Broken Build (7 page)

Unbidden images of the CEO, Mr. Jewell, crowded her visual field. Her heart did that flip flop thing again, and she shuddered with a mixture of fear and curiosity. His hair was just a little longer than civilized, thick and dark, over an intensely masculine face. A strong nose dominated his features yet did not distract from the generous mouth—dangerous, like that vampire in an old TV series, someone not to be messed with, especially by someone as guilty as she.

“Did you even hear what I’ve been saying?” Owen’s voice jolted her out of a cloud of sweet noogies. “I was asking you which band you wanted to hear.”

“Oh, sorry, whatever you like.”

“Great, practice that Cajun shuffle because I’m feeling like zydeco night at the Hoot.”

Her phone buzzed with a second call. “Hey, Owen, have to go. Mrs. Walker’s on the other line.”

“Okay, I’m looking forward to our date.”

“Sure, see ya.” She switched to the second call.

Mrs. Walker’s voice screeched, “There’s been an accident. Christy is okay. But they were all taken to the precinct. I’m on my way.”

Jen’s hair tingled to the roots. “Where?”

“Fremont Police Station.”

“I’ll be there.” Jen dragged Max up the stairs and threw him a doggie biscuit.

Don’t think about it. She said Christy’s okay.
But what if Mrs. Walker’s definition of ‘okay’ was ‘barely hanging onto life?’ Jen’s pulse galloped, and she grabbed her keys and ran to her car.

The traffic had lightened up, and she made good time, arriving at the imposing Fremont Police Station right behind Mrs. Walker’s minivan. Together they jogged up the stairs.

Officer Walker met them at top. “Not to worry. Christy is fine. I brought her here to deliver a serious message. One of the young men is in the hospital. Illegal street racing.”

Jen’s indrawn breath was covered by Mrs. Walker’s strident voice. “I should have known.”

Officer Walker lowered his head and put an arm around his wife. “Please try to calm down, honey. Christy is very emotional about this. She witnessed the accident.”

Jen stumbled over a chair in the waiting area. “Where is she?”

“Holding cell,” he replied. “To sober her up. She’d been drinking.”

He led Jen past the set of double doors and down a sterile corridor of drab walls and steel grey doors.

Mrs. Walker’s sturdy heels clip-clopped behind them. “I knew there’d be trouble. I knew she went out with guys. The way her girlfriends rolled their eyes while swearing she was at the library. She should have gone to church with me. The ladies’ Bible study was about Michal’s rebellious spirit.”

Mr. Walker drew his wife aside. “Mitzi, drop it. We’re foster parents. I know you want the best for her, but our job is to provide her a stable home environment and support her.”

Officer Walker gestured to a female officer. “Miss Cruz’s sister is here.”

Christy was huddled on the cot with her jacket over her head. The officer opened the jail cell, let Jen step through, and then locked it.

Jen hugged her sister and kissed the top of her head. “Oh, sweetie.”

Christy’s trembling expanded into loud gulping sobs. “It’s my fault he’s hurt.”

“No. Mr. Walker said there was an accident.” She tightened her hold to clamp Christy’s chattering shakes. “Tell me what happened.”

“Sammy was at the finish line.” She stopped to catch her breath. “H-he wanted a beer s-so I threw him a can. But… it went wide and rolled back toward me. I ran to pick it up, and he pushed me out of the way. And… and…”

Sharp choking sounds hiccupped from Christy’s windpipe. She buried her head in Jen’s chest.

And Jen recalled another evening. The silent impact. The shock of a body tossed across the windshield like a rag doll. The red, expanding spider web. The screeching tires and smell of brakes and rubber, the whooshing judder of air, and her best friend had spun to the ground, dead on impact.

Chapter 6

Jen unlocked her apartment. Christy and the Walkers filed in. Max sniffed at them and wagged his tail, but no one patted him. Christy would be spending the night with Jen.

Mrs. Walker tapped Jen’s shoulder. “You’ll keep an eye on her at all times?”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine.” Mr. Walker set Christy’s backpack on the couch. He looked at his cell. “Sammy’s out of surgery. Busted spleen and a few broken ribs. Thank God it wasn’t worse.”

Christy grabbed Mr. Walker’s cell phone. “Can I call him? What’s the number?”

“I’m sure he’s asleep,” Mr. Walker replied.

Jen took the cell phone from Christy and handed it back to Mr. Walker. She guided Christy toward the couch. “Honey, it’s late. We’ll go tomorrow during visiting hours.”

“Christy, dear,” Mrs. Walker said. “I’ll swing by at six to pick you up for school.”

“Mitzi?” Mr. Walker prodded his wife. “Perhaps she should take a sick day. I’m sure she won’t be missing much tomorrow.”

Mrs. Walker put her hands on her hips. “No, I think it would be best if she went. Nothing’s ever solved by sitting around and feeling sorry for yourself.”

Christy ignored them and slouched on the sofa. Jen stepped to the door. “I’ll drop her off, don’t worry.”

The Walkers agreed and said farewell. As soon as Jen shut the door, Christy stomped her feet and pouted. “Why can’t I live with you? I’m sixteen and I can get a car and drive myself to school. I don’t need her hovering over me.”

Jen swallowed the words that welled in her throat. As much as their mother had tried to care for them, she couldn’t do much during the last few years when her cancer worsened. They had subsisted on a diet of tuna fish with ketchup and peanut butter sandwiches.

She crossed her arms. “Mrs. Walker cares about you.”

“But she overreacts every time I’m a second late or forget to return her call.” Christy wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket.

Jen paced to the window and back. Had Christy forgotten what just happened? Or was she trying to get into a fight so she wouldn’t have to deal with her feelings? She patted Christy on the shoulder. “Tell you what. If you get straight A’s and stay out of trouble, then we can petition the court to let you live with me. This underage drinking on your record is going to be another point in favor of the Walkers.”

Christy kicked the coffee table. “They couldn’t even keep track of me. If I did all these things under her watch, she’s obviously not fit to be my foster mother.”

“Better watch it. You’ll get busted and go straight to juvie.”

“Mr. Walker only gave me a warning.”

Jen wished she could slap some sense into her sister. “He can’t keep doing that or he’ll get fired. How many beers did you have? And what were you doing with Sammy and his friends? Aren’t they seniors?”

At the mention of Sammy, Christy’s face reddened and she rubbed her eyes. “I keep seeing it over and over. Why did he have to get hurt?”

A key turned in the lock. Max jumped up and scampered to the door, and Sherry stepped through. She swept a stray strand of blond hair from her face. “Got off early today. I heard what happened.”

“Who told you?” Jen looked up in time to see Sherry’s features dissolve into blankness.

“Nobody. Why, what happened?”

“Nothing,” Jen replied and guided Christy to her room. “My sister had a bit too much to drink, and she’s going to stay with me tonight.”

Sherry patted her dog and shrugged. “Your rent, your room.”

Christy’s eyes widened before she stumbled into Jen’s room. “I’ve seen her before. What’s her name?”

“Sherry Montoya. Where?”

Christy swayed on her feet and shook her head. “Never mind. Must be someone else.”

* * *

The next morning dawned grey and chilly—a typical November day. Jen  flipped her keys off the hook. “Christy, hurry up or you’ll be late for school.”

“I can’t believe you’re making me go to school.” Christy pulled a hairbrush through her tangled hair. “Can we call the hospital and find out about Sammy?”

“Later. Get your things and let’s go.” Jen wasn’t going to go easy on Christy either. Mrs. Walker was right. Sitting around and moping wouldn’t do any good.

Christy picked up her backpack. “I need a memory stick for English. Can I borrow one?”

“Sure, I have a few blank ones. Hurry, okay? Traffic gets worse the more you delay.”

Christy grabbed one off Jen’s dresser and shoved it in her pocket. “Coming.”

Jen patted Max and rushed down the stairs to the carport. At this rate, she’d be late to work. No one had clarified whether she was fired or not. Greta had set up a meeting with Lester to go over the bug permit script. As soon as they were in the car, Christy pulled out her cell phone and began texting.

Jen rolled through three green lights before getting stuck behind a lineup of cars leading to the high school.

“Uncle Boo says Sammy’s awake.” Christy looked up from her phone. “They won’t let him play football. And he won’t get a scholarship if he misses the playoffs.”

“The important thing is he’ll recover.” Jen glanced at her sister’s ashen face. “And no matter what you believe, it’s not your fault.”

“He was hurt because of me,” Christy whined. “Everyone will hate me.”

Jen patted her shoulder. “You can’t go through life blaming yourself. At least he’s alive. I’ll take you by the hospital later.”

The row of cars inched forward. Doors opened and teenagers scrambled out near the school entrance. Christy tugged Jen’s arm. “Can I stay with you again tonight?”

“We’ll talk about it later.” Jen glanced at the clock display. Her heart pounded, and she wanted to punch the horn. A mother had gotten out of her car to help her son unload a science project.

“Huh? Oh.” Christy texted and giggled. “I can’t believe it. Couple guys at the body shop say they have hacked Shopahol code. I’m gonna bid on the Urban Decay Ammo Makeup Palette free.”

Jen’s throat tightened. “How’d they get it?”

Christy shrugged. “Sammy’s brother got it from some friend. Gotta go.”

“Wait, that’s illegal. Who’d he get it from?”

Christy stepped out and slammed the door.

Jen stared after her. What the heck? Had they made the code work? Crap! Cars honked behind her, so she put on her signal and pulled away from the school, her stomach squeezing on catatonic butterflies. How could she have been so stupid? Rey was probably working for someone else.
Class project, my foot
.

The clock readout showed she was late already. She cut through a vacant lot and bypassed the freeway by winding through a frontage road. Her phone buzzed. What now? Jen hit the button on her earpiece.

Owen’s voice crackled. “I followed up on the rumors about the iPhone code. You’re in a lot of trouble if you gave Rey the code. So far, no one has put the two of you together. The police are tightlipped and your company hasn’t issued a statement yet. You better level with me or I’m off this case.”

A flash of grey careened in the lane next to Jen’s car. She slammed her brakes and jerked her wheel back from the merge, narrowly missing an SUV who pulled into the Shopahol lot ahead of her.

Sweat beaded on her forehead. She eased into the lot and parked as far as she could from the SUV. She gasped and struggled to catch her breath.

“What’s the matter?” Owen asked, “Why are you breathing so hard?”

“Nuh-nothing.” Jen cut the engine. “I almost sideswiped some asshole.”

“You better stop drawing attention to yourself.” Owen’s voice sharpened. “If I were the detective, I would have arrested you already. Did you know Rey’s cell phone triangulates to your apartment complex? Either you’re cleverly calling yourself from his phone, or the murderer is stalking you.”

Jen’s fingernails dug into her palms. “What do you mean stalking me? And how can you accuse me of placing the calls myself? Are you my friend or what? And where did you find this out?”

Her phone beeped twice, indicating the battery needed recharging.

“Owen, you still there?”

Owen’s voice was garbled, breaking up. Hearing nothing, she tried to redial, but the phone dropped to the car mat. She bumped her head on the steering wheel while retrieving it and blasted the car horn.

Whoever had Rey’s phone could be following her. What if it were that SUV? Not daring to look, he stuffed her phone into her pocket and yanked her keys from the ignition. She was late already. Greta would be steamed.

Jen swung the car door open—right into the lower half of a male body.
Crap. It’s Jewell.

He grabbed the side of the door. and glared at her over the window frame. “I wanted to see who almost ran me off the road.”

“Sorry. That was you?”
Ugh. Totally dumb thing to say.
Jen gripped the steering wheel, trying to not burst into tears.

“Red car, it figures. Ms. Jones, you’re on thin ice.” He opened the door further and tapped her shoulder with an iPad. “You uh… left this in my office.”

“Oh, thanks.” She took it.

His lips twitched with a smirk, and he glanced at his wrist, as if he wore a watch. “Better get to work, my friend, or I’ll be forced to fire you. I’m keeping a close eye on you.”

* * *

Dave stuffed a twenty dollar bill into the token machine at the pizza arcade. Friday evening and his company account was overdrawn. God forbid he’d have to lay anyone off before Thanksgiving. He massaged the sharp ache under his ribs where the ulcer pains radiated.

Alex, the ten-year-old boy he mentored through the Big Brothers program, bounced at his side. “I want to drive the race cars first. Please, please, please.”

Dave scooped the tokens into his pocket and walked to the food pickup line. “Your mother said to make sure you eat first.”

“Ah…” Alex rolled his eyes. “Why do you have to listen to her?”

“Because.” Dave balanced the pizza with the sodas. “Your mother signed you up so you can learn to be a man. And the first thing a man needs to know is to mind his woman.”

He led Alex between two birthday parties and found a corner table near the arcade.

Alex turned away from the plate Dave set in front of him. “My mom says you’re the biggest boss in your company and can do whatever you want.”