Hush Money (16 page)

“Oh, well, that’s a good idea,” I said,
getting into the car. What else could I do? “I don’t really like
missing class.”

“Such a good student.”

He pulled away from the curb and headed
toward our neighborhood. The good news was that I didn’t live too
far away by car, so this couldn’t go on too long. But still, I was
going to be a lot more careful what I wished for from here out.
Clearly the Universe was listening—with the sole purpose of smiting
me for Its own amusement.

“Marco was kind enough to bring me some
interesting photographs taken by the authorities after that rather
upsetting episode at the Dawson home over the weekend.”

“Really? How did he get those?”

“I really didn’t ask, Jocelyn. I believe
Marco has some…
connections
. Suffice it to say that he knows
I take an interest in these sorts of…occurrences, if you will, and
brought me copies of these photographs.” He pulled a large, clasp
envelope from between the seats. “Here, take a look.”

Opening that envelope was about the last
thing I wanted to do. The last time I’d seen an envelope of photos
someone had received from Marco they’d scared the crap out of me.
But at the same time, there was no way I could refuse. I had to
know.

The first picture wasn’t even of Kat’s house.
I was sure of that. It was a black and white photo, a little
grainy, but the kitchen was much smaller, and seemed…dated.
Although that was really hard to tell because every one of the
cabinets was pulled from the walls. And yeah, that creeped me out.
I could see where this was going, but still, something nagged at me
about it. Like I should know this. And then I saw the charred wood
at the edges of the scene.

“No, not that one,” Dobbs interrupted my
inner freak-out. “Look at the next one.”

The other photo was my first glimpse of what
I’d done to Kat’s kitchen. Wow. I knew when I did it that it was
bad, but…Wow. Just a few days ago I had been in that kitchen, that
big, spacious, immaculately clean and modern kitchen, helping Kat
get ready for the party. In the photo I held it looked like a
wrecking crew had been in, stripped it down for a complete remodel,
and just piled up the old stuff against a wall like so much
garbage.

Only the wrecking crew had been just me.

Joss Marshall: Homewrecker.

“I find it interesting, how similar the two
photos are, don’t you? As soon as I saw this one, it just struck me
as so familiar that I had to run home during my lunch hour and pull
that other one off my home computer.”

I shrugged. “It’s two messed up
kitchens.”

“Doesn’t that first one look familiar to you
at all?”

“No, should it?”

“Well, I realize you were very young at the
time, but that’s the kitchen where the fire department found Emily
Gianni, Trina Halston, and you.”

“Oh,” I said. I didn’t really have a glib
reply. I mean, I had kind of figured that out, but I was still
trying to process it. I totally didn’t remember doing any of that.
But then, that whole thing was so jumbled in my mind. We were so
scared, panicked—

“It’s interesting, don’t you think, the fact
that you seem to be common denominator in these two incidents?”

I shrugged. “I think it doesn’t take much to
qualify as interesting with you. But I guess that’s nice for a guy
like you who doesn’t get out too much. But then, neither do I,” I
added quickly, as though I hadn’t meant anything by it. “What made
you think I was there? At the party I mean.”

“Marco. He was kind enough to give me
information about who attended, including his recollection about
who was inside the house at the time the agents were attacked, and
names he’s gathered from others after the fact. Naturally, when
your name came up, it stood out for me, since we’re neighbors and
I’ve known you and your family for such a long time. I do take a
special interest in you, you know. And look, here we are.”

He pulled into his driveway and I hopped out
of the car before he’d turned off the engine. I did not want to get
trapped in there for one more minute.

“Well, thanks a lot for the ride.”

“My pleasure, Jocelyn. Anytime.”

I threw him a fake smile and started down the
driveway.

“And Joss?”

Reluctantly, I turned around.

“Anytime you want to talk, you know. I’m
always watching out for you.”

Don’t I know it.

* * *

Dylan

I walked over to Joss’s house feeling tired
and sick, and wishing that dealing with Marco as an adversary
didn’t make me shake in my boots. If I wanted to be all
self-analytical, I guess that’s why I’d stayed friends with him for
so long and made myself ignore what a jerk he was growing into.
Because as long as I was his friend, I knew I was safe. From him
and probably from anyone who’d want to mess with me.

I knew Rob hoped that I could get us out of
the bank job, but he was just going to have to deal, like I was.
Just like Kat was going to have to work her own stuff out. At least
I could tell Joss that everything was taken care of where she was
concerned, and that her family was safe, for now.

I walked up to the door and rang the bell. I
thought I deserved to entertain a fantasy, as I stood there
waiting, about her throwing herself into my arms in gratitude. But
I was feeling too much like a beat-down loser to really get into
it.

And because that’s just how things were
going, it wasn’t Joss who answered, but her dad, and he did not
look happy to see me.

“What do you want?”

“Uh, hi, Mr. Marshall. I…just dropped by…to
talk to Joss. Is…she around?”

“She’s not seeing anyone.”

“Oh. Um, is she ok?” She was probably really
upset when she left us. I thought it was clear that I was going to
report back to her on what Marco and I talked about, but maybe she
didn’t mention that to her dad and locked herself in her room or
something.

“She’s fine. But she’s not having any
visitors.”

“Oh. Ok. Well, maybe you could just tell her
I stopped by and that I’ll call her later?”

“No phone calls. My daughter doesn’t need you
or any of your friends getting her into trouble.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“I’m telling you that!”

“Yes sir.”
Damn, take my head off,
too
. “Mr. Marshall, what happened at that party, that wasn’t
our fault. I mean, sure, there were some Talents there who got out
of hand, but I think if you’d been there, you’d have to agree that
they were—”

“Maxwell, I have zero interest in your
analysis of last weekend’s events. I know what happened and whose
fault it was. And Jocelyn is clear that it’s in her best interests
not to have anything to do with the likes of you or any of that
crowd. So you need to go and take your interest elsewhere. Are we
clear, son?”

“Crystal. Sir.”

“That’s fine then.”

Then he shut the door in my face.

I could feel him watching me as I shuffled
back to the sidewalk and down the street. I really wanted to talk
to Joss. I told myself that it was because I didn’t want her to
keep worrying about Marco demanding money or—anything else. I
wasn’t even going to think about what else he’d said to her because
it still made my blood boil. Her dad was probably really stressing
her out, since the party, and there was the whole thing with Jill
that she was crazy upset over—with good reason. I could tell her
tomorrow, but I just didn’t think she should have to lose anymore
sleep over Marco.

Plus, yeah, I just wanted to see her. That’s
why I didn’t just call. And now, with what her dad said, I guess I
kinda wanted to see if the fact that she was “clear” about her best
interests meant that she actually agreed with him.

I walked up someone’s driveway, between where
their chimney stuck out from their house and where their giant SUV
was parked, a place that afforded me as much cover as anywhere else
I was going to find, and disappeared. Then I walked back to
Joss’s.

I had no idea where her room was in the
house, or even if she would be in it. But there were a couple of
good trees in the yard that looked sturdy and the little house had
a wrap-around porch that meant most of the bedrooms would have
windows over a gently sloped roof. Let’s just say I had snuck into
places that were more complicated than that.

I moved carefully, trying not to shake the
tree any more than the wind would, trying to keep my footsteps
light on the porch roof, testing my steps before I took them,
looking for loose shingles. Because let’s face it, slipping,
bouncing off the roof, and falling to my doom was not the stealthy
way to go.

When I found Joss’s room, I wasn’t surprised
to find it pretty Spartan, and more neat because there just wasn’t
much to make a mess with, than neat with military precision. Joss
was lying on her stomach, with her head on her crossed arms, and
her face was turned away from me. I wondered if she was sleeping,
but my toes were falling asleep from squatting down at the window,
so I tapped on it.

She immediately bolted up in bed and I could
see that she’d been crying. In a moment of panic, I thought about
winking out again, but I didn’t. I just kind of lamely waved at her
through the window. She swiped at her face as she ran over, did
something with a set of wires on the sill, and pushed the window
up.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Joss

I honestly don’t know what was worse, the
shock of having Dylan crouched on my roof, the terror that my dad
would come storming up the stairs at any moment and kill him, or
the mortification that Dylan had caught me crying like a girl and
looking more hag-like than usual.

“Did you know your dad said no phone calls
and no visitors?” He gave me that crooked smile of his that usually
made me go completely dumb, but right now was just too ridiculous.
Did everyone in this town just love living on the edge?

I actually grabbed him by the front of his
jacket and hauled him into the room. “What if someone sees you up
there? What if they tell my dad? What if he comes up here and
shoots you? Jesus.”

That seemed to make him think. He cocked his
head. “You really think he’d shoot me?”

“
I
might shoot you. What. Are. You.
Doing here?”

“I came to tell you the rest of what happened
with Marco. I guess I
kinda
thought you’d be
interested.”

“Well, yeah, I just didn’t think—I’m sorry.”
I flopped down on the footlocker at the end of my bed, wiping my
face again with a push my hair back gesture that I hoped wasn’t too
obvious. “You didn’t have to go to so much trouble.”

“Tree climbing is one of my specialties,” he
said, sitting next to me. I wondered if it looked like I left him
room to sit there on purpose.

“I’ll bet.”

We were quiet for a moment, and we were
alone, so I thought maybe it was best to just get this part over
with.

“I’m sorry I hit you.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, rubbing his cheek. “I
forgot about that.”

Boys
. “And I’m sorry I accused you of
being in on Marco’s blackmail thing, and trying to distract me so
he could trick my sister, and whatever other nasty thing I said to
you. Clearly, I was wrong.”

“Yeah, well, that’s okay. I guess it looked
pretty bad from your perspective.”

From my perspective, I still can’t figure
out what’s going on. You being subhuman slime in league with Marco
makes more sense than you being here, in my room.

“I’ve been a complete idiot where Marco’s
concerned. I should have cut ties with him a long time ago, but
I…”

“You don’t have to explain anything to
me.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Okay.” I tried to let it be okay, but it
really wasn’t. I really wanted to understand what was going on with
him. “What you said at Kat’s party, about Marco…”

“What did I say?”

“You said he makes you do things you didn’t
think you’d do, or something like that. Was that about the thing
with my dad? What Marco’s making you do to keep quiet about
that?”

“Joss…What I came by to tell you is that you
don’t need to worry about that, okay? Marco’s not going to say
anything to anyone about your dad or Jill.”

“Because of what you’re doing for him. What
is it? I know he doesn’t want you to tell me—”

“Fuck him. Excuse me.”

“—but I want to know.”

Dylan sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to
tell you because Marco said so, it’s just…” He shook his head.
“Okay, you might as well know what a miscreant I’ve been. Marco and
I, and Jeff and now Eric…we….” He made a frustrated noise and then
pushed on quickly, “We’re criminals. We vandalize, we joyride, and
mostly we steal stuff, some of which we play around with and then
throw away, some we fence for cash… It sounds bad—it is bad. I know
it is. It just seemed like it was little stuff, you know? No big
deal.”

So Dylan was reluctant to tell me about his
petty crime career, why? Because he didn’t want me to think badly
of him? Or maybe he was just ashamed of himself. Which he should
be. As the daughter of an independent merchant, it was kind of hard
not to be pissed off at that attitude.

“No big deal,” I repeated, making sure there
was some judgment in my tone. “But it doesn’t seem like
anymore?”

“No, not anymore.”

“What’s he making you do?”

“Rob a bank.”

“Rob a—” I jumped up, totally forgetting
where we were. Dylan caught my hand, his eyes going wide, and I
clamped my other hand over my mouth. He pulled me back down next to
him, but he didn’t look at me.

“It’s just a grocery store bank.”

“Oh well, if that’s all…” I snarked.

“Yeah, I know.

“Then, yeah, do they have an
it’s-only-a-grocery-store-bank-larceny charge?”