“Exactly. Carson wants to clear his name and he’ll have more leverage if he can prove Milo planted those explosives in his storage unit. If they go to jail, it helps both of you.”
My laugh is a sputter. “What if Carson figured out I was behind it? He could want revenge. I took everything from him. When Milo called in that bomb threat and they found all that evidence he’d been hiding, it ruined his career. He’s on the run because of me.”
“Which means he doesn’t have anything left to hurt you with. You’re on equal footing now. Better than equal, actually, because you know that neighborhood better than he ever will. If we have to run, he won’t catch us.”
Everyone gets caught in the end. The thought is sudden, suffocating. I cling to this instead: Carson knows about the money. Carson also had my computer. Could he have come across my account? Was there an undeleted keystroke—something—that led him closer?
No, that’s stupid. If Carson stole the money from my account, he wouldn’t need to talk to me, but he does want to talk and he does know about the money.
And it’s not like I have any other brilliant ideas.
“He can’t run, Wick. He can’t get out. It’s a good thing. He needs us. He needs you.” Griff extends one bandaged hand. “Come with me?”
“No.”
We both jump, turn to see Bren in the doorway. She’s fisting her bathrobe tighter and tighter and has eyes only for Griff. “The hell you’re taking her anywhere close to that man.”
“If you have a better suggestion,” Griff says, leaning one hip against the counter, “I’m all for it.”
Bren glares at him, the veins on her hands standing up as she twists and twists the ties on her robe. “I don’t and you know it, but for you to even suggest this without telling me—”
“I would’ve told you.” I step forward, put myself between them. “I’m done sneaking around. I would’ve told you, Bren. I promise.”
“You’re not going.”
“Yeah . . . I am.”
Bren gasps, jerks like I bit her. “Wick—”
“Griff’s right,” I say, sighing. “It’s not like there are a ton of options to pick from. If Carson wants to talk, let him. We’ll see what he brings to the table. Maybe it’ll help.”
“I don’t see how it could,” Bren says.
I shrug. “Carson’s a survivor. He deals in useful things.”
“Is that what you were?” My adoptive mom’s question is soft for something so sharp.
“Yes. . . . If anyone can do this, I can, Bren. It’s what I do. It’s what I am.”
“I don’t believe that.” She readjusts her robe, concentrating on the long ties around her waist. “I’ll drive you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I’ll drive you. Both of you.” Bren switches her attention to Griff. “Tell the detective you’ll meet him. I’ll give you one hour to find out what you can. After that, I’m coming for you.”
34
I let Griff contact Carson. It only takes a few minutes, a few texts, and just like that, I am dipping into my old life. Or at least, that’s what it feels like.
It makes my stomach lurch.
I haven’t faced Carson in over a month, not since that last night, when he warned me about people who were worse than he was and gave me back my computer. Not that he’d really had a choice about that.
The detective still wants to meet tonight at my old house, which bugs me. Why there? Why not somewhere else? It doesn’t feel right, but Griff has a good point about it being more our territory than the detective’s. If I need to run, I’ll be able to do it.
“And I’ll be right behind you,” Griff adds.
It reassures me far more than I would’ve expected.
Bren takes Lily to school. Afterward, she’ll go home with a friend. I kind of hate it, but she’ll be protected and I’ll be free to meet Carson. Griff, Bren, and I spend the rest of the day holed up at the house. The hours drag past, giving me plenty of time to stress. I pace. Griff watches movies. Bren checks on us between conference calls. No one says much of anything. We’ve talked plenty, I guess, and eventually I drop onto the couch next to Griff, watch The Lord of the Rings instead of the clock.
“I want that,” I say as he turns off the television when the credits roll.
“What?”
“I want a Big Moment—like the kind people get in movies. I want that decision that forever divides you into Before and After, and if you make the right decision, your After is amazing. But life isn’t like that. Your Big Moment is really a billion tiny moments and decisions. You’re constantly deciding who you want to be. That’s freaking depressing. You’re never done.”
Griff shrugs. “True, but that means you can always start over. It’s never too late.” He checks his phone, hesitates before looking at me again. “Time to go. You ready?”