I glare at Aaron. “Deo, you’re safe there. Someone shot at me today. For all I know they could have followed us here. They could be in the parking lot waiting to—”
Aaron is shaking his head. “We weren’t followed. And he may be safer here than at the group home.”
“You think they’re watching Bart House?”
“I think it’s possible. Lucas clearly knows who you are, so it’s not unreasonable to think he might have someone waiting for you to show up. And Deo was there when the van nearly hit you, right?”
“Yes. But he’ll make sure to stay in tonight. Right, Deo?”
“I was going to meet Asher at the game . . .”
“You can miss the game.”
Compared to me, Deo is a social butterfly. He actually goes out on weekends when he gets the chance. He cares nothing about sports or school spirit, but he’s made friends with a few kids in the marching band.
Aaron shakes his head. “I don’t think staying in is enough. Lucas’s people are armed. What’s this Marietta person going to do if they . . .”
There’s no need for him to complete the thought. Aside from Kelsey, Deo is the only person I’m close to. It would be perfectly reasonable for Lucas to assume that the best way to get to me is to grab him.
“And how is Deo any better off if Lucas’s people show up here?”
He unzips his windbreaker. A brown leather holster, complete with pistol, is strapped to his shoulder.
Okay. Aaron said he was a detective, so I guess I should have assumed he carries a weapon. But if I’d known he was armed when I was in the car, I’d probably have risked jumping out on the freeway.
“It’s not much,” Aaron says, “but I’m guessing it’s more than they have at your group home.”
I steal another look at the gun, or rather at his side, since the windbreaker is once again hiding it from view. And as much as the sight of Aaron’s pistol scares me, the sound of the bullet pinging off the dumpster earlier scared me even more. The idea that we have some means of self-protection is a good deal more comforting than I’d have imagined.
Aaron holds out his hand for my phone. I give it to him, even though it pisses me off to be cornered like this with no decent options.
Molly’s been pretty quiet for the past hour, but as Aaron starts asking Deo for the address, she surges to the front.
Sorry, Anna. I didn’t know that you and Deo—
The hell you didn’t! What did you think would happen if Lucas discovered that I had information that could be used to nail him for murder? Not to mention human trafficking. Did you really think he’d stick up his hands and go peacefully?
Hey, I said I’m sorry! But none of this makes sense, Anna. Why is Lucas worried about you? Why wouldn’t he just think what Pa did? That you’re scamming him . . . that you’re out to make money?
I’m all set to complain further, but I stop because she’s just made an excellent point. And I’m going to ask Aaron to explain that as soon as he gets off the phone—or I guess I should say phones, since he’s talking to Deo on mine and still has the other person on hold.
“. . . about twenty minutes away. Daniel Quinn, he’ll be in a blue Camry. Tall, midtwenties, short hair, pissed-off expression. Make him show ID. And if you see any unusual vehicles circling around the neighborhood before he arrives, get the hell out of there and call this number, okay?”
He tosses my phone back. I ask Deo to grab my sleep meds and tell him again to be careful.
When I hang up, Aaron says, “Just a heads-up that you’re about to be knee-deep in family soap opera. I hate asking Daniel for help. But Sam’s at the hospital, Mom’s on a buying trip in Europe until next week, and . . . on the off chance that someone actually is watching Deo, I’m not putting Taylor in the crosshairs.”
“But it’s okay to put your brother in danger?” I don’t mention Deo, but I’m definitely thinking it.
“Daniel can take care of himself. It’s just that . . . we had a bit of a disagreement last year. I haven’t really spoken to him much since. We play nice when Mom is around, but—” Aaron cuts off abruptly. The voice on the other end of his phone is deep. I only catch a few scattered words, but it’s abundantly clear that the man is angry.
Aaron’s jaw clenches and unclenches a few times as he waits for a moment to jump in. “I don’t need you to do anything in an official capacity. Just listen. Two minutes, that’s all I’m asking.”
“. . . reason why I . . . ?”