Once Upon Now

by Danielle Banas

  Two, I wanted my trailing to be as easy as possible.

  By already being in my car, I eliminated the possibility of Hood seeing me. Instead, he’d walk to his truck and pay no attention to the person who was hot on his trail. That would leave me with the simple task to drive after him and keep my eyes peeled for anything suspicious.

  John’s front door pulled open and I slumped into the leather seat, my blue eyes trained on the porch. Hood was carrying a bag, a duffel by the looks of it, and was talking animatedly with his friend as he crossed the lawn and headed for the truck.

  I couldn’t make out their words from the distance, but John headed back into the house as quick as he’d come and Hood was soon pulling his truck away from the curb. He drove slowly for a minute, as if he was preoccupied, then he sped up and disappeared into the dusk.

  Once I was sure I could pull away unseen, I followed after him.

  We drove through Locksley as the sky faded to a deeper blue, giving way to stars and a full moon. It was a nice night, perfect for investigating, and Hood came to a stop at a run-down building on the outskirts of town.

  I recognized it immediately—everyone knew where the old school stood—and I made sure to park far enough away that my lights wouldn’t be noticed. I’d have to go covert from here, but I could find out what he was doing and write a full exposé.

  At least that’s what I told myself.

  I’d only made it halfway to his car when a hand latched onto my bicep and hauled me backward.

  “Fancy seeing you here,” a familiar voice chimed. “Do you make it a habit to navigate country roads at night, or are you this crappy of a spy?”

  I yanked my arm away and scowled at my nemesis. “I wouldn’t have to follow you if you’d confess your guilt. You’re up to no good, Hood.”

  “That rhymed.”

  “You’re also annoying as ever.” I placed my hands on my hips and drifted my gaze to the duffel. “What’s in the bag? I’m sure it’s loaded with stolen stuff.”

  “Has anyone ever said you’re way too nosy for your own good? News flash: you are.”

  “Has anyone ever said you’re not as cunning as you think? News flash: you aren’t.”

  His brow arched at my statement, but I wasn’t here to trade witticisms with him. I wanted to break this case wide open. The longer we went back and forth, the longer Hood had to formulate an escape.

  “What’s in the bag?” I repeated. “The missing cell phone? The stolen cleats? Oh, what about the—”

  Hood tossed it at me, and I barely caught it before it hit the ground.

  “It’s canned food,” he answered, irritated at my insinuations. “Any other allegations you’d like to throw around, or can I deliver this to the people who need it? I’m on a schedule and your meddling couldn’t have come at a worse time.”

  “But . . . I . . . you . . .”

  “I’m a nice guy? I help people who need it? Oh . . . I take pizza from the rich and deliver it to the poor?” I frowned at the last statement and he took the bag back. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re judgmental. You also suck at being discreet.” He turned in his place and slung the bag over his shoulder. “Wait here. If I start bringing people to the meet-up spot, they won’t come anymore. They’re . . . prideful.”

  “Who are they?”

  He turned and walked backward, his tall silhouette melding with the dark. “Telling you would defeat the purpose of keeping it a secret. Wait here. We’ll talk in a minute.”

  I huffed at his dismissal but stayed planted in my spot. If he was here to help people, I wasn’t going to infringe on their privacy. That’s why I stood there far longer than I should’ve, my eyes scanning the dark for any indication Hood was coming back.

  I’d almost lost hope when I finally heard footsteps crunching along the old gravel road.

  “Surprised you waited,” he commented. “Thought you would’ve been long gone by now. I hoped for it, actually.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until you admit to taking the stuff from the school,” I retorted. “I can be persistent. Don’t make me go full journalist on you.”

  “Full journalist, huh? If this is an interrogation, I demand a bowl full of popcorn and tacos on standby. I like the crunchy tacos. The texture makes me giddy.”

  “Quit beating around the bush, Hood.”

  “Fine. Meet my list of demands or go without answers. The choice is yours.” He winked and elbowed me as he sauntered toward my car. “We’re taking yours, but I’m driving. Putting you behind a wheel is dangerous. I know firsthand.”

  “You’re hilarious, but you’re never getting my keys—” I paused as Rob twirled a set of car keys around his finger. My hand darted to my pants pocket, only to find it empty. “You little . . . you’re totally the thief.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” He pulled open the driver’s-side door and slid inside. “Get me some food and we’ll weigh in on that matter. There’s more than one way to define a thief.”

  I was gawking at him when he started the vehicle and turned on my brights. If his intent was to temporarily blind me, he was victorious. Little bubbles of light were still flashing across my vision as I fastened my seat belt.

  Good deed or not, Hood was no hero. This was another prime example of his pettiness.

  “Onward to taco-y places!” he declared.

  “Onward to answers,” I agreed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Perceptions

  OKAY, HOOD. You’ve got your tacos. Spill the details or I’ll take them back.” Rob pulled the tacos closer to him, his hazel eyes wide as I pulled my phone from my pocket and sat it on the table. “I’m going to record this little . . . interview. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “I do.” He grabbed the phone and pulled off the back. “It wasn’t a part of the agreement and I’m not stupid enough to go on the record about anything. I’m Rob Hood, babe. You should know better.” After pulling out the battery, he slid the phone across the table and grabbed a taco. “Proceed with your first question, but I retain the right to refuse an answer.”

  I grumbled for a moment at his stubbornness, and at the fact that I had a phone old enough to dismantle like that, but then I sat forward and stared at him dead-on. “Did you take the stuff from the school? If so, why and where is it?”

  “Whoa.” He crammed a taco into his mouth and shook his head. “Someone’s eager for info. Technically, I didn’t steal anything, but then again stealing is a broad description of the action.”

  “So you were involved?”

  “Not necessarily.” I shot him an unamused look but he shrugged. “I answered your question. Lose the death glares, or it’ll be the last answer you get. Girls are so hormonal, I swear.”

  I yanked a taco from the pile and his jaw dropped.

  “Hey—that’s a supreme!”

  “Skirting the info is supremely annoying, Hood.” I popped off the wrapper and shoved it into my mouth. Hood looked like he was two seconds from a meltdown. Good, my point had been made.

  “Now,” I started, trying to maintain a proper, ladylike demeanor with half a crunchy taco in my mouth. “Would you care to expand your answer? I need something that sounds less like riddles and more like facts.”

  “Too bad.” He relaxed in his chair and smirked at me. His body language spoke volumes. “You might have won the taco war, but I’ve still got the advantage. Eat more of my food, and see how much I’m willing to cooperate.”

  I cursed him internally but chose not to repeat the mental swearing. If I pissed him off too much, I’d screw myself out of anything close to an answer. Then I’d be stuck with little to go off of and nothing to write.

  Unfortunately for me, Hood seemed more content to eat than expand upon his answer.

  Stupid jerk.

  “Could we get quesadillas for the road?” he asked after a long pause. “I’ve always been a dining-while-driving kind of guy.”

  “If you eat in my car, my dad will have a fit,�
�� I griped. “No quesadillas, and for that matter no more driving. Give me the keys.”

  “Nope.”

  “I will pour this glass of soda on your head. Don’t test me.”

  He blew out a long breath but kept my keys. “Tell you what, you let me drive back to my truck and I’ll fill you in on the way.”

  “No,” I maintained. “You were supposed to give me answers after I bought you food. If you think I’m agreeing to another one of your suggestions, without a sufficient guarantee you’ll tell me what’s going on, you’re out of your mind.”

  “You always this hostile?” he mused.

  “Only when I’m around you.” He seemed flattered by the comment, and I let out an audible groan. “If you find it funny, stay your butt here. When I get back to your truck, I’ll go through it and find the answers alone.”

  “Giving up your game plan? Not very smart, Annie.”

  “Just tell me what’s going on.”

  “Curiosity killed the cat, you know?”

  I slid my chair back and stood. I was beyond exasperated and filled to my daily limit of being around Rob. At this point, I would’ve had more success calling one of those television psychics and asking her. If nothing else, she’d be a ton more personable.

  He obviously didn’t understand my need to get away from him. “I still have your keys,” he pointed out, halfway through my trek to the car. “It’ll be hard to access, locked.” I shifted, not missing the way his eyes twinkled with mischief as I stalked straight toward him. “You’re more stubborn than I anticipated,” he continued. “Haven’t decided if that’s a good thing or a bad one.”

  “You listen to me,” I began, wagging my finger at him with all the attitude I could muster. “You didn’t drag me all the way here to not hold up your end of the bargain, so cut the crap and tell me what you’re up to. I know there’s something, Hood. I wasn’t born yesterday and anyone who’s ever been around you can attest to your less-than-admirable personality traits.”

  “Ooh, those are fighting words. Is it my turn to emphasize your flaws?”

  I was about to launch at him when a car stopped beside us and put a damper on my plans.

  Yelling at someone in front of the sheriff wasn’t my parents’ idea of acting presentable. No matter, I’d yell at Rob later.

  “Miss Mayes,” Sheriff Nott greeted, his window rolled down. “Hood.” His brown eyes flickered from Rob, to me, then back to Rob. “You two are out a bit late, don’t you think?”

  “Nope. I actually thought we’d—”

  “Head home now,” I added, cutting off the idiot beside me.

  Sheriff Nott nodded, but kept his focus on Rob.

  Rob, however, kept an unwavering gaze on me. “Annie’s full of crap,” he commented with a smile, “but whatevs. We’ll go with that if she wants.” I could feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment as he grabbed my hand. “See you around, Sheriff.”

  “Sooner than you might like.” He rolled up the window, but his comment had done what it intended—it captured Hood’s attention.

  “He’s ancient,” Hood stated as he shoved the key into the ignition. “It’s a bit late, don’t you think?”

  The latter statement was said in the same tone the sheriff used, and I hated to admit it, but I laughed. It was hard not to.

  “Ahh, she does have a sense of humor,” Hood noted. “Nice to know your stuffy family hasn’t deprived you of laughter.”

  “I thank my aunt for that every day,” I said.

  He paused, his hand on the gear shift as he contemplated me over the console. I couldn’t figure out what was going on in his messed-up mind, but he didn’t let me stew on it too long. He took my battery out of his pocket and tossed it at me instead.

  “I still want answers,” I reminded him as I pulled my phone out and put the battery in. “Fair is fair, and you made a promise. You can’t go back on your word.”

  “Who says I’m a man of my word?” he countered. “Everyone writes me off as a delinquent. Delinquents rarely do anything they said they would.”

  “Delinquents don’t feed the poor either, Hood.”

  There was a long silence as Rob steered us toward the outskirts of town, past the old buildings of Locksley, and onward to the old, run-down school.

  It wasn’t until he put the car in park that he spoke.

  “People have different perceptions of thievery,” he explained, unclicking the seat belt from the holder. “Some view it as malicious and ill-willed, but if a person’s motives are pure, perhaps the theft was justified.”

  “Thievery is never justified,” I argued.

  “Most of the time,” he added, “but sometimes the thieves are actually the good guys in disguise.”

  He pushed open the driver’s-side door and stepped into the cool night air. “Consider it, Annie. If you still feel the same tomorrow, ask me again. I’ll approach it from a different angle.” Rob winked and pivoted toward me, but I was quick to exit the car.

  “Will anything else go missing between now and then?” I questioned.

  “Depends on the bad guys. Have a nice night.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Thieves

  HOOD TOLD ME to find him if I still felt the same, but his views on thievery were a bit one-sided. That made sense if he was the thief I thought him to be, which was why I opted for a different source of info.

  Richard Lyons was the unfortunate victim of my focus. He was a freshman, average looking, and had a high enough IQ to shame the entire student body. He also had a sense of humor that was underappreciated. The kid could tell a joke, but it wasn’t enough to pull him from the lower end of the social hierarchy. I guess that’s why my appearance at his locker raised a red flag.

  His brow knit together curiously. “What did I do?”

  “Nothing,” I assured. “I needed to ask you a few more questions about your missing cleats. There’s still loose ends to tie up and you’re the best informant I have.” He shifted his weight uncomfortably, but I didn’t hesitate. “The day your cleats went missing, did you see anyone suspicious lurking around the locker room?”

  He shook his head quickly. “The team was there, but that’s it. I was one of the first ones in there, too. The cleats were gone before anyone arrived.”

  “And do you know anyone who would’ve been motivated to take your cleats?”

  He shrugged as his arms came to rest across his chest. “Sometimes the upperclassmen pull pranks, but they’ve never stolen anything. They aim for embarrassment, not thievery.”

  “Which upperclassmen?”

  “All of them.”

  I bit my lip and cast a glance around the rapidly emptying hallway. Though I suspected Rob, he was one of many seniors on the team. I needed something more substantial to point him out.

  “Who else have they pranked?”

  “As of right now, just Tristan Finn and me. Tristan’s phone was taken, but there are rumors it was for his own good. Supposedly, a mass text was going to be sent, but that’s hearsay. I don’t know. No one ever gives me accurate information.”

  “I can relate.” I released a quick breath. “Where did you hear about the text?”

  “They’re just rumors,” he repeated.

  “Nope, they’re a clue.”

  He looked at me doubtfully but answered anyway. “Check with John Little. He was the last one to mention it, and he’s less likely to get hassled about it than me.” The bell rang and Richard frowned at the sound. “I’ve got to go, Annie. Mrs. Tuck gives detentions if you’re late.”

  He passed by without another word, but the conversation wasn’t in vain. If John had information to give, I’d get it out of him one way or another.

  I trounced down the hall to Anatomy and Physiology, contemplating ways to drag the information out of him, and had almost reached class when I nearly walked into a rotund individual who rounded the corner with my principal in tow.

  Sheriff Nott, out of place walking the halls of the sch
ool, paid me little mind as he continued on with his conversation. “The bait’s set, Chutney. Since the thief struck the football team twice, I have no doubt he’ll do it again. Mark my words, by the end of the day we’ll have him booked and boarded at the juvenile detention center.”

  The pair of them proceeded to walk, and I hastened my pace. If John was involved with this in any way, I needed to get to the bottom of it. The sooner that happened, the better.

  When I entered the classroom moments later, John lifted his attention from his textbook and shot me a look of relief. I returned it with a less-than-thrilled expression.

  “I don’t think she’ll mark you tardy,” he commented, referencing the substitute. “She had a hard enough time turning on the board. Trying to access the online roster would be way out of her realm of functioning and—”

  “If you’re involved with the football team’s missing stuff, you’d better tell me now,” I interrupted. John’s lips pursed, but I forged ahead. “If you don’t, I will let you and the nimwit you call a best friend get busted.”

  “What are you talking about?” His expression immediately shifted from defensive to concerned. “Get busted how?”

  “No,” I said. “You aren’t getting answers until I get my own. Hood is a master of deflection, but I know you and you know you can trust me. Spill it or I refuse to help.”

  He mulled it over for a minute, his blue eyes studying me intently. Then, quietly, he spoke. “If I tell you, you have to keep it quiet,” he whispered. “That means you bench your journalist side and approach this as a friend.”

  “I’m both.”

  He was serious, the most serious I’d ever seen him, and it was unsettling. “You can’t write about this,” he insisted. “If you do, the wrong people will end up with the information and it’ll cause more damage than good.”

  “Damage how?”

  He shook his head. “Not here; too many people could hear.”

  “Lunch?” I volunteered.

  “Lunch,” he agreed.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Caught