“What are you doing?”
“I found an app that’s voice activated. It’ll record whatever he says.” He takes the phone back out of his pocket and replays our conversation. I raise one eyebrow and he scratches his head. “Um, I read a lot of detective stories.”
This actually gets me to smile. “Stealthy.”
He reaches for the door, and I glance at the mechanic’s shop. With its dirty windows and junky parking lot it just looks like a place where bad things might happen and no one would notice or care. Where a murdered girl’s car could go unnoticed for weeks. A rough-looking guy with a shaved head peers out the door at us, and suddenly this all feels too real . . . too dangerous. My pulse picks up. I touch Marcus’s hand.
He looks back at me, gripping his keys, his face a reflection of my own. “On second thought, maybe you should stay in the car.”
“No way. I’m going with you.”
He flinches, brushing a lock of hair out of my eyes. “What if he tries something?”
I touch my right pocket. “I brought pepper spray.”
He swallows. “I just . . . I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’ll be okay.” I weave my fingers between his. “What are you even going to say?”
“I thought I might walk in and ask which one of them killed my ex-girlfriend.” When I stare at him, he cracks a smile, but it’s not quite convincing. “Or maybe something more subtle.”
I slide across the seat. “Yeah, I’m going with you.”
“Sonia . . .”
I gesture to the guy still staring at us from the door. “Pretty sure I’m no safer here, by myself, than out there with you.”
He nods and squeezes my hand, the sensation traveling up my arm and deep into my chest. We climb out of the car together.
There are at least five vehicles in the lot that look like they haven’t been mobile in years. A Rottweiler chained to one of them issues a low growl as we approach, but doesn’t lift its head. The man we saw has disappeared into the small building. When we push through the door into the office, the walls are plastered with pictures of hunting expeditions. Men and boys posing with guns and animal carcasses. I shudder at the deadness of it all. There’s a pinup calendar in the corner. Classical music drifts inharmoniously through the air.
“Can I help you?” The guy with the shaved head eyes us from behind the counter. He’s a lot older than I’d guessed from across the lot.
“I wanted to ask someone about my car,” Marcus says.
“The Caddy out there?” The man creaks out of his chair and gestures with interest through the window. “That there’s a classic. Had one when I was about your age.”
“Yeah . . . a friend of mine said to come here and ask for Alex?”
The man’s face falls. He looks at me, then retreats behind the desk and cracks open a door. “Alex! Customer of yours!” He settles back onto his stool and frowns. “He don’t handle any of his ‘business’ in here. He’ll meet you outside.”
Marcus and I exchange a glance. But maybe it’s best if they think we’re looking to score drugs. Back on the lot, the air is thinner, cleaner. I step toward the Rottie lying in the sun and she rolls over for a belly rub. I opt to scratch behind her ears and her nubby tail wags until we’re joined by a glowering guy in coveralls. I recognize him immediately from his mug shot, though his tan has faded to a pasty white and his hair is longer than I remember. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing a tattoo of a devil on one forearm and an angel on the other. His eyes are intense. Gretchen probably fell for him at first sight.
“Something wrong with your car?” he asks.
Marcus straightens and clears his throat. “Actually, I was hoping we could just ask you some questions.”
The guy stops. “Shit. Seriously?” His voice is gruff, eyes shifting from Marcus over to me. “Look, my uncle told the press—”
“We’re not reporters,” I say quickly.
“Then what the fuck do you want?”
Marcus steps closer to me. “We’re friends of Gretchen Meyer’s—”
“I’ve got nothing to say.” He sneers, kicking an old hubcap on his way back toward the shop.
Marcus starts after him, but I call out. “Wait, Alex!”
He turns and glares at me.
“Gretchen was my best friend . . . but she never told me about you.”
He snorts.
“She never could resist a guy she was attracted to.” I force myself to smile. “She must’ve had it bad to want to sneak around like that.”
Alex’s shoulders relax a little. He looks back at the shop.
“Bet she came on pretty strong,” I say. “And if I never heard about it, it must’ve been fast.”
He scratches his head. “Look, we only hooked up a few times before—” He catches himself, narrowing his eyes at me. “Who did you say you were?”
“What, you don’t recognize her when she’s not running away in the dark?”
“Marcus.”