I Stole His Car (Love at First Crime Book 1)

by Jessica Frances

  “Another reason I have for helping you is more selfish,” Zander finally speaks up, looking down at his hands now, fidgeting with the pen he’s holding and looking a little awkward. “Vaughn has taken to you, and that is incredibly rare. Since our parents passed away, all he’s done is pull away. He barely wants to see his friends, doesn’t engage at school, and I’ve tried to get him to talk to a professional. He sits in those sessions and refuses to say a single word. He fights with me constantly, and I was beginning to wonder if he was too much trouble for me to handle.

  “I’ve been trying my best, yet nothing has been working. But tonight, he’s spoken more than I’ve heard in months. Tonight, he smiled, he laughed.” Zander looks up at me now, giving me a smile that makes my breath catch. “Tonight, he opened up to you more than anyone else, and I’m worried that, once you’re gone, he might retreat into himself again.” His smile disappears as quickly as it came.

  I’m touched and terrified by his words. My heart goes out to him and his plight.

  While he is older than Amanda was, and Van younger than me, this is similar to the situation she was placed in when Mom was sick, and later when she died. I was angry and took my grief and rage out on her. That is likely what Van is doing to Zander. And who does Zander have?

  I never cared how my sister was dealing with what she had on her plate. She was going through everything I was, except her whole future changed when she had to suddenly take care of me. In that way, she had more to deal with than I did. Who was there for her?

  “When it was just me and my sister, I was awful to her. I pushed her away every chance I got. I was angry at her for many reasons, but at the same time, for no reason at all. I fought with her every chance I got, and part of me liked doing it. It got an anger out of me that wouldn’t leave.

  “I was angry at my dad for leaving, and angry at my mother for getting sick and then eventually leaving us, too. I was even angry at Amanda for being so damn capable throughout it all. I just wanted to see her crack once. I wanted to know she wasn’t as put-together as she pretended to be. Then I wouldn’t have to feel so inadequate for feeling destroyed and broken inside.

  “I started fights with her because I wanted her to leave me like I expected. I was sure I was too hard to take care off. I was too much for her to handle, and she was going to leave like everyone else. So, I kept my heart guarded, kept pushing, yet she never even flinched. She stayed strong.”

  I think about how she did leave me when she was killed. Part of me—an incredibly small part—felt relieved that she had finally left me. It had happened just like I expected.

  It took me a long time to realize that, if she hadn’t been taken away from me like that, she wouldn’t have ever left. She never planned to leave. She was going to do what she needed to do so I could have the future she wished for me.

  And another revelation came when I stopped blaming my mother for leaving, too. She might have smoked her entire life, but that doesn’t mean she deserved what the cancer did to her. She never wanted to be sick, never wanted to leave us. The only people who chose to leave were my father and every other family member who disappeared on us when we needed them the most.

  “What you’re saying is, Vaughn is testing me?” Zander asks as he tries to decipher my sob story.

  “What I’m saying is, Van is dealing with something no kid should ever have to. His friends don’t understand what he is going through, but you do. And since this place is spotless; your car is spotless, other than the mess Van brought to it; your bookshelf has every book in alphabetical order without a single one out of place; and your bathroom cupboard is as anal as possible—I’m thinking appearances are important to you. Routine and order is something you stick to, and maybe you’re hoping that will help Van. But, right now, his routine has been destroyed; his feelings are probably in shambles, as are his thoughts, and I get the feeling he’s lonely.

  “I don’t know why he connected to me. I don’t even know if I’ll just be some weird adult he doesn’t want to talk to tomorrow. But maybe his perfect brother, who appears to be dealing completely fine with everything, needs to show some more emotion, other than anger.

  “You fighting with him isn’t helping, except maybe you both get a little anger out. In the long run, it just adds more toxicity to your relationship. He is stuck at the anger stage of grief. To get him out of it, you need to show him how. Stop baiting him into fights, like when you call him Vaughn. He hates that. I don’t know why, but maybe it’s just some phase he will grow out of. Regardless, he keeps telling you he wants to be called Van. If he wanted to be called Penis, then sure, fight him. But Van is a reasonable nickname for Vaughn. Just let it go.”

  I wait for him to tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about. That I’m unqualified and should butt out. But he doesn’t, which makes me feel a little warm. He seems to have actually listened.

  “I know I should let it go, but our parents called him Vaughn. They loved that name. I don’t want him to lose that.”

  “It’s on his birth certificate, it will be on any I.D. he has—he won’t lose the name,” I point out.

  Zander slowly nods. I know he’s processing my words. It feels good to have someone listening to me like that. I don’t think Brian ever even asked me how my day was, let alone for any advice.

  “Should I assume you’re some sort of grief counselor and/or life couch or something?” Zander asks without bite. I don’t think he’s trying to point out that I’m clueless.

  “No, I have zero qualifications for any of the stuff I just said. In fact, a professional might even tell you I just gave you the worst advice ever. But it feels right to me. And apparently, I like to stick my nose in other people’s business, a new facet I have learned about myself tonight. I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or not, but you’re not kicking me out, so I’ll just go with it.” I give him a small smile, which is thankfully returned.

  “So, I should leave a mess around the place, break up his routine, and what, not fight with him?” I hear cynicism in his voice, as well as maybe some pleading.

  “I’m saying it won’t be the end of the world to show Van you’re dealing with the same thing he is. Sometimes, life is messy and shit’s not fair. Show him that life sometimes makes you just as sad as it does him. Talk to him, and don’t rise to the bait when he tries to fight with you. If he can’t fight with you, then maybe he will move on to the next stage of grief.”

  Zander looks to the side of me as he takes in my words. However, instead of agreeing or even just giving me a nod, he shakes his head. His eyes go hard, and I watch a mask slip back over his face.

  “You know what? We were supposed to be talking about your situation, not mine and Vaughn’s.” Just like that, he shuts me out.

  I can’t say I blame him. I have known him for only a few hours, and am giving him life advice. I mean, what the hell? Who am I? Have I always been this nosy? Have I always had such strong opinions on people’s lives? Maybe I should be a life coach. Although, I’m not certain my life right now is the best example to set for any potential clients.

  “Right, of course.” I take a deep breath and refocus. “You will talk to your friend, and then what? Will he take on the case? Or recommend someone who can look into it?”

  “For now, I’ll get his advice. Then we’ll need to get your USB.”

  I nod like that is completely doable. However, since I hid the USB in Brian’s neighbor’s house, this might be an issue. I’m certain getting that close to Brian will be tempting fate.

  “You can take my bed tonight,” Zander suddenly says, breaking me away from the panic rising at the thought of being close to Brian.

  “No, I can’t take your bed.” I shake my head, standing quickly when Zander does. “I’ll take your couch if you’re absolutely sure you want me here. I have already intruded in your life more than is polite. I don’t want to cause you any problems, and I don’t want to put you or Van in any unnecessary danger.”


  “You have zero connection to me or Vaughn; you’ll be safe here and won’t cause us any danger. And I can’t let you take the couch. It’s lumpy, and protection-wise, having you on your own right by the front door is the least safe place for you here,” Zander argues, crossing his arms over his chest in a sign of determination.

  “You just told me I was completely safe here, so that excuse doesn’t fly with me. Also, your couch being lumpy is just another reason you shouldn’t have to sleep on it. I already stole your car, kidnapped your brother, and ate your food tonight. Please let me sleep on your couch.”

  He stares at me for a moment before he finally nods. I don’t think he’s exactly thrilled with this, but I know I will likely be either unable to get a wink of sleep because my mind won’t shut down, or I will sleep like the dead due to almost no sleep for the past few days. I don’t need a comfortable bed for either of those scenarios.

  Zander gets me situated with a blanket and pillow, and then there is an awkward moment when we are both standing by the couch, staring at each other and waiting for God knows what.

  “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Thank you for being a decent human being. Thank you for hearing me out instead of throwing me under the bus. Thank you for taking a chance and for keeping me safe,” I tell him, realizing it is long overdue. I should have been thanking him nonstop this entire time.

  Could I be so forgiving if some stranger kidnapped someone I loved and stole my car? I doubt it.

  “You’re welcome. Although, if you steal my car again, I might not go so easy on you.” He gives me a small smile, and I read between the lines to know he is probably a little uncomfortable with my gratitude, attempting to lighten the mood with a joke.

  Two can play that game.

  “Somehow, with a name like Agnes, I find myself not all that scared.”

  He snorts, glaring at me for a moment, before turning around and striding toward his bedroom. Just as he places his hand on the door, he turns back to face me.

  “Don’t make me sic Vaughn on you. I can tell your ego will be broken once a twelve-year-old has beaten you up,” he jokes. Well, at least I hope he’s joking!

  “I could take him.”

  Zander’s laugh is the last thing I hear before he closes the door.

  “I could!” I yell out before I remember Van is trying to sleep just a room away. Oops.

  I sit down on the couch and click off the lamp on the side table, flooding me in darkness. Then I lie down, finding every lump digging into my back, and making me wonder why anyone would keep such an awful couch. He must be a glutton for pain and being uncomfortable.

  I close my eyes and think over how crazy my life has gotten, wondering if tomorrow is going to add to that or make it better. I hope it’s for the better. I’m due for a break.

  It turns out, I’m not.

  At least I sleep like the dead and win against this awful couch.

  Chapter 4

  As I wake up to the smell of sizzling bacon and the sight of an unfamiliar setting, my back protests as I jackknife off the couch. My neck isn’t too far behind, either. The pain forces me to lose my panic and unease over being somewhere new, and focus on the fact that I slept on a lumpy torture device all night.

  Zander wasn’t kidding about this couch. If I spend another night here, I think I will sleep on the floor. It couldn’t be worse.

  “Morning,” Zander calls out to me from the kitchen.

  “Good morning,” I grumble. I’m not a morning person. However, one glance outside the window and I realize it might not still be early morning. “What time is it?”

  “Just after ten. I hoped the smell of food might wake you from your coma. We need to get into the office, and then get on to grabbing that USB,” Zander informs me, like this isn’t a weird situation and it’s totally normal to have a random person waking up on his couch, a person he is now cooking another meal for.

  “Where’s Van?” I still sound groggy as I rub my eyes and attempt to wake myself up a bit.

  “He’s at school. He was making a lot of noise, yet you slept through it all. I think he was part impressed you could sleep through his racket and part disappointed he didn’t get to speak to you. He made me promise he would see you after school.”

  I smile at hearing that, thinking how sweet it is that Van is so attached to me. Then I consider how bad it is that he is attached to me. What if this mess is sorted out today? What if I can go home tonight and never get to see Van or Zander again? Or, what if this mess turns from bad to worse and I do end up captured by Brian? Hasn’t Van lost enough people?

  “You know, after all this mess is sorted out”—I cross my fingers and pray that I’m not misplacing my hope and jinxing it—“I’d be happy to help you out in the future with Van. He’s a good kid, and if you think I’m helping or whatever, I’m okay with spending time with him. Consider it a thank you for not having me arrested …” I trail off and wince at how that sounded. Why would he want some criminal who didn’t even know her own boyfriend is a monster to be looking out for his kid brother?

  When he opens his mouth to reply, I hold my breath, afraid I came across as pushy or desperate and that I’m about to be epically rejected.

  “He called me Agnes three times this morning, so I might have to think about that.” He is glaring at me, but I see his lips twitching. He totally wants to smile!

  I breathe out a sigh of relief. Not quite a yes, but not an outright, embarrassing no, either.

  “Understandable. So, we’re going into your office?”

  “Yes. I called my friend on the force, and he advised me of a few cops he trusts that can give us the most help, but he also said he could personally deal with this if we’d feel more comfortable.”

  “What did you say?”

  “For now, I think I need to see what is on that USB. I don’t doubt what you saw, but I need to assess how big this is. Ken, my cop friend, gave us an idea of what we might be dealing with and just how big this has the potential to be. Your boyfriend—”

  “Ex!” I quickly interrupt.

  “Right, he’s likely to get in a lot of trouble for having that type of video in his possession, but if he’s smart, he will have deleted it off his computer. If he’s even smarter, he’ll have destroyed the hard drive completely, since it is hard to truly delete anything these days. Assuming none of it is saved to any clouds or external storage that can be traced to him, he might be in the clear were an investigation conducted. Perhaps if he downloaded it online, then his IP address can be traced to wherever he downloaded it from, but most people can easily disguise their location.”

  “You’re saying that Brian might not even get in trouble for having that disgusting stuff?” I gasp.

  “I’m saying that, when you went to the police, he was tipped off. After you escaped, or hell, maybe before he even showed up at the police station, he likely cleaned away any evidence.”

  “Then why is he after me? I can’t prove anything.” I sound shrill, so I take a few deep breaths to calm myself.

  “He knows for certain you have another USB, so he needs to know that there is nothing on there that can link this to him. Also, he might want to make sure you aren’t able to make more copies, or maybe he just wants to be sure you won’t keep talking and bringing this up.” Zander shrugs just as each point he makes hits me hard in the chest.

  “I might never be safe again? He might come after me to keep me quiet?”

  “I won’t let that happen.” He moves to my side and rests his hand on my shoulder. The weight of his grip gives me comfort and reminds me I’m not alone. “Let’s not think that way yet. Short-term is going to be your friend in this situation. First step, you eat breakfast. Then you get changed. Then we go into the office. I will need you to retell your story in case one of the guys catches something I missed, or after a good night’s sleep, you remember something more. Then, after meeting with my guys, we’ll figure out what type of team we’ll n
eed to retrieve this USB.”

  Team? Grabbing a USB out of a nearly retired accountant’s home shouldn’t need an entire team. Then again, he does live next to Brian. I will never forgive myself if something happened to Zander because of this. If Zander needs an entire football team worth of people, then I can’t disagree.

  “Okay.” I nod, focusing on the tasks in front of me and feeling better to not sink into thoughts of my future.

  I can do this. Not that I have much choice.

  Zander paces back into the kitchen and serves me up a plate of bacon, scrambled eggs, and a piece of buttered toast.

  “A girl can get used to this,” I mutter, my feet guiding me forward without much thought for how I look or if Zander’s clothes are still covering the important parts.

  My stomach grumbles in anticipation before I basically inhale the delicious food. Even though I ate a large dinner last night, I feel starved again.

  “I never thought I would ever meet someone who eats like, or as much as, Vaughn. I might have just met his match,” Zander says with a smile on his lips.

  “Van is twelve,” I try to reason. His body is small, and therefore, his stomach isn’t adult-sized.

  “Van has a bottomless pit where his stomach is supposed to be,” Zander quickly counters.

  “Wish I could say I’m eating like this because I’ve not eaten properly in a few days, but honestly, I love my food. I love big meals and food comas. They’re the best kind of comas.”

  “Are there other kinds of comas?”

  “Well, sure. There are several different types of medical comas. I doubt any of them are as much fun as a food coma.”

  He rolls his eyes at my answer, but quickly moves on. “Are you any good at cooking?”

  “I do okay. Is that your way of asking me to cook you something? Because, I can definitely do that,” I rush to offer. “Once this is over, I’ll have you over to my place where I’ll cook you and Van my specialty.”