“Then the system will work. We’ll find who did.”
“And in the meantime, my friend will have to sit in jail like some common criminal. So much for innocent until proven guilty.”
Feelinghelpless, I dropped my gaze and picked invisible lint from my jeans.
“Hey.” He tugged on my hand, pulling my attention back to him. “We’re gonna do everything we can for Ms. James.”
“For Dylan,” I said, reminding him she was a human being with a first name.
“For Dylan,” he conceded. “And I promise to personally keep an eye on her and make sure she’s okay.”
I met his eyes. “You’d do that?”
“Yeah.”
I bit my lip and nodded. “Thanks.”
He gave me a gentle smile. “You’re welcome.”
“What are the odds of seeing Dylan before you take her back to her cell?”
Jake checked his watch. “The next visiting hours start at four fifteen. Show up here by three forty-five and I’ll make sure you’re in with the first group to go back.”
“Are you sure I can’t go in there now?” I begged.
“I’m sure.”He rose to his feet and held his hand out to me. “Come on, I’ll show you to the kiosk where you can put money on Ms... on Dylan’s account. Then I’ll walk you out.”
He helped me through the process, leaning over me to swipe my card. His scent lingered. Soap and man combined with just a hint of cologne worked well for him and I was momentarily lost in his spell. When we were done, he saw me tomy car and opened the door for me. As I got behind the wheel, he paused.
“You’re a good friend, Addison.”
I didn’t feel like a good friend. A good friend would have been able to get Dylan out of jail. If I was a great friend, I would have insisted Dylan stay at my house last night and we could have avoided this whole debacle. Still, he was being incredibly sweet, and I appreciated it.
“Thanks,but don’t tell anyone. My friend’s list is full.”
He chuckled. “Your secret’s safe with me.
Then he shut my car door and I drove home. I was done with Dylan being all independent and shit. That girl was moving in with me, and I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
After stopping home for a couple of suitcases, I grabbed the key to Dylan’s apartment and headed back to my car, calling Asheron my way. It was a bit of a sneaky move because I knew he was meeting with Dylan, which meant he couldn’t object. Still, I wanted him to know where I was just in case. I got his voice mail, so I left him a message, giving him a very vague description of what I was doing, and drove into the bowels of Portland. I shuddered as I pulled into the parking lot of Dylan’s dumpy apartment complex.
Iprayed no one would steal my car as I grabbed the suitcases and dashed toward Dylan’s building. The front door was propped open, which was weird since you were supposed to have a code (which I did) or you had to be buzzed in to gain access, but apparently someone had decided to work around the system.
Bolstered by righteous indignation at the thought of my best friend living in such a shitholewith such thoughtless people, I climbed the stairs to the second floor (the elevator was out of service... again), and turned right. Yellow crime scene tape blocked off the stained floor of the hallway. I forced down bile as I hugged the opposite wall and tiptoed past. The tape also blocked off Dylan’s door, which was busted. I pocketed my unneeded key and stepped over the tape, pushing the dooropen.
I rarely came here, mostly because Dylan hated it almost as much as I did, but as I glanced around the small studio, I burst into tears. The place wastrashed. Apparently, the police or whoever searched her apartment had no regard for any of her treasures, few might they be, but they were still hers. “Animals,” I whispered.
Squaring my shoulders, I set a suitcase in the kitchen and walkedthe two feet to her bed, setting the other suitcase on it and propping it open. I raided the hangers and built-in drawers in her closet, pulling out every stitch of clothing and packing it away. She didn’t own much, so between her clothes and her four pairs of shoes, there was still plenty of room left in the first suitcase.
Determined to grab everything else of value, I wrapped clothing aroundher framed photos (one of her and her deceased mother... the rest were of her and me, or her and me and Asher) and her favorite snow globes she’d managed to keep from breaking in all of her moves. I checked her bathroom, but there was blood on the floor, so I didn’t go in. Besides, I knew there was nothing in there I couldn’t easily replace with a quick trip to Target.
I glanced around, wonderingwhat else I should nab. Dylan wasn’t attached to the bedding we both referred to as the “grandma threw up flowers” comforter and scratchy sheets, so I left those behind. From here on out, she’d be sleeping on thousand-thread-count Egyptian sheets and down duvets. I’d already found a duvet cover I knew she’d love.
She didn’t own a television, but she did have a customized laptop for gaming thatshe kept hidden under her bed. Yes, my bestie was a closet geek. Shaking my head at the habit I could never understand, I searched for the laptop, but it wasn’t there.
Irritated that either cops or robbers must have gotten to the computer first, I closed the suitcase, set it behind the kitchen island with the other one, and began to go through her cabinets. That’s when all hell broke loose.
It started with voices in the hallway. Fearing that the cops had returned—and still uncertain about the legality of what I was doing—I hunkered down behind the island.
