Hot Pickle - J.J. Knight Page 0,76

has been cut to the place for safety, so I can only see the register and counter by the giant lights set up to shine inside.

A firefighter walks out, his heavy boots crunching glass. “Nothing wrong inside. Don’t see anything stolen, but you will want to check once everything’s secure. Probably somebody was drunk and lost control of the car.”

Max and I glance at each other. Franklin isn’t much of a drinker, although tonight might have led him to it.

This looks deliberate.

The firefighter gestures to the rubble of bricks beneath the front tires. “They probably would have backed out and taken off, but the front end got hung up. Must have left on foot.”

“There’s no blood or anything inside the truck, right?” I ask.

The police officer standing nearby shakes her head. “No. It doesn’t look like the person who was driving the truck got hurt. The airbag did deploy, of course.”

I can’t get close to the open driver’s side door. It’s cordoned off with tape. The scene is like a nightmare.

Sherman powers off his phone and shoves it in his pocket. “The insurance adjusters will be out in the morning. I hired a cleanup team to board this up.” He pats Max on the back. “It’s a building. We’ll fix it.”

Max stares into the cavern of his open deli. “But Grammy’s celebration is supposed to start next weekend. We were supposed to be the first one.”

Sherman kicks at a loose brick. “We could rearrange the timeline, give you a chance to rebuild.”

Anthony dodges bricks and glass as he steps close. “I don’t know, Dad. We’ve got the whole publicity engine already in place. It might be easier to cancel Max’s part of the celebration.”

I clutch Max’s hand. I feel so responsible. We should have been more discreet. Skipped meeting when we knew Franklin was around. Controlled when he found out, and how.

“Surely there’s something we can do,” Jason says. “Set up shop in some empty storefront temporarily?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Sherman says. “Right now, it’s all about finding out who did this and why.”

I glance up at Max again. So far, we haven’t given up the name of my brother.

A young, fresh-faced police officer shouts over the cab of the truck. “I ran the plates. We have the owner of the truck—Franklin Schultz.”

So much for that. I let go of Max and step away. “That’s my brother,” I say.

Sherman turns to us in disbelief. “Why would he do this to Max’s deli?”

Max blows out a long stream of air. “He didn’t want me dating his sister.”

“Oh,” the two brothers say in unison.

Sherman’s face seems older in the flashing colors. “I guess that explains the shiner on your eye. Camryn, have you heard from him? Is he hurt?”

It’s nice he’s worried about someone who wrecked his son’s business. “I’ve been texting him all evening. He hasn’t responded.”

Max’s jaw is tight. I’ve never seen him look so angry. “It’s late. Why don’t you head back to your place? We’re going to be here most of the night to keep the place secure.”

I get it. They want to talk about Franklin without me around. “Okay. Does anyone want me to run them by the hotel?”

Nova steps up. “I’ll go. I’m exhausted. The brothers can handle this.”

“Sherman?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I’ll stay here with my boys.”

I lead Nova to my car, and we ride in silence. There’s not much to say. My guilt weighs heavy.

As we pull up to the entrance, Nova finally says, “Max is super great. I’m sure you guys will find a way to work all this out.”

I don’t know how to respond. I feel like my family has directly ruined theirs.

When Nova closes the door, I’m glad to be alone. I try texting Franklin again, then try calling. Nothing.

I drive across town to his apartment. No one’s there, not even his deadbeat roommate.

Finally, in desperation, I call my parents.

Dad answers the phone. “It’s kind of late, isn’t it?”

“Hey, Dad.”

“What’s going on?” His voice is full of annoyance at the inconvenience of my call. For a moment, I think why did you guys even have kids?

But I only say, “I need to find Franklin.”

“We haven’t seen either one of you since Christmas. Funny how that is, since we live in the same city and all.”

I take a deep breath. “He wrecked his truck. But he wasn’t in it. I’m worried about him, that’s all.”

“Was he drunk?”

My mom’s voice is shrill in the background. “Is who drunk? What’s going on?”

I