Jordan sighs and sets her phone aside.
“It’s because of my mother,” she tells me. “That’s why we haven’t told anyone. If my mother found out… she’d be furious. A Chaser? With our family history? Cecelia Miles would cut me off so fast.” Jordan snaps her fingers. “That means no college, no car, no nothing. Which is why I looped Jamie into my life—she’s always liked him. I didn’t know about the two of you, by the way,” she adds. “Not that it matters, considering he’s not really my type.” She flexes her hand in Shawn’s, and they turn to each other.
“This is serious?” I ask, worried for Shawn’s heart. She may be the toughest person I know, but typically, those types are always a bit soft on the inside.
Jordan smiles, rolling her eyes. She shifts the hem of her dress and shows me a small tattoo on her hip. It’s a little boat.
“Well, damn,” I say, knowing that Shawn has a matching one on her wrist.
Although I’m shocked and a little left out. The idea that Shawn has someone isn’t surprising—she’s amazing. Of course that someonehappens to be the princess of the Augustus Resort. I guess it kind of makes sense.
I lean toward Shawn. “By the way,” I say quietly. “I bumped into Alessandro Mancini while at the resort. He’s scary as hell.”
Jordan nods along, although she’s looking at her phone.
“We need to be extra careful,” I say to Shawn, and widen my eyes to let her know I’m not going into details in front of Jordan. They may be dating, but I don’t want any of us to end up accused of a murder we didn’t commit. She nods, understanding.
The bail clerk comes back out, and Shawn jumps up to meet him at the table. They talk for a moment, and then she waves Jordan over to sign some paperwork.
Once it’s done, we grab all the documents and head back to the resort. We drop off Jordan and then make our way to the station so we can bail out Jamie.
When we walk in, the sheriff is already waiting for us at the front desk. He has the nerve to look upset with us, and it’s all I can do to not cuss him out while the other officers listen.
No matter how he spins it, my uncle is involved in a cover-up. He knew Felix. Why would he lie about where his body was found? He owes him more than that—he owes him justice. But as much as I want to confront my uncle, I’m not sure that I should.
I’m not sure if I even trust him anymore.
“Here you go,” Shawn says coldly, sliding the paperwork over the desk.
Sheriff Castillo picks up the receipt to examine it. He takes his time, and then he sets it down and crosses his arms defiantly over his chest. He turns to me, studying my demeanor as I try to keep my composure.
“What the hell are you doing, Noa?” he asks. “First the boat, then the blood, and now… now you got this kid arrested?” He motions toward the back of the building. “Are you trying to ruin his life?”
“Hislife?” I say, casting a look at the officer sitting in the desk behind the sheriff. I lower my voice. “What, like ruin his college prospects? Is that really your biggest concern right now when other people are actually dying?”
My uncle tightens his jaw, and then takes a deep breath. He levels his eyes on mine. “I’m doing my best,” he says in a low voice. “Even if you can’t see every move I make, I asked you to trust me.”
“Well, I don’t anymore,” I tell him, my face stinging with the truth in those words. “And what about the guys who shot at us? Did you find them?”
“Not yet,” he says, lowering his gaze like he’s ashamed. “I know this is confusing, but you’ll understand eventually,” he says. “You will.” He sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself.
“Find out what happened to Felix,” I say quietly. “I don’t know why you lied about where his body was found, why you’re still hiding the Starline. But don’t let Felix slip through the cracks. Youneedto question them. You need to talk to the Collective about—”
“Don’t start with this Collective and Chasers bullshit again,” the sheriff says, slamming his hand on the desk and making me and Shawn jump. “Those labels only exist because you reinforce them. You all need to just stop!”
I have a flash of anger. “You have always done this,” I say. “Ever since you put on the uniform, you try to pretend like the problem doesn’t exist. Gaslight us into believing it never existed. But you know who won’t let us forget? The assholes at the resort. They remind us every day—”
“Oh, enough…” The sheriff starts talking over me until we’re both shouting.
“—and they will keep taking everything because you let them!” I scream.
The sound of it echoes around the precinct. The other officerwatches with eyes wide, as if trying to determine if he should step in.
And suddenly, I understand what happened with Rum Runner Island and the Starline Hotel—how it disappeared in the first place.
Sometimes, it’s just easier to forget.
Whether you’re being gaslit, bribed, threatened—a convenient lie is faster and stronger than fighting the current toward the truth. I don’t know my uncle’s motivations, and I probably never will.
