“The patio. Around back.”
I stumble through the darkened house, somehow making my way to the kitchen without knocking over anything that could break into a million loud and messy pieces. When I open the patio door, Marcus is leaning against the barbecue grill. His baseball cap is pulled low over his eyes; his jaw is unshaven.
I close the door firmly behind me. “How did you know where I was?”
“I saw you take off when I was leaving the sheriff’s office. I’d just read your text and thought you might be going somewhere to meet me.”
I shake my head. “Babysitting my cousin. My uncle’s in the hospital. So you’ve just been sitting out there for the last two hours?”
“I hope your uncle’s okay.” He ignores my question, but the gentle tone of his voice makes it sound like he does care. “Why were you at the sheriff’s office?”
“Why were you there?”
“Sergeant Blake had me come in. She asked all kinds of questions about my history with drugs.”
I wrap my arms around my waist, not sure I want to hear this. “What did you tell her?”
“That after the time my mother got busted hiding her cocaine in my lunchbox, I pretty much decided to avoid the stuff.”
“That’s a good answer.”
“It’s the truth.” His voice is flat.
I avoid his eyes, thinking of the money in Gretchen’s purse. “Even if you don’t use, people pay a lot to move that stuff around, don’t they?”
Marcus looks at me like I’ve slapped him. “Are you going to tell me what you and Aisha were chatting about with the cops?”
I stare at my hands. The sheriff said not to tell anyone about the money, and that probably goes double for Marcus, but I’m not sure how else to go about this. Gretchen was supposed to meet Marcus in the woods. She had a large amount of cash. According to Reva, Marcus needs money. I just wish it didn’t make so much sense. “Look, some new evidence has been . . . brought to light.”
“Brought to light?” He pushes up his cap and glares at me. “Sonia, what the fuck is this about?”
I step back, bumping into the wall of the house. His eyes are wild, uncertain.
Afraid.
“I found the purse Gretchen was carrying that night. Aisha and I turned it in.”
He doesn’t move or say anything. The only light on the patio shines through the kitchen door, but even in the dim glow, it’s clear his face has paled.
“Was there anything in it?” he finally mutters.
“Would you know something about that?”
“What was inside?” he snaps.
I start, crossing my arms over my chest. “It sounds to me like you know exactly what it was.”
He looks away.
“Okay, here’s how this is going to work,” I say, trying to sound calm. “If you still want my help with this, you need to tell me exactly what you were up to the night Gretchen died and what that money was for. If you can’t be straight with me at this point . . . you’re on your own.”
His eyes come back to mine, bright and focused. “I never wanted to get back together with Gretchen.”
I hold my breath.
A bold look flashes across his face. His gaze moves along the arch of my brow, over my jaw, down my neck and collarbone. My skin warms as if he’d actually touched me in each of those places.
“I was meeting her to pick up the cash . . . five thousand dollars. It’s not what it sounds like.”
There’s a drumming in my ears. He did know about the money. And if he lied about his feelings for Gretchen, he could be lying about everything else. “Then where does Alex Burke come in?”
“Who?”
I frown. “The guy who’s sitting in jail instead of you?”
“I’d never even heard of him before this week.”
“The sheriff says he’s a drug dealer.”
His face darkens. “Oh, then I must know him. Since my parents are addicts and that’s how that works.”
I pause. “That’s not what I—”
“Look, you don’t need me to tell you Gretchen wasn’t into drugs. I don’t have the first clue what she was doing with that guy, except that he seems to fit her type.” He glares at me, but there’s hurt in his eyes. “Apparently she assumed I was a bad boy too, or right now my life would be a lot less fucked up.”
I pull my hoodie tight. It’s colder out here than I expected. “Then I don’t understand . . . what was the cash for?”
He turns his head, staring into the shadows of my uncle’s yard. “I told you, my grandmother’s been sick. She ran her finances into the ground fighting my parents for custody, and then her medical bills reached the point where she was going to have to sell her house to pay her debts. It wasn’t even a huge amount of money, but it was more than she had.” He shakes his head. “After everything she did for me, I couldn’t let that happen.”
“Okay . . . so you asked Gretchen for money and she decided to give you five thousand dollars out of the goodness of her heart?”