Ari sighed and flipped her calendar over in frustration. “That’s what he said.”
“Who?”
“Davis.”
“See? Smart guy. A little controlled violence isn’t going to hurt these kids. Training in a positive way, inside a competitive environment, could help.”
“Okay, okay. I guess I’m just the one with a problem teaching kids how to beat the poo out of each other.”
“Yeah, you probably are.”
Ari wadded up a piece of paper and tossed it in his direction, but he dodged, cackling with delight as it flew past him into the opposite wall. “Maybe you should go work out with Curtis. Improve your aim.”
“Shut it,” Ari said, pushing her door closed. She sighed at the massive pile of papers on her desk and chose to ignore it for the moment. Why not make the pile bigger? She ripped open the mail, pulling out the papers for filing. Two psychological evaluations, one medical form, and a stack of school records. The manila package remained and she tore off the end, dumping out the contents.
A box fell on the table.
Long, sleek, and heavily lacquered, the box had small gold flowers embossed on the side. Ari pushed it away and checked the envelope again. Flipping it over, she saw there was no return address, no identifying marks, nothing but her name printed in large block letters across the front. Again, she picked up the heavy box, and unlatched the tiny gold hook.
“What the heck?” she said. Empty. But wait, lying against the silk lining, Ari spotted a small rectangular slip of paper tucked into the lining. On one side, in narrow, elegant script, were the numbers three, seven, and four. On the other, were the simple words, Thank you.
Chapter 8
“You’re late,” Oliver chided from the couch. He pointed to a drink on the coffee table, similar to one in his own hand. She dropped the bag and picked up the drink, taking a gulp. Better. “We’re meeting everyone at seven o’clock at The Garage.”
“Tequila?”
“It’s been one of those weeks,” he said, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “But I convinced Veronica to meet us tonight.”
“Outside the office?”
“Yep. Finally wore her down.”
Ari took a fast gulp of the bitter alcohol. “Yowza! That’s strong!” She flung her jacket on the couch and kicked off her shoes. “Sorry I’m so late. Maria never showed up. I had to call the Apprehension offices to place a warrant and that took forever. Plus, today has just been really, really crazy.”
“Really?” Oliver mocked. “That never happens to you.”
“Extra-special crazy. Let me go change and I’ll fill you in on the way to the bar.”
Ari grabbed her bag off the couch and left Oliver for her room. Once inside, she removed the black box from her bag and set it on her dresser. The box must have been from the mystery guy. Had to be. Thank you? For what? Keeping her mouth shut?
She rushed, opening her closet for a pair of jeans and a gray sweater, the color her mother said matched Ari’s eyes. Sitting on the bed, Ari tugged on black leather boots one by one. Her eyes held steady on the box. What was she supposed to do with it? How did he find her? How did he know where she worked?
“Girl!” Oliver called from the living room. “Let’s go!”
“Coming!” she shouted. On a whim, Ari picked up her phone and typed a message. She pressed “Send” hoping she wasn’t making a fool of herself. With one last glance at the box, Ari shut the door, ready for the night.
***
Evenings at The Garage were popular despite its size.
The bar was within walking distance from their house and built in a former auto shop. It had perfect dark corners to meet up and talk, a long bar across the back, and tiny tables crunched together in the middle. Most of Ari’s crowd sat amongst bottles and half-full glasses littering the table. Ari stood in one of the dark corners, drink in hand, talking with Nick.
“Eighteen-wheelers?”
“Yes,” Ari laughed. “Only 18 wheelers. That’s all.”
Nick tipped back his bottle of beer, draining it and discarding it on a table nearby. “So, this kid goes to truck stops, steals 18 wheelers and drives them around the city, until he gets caught or runs out of gas.”
“Yep.”
“Then what happens?”
“Typically he gets arrested, and now that he’s 18, he spends some time in jail, but due to over-crowding they release him out and he does it again.”
Nick shook his head. “If I wasn’t part of this system I wouldn’t believe it.”
“Tell me your craziest case,” Ari suggested. She drained her drink and set it on the table, next to his empty bottle.
“First, I’m getting another drink. You want one?”
“Sure, thanks.”
Nick squeezed off through the crowd and the minute he disappeared, Oliver left his spot at the table and found her.
“Huh. Wonder how Nick knew we were here?”
Ari made a face. “I texted him.”
“Hmm … so you like him.”
“What? Are we in third grade?”