I’m not even to my street before Carson lights up my phone. He knew about the meeting, so it’s not really surprising, but the fact that he got in touch with me so soon after leaving Wick’s house? It doesn’t feel coincidental. If he’s been watching her, it could mean he’s also watching me. I should probably assume he is.
That is not a comforting thought.
I park my bike in the driveway. My mom’s car is gone, so that means she’s either at the new job or with Vic. I decide not to worry about it and go inside to call the detective back. I have to try the key twice before it finally turns the lock, and when the door opens, the stench of cigarettes hits me.
What the hell has she been doing? There are McDonald’s wrappers all over the floor and stubbed-out cigarettes overflowing the ashtrays on the kitchen counter. Every cabinet door is open even though there’s nothing to look at in them—and it’s been that way for a while.
I blow out a sigh and take one step forward, my sneaker colliding with an overstuffed garbage bag propped next to the door. She left it for me to take out. I look from the mess to the bag and back again. There’s nothing unusual in leaving me the garbage bag, but there’s something about it that makes my insides churn.
I unlace the plastic tie and paw through the top trash, uncovering at least ten beer cans hidden underneath. Dread pins me to the spot.
She’s been drinking—a lot. Unless Vic was here. If Vic was here and they were drinking together, ten beers is not that much. He would’ve had probably six or seven, so that means—
I laugh, catch myself. Damn, how much does this suck? I have to choose between worrying about whether she drank all the beer herself or drank all the beer with Vic.
I toss the first garbage bag into the bin by our porch and come back inside to clean. Oddly, she left the wrappers and cigarettes, but the floor looks wiped. I kneel, skim my fingers along the cracked linoleum. Close to the cabinets, the floor turns sticky. Like someone spilled beer and didn’t get it completely cleaned up.
I rock back on my heels. Great. She was trying to hide the evidence and, as usual, did a crappy job with it.
I stand, stare down at the faint stains and debate my options. When Mom gets like this, it usually means she’s going to have another episode, but she just got better. She’s never relapsed this fast before. Maybe this is a one-time thing?
My phone vibrates. Carson. I rub one hand over my face, shove my mom from my mind, and answer.
“Well?” he says.
“Well, what? We met. Bender has my firewall program. It’s starting—and I’m still waiting for that payment. You owe me.”
“Trouble in paradise, Griff?”
The sugary sweet response makes me pause. I came at him pretty hard, I can admit that. Carson should be throwing me attitude. Instead, there’s a smile in his voice. It makes the hair on my neck stand straight.
“How’s your mom doing?” Carson asks.
“Fine.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
Sweat breaks out along my hairline. Is he watching her too? She’d be an easy enough target and even easier to arrest: drunk in public, drunk driving, there’s probably more. In fact, I’m sure there’s more. Carson could take his pick.
“You owe me,” I repeat, more evenly this time.
“Check your back door.”
I hesitate and then push away from the sink, striding across the kitchen and wrenching open the door. Sure enough, there’s a small orange envelope taped below the handle. I rip open the top, check the bills. Two hundred in twenties.
“Send it through Ben next time. I can’t trust my neighbors.” Or my mom. I stuff the envelope into my jeans pocket and check the yard. No sign of Emily or any of the other girls. “Don’t come by my house anymore.”
“Who said I did?”
Again with the sugary tone of voice. There’s something really not right about the guy, and I’ve let him into my life, my mom’s life.
Carson clears his throat. “Now that we’re settled. Tell me everything I want to know.”
I stand at our kitchen window, watching the driveway and outlining the plan, Joe, Heather, even the house setup. “They’re loaded down with computers. The stuff you could find on the hard drives could link them to more.”
“How clean does Bender keep them?”
“No idea.”
“See what you can find out. I don’t want any surprises.” Carson pauses, waiting for me to provide more, and when I don’t, his exhale hisses on the other end. “Aren’t you forgetting something? Was she there?”
I start to say no and stop. If the detective’s watching me, he’ll know I took Wick home. This could be a test. “Yeah, she was there.”
“What do they have her doing?”