Promises I Made (9 page)

I leaned back in my chair and turned my eyes to the beach. People rode by on bikes, glided past on Rollerblades. Little kids made their way to the sand with buckets and shovels in hand, hats on their heads to protect them from sunburn, and teenagers talked and flirted as they leaned against the concrete wall that lined the strand.

I didn't belong here. I would never be that carefree. Would never really be young again. My only chance was a fresh start somewhere, and I couldn't get that without my freedom. Mine and Parker's. I couldn't stay with Selena forever, and I couldn't get a job or even finish high school without a new fake ID, a purchase that was way out of reach with the little bit of money I had left, assuming I could even find someone to do it.

The only way to freedom was to out Cormac's sources in
exchange for amnesty, but thanks to my apathy in the years I'd been with him and Renee, I couldn't do it by myself. I didn't even have a starting a point. I needed help, and the pickings were pretty slim.

I looked back at Marcus. “How do I know you won't bail on me, too?”

Something seemed to soften in his eyes. “I suppose you don't,” he said. “I can only tell you that I'm not Cormac. Our . . . philosophical differences were the thing that drove a wedge between us. Cormac has no boundaries, no rules. Nothing was ever off-limits.” He rubbed the scruff at his chin. “I am considerably older than Cormac, and I like to think I've learned a few things that he hasn't. One of them is that you can only chip away at your own soul for so long before it crumbles. And once it's gone, it's gone forever.” He shook his head. “There are some things I just won't do, but since I don't expect you to believe me, perhaps you can rely on good old common sense.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Cormac spent the last year of our alliance developing his own sources. That's part of why it took me so long to find him. You're one of the few connections I have to him now. Without you and the knowledge you possess—knowingly or otherwise—I'm at a dead end. And I don't like dead ends.” He watched the people walking by on the strand. “Not enough escape routes.”

It made sense, but I was still nervous about working with someone else. The last time I'd had partners, Parker had
gone to jail and I'd ended up on the run. “Can I think about it?” I asked.

He hesitated before nodding. Then he pulled a pen from his pocket and started writing on one of the napkins. “Call within forty-eight hours if the answer is yes. Leave a message with a number where I can reach you, and we'll arrange a time to meet and get started.” He folded the napkin and extended his hand. When I closed my fingers around it, he held on. “Can I trust you not to go to the police with my offer?”

I nodded. “I'm not looking to hurt anyone. The only reason I'm doing any of this is to get Parker out of jail. If I decide not to work with you, I just won't call, that's all.”

He let go of the napkin, and I stuffed it in my bag.

He put his sunglasses back on and stood, digging in his pocket for a minute before throwing a twenty-dollar bill on the table.

“It's a beautiful day,” he said, looking out over the beach. “You should try to enjoy it. Our vocation is difficult. Have to find pleasure in the little things.” He turned his face toward me, but his eyes were lost behind his sunglasses. “You be careful now, Grace.”

He turned and walked away, whistling as he merged with the crowd moving north on the strand. I watched his Hawaiian shirt bob through the masses until it finally disappeared in the sea of bathing suits and board shorts.

The conversation with Marcus replayed in my mind as I took the bus back to Selena's. I felt vindicated. My paranoia about the man next door on Camino Jardin hadn't been crazy after all. My instincts, honed by Cormac and Renee, had been right on. Now Marcus was my only link to a world I once thought I knew like the back of my hand. However much I hated the idea, I needed him. But if he was telling the truth, he needed me, too.

It was after three when I got off the bus at the Town Center. I was tired and overwhelmed, my mind spinning with everything Marcus had told me about Cormac and Renee. A year ago, I wouldn't have believed they could leave a partner high and dry. Now it didn't surprise me at all, and I wondered if Marcus had felt as surprised and betrayed as I did when Renee abandoned us. I was still thinking about it
when I saw the man standing outside Mike's.

I knew right away that it was Detective Fletcher. He was big, bigger even than Detective Castillo. His arms, jacked in a snug T-shirt, were crossed over his chest, his legs slightly apart where he stood, like he was in ready stance for some kind of attack even though he was just standing there, talking to a guy in an apron who probably worked at Mike's. I could sense Fletcher's coiled energy even across the parking lot, could feel the intensity of his eyes even though they weren't directed at me.

For a minute, all I could do was stare, my flight response stalled by the panic flooding my body. The guy with the apron nodded, and Fletcher raised his head, slowly turning my way as he gazed absentmindedly over the parking lot. I put my head down and hurried for the crosswalk, trying to look purposeful instead of scared, just another kid coming home from school or the beach.

I had to fight the urge to run as I made my way up the peninsula. I felt Fletcher at my back, like he was stalking me from the Town Center, even though there was no sign of him the few times I dared to look back. By the time I sneaked back into the pool house, I felt dizzy, my head roaring with the blood in my veins.

I put my bag down on the floor and went to the fridge, where I removed a bottle of water. I downed the whole thing in one go and collapsed onto the sofa. I hadn't bothered opening it up to the bed. I was scared I'd have to make a quick exit, and I didn't want to get too comfortable. I curled
onto my side and listened to the hum of the pool filter and the rustle of leaves in the trees that hung low over the pool house.

I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew I was sitting up, alert to a noise I was sure I'd just heard. Was it Fletcher? Had he followed me to Selena's after all? I waited in silence, prepping myself to run. A moment later, it came again: a soft knocking from the door.

My heart beat like a drum as I picked up my bag and crossed the room. I stood to the side of the door, waiting. Then, three short knocks, followed by a forceful whisper.

“It's me. Selena.”

The air seemed to leave my lungs all at once. I was about to open the door when I stopped, wondering if it could be a trick. Maybe Selena was surrounded by a SWAT team or something. Maybe they were just waiting for me to open the door to take me into custody. There was no peephole on the pool-house door. No way to be sure Selena was alone.

“Are you going to let me in?” she whispered again.

Then again, if the police were here, it meant the place was already surrounded. And if the place was surrounded, I was done. I could read people's body language, lift wallets, ingratiate myself with any high school crowd, but this was real life. I wasn't the star of some action movie who could escape the police by using my surroundings or throwing stuff in their way to slow them down.

“Hurry up!” she whispered. “My dad will be home soon.”

I opened the door a little and peered through the crack.
Selena stood there, hair wild around her face.

I stood behind the door as I opened it wider, just in case anyone was watching from one of the surrounding houses. Selena stepped inside.

“What took you so long?” she asked when the door was closed.

I hesitated. How could I explain the fear that pervaded my every waking moment? The way my breath caught in my throat if someone looked at me a little too long, a little too hard? The knowledge that Fletcher was close, and that if he took me into custody, I wouldn't even have anyone to call for help and Parker would be as good as convicted?

“I saw a cop at the Town Center,” I finally said. “It was some guy named Fletcher. Detective Castillo told me Fletcher has been assigned to work the Fairchild theft with him, and apparently, he's pretty enthusiastic about finding new leads.”

She frowned. “Did he follow you?”

“No, it just . . . made me nervous.” I hesitated. “I wasn't sure you were alone.”

She studied my face. “If I wanted to turn you in, I would have done it already.” She sat down on the sofa. “We should probably have a code, some way for me to signal you if there's trouble.”

“You could text me.”

“True,” she said, “but I'm thinking about an emergency code. A way for you to know if someone's with me outside the pool house, just in case everything happens fast and I
don't have time to text you.”

“That makes sense,” I agreed.

“How about three knocks if I'm alone, one knock if someone is with me?”

“One knock seems like a bad idea,” I said. “I don't want to freak out if one of the pool guys brushes up against the building or something.”

“True.” She seemed to think about it. “How about four knocks if I'm alone, two if someone is with me?”

“That works,” I said.

“And I'll never use your name,” she added. “Just in case one of the neighbors is listening.”

I smiled a little. “You're pretty good at this.”

“Yeah?”

I nodded. “Not that I recommend it as a life path or anything.”

She looked around the pool house. “It does seem to have limited career potential.”

I couldn't help laughing, and for the first time, when she met my eyes, she was smiling a little, too. “I'm not letting you off the hook,” she said softly, her expression pained.

I looked down at my hands. “I know that.”

“You hurt people, Grace. You hurt me.”

The now-familiar lump had again lodged itself in my throat. “I know. I don't even want to say I'm sorry again, because I know it doesn't cut it, and it just seems . . . insulting to keep saying it. Like it's enough when I know it isn't.” I looked up and met her eyes. “You know?”

She nodded. “You said you wanted to help Parker. That that's why you're here?”

“Yeah.”

“How will you do that?” she asked. “How will you help him?”

“I have to have something to trade. Something solid that will lead the police to the sources Cormac and Renee used to set up their jobs.”

“But you already said that you don't have that stuff.”

I bit my lip. “I don't. Not really.”

“So what will you do?”

I thought about Marcus. “I don't know.” I sat at the other end of the couch. “I made a list of things I remember—phrases, names, anything that might be a clue. But it's not much.”

She nodded solemnly.

“Let's talk about something else,” I said, anxious to change the subject. The furrow on the bridge of Selena's nose told me she was thinking about my problem, and that was the last thing I wanted. “What's going on here? How is everyone?”

She sighed. “Let's see . . . Olivia's secretly seeing her private volleyball coach, and—”

“Wait!” I stopped her. “Seriously? How old is he?”

“Only twenty-two, but it's still a big deal.”

“No one knows?” I asked.

“Well,
we
know,” Selena said. “But her parents definitely don't.”

My heart stuttered a little. I could see them now, everyone included in that
we
: Olivia, Harper, Rachel, Liam, Raj, and David. And of course, Selena and Logan. Still, I was happy Selena had remained part of the group after I left. When I'd first come to Playa Hermosa, she'd been a bit of a loner, and while she had seemed content, I knew that you could never have too many friends in this world, something that seemed even more true when you didn't have any.

“What about the others?” I was hungry for information about them. I wanted to picture Olivia's contagious smile, the expression on Harper's face when she thought hard about something, Raj's mischievous grin.

“Harper's still . . . well, she's Harper,” Selena said. “You know how she is. She tries to play along with everything, but I think she's really sad inside. I haven't really figured out why. Raj's parents are making him go back to India for the summer, and Liam is going to some surf camp in Puerto Rico.”

“Are they all ready for college?” I asked. It was hard to imagine it: everyone going out into the world, making new friends, changing and evolving into the adults they would all become.

“Yep. Olivia got into Brown. Harper's going to USC.”

“What about you? Looking at schools yet for next year?”

She nodded. “I'm thinking Berkeley. But I'm volunteering in Nicaragua this summer, so who knows? I guess anything can happen.”

“Wow . . . that's awesome,” I said. “You're finally going to
travel like you always wanted.”

“Yeah, I'm pretty excited.”

“What about David?” I asked. “Are you still . . .”

She nodded, and a secretive smile appeared on her lips. “We are.”

“How's that?”

She hesitated. “Pretty amazing.”

“I'm so happy for you,” I said. “Really.”

“Thanks.”

I hesitated. “How about Rachel?”

She seemed to think about it. “Not very different from when you left. Just a little more self-righteous.”

“She has a right to be.” I was surprised that I wasn't mad. Rachel's snooping wasn't what had done us in. We'd done that all by ourselves. She had just been looking out for Logan. I could never be angry at her for that. “She knew what I was before anyone.”

Silence settled over the room as we avoided discussing the one person we were both thinking about.

“Will Logan be okay?” I finally asked. I wanted to be told that I hadn't ruined him and his family completely. That there was still hope for them to be like they used to be. I knew that probably wasn't the answer I would get, but I also knew that I couldn't hide from what I'd done.

Selena looked down at her hands, picked at the loose skin around her thumbnail. “I'm not sure we should talk about Logan. It will only make you feel worse.”

“I want to know.”

“He's . . . I don't know. He does all the same stuff. You know—he surfs with the guys and meets us at Mike's and comes to parties. But he bows out a lot, too. I think it's because of his mom. Because he's worried about her being alone.”

“And?” I prompted, sensing there was more.

She sighed. “He's just sad. He tries to hide it, but I know it's true.” My chest felt excavated, cleared out of everything that had made me whole.

“Will his dad be okay?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I don't know. Logan doesn't like to talk about it.”

I wanted to ask about Parker, if Selena had heard anything about him. If she knew he was okay. But it didn't seem right to show my concern for Parker on the heels of talking about Logan. Was I allowed to care about them both?

She sat up straighter, the brightness in her eyes seeming a little forced. “Have you heard about the peacocks?”

“No, but I saw one the other day. Out on the street in front of your house.”

She nodded. “There's going to be a vote on what to do about them. People are really fed up with the noise and stuff.”

“What's going to happen to them?” I thought about their eyes, those brown eyes that seemed to hold so much knowledge, to know exactly how I felt. Both of us outsiders.

“It depends,” she said. “They'll either get to stay, or they'll be moved to some kind of animal sanctuary up north. Everyone's really worked up about it. I went to a meeting with my
dad and thought a brawl was going to break out. Who would have thought a bunch of birds would cause the devolution of movie executives and tech millionaires.”

“Crazy,” I agreed softly.

Selena stood. “I better get inside,” she said. “My dad will be home soon.”

“Thanks for coming out to check on me. It was . . .” I hesitated, not wanting to make it weird. “It was nice talking to you.”

She headed for the door. “Let me know if you need anything.”

There was so much I wanted to say, but nothing came. I was paralyzed by my own guilt, by the feeling that I didn't have a right to say anything. That I'd given up the right to even exist in the same space as Selena and the others, to breathe the same air.

So I didn't say anything. I just watched her go and wondered how many more times I'd have to say good-bye.