CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Veronica could hear Adrian’s voice through the wall. He’d put the high camp back on—she could picture him, jutting a hip out, cocking his head. “Your daughter?”
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure you know her—blond woman, yay tall. Veronica. The private eye helping with Aurora’s case.”
Veronica felt tears gathering at the corners of her eyes and blinked them quickly away. When she’d called her dad on the car ride over to explain her theory, he’d told her to wait for him in the parking lot. Worried that Adrian and Aurora could be on their way out of town at any moment, she’d gone in anyway. But she’d underestimated Aurora—badly. And now her dad was in danger too.
“Oh! Yeah, I saw her this afternoon. I haven’t seen her since then, though.” His voice sounded concerned. “Why, is she missing?”
Aurora crouched frozen by the bedroom door, stun gun in hand. She was so engrossed in eavesdropping she didn’t notice Veronica, twisting her wrists, trying to work her hand through the knot.
“Well, that’s funny. Her car’s in the parking lot. I know she’s been working on a case you’ve been involved with, and she gave me a call not too long ago saying she was coming over here.”
“Shit,” Aurora breathed.
There was a long pause. Then Adrian’s voice came back with false bravado. “I’m sorry, Mr. Mars. I don’t know anything about that. Look, I’ve got an early class tomorrow. I’ve got to get some sleep. But if I hear anything from Veronica I’ll tell her to call you right away.”
She heard a clunking sound. The door shutting on a cane?
“I’m sorry, Mr. Marks, but I’d really feel a lot better if you’d let me look around.”
“Hey, man, you can’t just come in here like—”
“Veronica? Can you hear me?”
“Get the fuck out of my apartment.”
“You don’t like it?” A beat. “Call the sheriff, kid.”
She closed her eyes, trying to breathe slowly around the scarf, to keep from panicking. Trying not to calculate the odds between Adrian Marks, eighteen years old, athletic and fit, and Keith Mars, fifty-one, who’d almost died two months earlier and couldn’t make it a block without his cane.
There was a scuffling sound, followed by a dull thud. The wall shook as something fell against it. Aurora was on her feet and out the door in a flash. Veronica gave one final wrench of her hands and pulled her left wrist through the knot.
“Stay down, if you know what’s good for you, Grandpa.” Aurora’s voice was muffled through the wall, but Veronica could hear the triumph in it. There was another thud, and a low groan. Veronica peeled the tubing off her wrist and sat up to untie her ankles.
It was lucky Adrian hadn’t patted her down; he’d been in a hurry just to bind her. She pulled the .38 out of the holster at the small of her back and checked to make sure it was loaded. Then she burst through the door, the gun held out in front of her.
This time, her hands were steady.
Keith was on his side on the ground, clutching his stomach. Adrian stood over his body with the titanium cane in his hand, blood pouring from his nose. As Veronica entered he swung it straight into Keith’s stomach with an awful thwack. Aurora watched from a few feet away, her face rigid with fury. Any hint of the crafty, calculating girl Veronica had glimpsed was obscured now, replaced by a towering rage, the destructive temper tantrum of a teenager.
Veronica didn’t stop to think. She aimed the gun at a lamp a few feet to Adrian’s left, and she pulled the trigger.
The sound tore through the apartment, the lamp exploding in a shower of ceramic. Adrian dropped the cane and covered his ears. Veronica turned slightly to point the gun straight at Aurora. Slowly, the girl dropped the stun gun and held up her arms.
In the distance, the sound of sirens wailed.
Ten minutes later, Veronica and Keith sat side by side on the steps outside the apartment, watching as Norris Clayton pushed Aurora’s head down into the cruiser. Adrian was still upstairs in handcuffs; the EMTs were taking care of his broken nose. Keith’s legs were still frail; his right hook, not so much.
“Did you get a confession?” he asked.
“Oh!” She reached into her green corduroy jacket and pulled out her iPhone. It was still recording. She turned it off. “I almost forgot.”
“You could have been killed.” His voice was sad but resigned. She looked at him, not sure if she was being admonished or not. “I told you to wait for me.”
“Aurora and Adrian were about to skip town; every second mattered.”
“Veronica, it wasn’t worth risking your life over. The cops would have caught them.” He frowned. “Not every fight is worth going to the mat for.”
She stared out over the pool. When the college kids had heard the sirens they’d fled, leaving nothing behind but their empty beer cans and one forlorn green towel, abandoned over the back of a chair. She knew he was right. And she knew that was the thing that scared him the most—the fact that she couldn’t stand the thought of losing her quarry. The fact that, more than anything, she hated the idea that sometimes assholes got away with everything and left other people—people like Hayley Dewalt’s family—empty-handed and bereft.
Keith put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her to his side. “Next time I want you to wait for me. I’m your backup, Veronica.” He hesitated for a moment. “I’m your partner.”
The word took a moment to land. For a second, it sounded foreign, almost forced—like a story they were both trying to believe. She looked at him, wondering if there was any way she’d ever feel less like a kid when she was with him. Wondering if they could actually ever work as equals.
Then she smiled and realized they would. They’d needed each other for a long, long time. They’d already been partners for years.
She rested her head on his shoulder and watched the cruiser pull away from the curb and slip off into the night.