No Saint

by Jo Raven

  I feel like I’m stuck in molasses, unable to move or think straight. It’s all unrolling in slow motion. As the pickup rolls away, my paralysis breaks and I jerk after it.

  But it’s too late. It’s already speeding away, and... I need to think. Make a plan. Find information. Allies.

  I need to talk to Dad, and find Ross’s family. They love him, and might know how to help.

  Maybe I’m worried for no real reason. Maybe those accusations won’t stick—but the sheriff seemed pretty sure of himself when he arrested Ross.

  Stopping, I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, fighting for control. He said Ross was on the cameras... and then there’s the pendant.

  God, what is going on here?

  ***

  Dad doesn’t share my conviction about Ross’s innocence, unfortunately. I should’ve expected that. After all, I haven’t yet sat to talk to him about Ross, not properly, and now with the arrest, I’ve missed my chance. Nothing like being arrested for a crime to show you in a bad light.

  “Are you so sure about that boy, Luna, that you’re willing to get involved in this mess? Armed robbery, now that’s a big thing.”

  “She probably thinks it’s so cool to be an inmate’s girlfriend,” Josh sneers. “Visit him in prison to hold hands. Have prison babies.”

  “Josh. Stop it. It’s not like that at all. I’m sure he’s innocent.”

  And the worry is eating at me like acid. I’ve tried to find out to which facility he was taken, but the ones I called replied that he wasn’t there. Where is he? I need to talk to him...

  “You just told me that the sheriff talked of security cameras, witnesses and a pendant Ross left on the scene,” Dad says in his reasonable voice that is starting to grate on my nerves.

  “He didn’t leave it.”

  “Oh right, it just fell out of his pocket,” Josh says. “How inconvenient.”

  “Shut up, Josh. You don’t know Ross at all.”

  “And you do? That’s a joke. Just because you fuck—”

  “Josh!” Dad’s glower is formidable, bushy brows drawn together. He rarely uses it, and its appearance means he’s truly angry. “This isn’t helping.”

  “Wasn’t supposed to help,” Josh mutters.

  “He’s innocent, Dad, I know it.” I hate how my eyes fill up. I refuse to cry. “I told you, he’s changed. And besides, he’s never done anything like that. Why would he?”

  “Maybe he wants to run away, like you,” Josh says sullenly. “Maybe he wants to run away with you. Real life has costs.”

  “And what do you know of real life and its costs?” I whirl on him, struggling not to scream. “He just gave me all his money so I can run away because you went and told him that’s what I wanted. Here!” I take out the wad of money and throw it at my brother. “Doesn’t look like the loot from a bank vault, does it?”

  He flinches, lets the bills thud to the floor.

  “I don’t want it,” I continue. “I don’t want to leave. Do you think I enjoyed going away and not having you around? That I didn’t miss you, and Dad? I’m not giving that up again, not out of fear. And Ross is a big reason why I wanted to stay.”

  Josh’s eyes are round like saucers.

  “Luna...” Dad whispers.

  “If you two aren’t going to trust me on this, not going to help me get Ross out of jail, then I’ll just have to find someone who will. Now excuse me, I’m going to bed.”

  Dad doesn’t follow me, for which I’m grateful, as the tears win the battle and run down my cheeks. But they’re angry tears, not tears of shame, of weakness. I’ll fight for him, I’ll find out what really went down and get him out of there.

  To my mind, it’s clear as day that someone orchestrated Ross’s downfall, and there are many candidates to choose from. Half the town wants him gone, and some anger, some violence is needed so people won’t walk all over you, as I’m starting to find out. It’s as if I’ve absorbed some of his darkness. An angel infected by some evil, rising again, growing back his wings—but right now I need those feelings to fight back, protect him.

  It’s the last clue, the last piece in the puzzle of who Ross is, why he is the way he is, why the roughness and violence and fury: his reaction to the world, his defense, his way to survive.

  “I’ll prove you’re innocent,” I tell the walls of my room, the star-studded ceiling. “I won’t give up on you like everyone else. I swear I’ll stand by your side.”

  ***

  Been trying to find the phone number of Merc Watson. He’s managed to hide his private info and I’ve had to send him a friend request on Facebook and then a message on messenger. I did manage to find his email, and sent him a message there too, but who checks emails nowadays? I just hope I reach him. If he doesn’t reply soon, I’ll try his sisters, and I wish I knew his brother-in-law’s garage name.

  Maybe Dena knows? Dad probably does but after last night’s argument I don’t want to go asking just yet. Not unless it’s my last resort.

  Going to work after what happened yesterday is killing me. I’ve tried to call Ross but it all goes to voicemail. I’m starting to wonder if he left his phone at home yesterday. I’ve called the station but they said he was being questioned. That he had to make the phone call if he wanted to talk to me, and that he will be kept for more questioning. No, he’s not being released yet as far as she knows.

  Crap.

  My worries are waylaid when I enter the diner and find Dena crying behind the bar. She tries to hide it, turning her back to me and busying herself cleaning the trays, but her shoulders are trembling.

  “Hey... You okay?”

  “Yeah. Peachy.” She sniffles loudly.

  “Did something happen?”

  “No. Everything’s fine.”

  I have no clue what could be wrong, except... “Are you crying because Ross was arrested?”

  “What? No.”

  “Okay... I thought you liked him,” I mutter.

  “I thought he was hot. Not good. You shouldn’t confuse one with the other.”

  I’m not sure I’m the one confused here. I put my things away, pull on my uniform and take a deep breath, preparing to face the day and the customers.

  While Ross is facing a nightmare.

  They’ll let him go, I tell myself. They don’t really have proof he committed any crime.

  But the sheriff hates him. I bet he’ll push to keep Ross in jail longer, try to make the charges stick.

  Dena sniffles and blows her nose in a Kleenex, and I manage to pull my thoughts off Ross for two seconds to try and guess what happened here.

  “Does this have to do with Jenner?” I ask.

  She almost drops the glass she’s polishing. “None of your business.”

  “Dena...”

  “Jenner left town. And that’s fine,” she says defiantly. “He never promised me anything.”

  “When did he leave town? That was sudden.”

  “I dunno. He’s been away the past couple of days.”

  Coincidence? And “that hair of yours is a dead giveaway” like the sheriff said...

  God, I want to talk to someone, and Dena isn’t a happy camper right now. An idea is forming in my mind and I don’t like it one bit.

  Thankfully, just two hours later, as I’m returning to the kitchen with orders, my phone messenger informs me I have a new text.

  And it’s from Merc Watson.

  ***

  ‘Hi Luna,’ he writes. ‘Ross spoke of you. Look, my brother is often arrested. He likes to cause trouble. What worries you?’

  I chew on my lip as I decide how to reply. ‘Hi Merc. Ross also spoke of you. He was arrested for armed robbery yesterday. I think he was framed.’

  ‘That’s not good,’ Merc writes after a long pause. ‘We’re coming to Destiny today. Let’s talk.’

  Does this count as meeting Ross’s folks? If the suicidal butterflies bomb-diving in my stomach are any indication, that’s a yes. His siblings are
the only people Ross has ever talked of with affection. Weary affection, sure, and some distrust, but they’re the closest he has to a family.

  I need to leave work early, but Mike is not around to ask him. It doesn’t take much to convince Dena to cover for me. I think she’s happy to stay longer, keep her mind off her own misery.

  On impulse, I give her a quick hug. “The right man will come your way,” I say, Luna the Deranged Oracle. Ha. But giving someone hope is not a bad thing in my book. Without hope, we’d all shrivel and die. “Give it time. You’re cute, you’re clever, I’m sure the right guy will notice.”

  She snorts softly, but she’s smiling when I draw back. “I’m just annoyed with myself for being so upset, that’s all. I’ll get over it. Now go, meet your man’s relatives and get him out of the slammer before he has a fit.” At my look of surprise, she shrugs. “It’s no secret that the prison he got sent to last time sucks big time. You didn’t know?” She winces. “It’s infamous for its violence.”

  A shiver raises goosebumps on my arms. “Let’s get him out.”

  The Watsons are in town for the day only, as it turns out. They had no clue Ross was arrested until I wrote to Merc about it.

  We meet by the river, near Ross’s house. I just wanted a place we could talk away from prying eyes. I didn’t think that they’d be uneasy here but they glance around like they expect an ax murderer to come from the woods.

  Uh. Of course. They must know everything about this case. After all, the serial ax murderer was their father, too.

  A handsome guy who looks a little like Ross smiles at me. “Hi, I’m Merc.”

  “Luna.”

  “We were planning to meet Ross for lunch or something,” Merc says, “but it looks like first we need to rescue him from the claws of the law.”

  Very funny.

  “Well, I can see what caught our brother’s attention,” one of the women says, grinning at me. “You’re a pretty one. Hi, I’m Octavia.”

  My face heats up. “Hello.”

  “We call her Tati,” the other woman says. “I’m Gigi. And that bear of a man over there is Matt Hansen, Octavia’s husband.”

  The man in question has a beard, shaggy dark hair and piercing brown eyes. He sort of grunts at me and nods. “What did that idiot get himself into this time?”

  “He didn’t do anything wrong.” I glare daggers at this Matt. “If you’re not here to help him, then you can go back the way you came.”

  He grins then. “Oh, I like you. Turns out the boy has good taste after all.”

  “Didn’t think you liked him,” I mutter, sullen.

  “Jury’s still out on that one,” Merc chuckles.

  “I don’t hate him,” Matt says. “But he’d better not open his big mouth and say nasty things to my wife, or anyone else for that matter, or I’ll rearrange his pretty face.”

  I gape at him. This is the family Ross counts on? “Ross has changed,” I whisper. “And I thought you could help him, but...”

  “We will.” Merc smirks. “Don’t mind Matt. He’s a savage but his heart is in the right place. In fact, he’s already talked to his cop friend, John Elba, to look into this case.”

  “John Elba?”

  “Old friend of Matt’s,” Merc says. “He’s been keeping an eye on Ross, in case something like this went down.”

  “Many people around here have it in for the boy,” Matt nods, “and you’re right, he’s been trying to change. John promised to look into it. He told me he talked to Ross recently, told him to call if he needed anything.”

  “I doubt Ross trusts any cop, or any person to help him when he’s in need,” I say in a small voice, embarrassed that I judged this Matt too harshly, too quickly. I seem to do that a lot.

  And he seems to care for Ross in his own rough way.

  “Yeah, there’s that,” Matt agrees. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. Tell us exactly what you know.”

  “Ross trusts you,” Merc says to me. “The man’s in love with you.”

  “You don’t know that,” I breathe, startled.

  “Don’t I? He thinks he’s so tough, but he’s easy to read.”

  “Maybe it was because I took care of him when he was unwell,” I say. “Taking affection wherever you find it isn’t wrong, but it doesn’t mean he feels anything for me.”

  “Girl.” Merc shakes his head. “I tried to take care of him. Octavia tried. He doesn’t want us around. I mean, not in the way he wants you. Guy loves you.”

  He’s never spoken the words outright. But I’m the one who told him that actions trump words, and he showed me how he feels many times over. Time to stop bothering with details and see the bigger picture.

  “I told you what the sheriff said. That’s all I know.”

  “Circumstantial evidence at best,” Merc says, but he looks worried. “He has a history of small offences, and that won’t help his case.”

  I wipe my palms on my thighs. “I have a theory. There’s a group of guys who had it out for Ross. They kept jumping him and beating him up. Then there’s a guy called Jenner who has been imitating Ross. Studying him, sort of.” I frown. “It was so weird.”

  “And that Jenner really looks like Ross?”

  “Well, if the quality of the cameras isn’t the best, yes. He’s gone into a lot of trouble to look like Ross, move like Ross. And he has dyed his hair the exact same color, given it the same haircut...”

  “Ugh. Creepy.”

  Oh yeah.

  “So on the cameras you see someone who looks just like Ross, they have that pendant of his from the crime scene, and Ross has no alibi?” Merc sounds more like he’s summarizing the evidence for himself but I reply anyway.

  “I don’t know about the alibi. I don’t even know when this robbery is supposed to have taken place.”

  “Maybe it’s on the news.” Gigi is on her phone, typing. “Wait, here it is. Armed bank robbery late this morning. Suspect arrested in Destiny. Thousands of dollars stolen.”

  “Shit. If he’s convicted, he could get five years or more in prison.”

  “Unless Ross has an alibi for the time of the robbery, this isn’t looking good at all,” Gigi mutters, then lifts her chin at Merc who’s rolling his eyes. “What? I watch Law and Order.”

  “What about Jenner? People must know he looks like Ross. What if we take him to the station?”

  “It seems he left town, same as the other guys who bullied him,” I inform them.

  “Damn.”

  “I think,” Matt says, stroking his short beard, “that it’s time to talk to John Elba ourselves.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Ross

  I’ve been locked up in an airless claustrophobic room for what feels like endless hours, and the burly cop across from me insists I should confess to the robbery, and maybe even the masterminding of it. He’s a buddy of the sheriff, I’ve seen them talking before, heads bent together. He wants me to admit to something I haven’t done.

  I don’t even know what exactly happened, and of course they won’t tell me, because they want me to crack and tell them in my own words.

  A robbery, the sheriff said. Armed robbery. I asked if anyone was hurt but was met with stony silence.

  Joy.

  I mean, what the fuck. I may have always been a pain in the ass, but I’ve never stolen a single penny from anyone. Even assholes have their rules.

  “Where did you get the gun you used during the robbery?” The burly cop asks me.

  “I didn’t. I didn’t rob no bank, didn’t use a gun.”

  “Someone gave it to you, then?”

  “Nobody gave me no gun. I didn’t do it, man.”

  “Who did it then?”

  “Ed,” I say for the hundredth time. “Edward. I’d bet my right kidney it was Ed. He mentioned something to me days ago. Weeks? Not sure when it was. Something about getting cash to escape this town, go to the big city. He said I should follow him.”

  “And you did
.”

  “No, goddammit.” I draw a calming breath. “I told you, I refused.”

  “You want me to believe that.”

  “Yes! Since you have my phone, you should also check who called me to say my shift at work was canceled. I bet they wanted to make sure I had no alibi. If I’d gone to work, plenty of people would testify I didn’t go rob a bank.”

  The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced Ed set me up. Ed and who else? The whole damn bunch of idiots? Not so stupid after all, it seems, if they managed to convince the police I’m the one behind the robbery. I wonder where they’re now. Far, far away, if they have any brains.

  And Luna... is she gone, too? She said she wouldn’t leave, but after this, why would she stay? She thinks I did it. I see doubt in her eyes the moment the sheriff pulled out the pendant, like a rabbit from a hat.

  This is what Ed warned me about, she said. She knew this would happen? She’s in with him?

  No, she wouldn’t do that to me. No, Ross, you decided to trust her, even if she doesn’t trust you. She has good reason to doubt you, you motherfucker—but she’s always been honest with you, and kind.

  Yeah, and any sane person would be running the other way right about now. Prove myself to her? Whatever. She found me drunk and asleep on the steps of the grocery store, and the sheriff drove up to take me into custody.

  I’m turning into my dad. I dunno when it happened, or how I found myself behind bars again, but I have a feeling I won’t be getting out of it that easy this time.

  “I want to speak to John Elba,” I say, again for the thousandth time, my lips numb, my hands cold. “Can you call him for me?”

  “After we’re done here.”

  “You’ve said that before.”

  “We’re still not done, Ross.” He leans forward, eyes glittering with delight at my obvious unease.

  “I have rights,” I mutter.

  “Rights? Surely you know better than that, after having sat in prison for so long.” He gives me a grim smile and I don’t know if he’s bluffing or not. Fuck, I hope he is. “The son of a serial killer. A known bully. I bet they’ve missed you in there, that they’ve made plans for you.”

  I can’t stop the shiver that wracks me. But I manage to keep the words that want out behind my teeth—choice words about his mother, his father, and his whole ancestry.