Dead Girls Don't Lie (20 page)

Not even my dad.

Chapter 22

“Jaycee, get up.”

I jerk awake and look around my room, panicked until I realize that it’s just Dad. I blink at the clock: 7:30. The last things I remember were the sun finally coming up and falling into an exhausted sleep. I struggle to sit up as he pushes my curtains open. “I need you to tell me the truth.” I freeze midyawn, afraid of what truth he’s referring to. “Were you in my office last night?”

I blink again. “No.”

He taps his fingers on my windowsill, but he doesn’t notice the rip in the corner of the screen. “I think someone was.”

I sit up, wide awake now, a cold chill moving across my body. “What makes you think …?” But I can’t finish that sentence.

“When I went in this morning, some things were moved around. Rearranged like someone was looking for something.”

“Is anything missing?” But I’m pretty sure what they’re looking for wasn’t there.

“I don’t think so. I can’t decide whether I should call the police.”

“No.” I say it too fast, and he looks at me suspiciously. “I mean, if nothing is missing, why would you bother them?”

He sighs. “It’s probably just me getting old, misplacing things or forgetting where I set them.”

He stares out the window a little longer and then says, “At any rate, you’d better get up. I’m taking those men to Spokane this afternoon.”

“Why?” I slide my legs off the edge of the bed.

“They had some problems with the people they were working for. Worked for nearly the whole season and then they were sent away and told they wouldn’t be paid. I can’t do anything about it, but there’s an office there that might be able to help them.”

“Why you?”

“Because of my legal background. Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Can I come with you?” I’m suddenly afraid of being left alone.

He looks at me like that’s a strange question. “I’m borrowing a car from Mr. Hobbs, but there still won’t be room for you.”

“When will you be back?”

He shakes his head. “It’ll probably be late. Considering everything, I’d feel safer if you were in town. I’ll talk to Claire’s mom and see if you can stay there tonight.” He turns around
to face me. “This doesn’t mean you aren’t grounded anymore. I expect you to stay at Claire’s house tonight and go nowhere else. Do you understand?”

I nod, but I’m thinking about the notes and that someone got inside our house while we slept. My stomach hurts. Is finding out what happened to Rachel worth putting both of us in danger?

“Boba, aren’t you on the wrong side of the lake again?” Eduardo appears out of nowhere. I jump when I see him, but control it enough to keep from hurting myself again. I try to keep my voice even and say casually, “Just going for a run.” I convinced my dad to let me go for a run before he left for Spokane. My ankle feels much better, and I needed time to think about everything.

“By yourself?” Eduardo says it like I’m doing something stupid again.

“Is that a problem?” I say, but I’ve been thinking about what the note said the whole time I’ve been running. I’m actually glad to see him.

“This isn’t the safest place for a girl to go running by herself,” he says.

I glance around, trying to decide how much he knows about me being safe or not safe. “Okay, come with me then.” He looks shocked by my invitation. “Unless you don’t think you can keep up.”

“Is that a challenge?” he asks.

“Consider it an invitation. Apparently I need protection,
we need to talk, and”—I can’t resist a little jab—“you could use the exercise.”

“Exercise?” He snorts. “Try cutting asparagus for twelve hours in the hot sun, then you’ll know what exercise is.” He breaks into a jog so I have to extend my stride to keep up.

“I have. It was miserable.” I look across the field full of workers in long sleeves and broad hats. “Why aren’t you working now?”

He shrugs. “I got fired.” He points to his tattoo. “Someone saw this.”

“I’m sorry,” I say because I don’t know what else to say.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, “I won’t be here very much longer. After I figure things out I’m gone.”

“After you figure out what happened to Rachel?” I slow my pace a little because my ankle is starting to throb.

“Yeah, after that.” He slows his stride to match mine. “Did you find anything else?”

“A note.” I watch his face, testing him, because I’m half-convinced he was the one who left it in my screen, even if it was just to scare me.

He stops and looks at me, his expression guarded. “What did it say?”

“It said for me to mind my own business, that the police wouldn’t protect me. It was signed with the Cempoalli symbol.”

“This isn’t good.” He looks genuinely concerned. “They know about you, and they know you’re looking.”

My arms prickle. “Who knows?”

He looks at me like I’m an idiot. “The Cempoalli—the ones who left the note. You shouldn’t stay here. Is there somewhere
you can go, someplace safe?” I’m surprised at how worried he sounds.

I think about what Dad said about going to stay with Mom, but I can’t leave now. “I’m not running away. Besides, you said no place is safe.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “Look, stop. If we can’t go to the police and we can’t run away, the only thing left is for us to work together, figure this out.”

“And then?” He stares through me with those dark eyes, not quite as comforting now.

“Then we go to the FBI or whoever, someone who will listen.”

“And if they won’t listen?”

“They will.” I work at sounding confident, even though I’m not. “It’s just like dealing with a bully on the playground; they think they’re in charge because everyone is afraid to tell, but once someone does—”

He laughs. “Did you hear that from some motivational speaker or in Sunday school? Bullies don’t do drive-bys. Bullies don’t open up your gut with a knife.”

I grimace at that image. “So you kill one of them, they kill one of you, and pretty soon everyone is dead?”

“As long as I’m the last one standing, it works for me.”

I turn and face him. “That’s completely asinine, you know that?”

“Where I come from, it’s the law. Kill or be killed. Being part of a gang means survival.”

“Well, where I come from, which is here, the law is the law, and being part of a gang makes you a bad guy.”

“So you really believe the police will protect you?”

“Yes.” I try to sound sure, even if I’m not.

“What if you’re poor or don’t speak the language or have the wrong color of skin or have a gang sign tattooed on your back?” He kicks at a big rock, sending it flying. “Everyone is equal, right? Just some people are more equal than others.”

That sounds like something I’ve heard before. George Orwell? “
Animal Farm
?” I look at him in disbelief.

He shakes his head and smiles. “Didn’t count on that, huh? A gangbanger who can read. How about this one? ‘She doesn’t need a priest but an avenger, so you go get the priest and I’ll be the avenger.’”

I look at him, confused. “What’s that from?”

He looks smug.
“The Count of Monte Cristo.”

“So you’re the avenger and I’m, what, the priest?”

“Sounds about right.”

“You obviously didn’t finish the book, or you would know that by the end Edmond figured out that vengeance wasn’t everything he thought it would be.”

“Right. He had endless wealth, got the girl,
and
he got to see his enemies twist in the wind. Yeah, I can see where that would suck.”

“Look, whatever happened in the story, vengeance won’t ever be justice, it’ll just be … wrong.”

He shakes his head, disgusted. “That’s the problem, boba, your idea of justice and my idea of justice are never going to mesh, so we can’t work together.”

I start running again. “Then I guess I won’t tell you what I
found in her cross.” I want to bite my tongue. I had no intention of telling him I found anything in the cross. It just kind of slipped out because I was irritated with him.

He grabs my shoulder, jerking me back hard. “What did you find? Rachel’s journal?”

I stand in front of him and rub my shoulder, still irritated and now a little afraid of him. “No. It was just a bunch of pictures, or one piece of paper with a bunch of pictures arranged on it. It was something Rachel made in school, but I think it means something.”

“Show it to me.”

“I don’t have it, not with me, I left it at home.”

“We need to get it now.” He starts running again, completing the loop that will take us into town.

I match his pace, catching up despite the pain in my ankle. “I can’t show it to you now. My dad’s home and he wouldn’t—”

“Wouldn’t want you to show up with a guy like me?”

“No, it’s just …” I try to come up with an answer that he can’t turn into something that sounds racist.

Eduardo laughs. “Don’t worry, it wouldn’t be the first time someone’s dad didn’t want me around. When will he be gone?”

“He’s home for the morning, then he’s leaving for Spokane—”

“Are you going to be alone?”

“No. I’ll be at Claire’s.”

“Good,” he says.

“Good?”

“It’s not safe for you to be alone.”

I think about that as we get closer to town. How much danger am I really in? “Why don’t you think the police can protect me?”

“Experience. They didn’t protect Manny, and they didn’t protect Rachel.”

I think about that for a minute while we run in silence. I don’t know anything about Manny or what Rachel saw in him. Why she was willing to put herself in so much danger to find out what happened to him. “Tell me about him.”

“Who?”

“Tell me about Manny. I want to know more about this guy Rachel was so in love with that she gave up everything for him.”

Eduardo breaks stride a little bit, but he doesn’t turn. “What do you want to know?”

“Just anything. He obviously meant a lot to Rachel, but she never told me anything about him. I don’t even know why.” I watch him out of the corner of my eye, trying to judge his reaction when I say that.

His jaw clenches in pain. “He told her not to tell anyone; he was afraid someone would come looking for him. He was right.”

“Why was he so afraid? Do the Cempoalli really hunt down former gang members just for leaving?”

“Depends on who you are, or why you leave.” Eduardo is being vague on purpose. I think there’s more to it than what he’s telling me.

“Why do
you
think they came after Manny?”

He waits for a few strides, looking around, I guess to see if
we’re really alone. “Because he crossed them, and you don’t cross the Cempoalli.”

“What does that mean, ‘cross them’? What did he do?”

Eduardo stops running. I stop too. He looks around again and then leans closer to me. “Remember the person I told you about? The one who ended up in the Dumpster?”

“Yes.” I’m afraid of what I’m going to hear.

“There was more to it. After he was killed, we had to make things even.”

“Even? You mean like one of yours for one of theirs?”

He nods. “But it went too far.”

“What happened?”

Eduardo is struggling with how much to tell me; I can see it in his face. “I wasn’t there, but Manny was. He said too many people died. He wouldn’t tell me anything else, but after we came here, he talked to that FBI guy about it, the one who took your phone.”

“Agent Herrera?”

“Yes. Manny gave him everything he asked for, betrayed his homies in exchange for protection, and what did he get?” He starts pumping his fists, like he’s working himself up again, like when we were at the cemetery. “I told Manny we couldn’t trust him, but he didn’t listen. He would have done anything for her. He wanted Rachel to see that he had changed, that he wasn’t ever going back. He ended up getting both of them killed.”

I think about what Father Joseph said about Manny’s family moving. “Is that why your uncle left, because he was afraid too?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you stay?”

His jaw clenches in pain again. “Because Rachel wouldn’t leave, and I told Manny I’d take care of her.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes me understand why Rachel told me to trust him. Despite all his faults, Eduardo is loyal, so loyal it’s almost scary.

“Why are you still here then, if she’s … if Rachel’s gone?”

He has his head down, and he’s breathing hard. I don’t think it’s because of our run, more like he’s trying to get control of his emotions. Finally he answers, “I made a promise.”

“What did you promise?”

He starts running again without answering, but I can guess that it had something to do with getting revenge. He doesn’t say anything else until we’re almost to town, then he says, “I’ve come far enough. I’ll leave so you don’t have to be seen with me.”

“It’s okay. I don’t … care.” My protest sounds weak, even to me. I’m not sure what Dad or Skyler or anyone in town would say if they saw Eduardo and me together.

“No. It’s better if you aren’t seen with me. Just don’t go running by yourself again.”

I shrug, trying to sound brave. “I’ve been running the same route all summer. I’m not afraid.”

He looks up at me, his eyes sad. “That’s the problem, boba. You should be.”

Chapter 23

“Making out in the church parking lot.” Taylor finishes the black heart she’s painting on my toenails. “I’m impressed, Jaycee. I didn’t think you were that kind of girl.”

“We weren’t making out.” I pull my toe away and smudge the heart so it turns into more of a glob.

“That’s not what I heard,” Claire says, flipping to the next page in the magazine she’s looking at. “I heard it was all hands and tongue and steamy windows.”

I shake my head, annoyed with their prying, wishing they would sneak out and go wherever they’re going. I need to be alone so I can think.

“How long are you grounded?” Taylor’s question cuts into my thoughts. She’s started over on my big toe, like it was the most important thing she has to do with her life. It probably is.

“One week,” I say, then, “Ow,” as Taylor moves my leg by gripping the sides of my ankle, sore again because of my run.