Torn. Part 24

"Different something."

Alarm and curiosity bloomed inside me. "Still plain old me," I said, hoping it sounded convincing.

He chuckled and held open the door. "Someday, you're going to see yourself, Mo. Really see yourself. And you'll give new meaning to the phrase *holy terror.'"

I rolled my eyes, somehow fl.u.s.tered and pleased all at once. "Whatever."

"I'm not sure I want to be around when that happens." He laughed again and gestured to the truck, not waiting for a response. "Coffee's getting cold."

If anyone was different this morning, it was Colin. He'd never been in such a good mood, so willing to joke and chat. I was about to ask why when it hit me with such force I rubbed at my forehead: He was cheerful because of our deal, and my promise to tell him the truth. Which I couldn't do, especially now.

So I sipped at my coffee and racked my brain for a way to tell him what he wanted to know without saying anything at all.

"Well?" he said expectantly.

"We'll be at school in fifteen minutes. It's not really enough time to explain."

"It's enough for a start," he said firmly, glancing over. "This is not the day to jerk me around."

Like there was ever a good day for that. I shifted in my seat and studied the storefronts and two-flats slipping by.

"I don't . . ." I shrugged, turning my hands over, palms up, unable to find the words. "I don't know how to start."

"The beginning would be nice. Or we can start with what happened last night. I'll take either one."

"I told you. I had coffee with Evangeline. We talked."

"About what?"

I took a deep breath. Colin deserved the truth, but he wouldn't believe it. And on the off chance he did believe me, there was no way he'd let me carry on. All I could do was give him half-truths and hope it was better than an outright lie.

"Verity." Funny, how little we had spoken of her. I wondered what he would have thought of Verity. She would have made him nuts, probably. She was so charming, and everyone loved her, but Colin was immune to charm.

He made a "get on with it" gesture but didn't say anything.

I laced my fingers together tightly. "You guys think I was the target of the hit, but I wasn't. Verity was."

"Mo, it's been looked into. n.o.body put a contract out on her." His voice was the gentlest it had ever been.

"n.o.body you know. I bet you haven't found anything about a contract on me, either, have you?" I didn't wait for a reply. "The whole thing was about her, not me."

"It's about Billy," he said, and he had that tone, that weary, long-suffering tone adults had been using with me since forever, the one designed to make me feel like a child. I loathed it, especially from him. I wasn't a child any longer.

"The ID is about Uncle Billy," I corrected him. "It's got nothing to do with the truth. Which is what I'm after. If you aren't going to listen, there's no point to this conversation."

He shook his head, almost amused. "You're trying to find out who killed your friend? And you think this Evangeline woman is going to be useful? Go to Billy if you want results. He's got contacts."

"Not in Louisiana. I need Evangeline if I'm going to go after who ordered it." It was the most I could tell him without hurting everyone.

He squinted at me, as if he couldn't quite understand what I'd said. "Who ordered it? Who ordered it? Are you f.u.c.king kidding me?"

My phone rang, and I s.n.a.t.c.hed at it, desperate for a diversion. "Lena! What's up?"

"Just checking if you're ready for the Chem test today."

"The . . . oh, c.r.a.p."

"Do not even tell me you forgot about it. That test is, like, twenty-five percent of our grade."

"Hang up," snarled Colin. I waved him away.

"I can't believe I forgot."

Lena snorted. "No kidding. Look, I'm in the caf. If you blow off chapel, we can cram a little more. Or maybe you should go to chapel after all. It might be the only thing to help you."

"Very funny."

"Hang up. Now," Colin ordered.

"Grab me a Diet c.o.ke," I said to Lena. "I'll be there in ten."

I hung up and he reached for my cell, eyes still on the road. "No more interruptions. We are going to settle this."

"I have a test," I said pointedly, holding on to the phone. "A big test. I need to study."

"I don't give a rat's a.s.s about your test, Mo. Are you actually saying you and Verity's aunt are planning on going after a killer? A group of killers? Because even if you're right about this-and you're not-what makes you think that you and a lady who sells Louis Quatorze dining sets can possibly handle this?"

"Because I have to. Haven't you ever done something, just because it was the right thing to do? Ever? Or do you only care if you get paid?"

He grabbed my arm, hard, and let go just as suddenly. My phone beeped.

Colin made a dangerous noise, and I scowled back. "It's only a text."

A picture, actually. Of Lena, in the cafeteria at school, notes scattered around her and two cans of pop nearby. "That's weird," I said, checking the number. "Blocked."

The phone beeped again. Blocked. Again.

It was a picture of The Slice, my mom behind the register. I could see her nametag clearly and the rickrack trim on her ap.r.o.n. Whoever had taken it couldn't have been more than a few feet away.

Another beep.

"Jesus," Colin said. "Does that girl ever stop?"

"It's not Lena."

This time, it was a shot of Colin leaning against the truck, wearing the same gray T-shirt and brown jacket he had on right now. My house was visible in the background. This one was taken from farther away, maybe halfway down the block.

"There was no one hanging out this morning, was there? Outside the house?" Of course not. Colin would have spotted them. The angle, the distance . . . whoever took it had been inside a house. Inside a neighbor's, maybe.

"No. Why?"

He grabbed the phone as another message came through. I leaned over and looked. My bedroom, so close you could see the unmade bed through the window. I'd been raised to make my bed every morning, first thing. You didn't even head to the bathroom to pee until the covers were straightened and the pillows fluffed. Along with no meat on Fridays and attending holy days of obligation, it was one of the foundations of my mother's faith. This morning, I'd been exhausted, and running late, so I hadn't bothered, for maybe the third time in my whole life. The picture had been taken this morning, since Colin had picked me up.

Colin pulled over with a screech of tires, prompting a lot of angry honking and middle fingers from the other cars.

"What were the others?" He started thumbing through the message log.

Another one came through, and somehow I knew, even before he opened it, what this picture would be. Luc, kissing me under the yellow glow of the porch light.

Colin's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing to slits. "Coffee, huh?" The bite in his voice was painful.

"It's not what you think," I said, knowing how completely lame I sounded. "Really. He knows Evangeline."

His voice was acid as he studied the picture. "I'm going to guess you didn't notice anyone?"

I shook my head. "The numbers are all blocked," I pointed out, trying to change the subject. "And that first one, of Lena? They just took that. She was getting me a pop when we hung up."

The phone rang, and Colin hit the speakerphone b.u.t.ton, gesturing for me to respond.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"h.e.l.lo, Mo." A man's voice, but no one I knew. A glance at Colin showed he didn't recognize it, either.

"Who is this?"

"A friend. With some advice."

I swallowed. "Oh?"

"See how easy it is to pick people out of a crowd? Make sure you do it right when it's your turn, huh?"

"What do you-"

The call ended and Colin swore, slamming his fist into the dash and wrenching the truck back into traffic. He stared straight ahead for a moment, clenching the wheel, the pulse in his throat visible. He was so different from the cheerful, laughing guy who'd stood in my living room this morning, I barely recognized him.

He cut across town, speeding away from the school, checking his mirrors more than usual.

I waited until I could speak without my voice shaking. "What's he talking about?"

"The ID. Kowalski's coming by the school this afternoon. They made the arrests, and you're supposed to go down to the station."

"So who was that? Uncle Billy's secretary?"

"Not Billy. Somebody higher up."

I forced myself to ask, the words coming out small. "In the Mob?"

Colin didn't say anything, but his face had a hard, grim look to it.

"Why is the Mob taking pictures of my friends? My bedroom?"

He checked the mirrors, made a right, looked again. "To show how vulnerable you are."

"But . . . I have you."

A muscle in his jaw jumped. "Not all the time. And I'm not watching your friends, or your mom. My job is to keep you safe, Mo. n.o.body else."

"What about my mom? Is she-"

"She's fine. Billy's had people watching her for a while. They're just less visible. And to be honest, your mom's a lot less trouble."

My stomach clenched. Who else could they go after? Without Verity, I was a pariah at school. The only one who even gave me the time of day lately was . . .

"Give me back my phone."

"What?"

"The phone, Colin. Now."

He handed it over silently, watching me out of the corner of his eye as we sped through the city.

I dialed frantically, counting the rings until Lena picked up. "Lena? Is everything okay?"

"Fine, but chapel starts in a few minutes. If we're going to skip, now's the time."

I wanted to warn her. I wanted to tell her to run away, to go to the office, or at the very least to stick near a group, preferably away from windows. The thought of someone going after Lena because of me made my stomach pitch and my breath go panicky. But telling her the truth about my uncle would mean the rumors weren't idle gossip anymore. They would be facts, and a whole new set of problems to deal with.

"Traffic's terrible," I said, trying to sound aggravated instead of hysterical. "I'm not going to make it. Go ahead to chapel and I'll see you in cla.s.s."

"You want me to light a candle for you?" she teased.

"Probably not a bad idea," I muttered, as Colin parked in front of a dingy warehouse.

He stayed close as we crossed the cracked, weed-choked sidewalk, yanked open the sliding door, and pushed me inside.

"I have a test," I reminded him as he punched a code into an alarm box.

"Forget about the d.a.m.n test, Mo."

Dusty light shone through the windows high above us. Instead of the pallets, crates, and boxes I'd expected, it was a workshop. A carpentry workshop, with big electric saws scattered around and one wall made of Peg-Board with hand tools lined up at precise intervals. The air smelled like wood shavings and varnish, a clean, pungent scent that made my nose twitch, but not in a bad way.

His hand still on my back, Colin pushed me across the workshop and through an industrial-looking metal door, yanking it shut behind us and fiddling with another alarm panel. The lights came on, and if the workshop out front had surprised me, it was nothing compared to this room. My breath caught for a moment, and I turned to him.

"You live here?" It was stark and beautiful at the same time. Plain white walls, scarred cement floors, the same high-up windows as the workshop in front. But the furniture was beautiful, polished wood glowing quietly in the morning light. It smelled like lemon oil, bright and homey. A few rugs were scattered around, and there was a threadbare, dark blue velvet sofa and an ancient leather recliner near a pot-bellied stove. There was nothing lying around, no clutter or mess, but it didn't seem stiff, just s.p.a.cious, like there was all the room in the world you might need to breathe and all the time you needed to take it in. "It's amazing."

He shrugged, his expression uncomfortable, and he pointed to a pair of doors opposite us. "Bathroom. Bedroom."

"You really live here?"