Blood on My Hands Page 13

  “Look at what she’s already gotten you to give up,” Dakota said. “You’ll do it because you have nothing left to lose.”

  Chapter 33

  Tuesday 4:41 P.M.

  WHEN THE POLICE car races past me, I spin around and realize why: it’s chasing the garbage truck.

  Only the officer inside the car doesn’t know he’s chasing the truck. He’s just following the signal from my cell phone, which appears to be going in the same direction.

  But that still leaves the man with the earpiece, who is twenty feet away, running straight for me. I tense and brace myself.

  He runs right past … in the same direction the police car was going.

  Feeling like I ducked a bullet aimed straight for my head, I will my body to relax, but my heart is still pounding. Trembling, hoping I can keep my balance, I get on the pink bike and begin riding in the opposite direction. I need to get away from the bridge as fast as possible, before that police car catches up to the garbage truck and they figure out what I did.

  Only I have no idea where I’m going.

  Moments later I’m riding down the sidewalk through town, passing stores and nannies pushing small children in strollers. It feels strange to ride around disguised as a young girl, stranger still that the disguise is actually working. It’s like some kind of weird out-of-body experience. As if I’ve done such a good job of disguising myself that I’m not Callie anymore. But what good is it doing? The police are still looking for me. I’ve thrown away my phone and have no way of communicating with anyone. I have no money for food and no place left to hide, and I’m still no closer to proving who really killed Katherine.

  So maybe there’s no point in trying to hide. The official opening of the new town center is scheduled for tomorrow. I know that Slade and the rest of the crew will be working hard today to get everything ready. Maybe my only chance now is to get closer.

  When I get there, the landscapers are planting shrubs and rolling out thick green sod to create a perfect lawn. Plumbers, electricians, and carpenters stream in and out while a group of firemen uses one of the ladder trucks to hang celebratory red, white, and blue banners over the truck bays.

  I ride the pink bike around to the back, where vans and cars are parked in the new lot. There’s Slade’s pickup. The tarry scent of fresh asphalt in my nose, I leave the bike on the edge of the lot, then wait until no one is looking and scramble into the truck. Slade’s pickup has an extended cab, which means there’s a narrow row of seats in the back. It’s supposed to be large enough to carry passengers but there’s barely enough legroom for anyone taller than five feet, which makes it a perfect place to hide.

  I slide into the backseat and look around. Something’s different and it’s not just the green-and-gold Fort Benning, Georgia, parking sticker. It’s the odor of stale cigarette smoke.

  But now my attention is drawn to something else. Through the windshield I see the back door to the town center open, and Mia and her father come out, accompanied by a prim blonde woman wearing a dark suit and carrying a briefcase. I’ll bet anything she’s a lawyer.

  Does Mia have more to do with this than I know? More than she’s told me?

  More people come out. Oh my God! It’s Griffen and two men in dark suits. Is one his father and the other—the one with the thick brown leather satchel—a lawyer? They all stop in the parking lot and talk in a relaxed manner that makes it appear as if they’re familiar with each other. As the conversation continues, Griffen steps close to Mia and slides his arm around her waist.

  They know each other? Well enough for him to put his arm around her? It’s mind boggling. How is this possible?

  Hidden by the tall front seats and the darkly tinted rear windows in the pickup, I have to wonder. Is Griffen the reason Mia’s attitude toward Katherine has changed recently? Was he what she was referring to when she said there was life outside Soundview High? One thing’s for certain. They both had excellent reasons to despise Katherine.

  And, it was Mia who insisted I come to the kegger.

  And Mia who wrote, Dont U just want 2 kill her sometimes?

  I could be wrong about Dakota.

  The group splits up and gets into cars.

  I lie down on the backseat, ball up an old sweatshirt, and lay my head on it, breathing in Slade’s scent, missing him so much it hurts, trying to figure out what Mia and Griffen could have to do with Katherine’s murder. On the floor behind the front seat are Slade’s red-and-white cooler and a couple of empty coffee containers from Dunkin’ Donuts. There’s something under the front seat and I reach down to pull it out for a better look.

  It’s a pair of panty hose, and the thought of why it’s here makes my stomach twist. There’s only one reason and I wish I didn’t know what it was. But what did I expect? That after I broke up with him, he’d swear an oath of celibacy?

  But it could explain some things. If there’s another girl … If he’s caught between her and me … Was that why he wanted to speak to me face-to-face this morning? Did he want to tell me that he had made up his mind? But the photo taped to his computer was of him and me, not him and her.

  It’s one more thing that will drive me crazy. But there’s nothing I can do except ask Slade when I see him. So I lie there, trying not to think about the panty hose or what they imply. Or Mia and Griffen, or what their coming out of the police station together means. The rear seat is considerably more comfortable than the floor of the tree house, and I snuggle against the balled-up sweatshirt, feeling the fog of fatigue gradually thicken.

  * * *

  You’ll do it because you have nothing left to lose. In an awful way, Dakota was right. I’d given up Slade to be in the IC. Now the IC was all I had.

  But to stay in the IC, I had to tell Mia she could no longer sit at our table. That meant I’d have to accept my role as Katherine’s gofer … for as long as she wanted.

  Was that who I wanted to be?

  Chapter 34

  Tuesday 5:42 P.M.

  I’M HOLDING MY breath underwater. Something pokes gently at my arm, and I slowly glide up to the surface to see what it is. I splash into consciousness and blink. It’s dark. I’m lying on the backseat of a car.… Wait, now I remember.… It’s Slade’s truck. A shadowy face tilts over the front seat, looking down at me.

  “Uh, excuse me,” he begins before I turn fully toward him, “but what—” In the shock of recognition, he catches himself. “Cal!” His voice rises and I sleepily press my finger to my lips. He twists his head around as if looking through the windows to make sure no one heard him, then whispers harshly, “Are you crazy?”

  “I need your help.”

  “For God’s sake!” He looks around again, then back at me as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

  “Please, Slade.” I start to sit up.

  “Stay down!”

  I do as he says. I wish he were happy to see me instead of irate.

  “Slade, I know you’re still upset—”

  “You don’t know anything!”

  “Does it have something to do with this?” I lift the panty hose up to his eye level.

  He twitches with surprise, then frowns. “Where’d you find that?”

  “On the floor back here. Is this what you wanted to tell me about this morning?”

  The frown becomes a scowl. “What are you talking about?”

  “That there’s someone else?”

  His eyes leave mine. “That’s not what I wanted to tell you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I think I’d know,” he answers. Now his forehead bunches. “Is that Alyssa’s sweatshirt?”

  I nod.

  “How’d you …?” he begins, then realizes the answer. “You went into my house?”

  “I was hungry and dirty and needed a new disguise.”

  He shakes his head. “You are a piece of work, Cal.”

  “Please don’t be angry,” I whisper, nearly begging.

  That seems to take
the anger away. Slade leans his forehead against the headrest. I stay low in the backseat and wonder what he’s thinking. I wonder what I’m thinking. Nothing, really. I’m just here for now, happy to be with him, to feel connected to him.

  Not knowing what else to say, I ask, “How’s the preparation going?”

  He raises his eyes over the headrest. “Well enough to fake it. Congresswoman Jenkins will come and make a speech. They’ll take pictures and video for the news. As soon as the crowd leaves, we’ll come back in and finish the job.”

  I forgot that Dakota’s mother is going to preside over the official opening tomorrow morning. She’ll be right here, in the town center.…

  I have a crazy, desperate idea.

  “I have to see her.”

  “Who?”

  “Dakota’s mom.”

  Slade stares at me. “You really are out of your mind.”

  “Yes. Next question?”

  “Seriously, Shrimp, it ain’t happening.”

  But the more I think about it, the more certain I am that it’s probably my last chance. If I can sow a seed of doubt in Congresswoman Jenkins’s mind … “It could happen … if you’ll help me.”

  “Sorry. No way.”

  “Why not?”

  Slade sighs with frustration and runs his fingers through his hair. He doesn’t seem to have a reason, other than, like me, he must realize how crazy and risky it is.

  “What if it’s the only way I can prove I’m innocent?” I ask.

  He turns away and gazes out the window. Why should he risk being arrested for me? True, he’s already helped me, but I’m the only person who knows that and I swore I’d never tell. And I never will. Not after what I’ve already done to him.

  But I can’t do this alone. I have to convince him to help me. “If I can get Griffen Clemment to testify that Dakota sent him death threats that mentioned killing Katherine, then all I have to do is get Congresswoman Jenkins to check the knives in her kitchen. And if she does that, she’s going to find that one of the knives is missing. Because it’s in police custody as evidence.”

  Slade looks at me and raises an eyebrow. “You think Dakota would be stupid enough to take a knife from her own kitchen and use it to kill Katherine? As if no one would think to check?”

  “I—I’m just saying it’s possible,” I stammer meekly. “I mean, I saw the knife. It was the same brand.”

  He snorts derisively. Instead of me convincing him, he’s making me doubt. But there’s still so much I don’t know. And I can’t think of anything else to do. “It’s my only chance,” I whisper. “You may be right, but if I don’t try this, I’m going to go to jail for a crime I didn’t commit. Is that what you want?”

  Silence.

  Two days passed and I didn’t tell Mia she couldn’t sit at the table. She sat with us, and Katherine pretended like nothing was wrong. But I knew that she wouldn’t forget.

  On the third day, I went into the cafeteria and Katherine and the other girls weren’t sitting at the regular table. They were at a smaller round table. There was room for six and all the seats were taken. It was Zelda’s beach house all over again. Katherine was shutting me out until I did what she wanted me to.

  Only this time I knew something I hadn’t known the last time. Even if I did what she wanted, it wouldn’t end. There’d be more distasteful tasks. Why? Because I served no other purpose for her. She kept Jodie around because Jodie appeared in ads and was a school celebrity. She had Zelda because she was rich, and Kirsten because her mother provided access to cool things to do in the city. She had Brianna because Brianna was her new project, much the way I had once been a project. And why had she kept Dakota?

  Maybe she was thinking like the Chinese general who said, “Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”

  I sat down at a lunch table by myself, not surprised to be shut out but feeling stung just the same. Someone sat down near me with a tray, but I didn’t focus on her until she asked, “What’s going on?” It was Mia.

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

  “But why?”

  There was no point in telling her why. It would only make her feel bad. So I said, “I don’t know.”

  Mia bit into a cheeseburger and chewed rhythmically, her eyes downcast. As bad as I felt for myself, I felt equally bad for her. She’d done nothing wrong. All she wanted was to be in that crowd. The more I thought about how unfair it was, the angrier I got. Only I wasn’t sure who I was angrier at—Katherine for being so cruel, or myself for being so stupid.

  Mia swallowed, then said, “You know why she dumps on us?”

  I shrugged and shook my head.

  “What’s the one thing all those girls have in common?” Mia asked.

  I glanced over at the table. “I don’t know, what?”

  “Money,” Mia said. “Lots of it.”

  I thought about that for a moment. “Not Katherine.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Her dad doesn’t have a job,” I said.

  Mia leaned close. “She’s a Remington. Her dad doesn’t need a job. Her mom comes from, like, a totally wealthy family. That’s why we’re not at that table, because our families don’t have as much money as theirs.” Her cheeks bulging with food, she shook her head. “God, I hate her.”

  Deep down, I didn’t agree. It was hard to imagine that it was really about money, but maybe that was the easiest way for Mia to rationalize it.

  “What’s so great about Katherine, anyway?” Mia asked. “So what if she has rich friends and a snobby attitude? I don’t need her friends and I don’t need her. I can have my own table and my own friends. How about it, Callie? Want to sit at my table?”

  Why not? I thought. I had nowhere else to sit.

  Chapter 35

  Tuesday 5:52 P.M.

  “SLADE,” I IMPLORE him in a whisper from the backseat of the pickup. “Please?”

  He still doesn’t answer. He’s turned away and is facing the front. All I see is the back of his head.

  “Don’t you care?”

  He grips the steering wheel and leans forward, resting his forehead on the back of his hands. “Don’t I care? For God’s sake, Cal, did you forget that you’re the one who broke up with me? Did you ever stop to think about what you did? You just plain straight up wrecked me. And now … now you want me to help you?”

  We sit in silence. So I guess the picture on his computer means less than I thought. And he still hasn’t explained the panty hose. Maybe I should just open the door and get out. But I can’t give up. I just can’t! “Okay, Slade, you’re right. I’m not in a position to ask you to do anything. Just tell me one thing. What time is Congresswoman Jenkins scheduled to speak tomorrow?”

  He sighs loudly and shakes his head as if he thinks I’ve lost my mind, but he also digs into his back pocket, comes up with a piece of paper, and holds it close to the window and near his face, trying to read it in the dim light. “She’s supposed to arrive at ten and take a tour of the facility. The ceremony starts at eleven. She leaves right after.”

  “There has to be some time in there,” I tell him. “After the tour and before the ceremony. She’s going to want to primp before she goes in front of the cameras.”

  He twists around and looks over the seat at me. “And what do you think you’re going to do? Just stroll in the front door and have a chat?”

  I can’t answer. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I only know that I’ve got all night to come up with a plan. “I’ll think of something.” I expect him to turn away, but he doesn’t. He stays there, twisted in his seat, looking at me.

  “I’m sorry, Slade. I really am. And … I know you don’t want to hear this, but I really do still love you, no matter what happens.”

  He lowers his head and stares down. I can’t believe what an idiot I was. Here is the one real, true thing in my life and I threw it away. How pathetic. And yet … and yet … there’s still a little time. There’s still tonight.
Maybe there’s a chance. I reach out and touch his hair, run my fingers gently over his cheek.

  This time, he doesn’t yell. He raises his face. Is it my imagination or are his eyes glistening? He reaches around the seat toward me and I feel his fingers touch my cheek. He slides his knuckles along my jaw and toward my lips and I kiss his fingers. Maybe it’s insane to feel happy in a situation like this, but I do. I’m so glad to be with him again … to feel his caring again. The seat stops him from coming closer to me, but it doesn’t keep me from stretching up toward him. Closer … closer … until at last our lips meet.

  We kiss in that awkward position. The dampness I feel where our cheeks meet must be from tears. His tears.

  “I made a mistake,” I whisper. “Crazy things happen. Things you never expect. You look back and can’t believe what you did. Like it couldn’t have been you.”

  “I know,” he whispers, kissing my face and lips. “I know.”

  “And … you forgive me?”

  “Sure, Shrimp. I forgive you.”

  “And the panty hose in your truck?”

  “Some clients want a texture in the plaster so we rub it with old panty hose.”

  That’s a relief! “And … you still love me?”

  He’s quiet for a moment. Then he sniffs. “I’ll always love you.”

  He tells me to lie low in the truck and wait. After the last worker leaves, he’ll come get me. I fall asleep trying to figure out what I can say to Congresswoman Jenkins tomorrow.

  When I wake up, it’s dark and very quiet. I’m instantly alert. Something isn’t right. Raising my head, I look through the windshield of the pickup. The parking lot is empty.

  Then, near the back of the town center, I see something glow red in the dark—the ember of a cigarette.

  I let myself out of the pickup. The air is cool and chilly and I hug myself to stay warm. Slade is sitting in the shadows, smoking, with a half-finished bottle on the ground beside him.