Blood on My Hands

CHAPTER 33

Tuesday 4:41 P.M.

WHEN THE POLICE car races past me, I spin around and realize why: it’s chasing the garbage truck.
Only the officer inside the car doesn’t know he’s chasing the truck. He’s just following the signal from my cell phone, which appears to be going in the same direction.
But that still leaves the man with the earpiece, who is twenty feet away, running straight for me. I tense and brace myself.
He runs right past … in the same direction the police car was going.
Feeling like I ducked a bullet aimed straight for my head, I will my body to relax, but my heart is still pounding. Trembling, hoping I can keep my balance, I get on the pink bike and begin riding in the opposite direction. I need to get away from the bridge as fast as possible, before that police car catches up to the garbage truck and they figure out what I did.
Only I have no idea where I’m going.
Moments later I’m riding down the sidewalk through town, passing stores and nannies pushing small children in strollers. It feels strange to ride around disguised as a young girl, stranger still that the disguise is actually working. It’s like some kind of weird out-of-body experience. As if I’ve done such a good job of disguising myself that I’m not Callie anymore. But what good is it doing? The police are still looking for me. I’ve thrown away my phone and have no way of communicating with anyone. I have no money for food and no place left to hide, and I’m still no closer to proving who really killed Katherine.
So maybe there’s no point in trying to hide. The official opening of the new town center is scheduled for tomorrow. I know that Slade and the rest of the crew will be working hard today to get everything ready. Maybe my only chance now is to get closer.
When I get there, the landscapers are planting shrubs and rolling out thick green sod to create a perfect lawn. Plumbers, electricians, and carpenters stream in and out while a group of firemen uses one of the ladder trucks to hang celebratory red, white, and blue banners over the truck bays.
I ride the pink bike around to the back, where vans and cars are parked in the new lot. There’s Slade’s pickup. The tarry scent of fresh asphalt in my nose, I leave the bike on the edge of the lot, then wait until no one is looking and scramble into the truck. Slade’s pickup has an extended cab, which means there’s a narrow row of seats in the back. It’s supposed to be large enough to carry passengers but there’s barely enough legroom for anyone taller than five feet, which makes it a perfect place to hide.
I slide into the backseat and look around. Something’s different and it’s not just the green-and-gold Fort Benning, Georgia, parking sticker. It’s the odor of stale cigarette smoke.
But now my attention is drawn to something else. Through the windshield I see the back door to the town center open, and Mia and her father come out, accompanied by a prim blonde woman wearing a dark suit and carrying a briefcase. I’ll bet anything she’s a lawyer.
Does Mia have more to do with this than I know? More than she’s told me?
More people come out. Oh my God! It’s Griffen and two men in dark suits. Is one his father and the other—the one with the thick brown leather satchel—a lawyer? They all stop in the parking lot and talk in a relaxed manner that makes it appear as if they’re familiar with each other. As the conversation continues, Griffen steps close to Mia and slides his arm around her waist.
They know each other? Well enough for him to put his arm around her? It’s mind boggling. How is this possible?
Hidden by the tall front seats and the darkly tinted rear windows in the pickup, I have to wonder. Is Griffen the reason Mia’s attitude toward Katherine has changed recently? Was he what she was referring to when she said there was life outside Soundview High? One thing’s for certain. They both had excellent reasons to despise Katherine.
And, it was Mia who insisted I come to the kegger.
And Mia who wrote, Dont U just want 2 kill her sometimes?
I could be wrong about Dakota.
The group splits up and gets into cars.
I lie down on the backseat, ball up an old sweatshirt, and lay my head on it, breathing in Slade’s scent, missing him so much it hurts, trying to figure out what Mia and Griffen could have to do with Katherine’s murder. On the floor behind the front seat are Slade’s red-and-white cooler and a couple of empty coffee containers from Dunkin’ Donuts. There’s something under the front seat and I reach down to pull it out for a better look.
It’s a pair of panty hose, and the thought of why it’s here makes my stomach twist. There’s only one reason and I wish I didn’t know what it was. But what did I expect? That after I broke up with him, he’d swear an oath of celibacy?
But it could explain some things. If there’s another girl … If he’s caught between her and me … Was that why he wanted to speak to me face-to-face this morning? Did he want to tell me that he had made up his mind? But the photo taped to his computer was of him and me, not him and her.
It’s one more thing that will drive me crazy. But there’s nothing I can do except ask Slade when I see him. So I lie there, trying not to think about the panty hose or what they imply. Or Mia and Griffen, or what their coming out of the police station together means. The rear seat is considerably more comfortable than the floor of the tree house, and I snuggle against the balled-up sweatshirt, feeling the fog of fatigue gradually thicken.
*  *  *

You’ll do it because you have nothing left to lose. In an awful way, Dakota was right. I’d given up Slade to be in the IC. Now the IC was all I had.
But to stay in the IC, I had to tell Mia she could no longer sit at our table. That meant I’d have to accept my role as Katherine’s gofer … for as long as she wanted.
Was that who I wanted to be?