He stopped talking, noticed her staring.
“I’ll race you to the top,” she said to cover for herself, pointing up at the roof beams, 30 or so feet above them. She didn’t know what made her challenge him, except that he was so goofy he brought out the kid in her. The kid she’d never allowed herself to be.
In a sort of utility closet full of wiring and silvery ductwork, she found a passageway through all the floors, straight to the top. With the exposed framework, it was almost as easy as using a ladder. When they got to the top, they could see all the way from La Jolla to the south, to Oceanside pier to the north, orange blobs on the inky blackness. Rancho Alto was directly in the foreground, and Fairy Glen’s conspicuous dark sky to the northwest, over a few hills.
Although her heart was pounding and her breath was ragged, from a technical standpoint, it had been an easy climb. Getting down would be another matter. She noticed only now that this particular house sat on the edge of the cliff, which dropped a very, very long way down.
They sat crosslegged on the concrete roof and stared out at the lights. She glimpsed a white bird—almost like that owl she’d seen earlier—hunting, deep in the canyon. Can’t look down too long, look up, look at the horizon. Okay, good. She breathed deeply, trying to slow her heart.
“Wanna sample the wares?” Jeremy pulled out a baggie, and crumbled a bud onto a rolling paper. He rolled the joint and licked it, something about the way he did it reminding Rebecca of the wolf in a zoot suit on the old cartoons. He sparked it up.
“The only times I’ve smoked pot is with my dad. My real dad,” she said. “I lived with him for a couple years. I was in junior high and I thought it’d be better living with him. Then I found out…”
“What?” Jeremy prompted.
“Well, I don’t know. I guess I just found out he wasn’t—a good dad. Or a good—anything. He’s kind of a loser. So, then I realized why my mom left him and I kind of stopped blaming her. But, he did teach me to skate. Now I have Walt. He’s cool, I like him. So I guess I’m one of the lucky ones.”
“My stepdad is a dork,” he said.
“What about your mom?”
“She’s…well, she’s my mom. She loves me. She wants the best for me.”
“And…your real dad?”
“He wants the best for himself.”
That’s pretty sad, she thought.
“Hey, guess what. This is my birthday,” Jeremy said.
“No.”
“Yep. I turn 18. Legal age. Been thinking about my options. I’m not great in school, obviously, and I don’t wanna deal for the rest of my life. Especially now that I can be tried as an adult. I’m pretty much out of business now anyway, with Mitch and Chad gone.” He turned and gave her a grin. “Anyways, I wasn’t born until 11:30, so, what do you say we make out until I turn into an adult. Then we’ll have to stop, or else it’ll be a crime.”
“I hate to break it to you, but I think it’s still a crime if you’re 17.” She laughed. “Besides, that’s kind of a screwed up joke to make, especially after what you just told me about your sister.”
“Sorry.” He sounded totally ashamed now. If she could’ve slapped herself, she would’ve, when she saw his face drop. Why did she always have to be so—harsh?
But she felt like she’d dodged a bullet. She had thought his bet to take her on a date was a joke, almost an insult. But maybe not. Did he really like her? She needed time to think. She steered the conversation back to more pressing matters.
“I’m worried about you,” she said. “There’s a lot of people dropping dead around you.”
“I’m worried about me too,” he sighed, finally sounding un-cocky for once.
They lay back and looked at the sky, Rebecca tracing out solutions in the stars that whirled above, blind to the Milky Way that unified them all.
When they heard a car engine, they both jumped, flipped onto their bellies and flattened themselves against the roof.
“Who is it?” she hissed.
“Rent-a-cops.” He put a finger to his lips.
It came up from the depths of the canyon, then the engine turned off, a car door closed. Footsteps on the pavement. Around Jeremy’s car, pausing here and there. His car door opening.
“Shit, my backpack’s in there!” Jeremy burst out.
This time it was Rebecca that shushed him silently. Had she left anything that could identify her in the car? She didn’t need trouble with the cops. She’d been purposely avoiding that since she’d left her skateboarding days behind. The car door shut.
Footsteps returned to the other car. Its door closed, the engine started, idled for a bit, then it pulled away.
They slithered to the edge, watching as taillights retreated. “That’s not a security car,” Rebecca said. It was some old beater.
Trembling from the cold and the fear, they climbed down the skeletal armature of the burn-proof house.
When their feet were back on solid foundation, Jeremy said “Let’s hang out a little in case they’re waiting for us to leave, whoever it is.” He pulled her into the shadows of what would end up as the hall closet in this behemoth of a house.
She buried her face in his chest and they held onto each other. Her trembling subsided. Time seemed to bend into itself. She held him tighter, and his warmth flowed into her body. Her hands were about to run up his back, under his shirt, but she stopped them. So far, this was just a hug. But, man, what a hug. Why’d it have to be Jeremy that made her feel this way?
“Rebecca?” he said. “I think Chad got killed because it was supposed to have been him up on the quarry, not Mitch. Mitch was a mistake. Chad was supposed to go that night and he didn’t, so they had to get him some other way. And I think Tanya knows something she’s not telling. Which is why she’s freaking out so bad. Thanks for helping me figure it out.”
She looked up at him, and he kissed her, gripping her upper arms to draw her up to him, like he was dying of thirst and he was drinking her like water.
He released his hold. She took a deep breath and waited for her eyes to focus.
“Any time, Sherlock,” she said, stepping back and straightening her hoodie. “How about we get the fuck out of here?”
Sunday, October 14
THE BOYD FAMILY WENT to church, as usual, without Rebecca.
When she’d moved back from her dad’s, she’d announced that she was agnostic, so Deirdre gave up and stopped fighting with her to go.
Deirdre had an Irish Catholic upbringing and had no desire to inflict that on any of her offspring, so they attended the Presbyterian church in Karlsberg that Walt’s dad went to. But as much as she liked this church, she still considered it ‘church lite.’
She wished now she was in a Catholic church—for one thing, so she’d have a more direct line to thank the big guy for looking out for her last night, and for another, so she could confess. She hadn’t been honest with Walt about what exactly had happened up there on the mountain last night. She knew if she had, he’d do everything in his power to never let her ride up there again, and maybe that would trickle down into him worrying every time she went out on horseback alone, and then she would have no peace. She needed her trail time, more than anything.
With downcast eyes she peeked at Walt’s hands, folded in his lap. His solid, steady hands. He was used to her foibles, misjudging time, getting home after dark. But not being shot at.
How could she lie to him?
While the reverend droned through his sermon, she silently said some Hail Marys, hoping for forgiveness.
* * *
REBECCA WALKED UP AND down the deserted streets of San Amaro, trying to find a garage sale, kicking herself about last night.
It was so cliché. Girl hates guy, guy teases girl and acts like a jerk, girl falls for guy. Except the better she got to know Jeremy, the less of a jerk he was. She’d always been so serious, and here was this fake tough-guy goofball with a screwed up family who trusted her enough to bare every
thing to her. She wasn’t the type to go for wayward souls, or naive enough to think you can change people. She just thought Jeremy had something—what was it? Despite what she’d told Mr. Fariz, it was something worthy of redemption.
He’d dropped her off last night a few minutes before her midnight curfew, saying he had a quick delivery to make, then he was heading to Tanya’s to “get some answers.” The only thing she knew for sure, there was some freaky-deaky shit going on in this neighborhood, and Jeremy was in danger.
All the more reason to get her own transportation, as soon as possible.
So far, no sign of any garage sales. She must’ve slept too late, then it took forever to walk here, and if there were sales they were all closing up, not like she was used to in LA where the sale went all day and all night sometimes.
Half the houses in San Amaro were empty, but you couldn’t tell the empty ones from the occupied ones. Nobody played on the perfectly green front lawn patch, nobody played on the street. There were no cars anywhere, not even parked in the driveways. It was forbidden by their HOAs. 36 different HOAs for the 36 different subdivisions contained within the fake town of San Amaro Hills.
That was one of the many things she missed about LA. Seeing actual people. In her dad’s neighborhood, people were always outside, laughing, yelling, talking to each other, playing music, selling ice cream.
She could really go for an ice cream right now.
At Albertson’s, she got a Klondike bar. Outside, a group of little bad boys, a few years younger than Justin. The leader posed casually on his brand-new shiny Target dirt bike. Bingo.
“Hey,” she said, pulling cash from her pocket. She always cashed her paycheck, what use was money in the bank? And she knew from experience boys this age pretty much got hypnotized if you waved enough twenties in their face. “How much for the bike?”
On the ride home she jammed down on each stroke with fierce energy, standing on the pedals and using the machine to its fullest potential, becoming the athlete she always proclaimed she never was. Left right left right, thigh muscles bulging, the bike rocking side to side as she took control of it. She took in big lungfuls of air, trying not to get behind the curve, never gasping, always ready to pull in more oxygen.
Her phone rang and she pulled over to answer. It was Jeremy. “Hey Beck, so I got the low down. Tanya’s totally freaking out. Can we talk—in person?”
“Where?”
“How about the quarry?”
“Are you crazy? It’s a crime scene!”
“I’ll pick you up.”
“No.” She sighed. “I’ll meet you there. I got a new bike.”
“Aww man. I was supposed to pay for that. How much did you spend?”
“A hundred bucks.” Actually, she’d bargained the kid down to sixty, but she wanted Jeremy to feel guilty.
“Ok. Meet me up there in half an hour.”
From San Amaro she took the power line road. Going uphill was a whole different story than rocketing down. Finally, sweating and panting, she made it to the top. She stopped in the shade of the transformer tower, and while she took a puff from her inhaler, contemplated the sign on the base of the tower, a little stick figure man with a lightning bolt going through him. Danger. High Voltage.
The rest of the ride to the quarry was actually pretty fun, which is why she hadn’t objected too much to meeting there. Local kids had built some jumps on the dirt trails, and there was an old abandoned Ford pickup truck up there that she liked to observe as the bullet holes turned it to rusty lace over time, and it got picked over by kids, and lately, adults desperate for scrap metal money. And, even though she knew Mitch’s car had been removed from the bottom, it was still kinda cool that it was a murder scene.
Up ahead, the sheen of the muscle car in the lowering orange sun. She was relieved no crime scene tape or barricades were around. She raced the rest of the way along the flat part, pulled up right next to Jeremy, who was leaning against the car, eyes in the distance. She braked hard and fishtailed, dusting him on purpose. He didn’t react, just started talking.
“Okay, so here’s the deal. I know who’s at the top of this meth ring.” His eyes were blazing. “It’s my dad dude!” He sounded like he’d won the lottery. “I’m gonna nail him to the wall!”
“Wait—so why is Tanya freaked again?”
“She thinks Chad got all smart and tried to blackmail him. Ten to one it was her idea but she didn’t want to get her hands dirty. Anyway, according to her, that’s why they offed him.”
Rebecca just barely stopped her hand from taking on a life of its own and smacking him upside the head. “And so you think it’s a good idea to, quote, nail him to the wall? Are you a fucking idiot? Wait, don’t answer that. I already know.”
“What do you think is gonna happen? He’s my dad dude! I bet I can get a Porsche if I play it right. Hey, want a car? I can prolly get you one too.” He hooted with laughter.
“I don’t like cars.”
“So, no cars. What about diamonds?”
That didn’t even dignify an answer. She scowled, hoping to telegraph the message that he was the dumbest person on earth. “That’s not the point.” She said it slowly, like she was talking to a kindergartner. “The point is a few people are already dead, and you don’t seem to comprehend how dangerous this situation is. For you.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, I do. I just don’t really care anymore.” His enthusiasm was gone. “Like I said last night, now that I’m 18, things are different for me.”
“What about your mom and stepdad? Won’t they take care of you? You can stop dealing, like you said, you don’t have a supplier anymore anyway. Just finish school, go to community college or whatever…”
“I’d only disappoint them.”
She didn’t try to argue. She cranked her pedal a half turn, grinding dust up into the air with the knobby little back tire. It swirled around them and down into the quarry on currents of cooling air. She pulled her hoodie closer around her as the sun painted the cliffs pink.
He kicked at something in the dirt. A cigar butt. He picked it up, rolling it between his fingers, and flicked it over the cliff. They watched its long arc as it fell, bounced off the ledge that was still covered with parts of Mitch’s melted car, and out of sight.
“I better get back before dark,” she said.
“See you at work Tuesday?” he asked.
“You’re still employed? I mean, Mr. Fariz didn’t talk to you?”
“No, I’ve been a little busy. But I’ll just tell him I had a death in the family.”
She didn’t want to add to his worries, so she said nothing.
“Wait Beck. Here’s a hundred bucks. You won fair and square. I like the new bike, by the way.”
She didn’t want to take the money, but he grabbed her hand and put the folded bills into it, then held it. She looked around, embarrassed, not wanting to think about last night. Feeling her retreat, he dropped her hand.
“I could give you a ride if you want,” he said. She shook her head, about to tell him she’d decided never to ride with him again, but he’d flipped the trunk open already. “Holy shit!” he said, and stood staring into it, his mouth gaping.
“What?” She ran around to look.
Inside were three packages, bound in brown paper under multiple swathes of shrink-wrap plastic. Each was about the size of a stack of schoolbooks—god, why that comparison? Rebecca was a total geek, she couldn’t deny it to herself anymore. “What are they?” she asked.
“Not good, not good, that’s what they are.” He looked around like a hunted animal. His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket to read the text.
“Tanya. How impatient can you be?” he mumbled to himself. “We said 7 o’clock, right? It’s only 6:45, and she’s checking to see if I’m still coming. Keep your panties on, lady.” He put away the phone without replying.
Rebecca’s weirdness detector lit up.
Another buz
z, and he pulled his phone back out of his saggy jeans pocket.
“Crystal. She says don’t come, it’s a trap.” He laughed. “Yeah, it’s always a trap. ‘What’s new?’” he narrated as he thumb-typed a text back to Crystal. Now Rebecca’s danger detector was going gangbusters.
“Wait.” She grabbed the phone in his hand and held it. “Don’t send that.”
He looked at her. “I can see those gears moving Beck. What’s going on?”
“I just don’t think you should text anything. In fact, you should probably get rid of this phone. Especially—ok, so what is this stuff anyway?”
“Probably meth or heroin, I wouldn’t know unless I opened it, which I am NOT going to do.”
“And you didn’t put it in here.”
“Hell no, I don’t do that much volume. If the cops pulled me over I’d be toast.”
“So, how did it get there? When’s the last time you looked in your trunk?”
“Uh, last week sometime.”
“What about last night? That guy we heard, the security guard?”
“Why would a security guard put drugs in my car?”
“We never actually saw him, Jeremy. Maybe he wasn’t security.”
“But the trunk won’t open without a key.”
They heard a car behind them and froze. Jeremy’s eyes got really big. “Who is it?” he asked through clenched teeth.
Rebecca tried to appear casual as she peeked around him.
“Shit.” She said without moving her mouth, like a ventriloquist. “Looks like a cop.” It was an ugly brown thing, like a Lincoln or something, so nondescript it could only belong to a plain-clothes cop. And here she was with a hand full of cash and a trunk full of drugs.
October's Fire (Fairy Glen Suspense Book 1) Page 21
