This time, 911 wouldn’t do me any good.
CHAPTER 13
I let the weight of my backpack pull my shoulders down. I was really getting tired of this whole showing-up-at-my-house-unannounced thing. A voice in my head whispered, Police harassment. Another whispered, Abuse of power. Yet another whispered, Stop whispering. Unless you’re building an insanity defense.
And then a voice screamed, Hide the files!
I hurried back into the bedroom and flung my backpack under the bed, considering whether to call my mom for backup. But I couldn’t just leave Liam down there all by himself with Detective Muscle-Head Martinez. I trusted Liam, but I didn’t exactly want his trust to be tested.
I hustled downstairs to join them.
“Detective Martinez, what are you doing here?” I asked, not even pretending to be pleasant. I was angry, and I wasn’t going to hide it.
“I came by to check on you,” he said, not doing me the same favor of making it clear how he really felt. He casually turned away from Liam and squared himself to face me coming down the grand staircase. His gaudy gold chain flashed in the light of the chandelier.
“Check on me?” I asked. “Why would you need to check on me?”
He gave me a knowing look, but what he knew I couldn’t guess. Maybe he knew I’d killed again. Maybe he knew that as we spoke, the CSI unit was meticulously analyzing the evidence off of four bodies that would put me away for good. Or maybe he just knew I was hiding something.
My foyer had turned into an interrogation room, and I was willingly waiving my right to counsel.
“Let’s just say I was worried about you,” he said, gesturing in Liam’s direction, as if playing the noble father-figure card.
Step 1: Gain trust.
“Home alone, are we?” Martinez asked.
Step 2: Open with an easy question.
“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure my mom would have your badge if she knew you were here questioning me without her presence or consent.”
“Whoa, there’s no interrogation here.” He held up his hands. “I only wanted to make sure you’re fine and that everything is on the up-and-up.”
Step 3: Reveal suspicion.
“Well, now that you know I am fine and things are looking up, you can go.”
He studied me, his eyes trailing up and down my body as if looking for physical evidence. He moved closer. “I know what you’re doing, Ruby.”
Step 4: Make an accusation to invoke admission of guilt.
My facade of confidence faltered for a second. But if he really knew what I was doing, he should just arrest me already.
Liam finally stepped between us. “I think you’d better leave now.” He didn’t take my hand or put his arm around me, but his closeness steadied me.
Martinez’s dark eyes left mine and narrowed on Liam. “Young man, you’d better be careful who you talk to like that.”
Step 5: Use physical intimidation.
Liam was bigger than Martinez, but his eyes still dropped as the detective moved even closer, erasing the space buffer between us.
“Do you still have the number I gave you?” Martinez asked, maybe ten inches from my face.
Step 6: ???
“No.” I pulled back my head. “My mom has it. You saw her take it.”
“Here it is again, then,” he said as he slid it into my hand and held it there a moment. “You just might need it one of these days. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” I replied, totally not understanding, but hoping my compliance would make him let go, even though I knew he was waiting until I made eye contact. Damn, I didn’t want to. But I wanted him gone. So I looked him dead in the eyes.
He blinked in acceptance of my token offering of surrender, and finally let go. He took one last look at Liam. “Remember what I told you.”
As soon as he crossed the threshold, I slammed the door. We waited for a few minutes, listening for the sound of his car starting in the distance and then pulling away. I wondered how he even got past our gate.
“What the hell was that?” I asked myself, trying to wipe away the feeling of his hand on the back of my shorts. “When I tell my mom about this, she is going to freak.”
Liam was strangely quiet. “What’s up with you?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing,” I said. “It kind of looks like something. What’d he say to you before I came down?”
“That guy, he just…” He avoided my eyes, and grabbed the door handle. “Never mind. C’mon, I think we both need a fat milkshake after that kind of police terrorization.”
“Fine, just let me go get my backpack.” I turned to go, but I could tell Liam was shaken. Detective Martinez must have gotten to him before I came down. And I couldn’t help but wonder if sharing my research with Liam had been a big mistake.
Over the consumption of salt, fat, sugar, and near-illegal amounts of complex carbs, I continued to tell Liam the reasons why I couldn’t go to the police about everything that had happened. Most of them had to do with Detective Martinez. My mom said he was dangerous and not to trust him. Their affair ended badly. Of course, I was still waiting for that “talk” with her for more details on their past. But this much I knew: I didn’t like Martinez. If he could betray my father so deeply, then he could betray me if I confided in him about my Filthy Five.
Liam agreed we couldn’t trust him but tried to convince me maybe there was another friend from Dad’s SWAT team who would help. But I didn’t want to talk about my dad, or his department. I couldn’t go there. Not yet. They’d let me down and failed Dad by letting him die. All without giving me any kind of reasonable explanation.
Even Mathews, Dad’s so-called best friend and right-hand man, had ignored me since that terrible night. The dude (Dad’s replacement, by the way) had never even come to see me. And he used to be like a second father to me. In fact, he was the one who’d given me Smith for my Sweet Sixteenth. He said the laser sight would help me stop shooting like a girl. He used to love to tease me. Now, apparently, he loved to pretend like I didn’t exist.
I had no friends in SWAT.
Liam never really told me what Martinez had said to him before I came down. He only alluded to Martinez warning him to “be careful” with me. I didn’t press him because I had a feeling about what Martinez was really trying to do: use Liam against me. And yet Liam was inexplicably still here, despite the risks of being associated with me, enjoying a greasy picnic on the beach. Intermittently smiling and touching me, with a gentleness I’d never experienced.
“Did your parents say anything to you this morning?” I asked.
“My mom just asked why I came home so early. I told her I’d had a hard time sleeping and wanted to be in my own bed. She was cool.”
“What did your dad say?”
“I haven’t seen my dad in years,” he said quietly. “But since he was a drunk, I’m sure he wouldn’t have noticed or cared anyway.”
“Oh.” I paused, not meaning to bring up a hard subject. So he had lied about his “rich dad” ransoming us. “My dad drank a lot, too. But he noticed everything. Even when he was tanked, he could hear the scurrying of a cockroach. If he’d been here, I wouldn’t have had a chance of sneaking in like I did this morning.” I couldn’t believe I was talking about Dad again. I hadn’t been able to do this with anyone yet. At least, not without breaking down, cracking up, or shutting off. Maybe because I was trying to comfort Liam, it was OK.