Promises I Made (12 page)

“Well, like you said, that's no excuse.”

“I know, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve a little help.” She looked into my eyes. “Let me do this, Grace.”

I waited for Selena's father to leave for work the next morning before taking the bus into Torrance. Selena had told me that her dad kept Saturday hours for his patients, and I made a mental note to be back before four, when she said he usually came home. I needed some things from the drugstore, and I wanted to check in with Detective Castillo before I went to Scotty and Marcus's house.

I got off near the Econo Lodge and walked to Starbucks, where I sat down on the curb at the back of the parking lot and dialed Detective Castillo's number. He picked it up on the second ring.

“Detective Castillo.”

“It's Grace.”

There was a surprised pause on the other end of the phone. “Grace . . . how are you? Is everything okay?”

“Everything's fine,” I said. “I'm working on . . . the stuff we talked about. On getting you the information.”

“That's good, but listen”—he lowered his voice—“Parker's trial date has been set for June twenty-ninth. That doesn't give us much time, and Fletcher talked to someone on the peninsula yesterday who thinks they might have seen you.”

All the blood seemed to rush to my head, Detective Castillo's words buzzing like a swarm of angry bees. “But I've been so careful . . . and how did they recognize me with the darker hair and stuff?”

“We don't know for sure that it was even you, but you need to be extra vigilant from now on. Legitimate lead or not, Fletcher's all over it.” He hesitated. “Are you sure you don't want to come in? Take your chances with the DA's office?”

I thought about it. If it were just me, maybe. But I couldn't make that call for Parker. And now that I was working with Marcus, I felt more optimistic about our chances of getting Parker out of jail. It was a gamble, but it was one I had to take. More than that, I knew it was one Parker would want me to take.

“No, I'm going to get you what you want. Actually, I'm going to get you more than what you asked for. I'm going to get you Cormac.”

“Grace, don't—”

“I'll call you back in a couple of days.”

I disconnected the call and headed to Rite Aid. I filled my basket with toiletries and snacks, then caught the bus
to the Town Center. When the bus dropped me off, I took a winding, circuitous route to Colina Verde, being careful to stay off the main arteries and busier roads. The sun was already hot and insistent, and by the time I got to Marcus's house, I was out of breath, my ponytail stuck to the nape of my neck with sweat.

“Grace!” Scotty said when he opened the door. “Are you okay? Get in here.”

I stepped through the door. “Can I have some water, please?”

Lines formed on his forehead as he studied me. “You don't have to ask for something like that here, Grace. Come on.”

He led me to the kitchen and filled a glass with cold water from the fridge. I downed it in one shot and finished another one before I finally started to breathe easy.

“What's going on?” Scotty asked. “Where have you been?”

“I had to go to town,” I said. “I needed some things from the store, and I needed to call Detective Castillo so he didn't get worried and start looking for me. I just didn't realize how far away your street is from the Town Center.”

“I thought you weren't going to contact Detective Castillo without talking to me first.” Marcus's voice came from the doorway. He didn't sound mad, just walked to the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee before leaning over the island. He yawned, and it was obvious he'd just woken up.

“Oh . . . right.” I'd forgotten all about that rule. “I'm sorry. I was in town and I wanted to get it out of the way. I'm never sure if my phone can be traced.”

“Everything can be traced,” Marcus said. “You can thank modern wiretap laws for that.”

I felt my blood run cold.

“He's not telling you the rest.” Scotty shot an admonishing look at Marcus. “They can tell which cell tower you've accessed, but that doesn't necessarily tell them where you are, especially if you make a point to move right after you make the call.”

“Please tell me you made an effort to move right after you made the call,” Marcus said drily.

I kept expecting him to yell or scream, to read me the riot act about protocol. I wasn't used to his blasé delivery, the feeling that he wasn't too invested in the outcome of anything. “I moved after I made the call,” I said. “I chose a busy place in town, kept the call to two minutes, and then left right after I hung up.”

“Good girl,” Scotty said. “They can triangulate your call using the ping if they really want to, but it would take a little time, and they'd have to be really invested to get it done.”

“How much time?” I asked.

Scotty thought about it. “At least fifteen minutes.”

“I've always been gone by then,” I said. “And anyway, I don't think Detective Castillo is looking to out me. Wouldn't he have to initiate the trace?”

Marcus nodded. “Since you called him directly, yes. But never count on the kindness of strangers.”

“Isn't that what you are?” I asked, holding his gaze.

His face was impassive in the moment before a smile touched the corners of his mouth. “You're one smart cookie,
you know that?” He slid off the bar stool and headed for the hall. “Back to work in T minus fifteen minutes.”

I hesitated. “Marcus?”

He turned around. “Yeah?”

“Somebody on the peninsula told Fletcher they'd seen me recently.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Castillo tell you that?”

“Yeah.”

He rubbed the stubble at his chin. “They don't have anything. It could have been anyone. But you should still make yourself scarce.”

I nodded. I couldn't tell him I was already so scarce, I wondered if I even existed sometimes.

“Don't worry, kid,” he said. “It'll be okay.”

I tried to smile. “Thanks.”

“He likes you,” Scotty said when Marcus had disappeared beyond the doorway.

I laughed. “I don't know about that.”

Scotty cast me a knowing smile and went to work on breakfast. He was sliding pancakes onto plates when he spoke again. “You know, I can drive you into town if you ever need something,” he said.

I shrugged. “It's fine. I can take the bus.”

He pushed one of the plates toward me along with a glass container of syrup. “You're very independent. Very self-sufficient. But everyone needs a little help now and then. And I'll tell you a secret.”

I looked at him. “What is it?”

“I like helping people,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper. I laughed, and he continued. “It's not like that old fool makes it easy to help him. I'm serious. I can give you a ride into town, pick stuff up at the store if you need it. All you have to do is ask.”

I took a bite of pancakes. He made it sound so easy. You asked for help, and someone gave it to you. But that wasn't the way the world worked, was it? Cormac and Renee had made it clear that we had to stick together, that we could only count on each other. Listening to Scotty, I suddenly wondered if it had been another lie. Another way to keep Parker and me under their thumb, to make sure we needed them.

I finished my breakfast and met Marcus in the living room. We started where we'd left off, with the job in Baltimore, and continued all the way through the Fairchild con. When we got to what happened afterward, to Renee's betrayal and my flight to Seattle with Cormac, Marcus leaned forward. His questions got more intense, more pointed, his fingers tapping furiously on his keyboard as he made note of everything I said. When I was done, he sat back and shook his head.

“I know. It was a mess,” I said. “Everything that could go wrong did.”

“That wasn't just bad luck,” he said. “Cormac was sloppy. He should have known better.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “What did he do wrong?”

“What didn't he do wrong?” Marcus laughed, but there
wasn't any humor in it. “Let's set aside the fact that he used two kids to help him.” I winced. “He went into the Fairchild house not even knowing for sure that the gold was in the carriage house.”

“But it was,” I said.

“He didn't know that, and that's Grifting 101. You don't put yourself at risk—and you don't put the people you care about at risk—for a take you don't know is there.” He sighed. “And the vandalism at Allied? Sloppy. He played Russian roulette with Parker's freedom, and Parker lost, not to mention the guard Cormac killed.”

I had to swallow the acid that rose in my throat. I knew Cormac had killed that guard, but I'd never said it out loud. Never heard someone else say it out loud.

Marcus went on. “That's Cormac: never patient, always greedy.”

I thought of Cormac's rush to get the gold, the insistence by him and Renee that it had to be that weekend, even though Logan wasn't leaving town with his parents. Even though it meant I had to drug Logan to give us enough time to get in and out undetected.

“Anyway, that will work in our favor now,” Marcus said.

“How?”

“If he was sloppy on the job when he had resources available, he'll be even more sloppy now that he's on the run with hardly any money. He won't starve—Cormac will always be able to feed himself—but he won't have the luxury of hiding in an ivory tower either.”

It was an entirely new take on Cormac. He'd seemed invincible when we'd been together, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“What do we do now?” I asked.

“I'm going to put feelers out with some people I know, see if Cormac has reared his head in any of the usual spots.”

“What can I do?”

“Nothing yet,” Marcus said. “I need to process this information before I know which direction to run. You should rest, keep thinking about anything from Seattle that might help us. And think about Renee, too. My hunch is that she's long gone, but you never know. She may not have been able to get out. The police lowered the boom pretty fast.”

For the first time, I considered the possibility that Renee hadn't been able to leave the country like we'd planned. I don't know why the idea bothered me so much.

I stayed for a late lunch, grateful Scotty gave me an excuse by insisting that he wasn't sending me home without a full stomach. I was already getting used to the comfort of them. To the cushy sofas and framed photographs, the Buddha statues that were secreted in little nooks throughout the house, the hint of incense hanging underneath whatever Scotty was cooking in the kitchen.

And I was getting used to Scotty and Marcus, too. Scotty always had a smile and had taken to touching me gently on the arm and calling me “honey” when I was upset or nervous. He was practical and efficient, the perfect foil for Marcus, whose gruff demeanor was laced with a kind of calm, a kind of acceptance, that seemed to transfer to me when we were together.

By the time Marcus drove me home, it was after three
and rain was falling from the sky in sheets, bouncing against the pavement and pummeling a drumbeat against the Range Rover's roof. He pulled over to the side of the road and reached into the backseat.

“Here,” he said, handing me an umbrella. “You can bring it back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? I thought we were done for a few days.”

He looked lazily my way. “Listen, kid, my feelings won't be hurt if you have somewhere more exciting to be, but if you'd like a little company and a couple good meals, we're happy to have you.”

I smiled a little. “Thanks. Maybe I'll stop by, then.”

He nodded. “I'll contact you if I come up with anything on Cormac in the meantime.”

I put my hand on the door and turned back to him. “Thanks, Marcus. For everything.”

I opened the door and extended the umbrella before stepping out into the rain. Thunder rumbled in the distance, water streaming like a river down the gutters. My shoes and socks were soaked before I even crossed the street, and I hurried across the pavement, smiling to myself when I saw Marcus's SUV still idling at the curb as I turned the corner.

It was almost three thirty when I reached Selena's yard, and I was relieved to see that the Cadillac driven by her father wasn't in the driveway. Seduced by the comfort of Scotty and Marcus's house, I was pushing my return to the pool house every day. It was a dangerous game, and I silently chided myself for the recklessness, promising
myself that I would be more careful.

I made my way down the path leading to the yard, retracting the umbrella as I stepped under the semi-shelter of the trees. I opened the door to the pool house and had just stepped inside when I heard the voice behind me.

“It's you.”

I froze, the blood racing through my veins, my mind denying the voice even as my heart knew exactly who it was. I turned around slowly.

“Logan.” The sight of him took my breath away. He stood a few feet from the door, the rain plastering his hair to his head. His cheeks were hollowed out, even gaunt, and there were shadows under his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“What are
you
doing here, Grace?” He shouted it, and I knew instinctively that it wasn't just to be heard over the rain. That the sight of me had conjured up some kind of rage, had unmoored him in some way. I listened with horror as a sob stuck in his throat. “Why did you come back?”

I could only shake my head, not sure where to begin. Not sure how to begin. I stepped back, opening the door a little wider. “Come in, Logan. You're getting soaked.”

He stared at me for a minute before swiping at his cheeks—was it tears or rain that streamed down his face?—and stepping through the door.

I closed it and turned to look at him. He was breathing hard, like talking to me, seeing me, required physical effort. I drank him in: the mossy-brown eyes that had once held a warmth meant only for me, the lips that had touched
mine so gently. It was true that he had changed, that his face looked harder, his eyes shaded with pain that shook me to my core. But he was still Logan, and at that moment I didn't even care about the police, about the fact that Logan knew where I was, that someone else might know, too.

“Why did you do it?”

I'd done so many things, so very many things, that I wasn't sure what he meant. Why did I steal from his father? Why did I betray him? Lie to him? Drug him?

“It's . . . complicated.” I hated myself for saying it. It was so trite, and I hurried to say something better, something that would explain the position I'd been in. “I told you the truth about Cormac and Renee. They adopted me, but there was more. They wanted Parker and me to help them . . . to help them steal from people.”

He shook his head. “Did they threaten you, Grace? Did they force you to hook up with me? To act like you cared?”

“I did care; I—”

“Did they force you?” he shouted. But I knew that he already had the answer. Knew it from the way he looked at me. Like he didn't know me at all. Like he never had.

I swallowed the emotion that was lodged in my throat and shook my head. “No.”

“Then don't ask me to feel sorry for you.”

“I would never ask that, Logan.”

“You . . .” His eyes bore into mine. “Do you know what you did to my father? To my family? Do you know what you did to
me
, Grace?” I nodded, but I knew it wasn't true. Not
really. “Is that even your name?”

“It is,” I said. “The Grace part, anyway.”

His shoulders sagged, an expression of defeat passing over his features. “What are you doing here?”

My mouth had gone dry, and I had to dig for the words to answer his question. “I'm trying to make it right. To give the police information that will help them get Cormac and Renee.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You're working with the police?”

“Not . . . not exactly,” I said. He sighed and started to shake his head, like it was just another lie. I didn't want to get Detective Castillo in trouble, but I couldn't stand for Logan to look at me that way either. “I'm going to find Cormac, track him down, and give the information to the police.”

“I thought you were with them,” he said. “With Cormac and Renee. Or whatever their names are.”

“I was with Cormac for a while. I don't know where Renee is. I don't know where either of them is now, not for sure. But I'm going to find out, about Cormac at least.” Water was dripping from his hair onto his jacket, and I walked over to the armoire and pulled out a clean towel. I extended a hand to give it to him, and he stared at it for a few seconds before taking it. “Then I'm going to tell the police.”

He laughed, bitter and sharp-edged. It didn't sound like him at all. “Now I get it. You want to help Parker. You're going to trade Cormac for him.”

My face was hot with shame. “He's just like me, Logan. We were both adopted by Cormac and Renee, both . . .
pressured into doing what we did. He doesn't deserve to take the fall for all of us.” I hesitated. Seeing Logan threw me, and I struggled to find the right words. “But I want to make it right, too. I want Cormac and Renee to pay for what they—for what
we
—did to your family. I'm willing to pay, too. As soon as I have the information I need, I'm going to turn myself in.”

His eyes bored into mine, seeing all of me, just like always. Except this time, I didn't have any secrets. For better or worse, I was laid bare.

“And I'm just supposed to believe you?” he said.

I looked down at my feet. “It's the truth. I'm going to make it right. I might even be able to get your dad's money back.”

He took a step toward me, and when I looked up, his eyes were brimming with so much loss, so much disappointment, that I felt it like a knife to the heart.

“Is that what you think this is about? Money? You don't get it, do you? We don't care about the money. You took something from my dad, from my family. Do you really think giving his money back will make it all right? That he'll be better, just like that?” He was crying now, and I felt tears slip from my own eyes. “It's not that simple, Grace. He's sick. And that's not totally your fault. He's been sick for a long time. But he was feeling good. He was feeling
safe
. That's what you stole from him. From all of us.”

“I'm sorry, Logan. I'm so, so sorry. If you just . . . give me a little time here, time to find Cormac and bring him to the
police, then he'll pay for what happened, and I'll turn myself in, I promise.”

“I'm sorry, Grace. I can't. I just can't.” He threw the towel on the floor and walked out.

I don't know how long I stood there, staring through the open door at the rain falling from the sky, before I grabbed my backpack and ran.