“No. I wouldn’t—I’d never—This wasformy sister. So we could keep the apartment until I got a new job.”
“Why is she with you?” I ask. “Why are you her guardian?”
His eyes bug. “She’s my sister.”
“It’s the money, isn’t it? The money her dad sends.”
He stares at me. Then very slowly, he sighs and drops his head to his hands. After a moment, he raises it.
“There is no money,” he says, quietly. “After Mom died, I got in touch with Gina’s dad, hoping he might help out. He told me to fuck off. Said Gina probably wasn’t his anyway, and... And he said a lot more. Nothing I was ever going to tell Gina.”
“So you lied.”
He nods. “I made up a story about why he couldn’t come and said he was sending money. My job at the sandwich shop was part time, minimum wage, but a few of us had a little side hustle selling weed. When the shop closed, I lost both jobs. I got in debt just paying rent on the apartment. The guy who supplied the weed gave me this job and told me to pretend I got mugged and someone stole the stuff. Then he’d buy it at half price. He said because I was a first-timer, they’d buy my story.”
“They didn’t, and you blamed Gina.”
His mouth opens. Then his face falls, gaze dropping. “Yes,” hesays with a shudder. “I panicked. I said I had a little sister. I didn’t actually say she stole it. I said maybe she found it and hid it to teach me a lesson. I said I’d fix things—I’d confront her and get it back. The guy said he could do that himself, and I realized what he meant and started to say I lied—that I had the dope—but it was too late.”
I say nothing.
He continues. “I panicked. That’s no excuse, but it’s all I have. It was the first thing I thought of. I’d tell them that, now that I think about it, maybe no one stole it and my sister hid it. Then I’d give them back their stuff and it’d be fine.”
He meets my gaze. “Help me fix this. Please. I don’t care if she knows what I did and hates me for it. Just help me fix it.”
It’s not yet dawn, and we’re outside the sandwich shop where Justin stashed the drugs. Following his instructions, we’ve contacted the dealer to let him know where to find his product. The most complicated part of this operation so far? Finding a pay phone to make that call. But it’s done, and now we’re safely in a coffee shop watching the building.
We want to be sure the guy gets his product, but I don’t know how much good that will do. It’s a drug dealer—it isn’t like we can produce video evidence of him retrieving his goods, demand he leave Gina alone, and expect him to follow through on the deal. We can only trust that once he has his stuff, he’ll have no reason to bother her. We also contacted Sean to help navigate her through the system and get help.
As for Gina herself, she isn’t sleeping. Can’t say I blame her. She’s been texting for updates. I told her what we’re doing, and she’s been silent ever since. I could hope that means she’s gone tosleep, but I think she’s just waiting for my next message—the one to say it’s done.
Justin has been accessing the shop through the delivery door, which he still had a key for. We can see that from our spot, along with the front door. When someone finally shows up, it’s the guy I stabbed last night. He’s with a bigger guy, who stands watch. The wounded one doesn’t bother with the delivery door. He jimmies the front one and slips inside.
“Please find the stuff,” I whisper, as I clutch my now-cold hot chocolate. “Please find it.”
“He will,” Derek says.
Sure enough, the door reopens and the guy walks out with a duffel bag.
“Okay,” I say. “We’ll let him get out of sight and then—”
A police car appears from nowhere, sirens flicking to life. The two guys turn to run, but two foot officers are already closing in from both sides. The bigger guy reaches under his jacket. He doesn’t get a chance to pull out a gun. The officers are on him, their own weapons drawn.
That’s when I see Gina. She’s standing on the corner, arms crossed as she watches the arrest.
I’m on my feet and flying out the door before Derek can stop me. He catches up, and we continue down the road. Gina doesn’t see us coming. She only sees the police cuffing the guys. When we draw close, I slow, in case she bolts, but she only turns to us and grins.
“You called them?” I say.
She nods. “They shot my brother. I’m not letting them get away with that.”
No wonder she’d been so keen to know what we were doing. I’d considered doing this myself, but we’d decided our primaryconcern had to be Gina, and if the guys escaped the police, she’d be in even more danger.
As she watches the arrest, she glows with triumph. The moment they’re gone, though, she sags.
“It doesn’t help, does it?” she says. “Doesn’t bring him back.”
“No, but it’s still a good thing, making them pay.”
