Guys, Lies & Alibis

by Kimberly Reid

  “It isn’t me you should be afraid of.”

  “Who do you work for?”

  “If your boyfriend keeps playing this well, you’ll find out soon as the game is over,” Brent says before walking off.

  I may not be afraid of Brent, but he has definitely put the fear of his boss into me. I jump when I feel my phone vibrate. It’s a text from Cisco: Here’s the photo. Name is Kane. When I open the photo, I have to take my seat for a second. It’s the stranger from Treets.

  Among all the things I’ve learned from Lana about detective work, the lesson that there are no coincidences comes to mind now. I think back to that day at Treets and realize that what I thought was a kind, if strange, gesture to Marco was actually a threat. Kane didn’t just know Officer Duncan, he owned him. When a bad guy has a dirty cop on the payroll, he’s a seriously bad bad guy. Some other things begin to make sense, too. Like Eddie Ruiz having a sudden intense interest in high school basketball, along with a sudden fattening of his bank account and his name appearing on Cisco’s list.

  My first thought is to text Cisco back with the news that Kane was sitting across the Coliseum from me, but I don’t. If Kane paid Marco to throw games, then I’d be sending them both to jail. Marco might redeem himself and win tonight, but the cops won’t see it that way. He threw the Milton game. Marco’s a game-fixer for a bookie and that’s organized crime, probably a federal offense. I don’t even know if Lana can help him now.

  Chapter 27

  At halftime, I watch the teams leave the court for their locker rooms and figure out for myself how to reach them. I’m wondering if Kane paid that security guard to send me the wrong direction so I couldn’t talk to Marco because the locker rooms turn out to be in the complete opposite place from where he sent me. Little did Kane know, the damage had already been done. I’d already given Marco the little pep talk that might get him hurt. Or worse.

  That’s why I walk right into the locker room without preparing any pretense for why I’m there.

  “Marco!” I yell, startling the coach and team, who turn all eyes on me.

  “You can’t be in here,” Coach Rickford says.

  “Then you’re going to have to physically throw me out, because I’m not leaving until I speak to Marco.”

  Coach knows manhandling a female student would be a very bad idea, so he gives Marco an angry look and nods in my direction. If the guys used to call him whipped before, I can only imagine what they’ll be saying about him after this. Hopefully they’ll be saying he can still play basketball because, thanks to his awesome girlfriend, his legs weren’t broken in five different places. Marco clearly doesn’t see it that way because once we step outside the locker room, he gives me an even angrier look than the coach did.

  “What the hell, Chanti?”

  “I know what’s going on, why you had money all of a sudden. Forget everything I said before, all that rah-rah do-over crap. Throw the game, do what they want.”

  “I can’t go into it now, but I want you to know I did it for a good reason.”

  “Of course I know that, but now the only thing you need to worry about is doing what Kane paid you to do—lose the game.”

  “Who?”

  “Brent’s boss. He is a very bad dude, but you knew that. You figured out who he was that day at Treets, didn’t you?”

  Marco stays quiet, until he turns away from me and punches the wall, tearing a hole right through the drywall.

  “I figured it out, but I didn’t know his name. It doesn’t matter. I can win this game and still make it right with Kane.”

  “How? This guy is serious. I’ve had eyes on him the whole first half.”

  “He’s here?”

  “With those guys who jumped us that night downtown. He’s going to hurt you if you don’t throw the game.”

  “If I do, my chance at a scholarship is gone. So is my self-respect,” he says, rubbing the fist he used to hit the wall. “I have to go. I’ll find you after the game, but stay with Reginald until then, okay? He knows what’s going on.”

  “That’s why he quit the team, right? He didn’t want to go along with Brent’s program the way Justin did.”

  “Just tell him about Kane, that you guys need to stay with a crowd.”

  After I leave Marco, instead of looking for Annette and Reginald, I go back to my seat next to chem class girl, who is back. It’s a good spot to keep an eye on Kane. By now, Brent’s sitting beside him and . . . damn, I really hate that dude. Now he’s pointing me out to his boss. I keep watching them through my binoculars, no point in hiding since they’ve already spotted me. What I see is Kane getting more and more pissed as the second half goes on. My halftime chat apparently had no effect on Marco. He’s a beast, playing even better than he did in the first half, and his performance has ignited the rest of the team. Not only are the Knights going to win this game, with just three minutes left, it’s going to be a trouncing.

  I look back to Kane just in time to see him point in my direction and say something to his men before they begin pushing past people to leave. Oh day-um.

  That’s a hint that I’d better start making my way out of here, too. The Knights just called a timeout, which means I only have sixty seconds to get down to their bench. When I reach it just before the buzzer, Coach Rickford looks like he isn’t concerned about the consequences of manhandling me out of there, but I don’t care.

  “Marco, we have to go. Now!”

  I guess Marco can read my fear because he doesn’t ask any questions, just throws down the towel he was wiping off with and follows me out of the arena.

  Chapter 28

  When I see his car in the lot, I slow down after running the whole way.

  “You parked under a light,” I say.

  “Guess I’m starting to think like you. It looks clear,” Marco says, handing me his keys. “Good thing I taught you to use a stick because you’ll have to drive. My hand is too swollen and painful from punching that wall. I might have broken it.”

  “You wouldn’t have been able to go back into the game anyway.”

  “That’s why we took that time out.”

  “Not that it mattered since the game was already a rout. Why didn’t you just lose, Marco?”

  “We’re wasting time,” he says, getting in the car. “You think you got a decent jump on them?”

  “Probably not. I left the same time Kane pointed me out and sent them after me. They probably figured I was going to get you. But they had to get across the arena and we beat them to the car. That’s something.”

  “So where do we go? The police?”

  “Then you’ll be in the cell right along with Kane.”

  “We have to eventually.”

  “I know, but let my mom take you in,” I say, taking the I-70 on-ramp heading east. “I really don’t like the highway. There’s nowhere to go for help or to hide out.”

  “It’s pretty much the only route away from the Coliseum.”

  “Yeah, which means they’ll take the same route. I’ll get off at Steele heading south, and take MLK east.”

  “They’ll probably expect you’ll head toward home. Maybe we should go west.”

  I don’t tell Marco that not only will they expect me to go home, they know exactly where I live because now I’m pretty sure it was Kane’s people watching the house all week.

  “No, we’ll just have to beat them there. They don’t know who my mother is, at least I hope they don’t, so we’ll have that on them. You’ll call her just before we get there, so she can be ready.”

  “Why not call her now?”

  “She’ll freak and send half the department out to give us an escort.”

  Marco stays quiet a minute, asking no more questions. I feel a little better now that I’m getting off the highway. At least until I notice a car behind me make a sudden lane change and take the Steele Street exit, too. That ain’t good.

  “It’ll be better this way, letting Lana take you in. If they come
for us at my house, Lana will protect you, and get her lawyer friend to take you in. This case is bigger than you think. I know the cop working it.”

  I check my rearview mirror. The car turns south on Steele, too. I’m starting to regret this route because it’s dead quiet, just a bunch of houses and no traffic to get lost in. Only a mile and a half to MLK.

  “What? How long have you known all this?”

  “Not until yesterday, and I still had to figure a lot of it out myself. This cop, maybe he’ll let you turn state’s witness,” I say, beginning to convince myself that it might actually work out. I just have to hope the “cop” I know is really who he claims to be.

  “We were going to lose our home,” Marco says. “That’s why I did it. I was only supposed to lose the Final Four game, but make the games leading up to it look close. I figured I’d somehow find the money before I had to lose a game, pay Brent back, and be out.”

  “So Brent’s just a bookie, not a drug dealer?”

  “Yeah. The only drugs he supplied were PEDs to help the games go his way. Or Kane’s way. You can’t lose if the team you want to win is doing steroids and you’re paying off the point guard on the team you want to lose.”

  “But you’re just one player.”

  “I’m the Knight’s best player, and I’m on point so I control the ball. In high school basketball, it only takes one player.”

  “I wish you’d come to me first. I’d have told you bookies don’t work like that. They don’t want their money back. They want you to do what they tell you to do. You just cost him a lot more than whatever he paid you.”

  “I know. I know. Jesus, I’ve made a mess of this.”

  I take a left onto MLK and glance in the rearview mirror for the twentieth time since we left the highway and now I know for sure. We’re being followed.

  Chapter 29

  “If you think we’re in a mess now, it’s about to get worse. Don’t look back, but they’re following us.”

  “You sure?” Marco says, looking in the side mirrors.

  “Don’t let on we know it’s them. As long as they’re just following us, it’s okay.”

  “How is that okay?”

  “They’re just watching us right now, that’s all. But we need a change of plan. We can’t go to my house. We’ll have to go to the nearest police substation and have my mom meet us. Time to call her. My phone’s in there,” I say, pointing to my bag on the floor beside his feet.

  As we approach Colorado Boulevard, Kane’s men switch lanes and pull up beside us. Marco bends forward to grab my purse just in time for me to realize why they’re no longer following us. There’s no mistaking what I see through the window: a gun pointed right at me.

  I hit the gas and run the light just as it changes from yellow to red. I’m going on instinct, but I figure I’d take possible death crossing six lanes of traffic over sure death. It works because Marco and I don’t die. Fortunately neither does anyone else, but Kane’s men are stuck at the light because we just missed a huge wave of traffic crossing MLK.

  “What just happened?”

  “When you were going for my bag, they pointed a gun at me.”

  “They didn’t point a gun at you. They were aiming for me, I just happened to lean forward at the wrong time.”

  “Running that light gives us a forty-five-second jump, maybe a minute,” I say. “I can lose them.”

  “No, you can’t. Stop the car.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “I won’t let you get hurt. They want me. They don’t care about you except when they wanted to use you to get to me. Now they can have me.”

  “I’m not stopping. We’re just a couple miles from the district two station.”

  “The light just changed,” Marco says, turning to look behind us. “We’ll both be dead in two miles. Stop the car.”

  “No!”

  “I swear to God, if you don’t stop I’ll jump out.”

  He pulls the door latch to let me know how serious he is. If he jumps out, that’s sure death. If he gives himself up, maybe they won’t kill him. At least not right away. Maybe he can buy himself some time, and I can get Lana’s help. I start to pull over.

  “Not yet. Another block. Give them time to catch up so they can see me get out and watch you drive away.”

  “Look in my bag. There’s a GPS tracker. Take it. They’ll eventually search you, but hopefully not right away. Do you have anywhere to hide it?”

  “Where?” Marco says, putting his hands up like it’s hopeless. We left straight from the game. He’s still wearing his uniform. Not a whole lot of hiding options there.

  “In your shoe, under your foot. Hurry.”

  “Guess I’d better try not to walk funny,” Marco says, trying hard to sound light but failing miserably.

  “They’re just a block away,” I say, pulling to the curb. “It’s time.”

  Marco leans over to give me a quick kiss and gets out of the car, but not before saying, “I love you, too.”

  Chapter 30

  I drive away as soon as Marco gets out of the car, go two blocks before I take a right, loop back around to the street where I left him, and park his car close to MLK, lights off. Both Marco and Kane’s men will assume I’m trying to get as far away as possible and not hiding behind a bush just fifty feet from where Marco is standing now, hands in the air, illuminated by the headlights of Kane’s car. They’re bold, willing to do this right in the street. It isn’t the most heavily trafficked road, but still. And now I realize why. A second car pulls up in front of the first, its blue lights flashing. A Denver PD black and white, and I’m not surprised when I see who steps out of it. Officer Duncan.

  I try calling Lana—at home and on her cell, but she doesn’t answer. I’m about to call dispatch to see if they can raise her on her Motorola, and if they can’t, just give the dispatcher our location so they can roll out some uniforms, until I think of Cisco. Whoever he really is, one thing I’m sure of is he wants Kane bad. I won’t have to explain anything to him. I won’t have to wonder if they’ll send another dirty cop working for Kane. If Cisco truly is one of the good guys, he’s probably federal and has greater jurisdiction than Denver Police. If he’s a bad guy, he won’t care about jurisdiction.

  “Did you get the picture I sent?” Cisco asks as soon as he hears my voice.

  “I’m looking at him right now. Kane, two of his men, and a dirty cop named Duncan are taking Marco.”

  “Taking him where?”

  “I don’t know, but they pointed a gun at us. They’re going to kill him, Cisco.”

  “Are you somewhere safe?”

  “They think I’m long gone. Kane’s men just left. Duncan’s fake-arresting Marco, making it all look legit in case someone notices.”

  “What’s your location?”

  “MLK, just east of Colorado, but not for long.”

  “I’m heading that way now. Without revealing yourself, can you get the unit number off the patrol car?”

  “No, but I gave Marco a GPS tracker. We can track . . . oh no.”

  “What?”

  “The cop is searching him. He’s making Marco take off his shoes. Cisco, he found the tracker.”

  “You said the cop’s name was Duncan?”

  “Yeah. He’s putting Marco in his car. They’re leaving. I’ll follow them until you can reach us.”

  “Don’t even think about it. That cop will spot you within half a mile. Let me handle this now. There can’t be too many cops on patrol right now named Duncan. I’ll get his car number and location.”

  “How?”

  “I have resources. I’m three minutes away.”

  “Three minutes? You’ll lose them,” I say, running back to Marco’s car.

  “You already did your part. Go home. Your mother just got there. She’ll keep you safe.”

  “How do you know where my mother is?”

  “Because it’s my job to know.”

  “It’s you. You’v
e been watching our house all along. I thought it was Kane.”

  “Not me, but one of my men. I have the patrol car’s location now,” he says.

  “Already? That’s impossible. You’re just saying that to make me go home.”

  “I’m saying it because it’s the truth, because this is what I do for a living. Now let me do it.”

  He doesn’t give me time to respond because the line goes dead. I take a right onto MLK toward home instead of left toward Marco. For the first time, no matter whether he’s a good guy or bad, I realize that I absolutely trust Cisco. I’d trust him with my life. Now I’ll have to trust him with Marco’s.

  Chapter 31

  When I get home, Cisco’s man is out front, this time sitting in the car. Cisco must have told him I was on my way home, that I now know who he is and there’s no longer any reason to hide. Of course, Cisco was right—Lana is home. The minute I see her, I finally lose it. The tears just come out of nowhere, maybe the same place my strength has run off to because I can no longer even hold myself up. If she hadn’t caught me, I’d have just collapsed where I stood.

  “What’s wrong, Chanti? Are you okay?” my mom says, sounding more frantic than I’ve ever heard her. “Did someone hurt you? Talk to me.”

  I manage to get out enough words to let her know I’m not hurt, but she has to wait a couple of minutes to hear the rest. When I’m finally able to make an intelligible sentence, Lana does hear the rest. She hears it all: Marco’s abduction, Brent-the-bookie, Kane-the-dealer, and Duncan-the-dirty-cop. I leave Cisco for last.

  “Chanti, I can’t believe any of this. No, actually I can, because only you could get into a mess like this. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because you’re a cop, and Marco is complicit.”

  “I need to call this in.”

  “No, Mom. If Duncan is dirty, who knows who else Kane is paying off. Cisco will make it right.”

  “So you trust this man, who may or may not be a cop, more than you trust me.”