She gives me some directions, and I’m thinking she’s got some pretty fucking picky eating habits. By the time we’re close, we’ve passed about five fast food joints that were perfectly good eating options, but noooo. She has to get something from this specific Chinese food joint, specifically located in the most unspecific location I’ve never fucking heard of in my life.
Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes later, after she’s texted about ten times with some super-secret person on the other end of the cyber-verse, probably Connor—the douche, she turns her phone off altogether. I’m finally fed the fuck up with her vagueness. I pull over and put the Chevelle into park.
“I’m not doing this shit any more, Green.”
“Stiles.”
“Either you pick a goddamn place on this street—”
“Stiles.”
“Or I’m turning us the fuck around, and you can starve yourself stupid sitting right outside the closest walk-in clinic for the next three days for all I fucking care.”
“STILES.”
“What?”
“Check it out.” She nods toward a group of people hanging out by the street corner. It’s not hard to spot the lanky kid, wearing a hoodie, among them. He’s trying to blend in, only at his height that’s kinda fucking impossible.
My entire body relaxes, and I let out a long, quiet sigh of relief that Stix is okay.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Because I knew you wouldn't believe it was that easy. You’d probably write Ken’s skills off as a hunch and wouldn’t want to waste your time following the lead of a guy you’ve never met and don’t trust.”
Huh.
I shrug. “Fair enough.”
I head over to give old Jimmy a piece of my mind.
“Kid.”
My pace quickens just in case he plans on running. Lucky for him, he doesn’t. Lucky for me too because, honestly, I’m tired as shit right now.
He meets me halfway. “Jackson. Man, am I glad to see you. How’d you find me?” He starts to pat himself down. “Did you put a tracking device on me or something?”
Right. Because I’m goddamn MacGyver.
“Not important. You wanna fill me in on what the fuck happened at my place tonight, and why you’re not there?”
“I─”
“I mean I did say not to leave the apartment right?”
Right?
“Well—”
“And to call me in case of a fucking emergency?”
“I had to bail, Jackson.” He blurts it out like he’s gonna lose his shit any minute now. “Those guys were—”
He hesitates, confirming my gut feeling earlier. “So you did see them.”
“Yeah, I saw ’em, and I wasn’t sticking around for them to come after me.”
“How’d you know they were there for you? Coulda just been some random murder. It happens, ya know.”
He shakes his head. “After you left, I was checking the window like every five minutes. I saw the girl first. She was literally pacing around, glancing up to your apartment every once in a while. She looked like she was biting her nails a lot. And talking to herself.”
I want to be amused. Lilah was always doing that shit. Even when I first met her. But it’s not funny anymore. She’s dead. Coincidentally, because of yours truly.
“What’s the matter?” Stix pulls me back to the conversation at hand.
“Nothing, then what?”
“The next time I checked the parking lot, this black sedan was there, and the girl was arguing with them. I kept watching because I couldn’t look away. They tried to dismiss her at first, but she wouldn’t let up. That’s when the one guy, he…”
I know the rest. He doesn’t have to finish.
“Police?”
Stix is quiet now. “He didn’t have a uniform on. I don’t know.”
Doesn’t rule Jim Galley out. But doesn’t mean it was him either.
“Then what?”
“I think I screamed or something, I guess, because something made him look up at your apartment. I hid but it was too late. He started for the stairs.”
He swallows and turns about as pale as the tighty-whities my mom used to make me wear in kindergarten.
“You get a look at him?”
Regret fills me up as I ask the ritual of questions I’ve become accustomed to use over the years. Lilah mighta been a little kooky. Maybe even a lot. But she never hurt anyone. Certainly not me. She didn’t deserve that shit. She also didn’t stand a chance.
Stix’s eyes go distant for a minute.
Man, I know that look.
“Go the fuck home, Mikey.
“Why can’t you just—”
“Go the fuck home!”
Memories of watching someone else I once knew die before my very fucking eyes flood in. I shake it off before it can carry me down a river of bad shit.
This is more important.
“Kid?”
He doesn’t answer. He’s getting swept away as we speak.
“Kid.” I snap my fingers in front of his face to bring him back. His head jerks up, and he searches me for some assistance.
“Was he big? Small? Stocky? Walked with a limp? Anything you can give me.”
“I didn’t stick around long enough to pay attention, honestly, Jackson. He was more like a big shadow than anything.”
“Okay.”
So, basically nothing to fucking go on.
Story of my life.
“I know I shoulda helped her or something, but I freaked out.” The familiar look in his eyes is too much for me right now.
“You did the right thing. How’d you leave without them seeing you?”