Lie for Me (11 page)

I swallow. “Great. Let's go.”

The detective's eyes go so bright it makes my stomach queasy. What the hell am I going to say? Do I give him everything?

Nothing?

Wick's terrified face is all I can see. She's deep into this, a walking target now. By not asking anyone for help or protection . . . Christ, this is bad. Why would she even tell me?

I sit up straight even as my stomach sinks. Holy shit. She told me because she trusts me. Out of all the people in the world,
she
trusts
me
. Actually, no, that's wrong. It's not out of all the people in the world. It's out of the
few
people in
her
world. She trusts me and I don't know what to do with that. The gift seems too big.

Especially for someone who would get paid for betraying her.

I follow Carson to the unmarked sedan parked by the front curb. He opens the door for me like I'm a chick, and from the corner of my eye, I think I see a flash of red. I don't turn. I can't risk it. I get into the car and Carson drives us away.

 

We get to
the station just as Ben is coming off shift. My cousin's head jerks higher when he sees us walking through the parking lot. He speeds up, ever eager to catch Carson.

“Hey, so this must mean good progress, yeah?” Ben asks, eyes bouncing between the detective and me.

“Did you need something, Officer?” Carson's fingers stab into my upper arm as we sidestep Ben. I throw him off. He's not going to march me into the station like I'm under arrest. “Don't you have reports to finish?”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Ben sounds so deflated I want to turn around and punch him. Does no one see how this guy acts? How can they all believe his front?

Carson yanks open one of the glass doors and motions me through. We pass the front desk and weave through the bull pen, all the surrounding officers stopping whatever they're doing to say hello to Carson.

This is bullshit, but the detective works the room like a total pro—just enough ass-kissing to the older officers so they feel like they're special and just enough condescension to the younger officers so they have something to work for.

Honestly, I'm kind of grateful for the break. I still don't know what to say to him. I need the pay. I need to fix things for my mom, but I don't know how I can live with myself if I tell Carson everything Wick told me.

When we finally make it to the detective's office, Carson unlocks the door and drops heavily into his desk chair. “Shut that behind you, okay?”

I nod, taking the chair opposite him. I focus on Carson's forehead so I don't have to meet his eyes.

“You like our new arrangement? Your mother was happy to sign the consent forms for us to speak privately. Remember to thank her.”

I force my jaw to relax. “Where is she?”

“Holding cell. She's sobering up. You'll get her back.”

I pause. There's something about the way Carson says I'll get my mother
back
that makes me realize the detective thinks she's in his power. He can give her to me. Or take her away.

“So,” Carson begins, steepling his fingers. “What's new?”

“Nothing yet. Bender has my program. He's working on his end. They want to move fast though; we should have a follow-up meeting soon.”

“Good. Keep me posted on that. I have plans.”

“Such as?”

Carson hesitates. He doesn't trust me. After all, I'm a narc, but I'm also Ben's little cousin, a “good kid,” and Carson is a sucker for people who fit under that label. I'm betting on that and, when the detective relaxes, I know I have him.

“I'm going to catch them in the act,” Carson says. “All of them. You tell me when the next meeting is and I'll make sure my team hauls away Bender, Wick, and anyone else who's helping them. We'll take the computers, their contacts, everything. It'll be like they never existed.”

Like Wick never existed
. I exhale through my nose until my head stops ringing. “Good idea. I'll keep you posted.”

“I expect it.”

“And when can I expect my mother's release?”

“Tonight. It'll take me a minute to smooth over everything.”

I nod, skimming my eyes over the office, the computer, Carson's desk. There's a folded newspaper on one corner. Tessa Waye's smiling yearbook picture just beneath the headline.

I bump my chin toward it. “You must have your hands full with the Tessa Waye thing.”

“Yeah, it's a shame. Lovely girl. Nice family.” Carson touches his fingers to Tessa's picture and the gesture is almost . . . tender.

The detective's eyes flick to mine. “You heard anything about it?”

“No. Just what the teachers told us.” I pause, Wick's confession at the back of my mind and under my tongue. “Did you have any progress on who got into her Facebook account?”

Carson studies me. “Sort of. There have been some very new developments—pictures that were uploaded to the page and then disappeared.”

“Yeah?”

“Someone named Michael Starling did uploads from the Peachtree City library computers. We're looking into it, of course.”

“What kind of pictures were put on Tessa's Facebook?”

“Not sure. It was taken down—the whole page was deleted—but enough people corroborated that it was there. Photo of a little girl apparently. We're working on recovering it.”

I nod. If Wick was behind the first Facebook message, could she be behind this one as well? And, even more worrisome, how long until Wick traces this Starling guy back to the library's IP address? Would she go after him? She'd need the names from the library's computer sign-in sheet.

“I want specifics, Griff. I know Wick's not there for a tea party. What's her role?”

I swallow, force myself to meet Carson's eyes. I've lied a lot through the years—landlords, teachers, my mom's bosses—I'm good at it . . . so why am I suddenly sweating?

Because it's her and because it's me. Before, when it came to Wick, I was just stupid. I said the wrong stuff. I made the worst jokes. Now, when it comes to Wick, I see myself. I see how much she's straining against who she's expected to be, and I get that. I know the scars expectations leave. I know how it feels like drowning, but it's worse because you never die. You just rot.

“She's not involved,” I say at last. “Worst you can get on her . . .” I pretend to think, even going as far as scrunching my face and looking off into the distance. Adults fall for this every time. It's one of the advantages of looking like a choirboy. “The worst you can get on her is that she considers Joe Bender family.”

“I want more than that and you know it.” Carson studies me, unblinking. He's waiting for me to fold and I won't. I can't. The only thing I really know now is he wants her to go down. When I told myself she could escape if I just left her enough room, if I just omitted enough of her actions, I didn't realize how stupid I was being. Wick will never escape—not with this guy so hard up to catch her.

I can't save her. You can't save anyone, but I can't hand her over either. I won't be able to live with myself. Of course, I'm not sure I can live with the holes she's dug in me either. There's something breathing in the dark and it points always to her.

The detective leans forward. “Wicket
has
to have something to do with this. There's no other explanation for her presence.”

“You're wrong.” I keep my face blank, open. It's so easy to say the actual lie—protecting her from Carson will be entirely different. “Why would I lie?”

15

The sun's low on the horizon when Carson leaves me near the school's lower entrance. I've gone in and out of these doors dozens of times, but right now, all I can think about is the first time I saw Wick and what she looked like this afternoon when she asked for help.

What the hell have I gotten myself into? I grab my history and math books from the bottom of my locker, looking up when sneakers squeak against the linoleum. A dark-haired girl is power walking toward me, car keys already in hand. Lauren Cross, Wick's best friend.

It's not like we know each other that well, and I almost turn back to my locker, ready for her to pass—and then see my opportunity, remember it actually. If everyone's going to be at Lauren's party, maybe that means Wick will be too.

“Hey,” I say, spinning my combination lock.

She turns, eyes wrinkled until she recognizes me. “Oh, hey. What's up?”

“Um, that party of yours tonight . . . Will Wick be there?”

The corner of her mouth tips up. “Maybe. Why?”

“I really need to see her.”

“Sounds desperate.”

Doesn't it though?
I grin at her, relieved when Lauren grins back, enjoying the moment. I look hard up for her friend and she likes it. That's useful for me. “I have to tell her something important.”

“Such as?”

“School stuff.” I make sure to glance at my feet like I'm bashful, then, this time, I give Lauren a half-embarrassed grin. It makes her smile even wider. “Tell her I have the names she needed for her computer science project—the ones associated with the IP address she's researching.”

Lauren's eyes go a little blank. I'm pretty sure she's heard only
blah blah blah project blah blah blah
. It's not that she's stupid. At least, I don't think. It's just that most people look like that when you start talking any type of technical to them. Probably for the best anyway because I don't have the names yet, but I will. For Wick, I'll get them.

I zip my book bag, sling it onto my shoulder. “Look, I really need to see her. Think you could talk her into coming?”

“Guess you'll have to come and find out.”

“Guess so.” I don't think I'll have to though. We walk to the parking lot together, and judging from the light in Lauren's eyes, I'd bet good money Wick will be there. Even if Lauren has to drag her kicking and screaming.

 

Ben brings my
mom home just as I'm getting ready to leave for Lauren's. From the looks of it, neither one of them is super thrilled about the development. Mom slams out of Ben's cruiser like she's on a mission and he follows along behind, mouth set in a grim line.

“He is
not
welcome inside.” Mom takes the front porch steps two at a time, her shoulder catching my arm as she brushes past me. “I don't need his sanctimonious bullshit right now.”

“
I'm
the bullshitter?” Ben charges up the steps after her. “
I'm
the one who's full of it, May?”

Mom slams the front door as a response and my cousin's face goes purple, the vein on his forehead standing up.

Ben lunges for the doorknob and I slide in between. “Hey. Knock it off.”

“Stop shielding her! You're only making her worse!”

“And screaming is going to make her see the light?” I bump my chest into Ben's, holding until he finally steps back.

“Typical Griff. She screws up and you cover for her.”

My hands roll into fists. “What do you care?”

“You're right . . . I don't.” Ben's shoulders relax. He retreats one step and then another. “And you know what? Eventually, you won't either. She's going to take it right out of you. But by the time you realize May's nothing more than a drain, it'll be too late. There will be nothing left.”

I swallow. “Just go, Ben.”

“You know I'm right.”

“I know you're saying that only because you think I won't hit you, and you're wrong. Leave
now
.”

“Gladly.”

But even after Ben's gone, I can't bring myself to go inside. He's right. What she needs . . . I don't have it in me anymore. I did once.

The door creaks open. “Griff?” Mom asks.

“How long have you been there?”

She doesn't answer, which means she heard it all. I rub one hand over my eyes.

“Aren't you going to come in?” Mom pushes the door wider, digs her fingers into my sleeve. “I'm sorry I caused you and Ben trouble. I know I messed up, but he didn't have to talk to me like that. It's not right.”

I straighten, inhale until my chest is bursting. “I have to go out for a while.”

“Are you mad at me? Vic says you shouldn't be mad at—” I look at her and she flinches. “We're all dealing with your dad leaving in different ways, baby. I'm not going to stay home and play the good wife so I can be there if he decides to come back. His apologies are the worst bandages. Ask me how I know.”

She pauses like she actually thinks I will, and I can't. I didn't know she knew and that was so stupid, because how could she have not known? You can feel abandonment in your bones. My father made us his crime scene.

“Will you be okay?” I ask at last.

“I'm always okay.”

“Yeah, you are.” I force a smile and, after a moment, she smiles too, but her fingers keep scrabbling at me, like they want to dig their way inside.

“You won't leave me, will you, Griff?”

“No.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Saying it surges bile into my throat though. I can't do this anymore. I can't.

Mom's eyes inch over my face. “I don't believe you. That's what happens when you lie too much. You don't believe what anyone tells you anymore. Then, of course, there are all the lies your dad told me. . . .”

Like how he would love her forever? I wince. Technically, he left both of us, but leaving did more damage to Mom than to me. How would I live with myself if I did the same thing?

I couldn't.

“I love you, baby.”

I take my bike keys from my pocket and give her my biggest, fakest smile—the one she loves the best. “I love you too, Mom. I'll see you tomorrow.”