Yesterday's Stardust (27 page)

“It’s my place. I have books and things in there. If you get caught, I’ll look like an accomplice. I have a right to know.”

He threw the cigarette at the sidewalk and straightened to a stand. “You have a right”—he pulled his sunglasses off—“to ab-so-lute-ly nothing.” He reached for her. She stepped back. His hand clamped around her arm, squeezing until she moaned. The harder she pulled, the tighter he held. “I take that back.” He yanked her toward him. “You have the right to love me.” His laugh hung in the heavy air. His left hand dug into her hair. His lips smashed against hers.

Ignoring the pain, she tried to turn away.

“Is this how you want it? Don’t make no difference to me. I like a good fight.” Again, the cold, evil-sounding laugh. “Or maybe you want to introduce me to your friend. Maybe we’ll make a deal. You get rid of me, I get your—”

Rena felt the car approaching before she heard it. Music reverberated through the sidewalk. Jarod swore and shoved her away. She fell, her knee skimming the cement. She gasped and he swore again. “Shut up and stay there.”

A bright purple car with Illinois plates pulled up to the curb. The music shut off. She didn’t recognize the car or the driver, but Trish’s boyfriend, Rabia, sat in the passenger seat. His eagle tattoo looked like it was staring at her. Jarod walked over to his open window. “You’re early.”

Rabia didn’t respond. “Got it?”

Jarod nodded and opened his jacket.

“Chick’s cool with lettin’ me in. We got a history now.” Rab’s laugh drifted up like the smoke still spiraling from Jarod’s cigarette on the ground. “But just in case…” He held out his hand.

Jarod pulled out a gun.

Rena gasped.

Rabia pointed to Rena. “She gonna be a problem?”

Jarod handed him the gun. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“See to it. Be at…”

Rena eased to her feet and stepped out of the circle of light. The lawn behind her sloped up from the sidewalk. She took another step into the shadow, and another.

“…be the only one home…in and out like…”

“Later.”

Jarod patted the roof of the car. The music rumbled to life.

And Rena ran.

Dani stood on the sidelines at the preshift briefing on Friday night. She recognized streets and businesses and the name of a store that had been robbed several times in the past few months. After the briefing, Todd took her out to his cruiser—to begin a shift in her new neighborhood.

Probably wouldn’t be smart to mention the lease she’d signed two hours ago.

“You’ve never done a ride-along?”

“In school we got to choose a ride in an ambulance or a patrol car. I chose blood and gore over coffee and doughnuts.” She ducked the hand swinging her way.

“This is a state-of-the-art doughnut-mobile. It has all LED overhead lights.” He gestured toward the top of the car. “The rack has a much lower profile than the old ones.” His grin matched the expression Evan had every time he bought a new lens.

Men and their toys.
“You’ve come a long way from Barney Fife’s bubble light.”

“Are you making fun of me, Miss Gallagher? This is serious stuff.”

“I wouldn’t dream of making fun of an officer of the law.” She touched the glass on a spotlight fastened to the side mirror.

“You wouldn’t believe how many people don’t have reflective numbers on their houses or mailboxes. They call 911, we get to the neighborhood in time to save the day, and then we can’t find the house. Somebody should write an article about that problem.” He nodded toward the spotlight. “Also works well for blinding a driver.”

“That sounds malicious.”

“When I pull someone over, I park so that the middle of the cruiser lines up with the right hand corner of the vehicle on the side of the road. That protects my back.”

“And you point the spotlight at the car’s mirrors so they can’t see you walking up to the car.”

“Exactly.” Todd opened the driver’s side door and pointed out the radar system and mounted laptop then reached in and flicked a red button, turning on the lights he’d been bragging about. Red and blue light splashed the building behind them.

“Déjà vu.”

“That had to have been scary to wake up to. But, hey, it’s how we met.”

Dani inched away. It was also how she’d met the Italian with the attitude.

“Go open the back door on the other side.”

She walked around, opened the door, and stared at the stark gray interior. “It’s hard.” The whole back seat appeared to be one big piece of molded plastic. “No creature comforts.”

“We can just hose it down when needed. I’ll leave the reasons to your imagination.”

“Gross. What are these indentations?”

“Handcuff room. See, we do make a few concessions for comfort. We’re not as inhumane as some people think.” He swept his hand toward the seat. “Get in.”

She thought of the bottle of hand sanitizer in her purse as she slid in. “The seat belt is strange.” She fingered the massive buckle.

“You, I wouldn’t have a problem reaching around, but I don’t want to be that vulnerable with a guy who wants to bite my face off. Literally. The cage”—he tapped the grate between the front and back seats—“is open on this side and Plexiglas on the other in case I have two passengers and the one over there decides he’d like to spit at me.”

“My respect for your job is growing by the second.”

“Thank you. Another storyline, maybe.”

“Maybe.”

“Put your hands behind your back.”

The words, even though said in a calm tone, gave her a chill. She did as she was told. Todd closed the door.

She wasn’t normally claustrophobic, but the cramped space and hard seat combined with a door that didn’t open from the inside made her chest tighten. She looked up at the shotgun mounted on the other side of the cage and thought of a wad of money and a boy with fire in his eyes hiding…
what?
Mitch’s words floated through her head.

“Just keep it legal, Miss Gallagher.”

Jarod’s curses still rang in her ears as Rena ran up Trish’s back steps and let herself in. She pulled off her shoes and padded through the kitchen. The clock on the microwave illuminated piles of dirty dishes. The room smelled of rancid oil. In the living room, somebody, probably one of Trish’s cousins, slept on the couch. Someone else sprawled, probably drunk, on the floor. Trish stood at her bedroom door, wearing pajama bottoms and a T-shirt and rubbing her face. She closed the door without a sound when Rena walked in.

Trish flopped onto the bed. “Better be good.”

“What’s Rab doing tonight?”

Pulling her knees to her chest, Trish yawned. It looked fake. She wrapped her arms around her legs. One hand played with the hem of her pajamas like a fidgety little kid. “Taking care of business.” She glanced down at her phone.

“What’s going on? What do you know?”

“What do
you
know?”

For the first time in their ten years, Rena knew in her gut she couldn’t trust her best friend. “I know he’s got a gun.”

Trish shrugged. “It’s just for show.”

Right.
“So you know what they’re doing tonight?”

Uncoiling from her fetal position like a snake getting ready to strike, Trish lifted her shirt, showing the 7 curled around her navel. “You forget what this stands for?” She jumped off the bed. She picked up her dark green sweatshirt, put it on, and zipped it, then pointed at the seven embroidered on the front. “You see this? You know what it means?”

“Quit the drama.”

“You
quit not knowin’ who you’re loyal to. You don’t wear the colors, you hide your tat, you question everything. A couple a months ago Jarod was all that to you, all you could talk about. You woulda done anything for him, like it should be. Now you’re talkin’ stupid about leaving him. I don’t even know you anymore. I don’t even know if I want to know you anymore.”

Rena’s muscles tightened like a piece of steel stretched across her hipbones. For a second, she couldn’t make her lungs expand. “Maybe stupid is not ever thinking about leaving. Is this where you want to be ten years from now? Still wearing the colors, your tat stretching over and over with Rab’s babies? Bein’ a nothing? Hoping you live to see your kids grow up? Hoping
they
live to grow up?” She slid off the bed, almost tripping over something. “I don’t want that. I want to be somebody. I don’t want to be
owned
by somebody.”

As she walked to the door, Trish laughed with the same kind of tone Jarod had used. “You’re gonna so regret it if you try leavin’.”

“I don’t think so. I think you’re going to be the one who’s sorry.” She walked to the door. As she turned, she noticed something she hadn’t seen when she walked in. Dresser drawers. Empty and stacked on the floor. The thing she’d almost tripped over was a duffle bag. The steel in her belly quivered. “Where are you going?”

“Vacation. We’re leaving early in the morning.”

“And you didn’t tell me? Who’s we?”

“My family. We’ll be gone a week or so.”

Hand on the doorknob, Rena stared. “You forget. I know
you.
And I know when you’re lying.” Without saying good-bye, she turned her back on the girl who once shared all her secrets—and wondered if she’d ever see her again.

The claustrophobic feeling didn’t leave. Dani had expected the ride to be exhilarating, but as she sat in the narrow space between the passenger door and the laptop mounted between the seats, watching Todd approach a car he’d just pulled over, anxiety kicked in. The Kevlar vest bit into her ribs, and she fought the sensation that she couldn’t completely fill her lungs.

China had left the beach in a car like this. Dani had hid from one in the dark with a roll of cash in her hand. The boy who’d hid something in a coal chute should have been picked up in one. Because of her, he’d gotten away.

Dash lights and a soft glow from the computer lit the interior. Red and blue lights strobed the pavement and the gray siding of a warehouse. The spotlight bathed Todd in white light. He knocked on the driver’s window. “Open the window, sir.” His words piped into the car.

Reaching into her purse, Dani pulled out her recorder and turned it on. With the pen and notebook already in her hand, she wrote her impressions. He took the man’s license, asked several questions, and came back to the cruiser. She recorded his gestures and the expressions on his face as he ran a check on the license and plates. And for once she didn’t ask questions.

Todd gave the driver a ticket and came back to the cruiser. “I was fully expecting the guy to be intoxicated. Driving without headlights is one of biggest cues you have to DUI.” He entered the details in the laptop. “This is the biggest part of my job. Not too glamorous. I hope something story-worthy happens tonight, but you could just end up seeing the boring side.”

“Hey, I’ve spent my week interviewing young entrepreneurs who walk dogs and make stationary out of recycled paper. You’ve already topped—”

The radio crackled. A woman’s voice broke through the static. “Respond to corner of Forty-Eighth Street and Thirty-Seventh Avenue for a possible B and E in progress. Caller says two SPs barged their way into an apartment across the street from caller. One appeared armed. Witness heard screaming. Stand by, getting further info.”