Counterfeit Son Read Online Free PDF Page B

watched the houses pass by, with the shimmering lake visible between them. They weren't too close together, not like houses in the city. But they weren't as isolated as his house had been. Pop had built it himself, though Cameron couldn't remember him doing that. Pop had told him he'd deliberately bought that large lot on the edge of the woods. It was far enough from the next lot so that no one could hear Pop when he shouted at the boys—or hear the boys, for that matter. And no one could smell anything strange, even right after he and Pop poured the lime and mercuric acid into the cellar before filling in a new hole. These houses beside the lake were a comfortable distance apart. You had some space, but somebody would hear you if you needed them.

    The Laceys' house was at the very end of the lakefront road. For a second Cameron felt a surge of fear, because there were no more homes on the far side of the big stone house. The lake continued past the house to the northwest, but there was nothing on the shore but woods and a plowed field. Then he got hold of himself and saw there was a house next door to the Laceys' on the near side, so it was all right. He made himself look again and saw metal towers supporting power lines running down the field and cutting through the woods, and he guessed that was why there wasn't another house there. It didn't mean anything threatening.
    "Look familiar?" his father was asking, his voice a little worried.
    "Of course, we've done a lot over the years," his mother said quickly. "We'd just moved in—there wasn't any garden yet."
    Cameron nodded. "It looks wonderful," he said, and meant it, and he could feel his father relax beside him.
    The garage door swept open suddenly, and his mother opened the passenger door and climbed out, beckoning for him to follow. He was sliding across the seat when he saw two kids come running out beneath the still-rising door and skid to a stop, staring at him. Cameron got out slowly and tried to smile at them.
    The girl—his
sister,
he thought—looked a lot like her mother. She had the same deep brown eyes and golden hair, only hers was sun-bleached paler and cut short, curving around her face. And her face didn't look as friendly as her mother's. Her eyes were narrowed, and as she stared at him she chewed on her lower lip.

    The boy was worse. Short and stocky, with thick brown hair and his father's hazel eyes, he slouched behind his sister and glared at Cameron.
    "Diana, Stevie, come say hello to your brother," their mother was saying awkwardly.
    "Kids," their father said, in a careful voice, "remember what we talked about last night?"
    Diana suddenly stopped chewing her lip and walked forward a few steps. Cameron realized that even though he was older, she was a few inches taller than he was. He hoped it wouldn't make anybody suspicious.
    "Hi," she said. "Welcome home, and all that."
    Her voice was neutral, a lot like her father's. Cameron's throat suddenly constricted. Did Neil have a nickname for his kid sister? She'd expect him to call her that. He tried to remember the clippings, but his mind was suddenly blank. How could he ever have been so stupid as to think this would actually work? Cameron nearly turned and bolted, thinking incoherently that at least he could keep the clothes that way. Or had Detective Simmons followed him from the hospital? Was he just waiting for Cameron to make a mistake? He felt more trapped than he had ever felt in the cellar.
    Suddenly Stevie ran right up to him, and Cameron took a step back before he could stop himself.
    "Hi, okay? I cleaned out half my stuff, okay? You can have the bed by the window, since you always liked that best, okay?"

    "Okay," Cameron said before he knew he was speaking, and he heard their parents laugh.
    Stevie frowned at him, then nodded. "Okay, then," he said, and turned and went back inside.
    His mother sighed. "He's only eight," she said.
    "And he can be a pain," Diana added, smiling at