe’s got some secret life of crime going on.”

  “I don’t think it was just a random shooting,” I said. Or more like I blurted it out. I’d been holding so much in, it was like I’d just sprung a leak.

  “Why don’t you think so?” Ruby asked.

  “Because I might have seen something, or… someone,” I said.

  “What?” Ruby practically shouted.

  “I don’t know yet,” I told them. “It wasn’t much, but when I asked Zoe about it, she begged me not to say anything.”

  “I thought something was going on,” Gabe said.

  “Why’d she ask you not to say anything?” Cedric asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know anything right now. I have to talk to Zoe first and try to find out.”

  “What’d you see?” Ruby asked.

  I felt guilty for talking about this at all, but it seemed even more wrong to keep quiet at this point. At least these guys were there when it happened. So I laid out all the details I could remember—the black work boots, the long coat, and how whoever it was had been standing over her until we shouted Zoe’s name.

  “And then they just walked away,” I said. “I don’t even know if it was a woman or a man.”

  “A man,” Ruby said. “A woman wouldn’t do this to her.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” Mateo said.

  I wasn’t going to get into it. The point was, I’d kept some important secrets from Ruby, Mateo, and Cedric in the past, and I’d really regretted it. I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

  “Seriously, though, you guys,” I said. “None of that info leaves the group. Not until I get to talk to Zoe, okay?”

  “What is this?” Cedric asked. “Another case for the Ali Cross detective agency?”

  “Why not?” I asked. “It’s better than sitting around waiting to find out what happened.”

  “I’m down,” Ruby said.

  “Me, too,” Cedric said.

  “Me, three,” Gabe said. “Look what you guys got done last time. If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

  I wasn’t going to point that out myself, but the truth was, Gabe’s disappearance earlier that year had turned out to be my first “real” investigation. I mean, not real, since I’m just a kid. But at the same time, it’s also true that I was the one to find him in the end. Maybe sometimes it takes a kid to investigate a kid’s problem.

  Like maybe right now.

  “You guys want to re-up?” Cedric asked then. “Maybe start an actual game here, until we get some more info from Ali’s dad?”

  “Not for me,” Ruby said.

  “Yeah, I think I’m going to go chill,” Mateo said.

  “Text as soon as you hear anything,” Gabe reminded me, just before we all started logging off and disappearing from the screen.

  Not that I was done thinking about all this. Instead, I went back to my room, flipped open my MacBook, and created a new file that I called ZOE. Then I started writing down the truckload of questions I had running through my head.

  WHO DID THIS TO ZOE?

  WHY?

  WHO DID I SEE WITH HER? WAS THAT PERSON THE SHOOTER?

  ANY CAMERAS IN ANACOSTIA PARK?

  OTHER WITNESSES?

  SUSPECTS? FAMILY MEMBERS? ENEMIES?

  WHY DID ZOE ASK ME NOT TO SAY ANYTHING?

  That last question was the big one right now. It was probably going to keep me awake all night. But at the same time, I realized, the question itself was a clue.

  If Zoe wanted me to keep her secret—whatever it was, exactly—that meant she knew something she wasn’t telling. And chances were, that meant she knew who fired the gun. Maybe even knew them personally.

  I couldn’t prove anything yet, but it was a start. Now I just needed to figure out a way to get to her in that hospital. I didn’t know how yet. I just knew that’s what I had to do.

  Somehow.

  ALEX CROSS SHOWED his police credentials to the sleepy attendant at the third floor desk of Howard University Hospital. The woman stifled a yawn as she handed him a pink card for admittance to the pediatric ward.

  “Long day?” Alex asked.

  “Honey, you don’t know the half of it,” she said.

  “Oh, I might,” he answered with a dark smile, as he waited for her to buzz him through.

  A second later, the large sweeping doors at the pediatrics entrance peeled open, clearing his way to the corridor beyond. Straight ahead was the nurses’ station, with rows of hospital rooms along both sides of the hall. Family members in street clothes and a few kids in hospital gowns were moving about, but mostly it was quiet. An empty gurney sat near the entrance, with a silver GET WELL balloon still tied to its side rail.

  Zoe Knight’s room wasn’t hard to spot. A uniformed police officer was stationed outside the door, which meant one thing. Whoever had put poor Zoe in the hospital was still out on the street somewhere. In any case, she’d be perfectly safe here. Alex just hoped Zoe would get whatever help she needed, both medically and emotionally. He knew all too well that bullets could leave behind more than one kind of scar.

  “Has it been quiet?” Alex asked, flashing his badge for the officer.

  “So far, but it’s lighting up on the news right now,” the cop told him. A tilt of his head indicated the television mounted near the ceiling of Zoe’s room in the far corner. On the screen, a Channel Four reporter was standing in front of the hospital delivering a live broadcast.

  “Anacostia Park and the surrounding area have been closed off until further notice. Word from the unnamed victim’s medical team is that they expect her to make a full recovery. Meanwhile, according to our sources, community leaders tonight are gathering to craft a response to this shooting. We’ll have more on this emerging story as it develops. Reporting live from Howard University Hospital, this is Rhea Sloan for Channel Four News at Six.”

  Alex nodded to the cop and leaned inside the hospital room. He could just see Zoe now, sitting up in bed. Two adults were there, seated on either side of her, and they stood up quickly as Alex appeared. The man was unfamiliar to him, but the woman was immediately recognizable. This was Vanessa “Dee-Cee” Knight, one of Alex’s favorite local performers.

  “Can I help you?” she asked with a protective edge in her voice. She wore a dark-brown leather jacket and matching pants, with her hair braided back over one heavily bangled ear.

  “Ms. Knight? Zoe? I’m so sorry to bother you,” he said. “I’m Ali Cross’s dad…”

  “Mister, I don’t care who you are—” Dee-Cee started to say before Zoe spoke up.

  “Momma, wait!”

  The girl sat halfway up before the man eased her back against the pillow. “Easy there, girl,” he told her. Zoe’s right arm was bandaged in white gauze and suspended in a blue sling. Her braids were in the same style as her mother’s, but shorter, barely reaching the collar of her yellow-and-white hospital gown.

  She ignored the man and turned straight to face Ms. Knight.

  “Momma! This is that boy’s daddy. The one who…” She stopped short, as if she’d just realized something. Then she looked Alex right in the eye. “Ali’s the one who saved me today,” she said.

  Alex felt a warm swell of pride in his chest, but he kept a straight face.

  “Oh, my god,” the mother responded, and came right over. She put her hands on both of his elbows and held on tight. “Excuse my rudeness. It’s been a day.”

  “Not at all,” Alex said. “I’m sorry to barge in.”

  But the woman was still talking. “Thank you, sir. Thank you for that boy. Let’s just say you did something right when you brought him into the world.”

  “I can’t disagree with you there,” Alex said. “But Zoe, how are you doing? Ali tells me you were a champ today.”

  “That’s my Zoe,” Dee-Cee said. “My stainless steel warrior child.”

  Alex could just hear the distinctive, gravelly alto of the woman’s voice, and even the hint of a songwriter’s poetic word choice when she spoke. He couldn’t help smiling at that.

  “I hope you don’t mind my saying, I’m a fan,” Alex told her.

  “Well, thank you for that, too,” Dee-Cee answered with a modest smile of her own. Then she turned to the other man in the room with a gesture. “This is my manager, Darnell Freeman.”

  “Good to meet you,” the man said, with a smile and a handshake.

  “You, too,” Alex said, and turned his attention back to the girl in the middle of them all. “How are you feeling, Zoe?” he asked. “Ali and your other friends
are counting on me to bring them some good intel. Any messages for the team?”

  “I’m all right,” she said. “My wrist is broken, but I guess it could have been a lot worse. Oh, and tell Ali I owe him a sweatshirt.”

  The girl was remarkably centered, all things considered. Alex had a good feeling about her, which was nice, considering his other hunch—that Ali had a crush on little Zoe. Not that his son would ever admit it. Ali tended to play his cards close to the vest.

  “And you don’t know who did this to you?” Alex asked.

  “No, sir,” Zoe answered right away.

  “None of her friends saw anything, either,” Dee-Cee added.

  “That right?” Zoe asked, with a glance at her mother. Something about the exchange caught Alex’s attention. Zoe had seemed almost glad to hear it.

  “Well,” Alex said. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time. Let me give you a card, and if there’s anything I can do to help, or anything you remember, Zoe, I want you to feel free to call me.”

  Zoe craned her neck to see the card as he handed it to Dee-Cee.

  “Hold up,” she said. “Are you police?”

  Mr. Freeman took the card from Dee-Cee and looked at it next.

  “Sorry, yes,” Alex said. “I didn’t mean to be unclear about that. I really am here as Ali’s dad, but like I said, if there’s anything I can do—”

  “Thanks,” Zoe said, maybe a little too quickly this time. She obviously had some feelings about the police, whatever those might be.

  “Yes,” Dee-Cee echoed. “Thank you for everything, and please tell the same to your son. I can’t wait to meet him.”

  “Of course,” Alex said. A new question had just pushed into his mind, but he didn’t want to overstay his welcome. And besides, something in his gut was telling him to wait. Not now. Not yet.

  So he kept the thought to himself, at least for the time being. Still, it stuck with him all the way down in the elevator and back to his car in the parking garage. He couldn’t prove anything right now, but he also couldn’t dismiss the question itself, which had to have shown up for one reason or another.

  Why was Zoe Knight lying about this shooting?

  WHEN I CAME down for breakfast the next morning, the TV was on in the kitchen. Which was weird right away. We’re never allowed to watch TV during family meals.

  But today was different. I could hear a reporter from the news before I even came in the room.

  “Residents in Southeast Washington are responding this morning to the shooting of a middle school–age girl at the Anacostia Park Music Festival yesterday afternoon. It marks the sixth shooting of a minor in the District this year alone, including one fatality. Today, community members are asking for answers.”

  I stayed just outside the kitchen, listening. Something told me my family would turn this off if they knew I was there, and I wanted to hear more.

  Next came a man’s voice. An angry one.

  “Gun violence in Washington is out of control,” he was saying. “That’s just a fact. We are sick and tired of seeing our children pay the price while the city’s government and police department do nothing to stop it.”

  Nana clicked off the TV. “Enough of that for now,” she said.

  “Leave it on,” I said, coming into the room. “I wanted to hear that.”

  Everyone looked over at the same time, like I was sick and supposed to be in bed or something.

  “Good morning,” Bree said.

  “Come have some breakfast,” Dad told me, without turning the TV back on. Nana had the waffle iron going, and I could smell apple and chicken sausage in the pan. I wasn’t going to say no to any of that.

  “I can’t blame people for being angry,” Nana went on, putting a bowl of cut fruit in front of me for a starter. “But I know you all are doing your best over at MPD.”

  “Honestly, if a little pressure from the community is going to make us do better, then I’m all for it,” Dad said.

  “But the police aren’t the bad guys,” Jannie said. “It’s the people who are making these shootings happen.”

  “It’s complicated, for sure,” Bree said.

  “Still, thanks for the vote of confidence,” Dad told Jannie, and kissed the top of her head. Then he turned and looked at me. “We’ve gotten a few calls for you this morning, as well.”

  “For me?” I said. “From who?”

  “From the press,” Dad said. “Word’s getting around that you stepped up for Zoe in a big way.”

  Jannie slid her phone over to show me something. On the screen it said, DC COP’S SON PLAYS HERO IN LOCAL SHOOTING.

  This was just getting weirder and weirder. I didn’t feel like a hero, including when I’d been bandaging Zoe’s arm with my sweatshirt. Mostly, I’d just felt scared.

  “Where’d you find this?” I asked Jannie.

  “Some blog,” she said. “But those calls were legit. One of them was CNN. You should do an interview, Ali. People want to talk to you.”

  I looked at Dad to see what he was thinking.

  “Up to you,” he said. “Either way, we’re incredibly proud of how you handled that situation. If you’re interested, I’ll let you do one interview, but if not, that’s completely fine, too.”

  I didn’t want anyone interviewing me. I didn’t even want anyone thinking about me right now. What I wanted was to be left alone so I could figure out a way to get to Zoe and talk to her in private.

  “Do they know anything more about who did this?” I asked Dad.

  “Not as far as I know,” he answered. “But I’m not on this case. I think Lars Matheson is heading it up.”

  Still, I wasn’t sure how much Dad could tell me, even if he did know. So I just cut to the chase.

  “Hey, Dad, can I go over to Gabe’s this morning?” I asked.

  “Why? What’s up?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” I said. “I just want to get away from all this mess for a little bit. You know. Chill. Play some Outpost. Whatever.”

  “You need to be working on your report,” Nana said. “The one you did not work on yesterday, even though you said you were. We still have to talk about that.”

  I noticed Dad, Bree, and Nana looking at one another now, like maybe they didn’t all agree about whether to bring that part up.

  I just kept still and looked Dad right in the eye like nothing sketchy was going on. But on the inside, I felt like dog doo for keeping so much of the truth a secret.

  Just this one more time, I thought. Then I’ll come clean.

  At least, that’s what I told myself.

  “Yeah, sure,” Dad said. “But check in. Two hours, okay? Put it in your phone.”

  I set the reminder without any argument. I still felt guilty, for sure, but there was no going back now. Only forward.

  Next stop, Howard University Hospital.

  AFTER BREAKFAST, I stuck in my AirPods and headed out the back door. At the gate to the alley behind our house, I turned left like I was going to Gabe’s, in case anyone was watching from the kitchen.

  But then I went the long way around on Sixth Street and doubled back toward the Navy Yard Metro stop. That’s where I was really going.

  From there, it was a straight shot on the green line up to the hospital. I rode with Migos, Lil Nas X, Major Lazer, and a bunch of others pumping in my ears. And pumping me up for what I had to do next, too.

  All of that was the easy part. I had no trouble finding my way to the hospital’s third floor, and getting myself as far as the entrance to the pediatrics ward. The hard part was going to be getting inside.

  The big double doors that led to the ward had to be buzzed open by a lady at the reception desk, I saw. And according to the sign, you had to be eighteen to get in there alone.

  I barely look my own age, much less eighteen. And besides, I didn’t want to draw too much attention to myself. So I took a seat in the waiting area while I tried to figure out my next move.

  I sat in one of the plastic chairs they had, with a view of the elevators and the ward entrance. I couldn’t see the receptionist, but that meant she couldn’t see me, either, which was good. If anyone asked, I was just going to say I was waiting on my parents. Meanwhile, I kept my head down, with my eyes and ears open.