Somewhere Between Water and Sky (Shattered Things #2) (15 page)

“
I
’
m fine.
”

I glance up slowly and catch my eyes in the mirror again
—
they look haunted.

I walk past her and start opening drawers, trying to find something to wear.

I turn and look at her.

“
What
’
s the weather even like outside?
”

“
You live in LA now. It
’
s either hot and 80 degrees or freezing and 55. And what are you, a vampire? How do you not know what the weather is like? Jesus. How long have you been in this hotel room?
”
She looks around and notices the double curtains shut. Walking over to the window, she flings wide the curtain and turns to look at me with a grin.

“
See? Sun.
”
She frowns.
“
You
’
re not sparkling.
”

“
You
’
re ridiculous.
”

“
I tend to rely on the term
creative.
”

.::.

Thankfully, the police station looks nothing like the one back home. Jessa called the investigator on the way here so he
’
s waiting for us when we walk in the door.

“
Jessa. Stephanie. So glad you guys stopped by. I talked with Ren earlier today.
”
He holds out his hand and Jessa takes it. He smiles.
“
I don
’
t know if you remember my name. It
’
s Max.
”

He turns toward me with his hand out and I just stare at him until he awkwardly pulls it back.
“
Alright then. You can come back here.
”

He motions for us to follow him and we walk down the hall and into a small office. His desk is stacked with papers and folders and there
’
s a mug half full with what looks like greasy coffee. I fight the nose curl and sit in a chair next to Jessa.

Max sits down in his chair and pulls his leg up and over his knee.

“
So I
’
m sure by now you
’
ve heard the news. We know everything there is to know about what happened that night, and we believe you guys really were at the wrong place at the wrong time.
”

“
So why are we here?
”

Jessa elbows me and I look at her.
“
What?
”

Max chuckles and pulls a file folder out from under the stack.
“
Well, since you want to get on with it, I guess we can start. There
’
s a fugitive attached to the case and we
’
ve been looking for him for a few months. Goes by the name of Joey.
”

“
I just moved here.
”

Jessa turns toward me and whispers out of the corner of her mouth.
“
Give him a break, Steph.
”

Max pauses from pulling out a piece of a paper and studies me.
“
Okay. That
’
s fine. But do you know what he looks like? Maybe you saw him that night and you don
’
t remember.
”

He hands the paper to Jessa and she looks at it and shakes her head.

“
I don
’
t know this guy.
”

She looks at me and shows me the picture, but I already know what he looks like. I saw it as soon as Max pulled it out of the folder and have been working to keep my face void of any reaction. I flick my eyes down to the picture and back up to Jessa.

“
Nope. Don
’
t know him.
”

I take a deep breath and reach for my purse. Turning my gaze back toward Max, I raise an eyebrow and push off my legs to stand.

“
Is this all you needed sir?
”

He leans back against his chair.

“
You didn
’
t really take a good look at the picture, Stephanie. Are you sure you don
’
t know Joey?
”

I stare at him.
“
Blue eyes. Black hair. Stubble on his chin. Scar on his right eye. Gap between his bottom two teeth. I saw the picture, and I don
’
t know anyone who fits that description.
”
He pulls the picture out of Jessa
’
s hand and checks. Looking back at me, he squints.
“
How did you see that scar? I didn
’
t even catch it.
”

I shrug.
“
My dad taught me to be observant.
”

Not a complete lie.

I scratch my nose and glance at Jessa.
“
I
’
ll wait for you outside. It
’
s hot in here.
”

Before she can object and Max can ask another question, I walk out of his office. Another thing my dad taught me how to do? Lie. Cover my tracks. Breathe through the interrogation. Only when I
’
m outside and sitting on a bench do I look down at my hands, trembling in the sunlight. I look around and shove them under my thighs and wait for Jessa, fighting the chill that radiates through my bones. I hate cops. Always have and probably always will.

But who could blame me? How would anyone begin to trust the very people who allowed justice to fall between the cracks? I
’
d rather take care of myself and fight for what I know is true. And right now, the only thing I know is that the man in the picture isn't Joey. It
’
s my father. I wrap my arms around my chest and bounce my feet on the pavement below me.

What is taking Jessa so long?

My eyes dart to the left and right and I force myself to breathe in and out
—
in and out
—
until I can feel my pulse begin to slow. I think of his mugshot, taken days after Kevin found me in the shed and I pointed them to his hideout on a lake nearby our house. That scar on his right eye? I gave it to him. Cracked a beer bottle against our table and threw it at his head to keep him from charging at mom. If Max would have looked close enough, he would have seen a matching one that covers my entire hairline, courtesy of my father of course.

I sigh and cradle my head in my hands. These people don
’
t know who they
’
re dealing with
—
how is he out of prison? Thoughts and questions fill my head as dread fills the spaces in between my bones. I can hear the silence crackle in the distance and I fight to push it away. I don
’
t want this
—
I ran away from this to find a new beginning.

Now look at me. Tweaking like a drug addict outside of the precinct and looking like a nervous cat.

I have no idea how I
’
m going to make it out of this alive.

Jessa walks out and sits down next to me.

“
We
’
re going to need to work on your social skills.
”

My feet are still tapping on the cement and I pause just long enough to look at her.

“
I don
’
t like cops.
”

She snorts.
“
You think? But could you make it a little less obvious? Right now you seem a little more
skills of a misspent youth
and less
functional human being.
Good ol
’
Max was suspicious. I could feel it. Hell. I was suspicious. You bolted. Guilty people bolt.
”

“
So do innocent ones. Especially those who hate cops.
”

She shakes her head.
“
Whatever.
”
She glances down at my feet, now bouncing out a cadence, and nudges me with her shoulder.
“
Hey want to come over to my place? We can paint each other
’
s toe nails, perm each other
’
s hair
—
”

I ignore the teasing lilt of her words and throw a look of disgust her way.

“
Do you even know me?
”

“
I
’
ll make you that friendship bracelet
…”

“
You wouldn
’
t.
”

“
I have a rainbow loom in my closet.
”

I stare at her for half a beat before allowing a giggle to escape.
“
What the fuck is a rainbow loom?
”

Her eyes widen.
“
Only the single most important piece of equipment for kids twelve and under.
”
She adjusts her skirt and looks back at me.
“
I keep it on hand in case I need to babysit.
”

I purse my lips and nod.
“
Sure.
”

She rolls her eyes.
“
So are you coming or not?
”

I shrug.
“
It
’
s either hang out with you or go back to the hotel and watch another episode of America
’
s Next Top Model so
…”

She grabs my arm.

“
Is there a marathon today?!
”

I peel her fingers away and give her a sideways glance.
“…
.no.
”

“
You
’
re lying.
”

“
I
’
m saving you.
”

“
Whatever. You
’
re saving yourself.
”
She stands up and begins walking, side-stepping a guy meandering down the street toward the front door of the station. You can smell the bourbon coming off of him in waves. Curling her nose, she turns back over her shoulder and catches my eye.
“
Let
’
s get out of here. This place is starting to creep me out.
”

I hop-step to catch up to her.
“
It
’
s all the cops within a square mile. You
’
re douche-meter is probably off the charts right now.
”
I shudder.
“
I know mine is.
”

She lifts her pointer finger and keeps walking.
“
You have
got
to stop saying stuff like that.
”
And then she pivots and turns in a complete circle, checking corners and all areas surrounding us.
“
You
’
re gonna get yourself in trouble.
”

“
Oh I
’
m already in trouble, Jess,
”
I respond, matching her gait and rummaging through my purse for my sunglasses.
“
The question isn
’
t if but when and how much.
”

.::.

“
When you said we were going to your house I wasn't anticipating a sprawling estate.
”

We turn the corner into the driveway and I lean my head out the window. Palm trees line the gravel drive.

“
Well, to be fair, it
’
s a condo.
”

“
And you own one of them?
”

She pauses.

“
No. No, my dad owns all of it. He gave me one when I turned 21.
”

I stare as she places her car in park for the valet to take over.

“
Thanks, Victor.
”

“
No problem, Jessa.
”