“You know why.” Her tone changed, like she was trying to play it cool and coy.
Lucas’s forehead wrinkled. “She’s putting on an act,” he mouthed.
Blaine nodded and strained to hear more.
“He’s kind of selective about his girls. After the trouble he’s been having, he doesn’t let just anyone through. You’d need to pass a few tests.”
“What kinds of tests?”
“He’d need to know how loyal you were. How much you want to party. That kind of thing.”
“Oh, I can party,” Bianca said.
“Really, little girl?”
Blaine heard a faint gasp. His insides tightened as he prepped himself for action. One scream or whimper and he was pounding on that door.
“I need to get a look at them,” he whispered, quickly standing to his feet and assessing what he could through the crack between the plywood and the window frame.
Bianca was talking to a thin, weathered man. He was standing a little too close for comfort and smirking down at her.
“You don’t think I recognize your pretty face?” He skimmed the back of his knuckle down Bianca’s creamy cheek. She swallowed, fear pulsing out of her so fast and thick that Blaine could feel it outside.
He crouched back down with a clenched jaw. “He’s trying to intimidate her. Be ready to bust in.”
Lucas raised an eyebrow. “That could get you in some serious hot water.”
Blaine glared at him, his nostrils flaring as he tuned back into the conversation inside.
“If it weren’t for me, Riley would be dead.”
“She’s lucky to have good friends.” The man scoffed. “So don’t think your little act can fool me. Tell me why you want to see Billy.”
“I want to know what he gave her. She nearly died! All my friends are taking that shit now. Are they going to die too?”
“Of course not! You know you have to be careful with that stuff, but we ain’t your parents. Your friend partied too hard that night. It wasn’t Billy’s fault.”
“He goaded her. She was trying to impress him.”
“And she was using you to pay for it!” The man barked with laughter. “Why are you fighting so hard for these friends of yours? If you weren’t loaded, they wouldn’t give a shit about you.”
“That’s not true.”
“Face it, little girl, you’re nothing more than the bank roll. Now leave it alone before you get yourself into trouble.”
“I’m just trying to look out for my friends. That girl in the snow…she was Billy’s girlfriend, wasn’t she?”
“Billy doesn’t have girlfriends.”
“Yes he does! He told Riley he loved her.”
“Yeah, well, he says a lot of things.”
“Is he going to kill her too?”
The man snapped his fingers. “Hey, you shut your mouth. Billy didn’t kill anybody. That girl overdosed all by herself.”
“I don’t believe you. I think she worked out who he really is.”
A frightening pause followed her accusation. “Do you know who he really is? Did Riley tell you?”
“No, but I have my guesses.”
“Do yourself a favor, kid, and don’t try to work it out.” The veiled threat was thick with warning. “You don’t want to find yourself buried in the snow, do you?”
“I thought you said that girl killed herself?”
“All I’m saying is she wasn’t careful. And I’d hate for you to make that same mistake. Now, get your ass out of here before I think about mentioning your little visit to Billy.”
The statement was followed by dead silence. Blaine and Lucas looked at each other, both of them tense, ready to spring into action.
“Tell him to stay the hell away from my friends!”
Blaine held his breath as footsteps stomped across a wooden floor. A door opened and then slammed shut. Creeping around the house, he acted before he could think better of it and chased after Bianca.
“Hey, wait up!”
She jerked and spun to face him, fear flickering over her expression.
Blaine raised his hands. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” she snapped, wrapping her arms around herself.
“I just saw you coming out of that place and…well, the guy who lives there isn’t exactly the nicest. Are you sure you’re alright?”
She looked away from him, her jaw clenched tight.
“Look, I don’t know your story,” he lied. “But if you need help, maybe you should consider going to the police. Tell them what went down.”
Her eyebrows dipped together, a different kind of fear working its way over her.
“I’m not going to the police.”
“Why not? They’re here to help you.”
She scoffed. “I know better than to trust the police. Now stay away from me, you creeper!”
And with that, she turned on her heel and ran.
Lucas came out of hiding the second she was gone.
“Did you hear all that?”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “You going to go see Nate?”
Blaine watched Bianca disappear around the corner, her hands stuffed into her coat pockets, her boots sliding a little as she navigated the slick pavement.
“You bet I am.”
26
Friday, February 23rd
12:25pm
“What do you mean, you snuck onto someone’s property?” Nate looked incredulous as Blaine stood in his office trying to explain.
“We were following one of Lucas’s—”
“Oh, of course he’s involved!” Nate snapped. “You spend way too much time with that jackass.”
“Stop acting like our old man and shut up for a minute.” Blaine glared at him before quickly launching into a recap of his morning. He rattled off as many details as he could, hoping Nate wouldn’t interrupt him.
He didn’t.
If anything, he became more still the longer Blaine spoke.
At the end, he drew in a breath, held it while he thought, and then finally asked, “Why doesn’t she think she can trust the police?”
“I don’t know.” Blaine spread his arms wide. “Maybe she’s scared she’ll get arrested for being involved with drugs or something.”
“Who’s scared of getting arrested?” Camila walked in, slapped the files she was carrying down on the desk and glanced at Blaine. “Isn’t it your day off?”
“Like you guys even know what that is.”
She snickered and placed her hands on her hips. “Who’s scared?”
“Bianca Whitmore.” Nate rubbed his mouth while Blaine filled Camila in.
“We need to get a warrant to search that house,” she said before Blaine had even finished talking. “And we need to talk to Bianca again.” She pulled out her phone and started texting. “I’ll start with Judge Stevens.”
Nate smirked and muttered to Blaine, “The guy’s only just a little bit in love with her.”
“Isn’t he like sixty…and married?”
Nate’s right shoulder hitched. “Hey, if it gets us what we want, right?”
Blaine raised his eyebrows and kept his mouth shut.
Camila finished texting and then cuffed Nate on the back of the head before smiling at Blaine. “The man may have a crush on me, but he is a devoted husband, father, and grandfather. He just likes to flirt a little when we interact.” Grabbing the keys off her cluttered desk, she spun for the door. “I’m going to try and catch this Bianca chick again. Now that I know her motivation, we might be able to get something new from her.”
“I don’t think she’s going to tell you anything,” Blaine called after her.
She raised her hand. “We’ll see.”
“Call me as soon as you’re done.” Nate gave her a two-finger wave before turning back to look at Blaine.
“So this Billy guy’s now real. We may not have seen him, but Bianca can ID him if we can c
onvince her to.”
“I hope Cam can win her trust, because that will be huge.”
“Or maybe we can get that shithead from the house talking. As soon as we get that warrant, I’m moving in.”
“It’ll be faster if Bianca can be brave enough to tell the truth.”
“Give me that address again.” Nate tossed a notepad down in front of Blaine and he wrote it down.
The phone in Nate’s back pocket buzzed and he pulled it out, cursing when he saw the number. “This could take a while.”
Blaine finished writing the address and backed out of the office, mouthing a goodbye before turning away.
“Hey, man. What are you doing here?” Matt looked up from his computer as Blaine walked past.
“Just checking in with my bro. The guy never leaves this place, and someone has to feed him.” Blaine winked and headed for the door, while Matt laughed and turned back to his work.
He didn’t know why he’d just lied to the rookie. Probably because the guy drove him nuts, and getting out of a conversation quickly was probably a good move.
But was it more than that?
If he really thought about it, he wasn’t sure he’d share his morning with anyone at the station.
Was it because he’d pushed the boundaries of the law by eavesdropping on Bianca’s conversation, or was it because she said she couldn’t trust the police?
Why?
Why couldn’t she trust them?
The question ate at him as he walked to his car and tried to figure out what he’d do with his afternoon.
27
Saturday, February 24th
2:11pm
Rosie gazed up at the old white house. It looked as though it had been plucked straight from the early 1900s, its exterior well-maintained. It was a beautiful yet simple two-story home. And inside lay wads of cash.
Guilt swamped her, nearly taking her to her knees, but then she thought of Lulu’s in ashes and Blaine lying dead on the sidewalk.
She hadn’t seen him since she kissed him, and she didn’t even want to.
How could she look at such a good man when she was covered in nothing but filth?
She was a thief, and she was about to break into Mr. Griffin’s house and steal his entire life savings.
Mandy would kill her for this.
Would it take her long to figure it out?
She had just been shooting the breeze the day before, amused and exasperated with her grandpa for not putting his faith in the bank. It showed a level of trust and acceptance in Rosie that she was about to demolish.
Thankfully, it was her day off. After staying late to lock up—and steal from the register—she’d gone to bed exhausted. She of course couldn’t sleep, so she’d sat up in bed and spent the night browsing the Web on her phone. She’d hunted down Mandy’s relatives until she figured out which grandpa Mandy had been talking about. She then looked at the house from every possible angle on Google Earth, which was damn hard on her small, crappy screen. She wished she could find house plans too, but she was no hacker. She’d just have to break in and do the best she could.
Having not slept all night, she was grateful that Louanne hadn’t called her to ask if she could work an extra day. Julio was still sick, but she’d managed to get Tania in. So Rosie had snuck out the back of the house and walked three blocks before calling an Uber. After a polite greeting, she didn’t say another word to the driver. He dropped her off and she walked the opposite direction to Mr. Griffin’s house, taking the long way around.
She was a freaking popsicle by the time she arrived and then had to hide out in his backyard, waiting until the man left in his 1950s Chevrolet. Thanks to some subtle questioning while they cleaned up the kitchen, Rosie knew that Mandy’s grandpa attended an art class every Saturday at two o’clock. It was the man’s new religion, and he never missed a session.
Rosie couldn’t miss the window of opportunity.
Her boots crunched in the snow as she approached the house. She stayed low in case nosy neighbors were peeking into the backyard. The curtains on the right were shut, and she’d seen no signs of life from the house on the left.
Holding her breath, she stepped up onto the back porch and tried the back door. Of course it was locked. She knew it would be.
Sliding her bag of supplies off her shoulder, she crouched down and pulled out the towel she’d taken from Lulu’s. Even though she was wearing a winter coat, she wrapped the towel around her elbow for extra protection and lightly thumped the glass.
It did nothing.
Wrinkling her nose, Rosie glanced around her, bit her lip, and punched a little harder.
The glass cracked a little.
Rosie gasped and held her breath, trying one more time with as much force as she could.
The glass splintered, cracking around her and falling to the wood decking.
She dropped the towel and quickly reached inside, unlocking the door with her gloved hands.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Slipping inside, she raced into the house and hoped like hell no neighbors had heard the disturbance. Her boots thumped on the wooden floors as she rushed through the kitchen and living room.
She made a beeline for the stairwell and scrambled up the stairs, her boots heavy on each wooden step. She glanced down each side of the hallway and saw what looked to be the master bedroom. She hurried in that direction, hoping Mandy’s guess about the mattress was right.
The room was pristine, which made her feel even guiltier for what she was about to do.
Her eyes landed on a framed photo on the dresser. An elderly couple, the man dressed in a gray suit, the woman wearing a pink hat with a bow on the side. They looked like they were at a wedding, sitting at a table with a beautiful floral centerpiece. Rosie had no doubt that the man smiling at her from the picture was the man she was attempting to rob.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, her voice breaking.
She closed her eyes and steeled herself for what she was about to do. What she needed to do.
For herself.
For Louanne.
And for Blaine.
She headed straight for the bed and lifted the mattress.
Nothing.
“Shit!” Like it was ever going to be that easy. “You stupid woman.”
Rising to her feet, she started at the corner of the room and systematically worked her way around, checking every drawer, under the bed and inside his closet.
The more minutes that ticked past, the more desperate she became, her movements growing frantic.
“You think I’m bad, this is a fucking tea party compared to what they’ll do.”
Damien’s words tormented her as she threw clothes and shoeboxes aside.
“Come on,” she whimpered, smacking her hand down on the closet shelf.
It rattled and tipped to the side.
Rosie’s eyebrows puckered. Hitting the shelf again, she noticed it tip up in the back corner. She grabbed the edge and gave it a firm yank. It came away, smashing down on her toe when it landed.
She winced and hissed, but couldn’t focus on the pain because all she could see was a black lockbox.
“Really?” she puffed.
Her hands shook as she pulled it out and watched it fall to the floor. It was secured with a padlock that rattled against the metal.
She needed to find something to pry it open, but was worried about her time.
“Just take it with you,” she whispered to herself. “But what if it’s not in here?”
Desperation and fear tried to choke her. Picking up the box, she shook it and felt certain that she could hear the shuffle of cash inside.
It was no doubt a safe bet.
Standing on trembling legs, she hugged the box to her chest and eased away from the closet. She glanced around the room in the hopes of some kind of tool that could help open the box, but she knew she was dreaming. She needed to find his toolshed, or maybe something in the k
itchen or laundry. Stepping over the mess she’d made, she blinked, trying to stem the guilty tears beginning to well up.
She turned and her gaze shifted to the window.
She froze.
A police car was pulling up outside Mr. Griffin’s home, it’s red and blue lights silently flashing.
28
Saturday, February 25th
2:25pm
Blaine leaned over the steering wheel and gazed up at the house they’d been called to check out. There’d been a report of a possible break-in. An elderly neighbor had heard the sound of smashing glass.
Ollie spoke into the radio. “126 to dispatch, we’ve arrived at the house. Checking it out now.”
“10-4, unit 126.”
Hanging up the radio, Ollie looked at Blaine. “What are you thinking?”
“That the house seems pretty quiet. No signs of forced entry from the front.”
“Makes sense the intruder would go in from the back. I’ll take the right, you take the left?”
Blaine nodded and they got out of the car. He pocketed the keys, then hitched his belt and walked around the side of the house.
Unlatching the side gate, he eased across the snow-covered lawn, careful of his footing as he came around the house. He couldn’t see any signs of disruption, so he only rested his hand on his gun holster, unwilling to draw it unless absolutely necessary.
“Looks clear on this side,” Ollie voice crackled through the radio. “I’ll meet you around the back.”
“Got it,” Blaine replied, his eyes narrowing when he noticed footprints in the snow. It probably wasn’t too weird. The owner of the house kept the trash cans along the fence line, so it made sense that there’d be prints in the yard, but…
Blaine’s thoughts were cut off as a figure in black bolted past him.
“Police! Stop!”
The perp ignored him, tearing to the corner of the property and scrambling over the fence.
“We’ve got a runner,” Blaine clipped into his radio. “I’m in pursuit.” He bolted for the fence just as Ollie came around the corner. “He went that way!”
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