Free Unspeakable by Kevin O'Brien Page B

He wished he was alone. He didn’t like hearing the car hovering behind him. He pedaled faster and turned onto one of the main drags, Viking Way.
    So far, the four detectives hadn’t protected him from anyone dangerous—just a few reporters. The double murder of Collin Cox’s mother and her lover had been the lead story on Entertainment Tonight for three nights in a row. It had made the front pages of national newspapers. The tabloids had a field day going on about the Night Whisperer curse and how the murders had happened on Friday the thirteenth. Collin saw his mom exposed as a screwed-up, drug-addicted, negligent stage mother. Maybe her problems had been an open secret in the movie industry, but now everyone knew. Collin was stupid enough to read the articles online—along with the reader comments. He couldn’t believe how many awful people were out there in cyberspace, posting their opinions and making judgments about someone they’d never met. The consensus among them was that his mother had deserved exactly what she’d gotten.
    He’d been photographed and filmed ad nauseam, mostly outside the police station in South Seattle. It had been almost as crazy as some of the movie premieres he’d attended. The photographers had also swarmed in on him again four days ago outside Lake View Cemetery on Capitol Hill for his mother’s burial. The funeral had been delayed, because her autopsy had taken nearly a week to complete. When Collin saw the recent photos of himself online, the captions often referred to him as handsome former child star Collin Cox. Praise, at last. His mother had said he’d outgrow his “awkward phase” by age sixteen. Or maybe people just felt sorry for him. It didn’t matter, and didn’t make up for the horrible things they said about his mom.
    Collin received a barrage of emails from talent agents—including two who had previously abandoned him. But the movie deals they proposed were cheapie exploitation stuff. The TV offers were all reality shows. Someone even talked about possibly getting him on Dancing With the Stars, and asked how long a mourning period he’d need before he could step into a ballroom-dancing getup and compete on the show.
    Last week, his Facebook fan page, which he hadn’t updated in over a year, jumped from around 8,400 to 177,489 fans—at last count.
    He might have enjoyed all the press and the attention a few years ago, but not now.
    His grandfather had used his still-formidable clout to keep Collin’s current whereabouts out of the newspapers. For twenty-five years, nearly a third of the people in town had been employed at his grandfather’s mill, Stampler Wire and Cable. He’d used his influence with the local press, who downplayed the fact that the late Piper Cox was onetime industrial tycoon Andrew Stampler’s daughter.
    A few determined reporters had tracked Collin to his grandparents’ house in Poulsbo. But Ian and the other detectives kept them off the property.
    That didn’t mean he had to like Ian’s coworkers. He figured Al was going to be on his ass all the way to town. And, as was typical of him, Al was a jerk about it, too. Every once in a while, the car would fade back and give Ian some space—but never for long. He’d hear Al gun it and come up right behind him. Gravel crunched under the Dodge’s tires as it loomed closer. Collin really wanted to flip him the bird.
    Instead, he turned onto one of the foot trails threading through Nelson Park, an eleven-acre piece of land overlooking the bay. As he got closer to the park’s picnic grounds, he smelled food barbecuing. He heard kids laughing and screaming. There wasn’t much to the park, except the water views, an old barn, and a quaint waterfront museum/souvenir shop. Yet scores of tourists milled around, checking the place out. Collin steered his bike onto the grass to avoid all the people on