I flinched. “Kiss me? What? Who is this guy?”
Scott frowned. “That’s right. I guess you wouldn’t remember him, either. Your ex—Patch.”
CHAPTER
15
BACK UP ,” I ORDERED. “PATCH WAS MY EX?” This didn’t match with Marcie’s story. Or Vee’s, for that matter.
“The two of you broke up. Something to do with Marcie, I think.” He flipped his palms up. “That’s all I know. I moved back to town in the middle of the drama.”
“Are you sure he was my boyfriend?”
“Your words, not mine.”
“What did he look like?”
“Scary.”
“Where is he now?” I asked more forcefully.
“Like I said, finding him won’t be easy.”
“Do you know anything about a necklace he might have given me?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“Marcie said Patch was her boyfriend. She said he gave me a necklace that belongs to her, and now she wants it back. She said he made me see the good in her and brought us together.”
Scott stroked his chin. His eyes laughed at me. “And you bought it?”
My mind reeled. Patch was my boyfriend? Why had Marcie lied? To get the necklace? What could she possibly want with it?
If Patch was my boyfriend, it explained the flashes of déjà vu every time I heard his name, but—
If he was my boyfriend, and I’d meant something to him, where was he now?
“Anything else you can give me on Patch?”
“I hardly knew the guy, and what I knew scared the crap out of me. I’ll see if I can hunt him down, but I can’t make any promises. In the meantime, let’s focus on a sure thing. If we can get enough dirt on Hank, maybe we can figure out why he’s taken an interest in you and your mom and what he’s planning next, and come up with a way to bring him down. We’ve both got something to gain from this. You in, Grey?”
“Oh, I’m in,” I said fiercely.
I stayed with Scott until the sun dipped into the horizon. I left my half-eaten fish dinner behind and hiked back along the shoreline. Scott and I said our good-byes at the guardrail. He didn’t want to make a habit of showing his face in public, and judging by what he’d told me about Hank and his Nephilim spies, I understood his caution. I promised to visit again soon, but he shot down the idea. Routine traffic toward the cave was too risky, he claimed. Instead he’d find me.
On the drive home, I reflected. I walked myself through everything Scott had told me. A strange feeling simmered inside me. Revenge, maybe. Or hatred in its purest form. I didn’t have enough evidence to say for sure that Hank was behind my kidnapping, but I’d given Scott my word that I would do everything in my power to get to the bottom of this. And by “bottom,” I meant if Hank had anything to do with it, I would make him pay.
And then there was Patch. My supposed ex-boyfriend. A guy who radiated mystery, left a strong impression on both Marcie and me, and had vanished without a trace. I couldn’t picture myself with a boyfriend, but if I had to, I envisioned a nice normal guy who turned in his math homework on time and maybe even played rec baseball. A squeaky-clean description at odds with everything I knew about Patch. Which wasn’t much.
I’d have to find a way to change that.
At the farmhouse, I found a sticky note on the counter. My mom was out with Hank for the evening. Dinner, followed by the symphony orchestra in Portland. The thought of her alone with Hank caused my insides to free-fall, but Scott had been watching Hank Millar long enough to know he was dating my mom, and had given me a clear warning: I couldn’t, under any circumstances, let on what I knew. To either of them. Hank believed he had us all fooled, and it was best to keep it that way. I had to trust that, for now, my mom was safe.
I debated calling Vee, making it clear I knew she’d lied about Patch, but I was feeling passive-aggressive. Give her a day of silent treatment, and let her stew over what she’d done. I’d confront her once I knew she was panicked enough to start telling the truth—for real this time. Her betrayal hurt, and for her sake, I hoped she had a very good explanation.
I cracked open a cup of chocolate pudding and ate it in front of the TV, using sitcom reruns to fill up the night. At last the clock slipped past eleven, and I padded upstairs to my room. Peeling out of my clothes, it wasn’t until I returned my scarf to its proper place in the drawer that I noticed the black feather again. It had a silky sheen that reminded me of the color of Jev’s eyes. A black so endless, it absorbed every last particle of light. I remembered riding beside him in the Tahoe, and even though Gabe was right there, I wasn’t scared. Jev made me feel safe, and I wished I had some way to bottle the feeling, pulling it out whenever I needed it.
Most of all, I wished I’d see Jev again.
I’d been dreaming of Jev when my eyes snapped open. The creak of wood had penetrated my sleep, jerking me awake. A shadowy figure crouched in my window, blocking out the moonlight. The figure jumped inside, landing in my bedroom as quietly as a cat.
I shot into a sitting position, and all breath left me in a whoosh.
“Shh,” Scott murmured, finger to his lips. “Don’t wake your mom.”
“Wh-what are you doing here?” I finally managed to stammer.
He pulled the window shut behind him. “I told you I’d pay a visit soon.”
I flopped back on my bed, trying to recover a normal heartbeat. I hadn’t exactly seen my life flash before my eyes, but I’d come embarrassingly close to screaming at the top of my lungs. “You failed to mention that it would involve breaking into my bedroom.”
“Is Hank here?”
“No. He’s out with my mom. I fell asleep, but I haven’t heard them come in yet.”
“Get dressed.”
I gave the clock a look. Then I gave him a look. “It’s almost midnight, Scott.”
“Very observant, Grey. As it turns out, we’re going someplace that will be a lot easier to break into after hours.”
Oh boy. “Break into?” I echoed a little testily, still not recovered from being woken so abruptly. Especially if Scott was serious about doing something potentially illegal.
My eyes were finally adjusting to the blurry darkness, and I caught him grinning. “Not afraid of a little B and E, are you?”
“Not at all. What’s one felony? It’s not like I have high hopes of going to college or getting a job someday,” I quipped.
He ignored my sarcasm. “I found one of the Black Hand’s warehouses.” Crossing the room, he ducked his head into the hall. “You sure they’re not back yet?”
“Hank probably has a lot of warehouses. He sells cars. He has to store them somewhere.” I rolled over, pulled my covers up to my chin, and shut my eyes, hoping he’d take a hint. What I really wanted was to insert myself back into the dream with Jev. I could taste his kiss lingering on my lips. I wanted to live the fantasy a little longer.
“The warehouse is in the industrial district. If Hank is storing cars there, he’s begging to get robbed. This is big-time. I’m feeling it, Grey. He’s keeping something a lot more valuable than cars there. We need to find out what. We need all the dirt on him we can get.”
“Breaking and entering is illegal. If we’re going to nail Hank, we have to do it legitimately.”
Scott came around the bed. He pulled the covers down until he could see my face. “He doesn’t play by the rules. The only way this is going to work is if we level the playing field. Aren’t you a little bit curious about what he’s keeping in the warehouse?”
I thought about the hallucination, the warehouse and the caged angel, but I said, “If it could get me arrested, no.”
He sat back, frowning. “What happened to helping me bury the Black Hand?”
That was the thing. A few hours alone to reason things out, and I felt my confidence slipping. If Hank was everything Scott claimed, how could the two of us go up against him alone? We needed a better plan. A smarter plan.
“I want to help, and I will, but we can’t just jump into this,” I said. “I’m too tired to think. Go back to the cave. Come back at a reasonable hour. Maybe I can talk my mom into visiting Hank at his warehouse and ask her what’s inside.”
“If I bring down Hank, I get my life back,” Scott said. “No more hiding. No more running. I’d get to see my mom again. Speaking of moms, yours would be safe. We both know you want this as much as I do,” he murmured in a voice I didn’t like. It was a voice that hinted at knowing me more than I was comfortable with. I didn’t want Scott to have that kind of insight into me. Not at midnight, anyway. Not when I was this close to slipping back into the dream with Jev. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he said softly, “if that’s what’s got you worried.”
“How do I know that?”
“You don’t. This is your chance to put my intentions to the test. Find out what I’m really made of.”
I snagged my lower lip between my teeth, thinking. I wasn’t the kind of girl who sneaked out at night. And here I was, about to do it twice in one week. I was beginning to think I was one hundred eighty degrees from the person I liked to believe I was. Not so good after all? the devil on my shoulder seemed to taunt.
The idea of going out after dark to spy on one of Hank’s warehouses didn’t exactly send a warm, fuzzy feeling through me, but I rationalized that I’d be with Scott the entire time. And if there was one thing I wanted, it was to get Hank out of my life for good. Maybe, if Scott was right about him being Nephilim, Hank was capable of mind-tricking one or two cops, but if he was doing something highly illegal, there was no way he could evade the entire police force. Right now, getting the police to breathe down his neck seemed like a good start to unraveling his plans, whatever they were.
“Is this even safe?” I asked. “How do we know we won’t get caught?”
“I’ve been canvassing the building for days. Nobody’s there at night. We’ll take a few pictures from the windows. Level of risk is low. You in or not?”
I gave a relenting sigh. “Fine! I’ll throw on some clothes. Turn around. I’m in my pj’s.” Pj’s that consisted of nothing but a tank and boy shorts—an image I didn’t want to sear into Scott’s mind.
Scott smiled. “I’m a guy. That’s like asking a kid not to glance at the candy counter.”
The dimple in his cheek deepened. And it was not in any way cute.
Because I wasn’t going down this road with Scott. I made the decision instantly. Our relationship was complicated enough. If we were going to work together, platonic was the only way to go.
With a wry smile, he raised his arms in defeat and gave me his back. I scrambled out of bed, loped across the room, and shut myself in the closet.
Since the doors were slatted, I left the light off just to be safe and felt my way down the rack of clothes. I tugged on a pair of skinny jeans, a layering tee, and a hoodie. I opted for tennis shoes, fearing we might have to run at a moment’s notice.
Buttoning the top of my jeans, I opened the closet door. “You know what I’m thinking right now?” I asked Scott.
His eyes scanned me. “That you look cute in that girl-next-door way?”
Why did he have to say things like that? I felt a blush spring to my cheeks and hoped Scott missed it in the dim light.
I said, “That I’d better not regret this.”
CHAPTER
16
SCOTT’S MODE OF TRANSPORTATION WAS A 1971 Dodge Charger, not the quietest of cars for a guy who insisted we keep a low profile. Add on the fact that the tailpipe sounded like it had developed a crack, and I was pretty sure we could be heard rocketing around from several blocks away. Even though I thought we were only piling on the suspicion by thundering through town with our hoods up, Scott was adamant.
“The Black Hand has spies everywhere,” he informed me yet again. As if to punctuate his point, his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. “If he catches us together …” He let the sentence dangle.
“I get it,” I said. Brave words, considering they sent a shudder right through me. I preferred not to think about what Hank would do if he suspected Scott and I were spying on him.
“I shouldn’t have taken you to the cave,” Scott said. “He’d do just about anything to find me. I wasn’t thinking about how this would impact you.”
“It’s okay,” I said, but that ominous chill hadn’t vanished. “You were surprised to see me. You weren’t thinking. Neither was I. I’m still not thinking,” I added with a shaky laugh. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be snooping around one of his warehouses. Is the building under video surveillance?”
“No. My guess is the Black Hand doesn’t want any extra evidence proving what goes on there. Video can leak,” he added meaningfully.
Scott parked the Charger by the Wentworth River, under the low-hanging branches of a tree, and we swung out. By the time we’d walked a block, I couldn’t see the car when I glanced over my shoulder. I supposed that was what Scott had been going for. We crept alongside the river, the moon too thin to cast our shadows.
We crossed Front Street, weaving between old brick warehouses, slender and tall, built one right after another. The original architect clearly hadn’t wanted to waste space. The buildings’ windows were greased over, barred with iron, or covered from the inside with newsprint. Trash and tumbleweeds crammed the foundations.
“That’s the Black Hand’s warehouse,” Scott whispered. He pointed in the direction of a four-story brick structure with a rickety fire escape and arched windows. “He’s gone inside it five times in the past week. He always comes just before dawn, when the rest of town is sleeping. He parks several blocks away and walks the rest of the way on foot. Sometimes he’ll circle a block twice just to make sure he’s not being followed. You still think he’s storing cars?”
I had to admit, the chances of Hank taking that kind of precaution over Toyota inventory was pretty low. If anything, it sounded like he was using the building as a chop shop, but I didn’t really believe that, either. Hank was one of the wealthiest and most influential men in town. He wasn’t desperate to make a little cash on the side. No, something else was going on. And by the way the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, I predicted it wasn’t good.
“Are we going to be able to see inside?” I asked, wondering if the windows on Hank’s building were blacked out like the others. We were still too far away to tell.
“Let’s move up another block and find out.”
We hugged each building along the way so closely the bricks snagged my hoodie. At the end of the block, we were close enough to Hank’s building to see that while the windows on the bottom two floors were covered in newspaper, those on the top two floors had been left unobstructed.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Scott asked with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
“Climb the fire escape and have a look inside?”
“We could draw lots. Loser goes up.”
“No way. This was your idea. You should go up.”
“Chicken.” He grinned, but sweat glistened on his forehead. He pulled out a cheap disposable camera. “It’s dark, but I’ll try to get a few clean pictures.”
Without another word, we ran in a crouch across the street. We hurried down the alley behind Hank’s building and didn’t stop until we were hidden behind a Dumpster splashed with graffiti. I braced my hands on my knees and swallowed air. I couldn’t tell if my shortness of breath was due to the running or anxiety. Now that we’d come this far, I suddenly wished I’d stayed behind in the Charger. Or stayed home, period. My greatest fear at this point was being discovered by Hank. How certain was Scott that we weren’t being caught on surveillance tape at this very moment?
“Are you going up?” I asked, secretly hoping he’d developed cold feet too and would make an executive decision to retreat to the car.
“Or in. What are the chances the Black Hand forgot to lock up?” he asked, jerking his head in the directi
on of a row of truck bay doors.
I hadn’t noticed the bay doors until Scott pointed them out. They were raised off the ground and set back in an alcove. Perfect for loading and unloading cargo privately. There were three in a row, and something clicked in my head when I saw them. They looked a lot like the bay doors I’d pictured during my hallucination in the school bathroom. The warehouse also had a creepy resemblance to the other hallucination I’d had with Jev by the side of the road. I found the coincidences eerie, but wasn’t sure how to raise the issue with Scott. Telling him, I think I saw this place during one of my hallucinations wasn’t going to earn me a lot of credibility.
While I was still pondering the spooky connection, Scott leaped up on the cement ledge and tried the first bay door. “Locked.” He moved to the keypad. “What do you think the code is? Hank’s birthday?”
“Too obvious.”
“His daughter’s birthday?”
“Doubtful.” Hank didn’t strike me as stupid.
“Back to plan A, then.” Scott sighed.
He jumped, catching the bottom rung of the fire escape. A layer of rust sprinkled down and the metal gave a low groan of protest, but the pulley worked, the chain fed through it, and the ladder lowered.
“Catch me if I fall,” was all he said before going up. He tested the first couple of rungs, bouncing his weight against them. When they didn’t give, he continued up, one cautious step at a time to minimize the creaking metal. I watched him all the way to the first landing.
Figuring I should keep watch while Scott climbed, I poked my head around the side of the building. Ahead, at the adjacent corner, a long, knifelike shadow spread across the sidewalk, and a man stepped into view. I pulled back.
“Scott,” I whispered up, my voice the barest sound.
He was too high to hear.
I glanced around the edge of the building a second time. The man stood on the corner with his back to me. Between his fingers burned the orange glow of a cigarette. He leaned into the street, glancing both ways down it. I didn’t think he was waiting for a ride, and I didn’t think he’d stepped out of work for a smoke. Most of the warehouses in this district had been retired years ago, and it was past midnight. Nobody was working at this hour. If I had to bet, the man was guarding Hank’s building.
The Complete Hush, Hush Saga Page 73
