“The only other thing on Donnie’s rap sheet is squatting once or twice, but you’d think they’d have set him up in a home or something after that, right?”
Someone had their Wheaties today.
“You’d think.”
I guess it makes sense Stix isn’t in the system. The homeless are basically forgotten about in Redemption, unless you call attention to yourself. Donnie and Jimmy must have made sure that didn’t happen with Jimmy.
“And, Stiles?”
“Yeah?”
“No money was recorded as being found on any of the vics.”
Shit on a shingle. “I had a funny feeling you were gonna say that.”
“Do you think maybe they were stealing things to pawn? You know, so they could buy the pot and sell it?” I can hear her incessant foot tapping on the other end of the phone.
“Negative. That much pot means you’re selling. If you’re selling, you don’t need to steal. The money comes to you.”
“Okay, so none of them have a record of drug dealing, smuggling, or smoking. Suddenly, they turn up dead with only the cops as witnesses. Whoever killed them didn’t take the pot?” She’s right. That’s doesn’t fucking compute. Why would Jim Galley set these kids up to look like they were pot ringers and then kill ’em?
“Maybe there wasn’t enough time to take it,” I say, partially thinking out loud.
“It was right out in the open. All they had to do was reach out and grab the shit. Unless someone planted it after they died.”
“Because they needed a reason for murdering kids with barely a scratch on their records?”
“Maybe─”
I cut her off. “Thing is, Green. I can’t speak for this Decker guy, or the kid before that, but I met Donnie. Face to face. He didn’t seem-”
“Stupid?”
“Or the pot lord type. Nobody at that drag race was smoking either. It’s not jiving.”
“Not for a pot ring theory, anyway,” she adds to my thoughts.
“Right.”
If the cops were using them as pushers, it makes zero sense they’d kill them. Unless… “Maybe the kids didn’t have a rap sheet that showed the drugs because they were middle men. Maybe they ended up knowing too much.”
That happens a lot. But still… kids? Minors?
“So, these cops.”
“Yeah.”
“You think they killed those boys then planted the pot on them for some reason?”
“Maybe.” It doesn’t quite sound right in my head, though.
“What would be the purpose in that?” She never runs out of questions, I’ll give her that. She’d make a good detective.
“That, Green, is the million dollar fucking question.”
“How do we get some answers?”
Good question.
Answers.
My gut tells me they lie within a certain kid who’s been on the run since his brother died.
Stix.
INFORMATION OVERLOAD
THE AREA I found Stix in last night is a ghost town now. No fire burning in a trash can anywhere. People are no longer lingering in the streets. No talking or laughter from anywhere, whatsoever. Not even wild dogs or stray cats are milling around this shit hole.
It’s in this moment I wanna kick myself for giving Stix my number but not getting his.
A side alleyway provides a spot for me to hide the Chevelle while I take a look around. In case someone decides they want to stop by and look around, too.
This whole, being responsible for another human being thing? Not working for me. What the fuck was I thinking, not touching base with the kid last night?
I start to cross the street. I’ll begin with the abandoned building Stix was hanging out in front of.
I know what I was thinking.
I was thinking about Green too much.
The way her body shifts when she gets excited. How she leans to one side when she’s annoyed with me or trying to make a point without actually saying anything. How badly I wanted to take her to my damn bed and disappear inside her until all this bullshit went away.
Since when do I let typical male idiocy interfere with a job?
“Hey! Jackson!”
A pint-sized whisper-yell from a few stories up grabs my attention. I don’t have to look to see it’s Stix hiding in the shadows of a room with no window. I do anyway and give him a short nod to let him know I’m coming up.
After I check, all inconspicuously like, up and down the street, I duck inside and take the stairs two at a time until I run smack into the kid waiting for me at the top.
Here he is: his brother dead, and now Lilah. Certain bad people may or may not be hunting his ass so they can add him to the list of people who mean nothing to them, and he stands there with that bright-eyed and bushy-tailed expression on his face.
One thing’s for sure, he’s a whole hell of a lot like his brother.
“I’m so glad you’re here.”
“What the hell, kid?”
“Hey, where’s Emma?”
“She’s not here. You wanna tell me why you’re so happy to see me?”
“How come she didn’t come with you?”
Seriously?
“Stix.”
“Sorry, I just thought─”
“What. Is. Going. The fuck. On?”
He blinks a few times. “Oh, right. Okay. So that guy I told you about?”
“Uh huh.”
“He got drunk.”
“That right?”