Tyler nodded. “Exactly. It’s insurance. If we get pushed too far—if it all seems too close—that’s when we turn it in.”
Kinley sucked on her straw. He could guess what she was thinking: Hadn’t she already done that, to Tyler and the others? But he was counting on one thing: the fact that maybe, just maybe, she would want to save him, too.
“Okay,” she said finally. “I’m in.”
Cade
Sunday, June 28
It had taken Cade a long time to find it.
A pay phone.
One that actually worked.
One that was far away from everything. It was on a corner, near a gas station that had long been shut down. The station’s glass windows had been broken and replaced with plywood, which was now covered with graffiti. The Dumpsters out back were never emptied, and on days with a breeze, the smell was so strong it carried for blocks.
The phone booth itself was narrow and tall, the kind that Cade hardly ever saw anymore, outside of vintage photographs. There were remnants of hard pink bubble gum on the earpiece, and fingerprints all over the glass sides, like people had been trapped inside, trying to get out.
Cade was wearing gloves.
Gloves, and a long coat, and boots. Boots he’d throw away after he made the call, somewhere far from his house. It was an old pair he had found deep in the back of his closet, boots no one would have seen him wear in ages, so they couldn’t be traced back to him if anyone were to try. He was dressed like it was winter, but somehow, he wasn’t hot.
His body was a cold, hard block of ice.
He missed Bekah. He missed her more than he’d ever missed anyone, ever. He missed the way she cuddled up tight to him when they watched movies together, and the way she talked to fill the silence, and the way she just knew how much he missed Jeni without ever having to say it. He missed the sound of her laugh—low and husky and full of feeling—and he missed the curve of her hips under his hands and the way she kissed.
He was going to get her back, when he was done with this. With everything that was happening. He was going to get her back and take her away for the remainder of the summer. They were going to do Route 66 just like they’d planned. No more manipulating.
They were going to be happy. And he was going to visit his sister. For real this time. His father wasn’t going to stop him.
She was his true reason for doing this. Most everyone had forgotten about her. Almost everyone had moved on to new juicy topics of conversation and let her rest. Now she was something that people whispered about behind their hands at fancy dinners, when there was nothing else to talk about. She had all but disappeared into urban legend—the Sano Daughter Who Fell.
If Stratford’s murder was pinned on Cade, he’d be in the spotlight. Online. On the front page of newspapers. On TV. Maybe in magazines. “Millionaire’s Son Convicted of Murder.” Because of his father, he had the most potential for clicks and purchases, meaning news outlets would focus on him to get the most hits.
And then, by proxy, Jeni would be back in the spotlight too. They’d figure out where she was and ruin her all over again, because she’d be a perfect addition to the story. They could tear Cade apart, and then Jeni, and then his father, because there was nothing the American public loved more than seeing a powerful empire collapse. As long as it wasn’t the empire of American Imperialism, of course.
Cade couldn’t let them do that. He couldn’t let them have Jeni again, to pull her to pieces the way they had when she’d fallen from grace. She was there to get better, away from their father and everything it meant to be a Sano. He could deny that he was doing this for himself, because he was really doing this for her.
And that meant taking the pressure off of the Sano family and putting it on someone else.
He picked up the phone and held it two inches away from his ear, because ear-print impression science was supposedly an actual investigation technique. Then he typed in a number he knew by heart from the countless television commercials and news stories.
A robotic female voice picked up.
“Thank you for calling Crime Stoppers. Please wait while you are transferred to the appropriate location. Have the details of the crime you are calling to report ready. Remember, if your crime leads to an arrest, you could be eligible for a prize of up to a thousand dollars.”
The line went silent. Cade wanted to laugh. A thousand dollars. Like that would fix his problems. While he waited, his eyes strayed to the traffic light on the corner, flashing from yellow to red. A lone car—a beat-up yellow pickup with the bumper barely clinging on—chugged to a stop.