“Save me that last slice of pizza,” Jackson called out. “I’ll grab another case of paper from the back.”
“He’s coming! Get under the shelf!” I yanked Vero to the floor. We got down on our bellies and shimmied under the bottom rack just as the door swung open. I held my breath as the overhead lights turned on. My body was pressed up against something long and solid. It crackled when I pushed against it, like crinkling plastic, and I forced myself to hold perfectly still.
Jackson’s sneakers strode toward us, pausing close enough for me to count the stitches holding them to their soles. I gripped my box cutter tighter. There was a rustling sound as he rooted through a box. I didn’t start breathing again until he turned and walked away.
Vero’s handcuffs clanked as she sagged with relief. She wrinkled her nose. “Yuck!” she whispered. “It reeks under here.”
I took a cautious sniff, my throat and eyes beginning to burn from the pungent odor. “Something on the shelf must have spilled.” I lifted my head, craning my neck to look around us to make sure we weren’t lying in a puddle of toxic chemicals. All I could see was the large plastic roll beside me. It looked like a giant burrito with grommets at the top.
My breath caught in my throat.
“What is it?” Vero whispered.
I swallowed. “I’m pretty sure it’s a shower curtain.”
Vero stopped breathing, too.
We slithered out from under the shelf like our asses were on fire. Vero shimmied furiously, her legs and torso struggling for traction. I urged her to move faster, ready to grab her and make a run for Officer Oates’s car. Suddenly, she went still. I froze, still gripping my box cutter, my hands and knees pressed against the concrete floor beside her. My eyes climbed Jackson’s high-tops, then his long legs. His russet hair was wild and his eyes sparkedwith rage. He wielded a fire extinguisher over his head like a bludgeon.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He was the fiery, angry spitting image of his cousin.
Vero lifted her chin to look down her nose at him. “We’re looking for a murdering thief. Maybe you know him.”
Jackson stared at her, as if he wasn’t sure what to do next.
“Don’t play dumb with me,” Vero warned him. “I know you took the money from my room. You and your cousin stole the backpack from my closet, and you were going to let me go to jail for it. Well, I’ve got news for you, jackass. I’ve got a tracking bracelet on my ankle, and you should be crapping in your pants right now because my monitoring officer is probably on her way here.” I glanced down at her ankle, wishing it wasn’t a bluff, but the flickering light had died after her tumble into the pool and it hadn’t come back to life since. “My police escort is going to see all that money you’ve been printing, and she’s going to find what you’re hiding under that shelf! I don’t know what kind of nasty crap you’re using to cover the smell, but it reeks, by the way. You and your criminal friends are all going to prison,” she warned him.
Jackson’s jaw tensed.
Vero looked confused. “Why aren’t you freaking out and trying to kill us?”
“Now might not be the best time to offer ideas,” I pointed out. I really, really didn’t want to have to stab anyone.
Vero’s cuffs clinked as she twisted herself to look at me. “I just told this bonehead the police are on their way here. He should be panicking, Finlay. Tell him he should be calling his friends. He should be screaming for them to run for their lives! They should probably hit the road before the cops get here. Right, Finn?”
Jackson kicked the box cutter from my hand. He kept his eyespinned on us as he called out to his friends. “Hey, guys! We have a problem. You need to get in here. Now!”
Ben was first through the swinging door. His shirtsleeves were rolled to his elbows, and there was a half-eaten slice of pizza in his hand. His curious expression crumbled when he spotted Vero and me on our bellies on the floor. “I told you to stay the hell away from me,” he said through his teeth.
“You also told me you didn’t know where Theo was, but I’m betting you do,” Vero clapped back.
Ben glanced at Jackson.
“We know everything,” Vero said. “We know you and Mia were fighting because you wanted to hide the poker money at your frat house but Mia didn’t want to give it to you because she didn’t trust your friends.”
Jackson’s gaze shot to Bennett. Bennett looked away.
“And we know Ava was the one who stole the money, not me.”
Jackson’s attention snapped back to Vero. “That’s bold coming from you. If you’re going to talk shit about my cousin, you’d better have come here with proof!”
Vero jutted her chin toward the boxes we’d opened. “We found all the proof we need, right here in your shop. We know Ava wasn’t the only thief involved. She had an accomplice. Ava took the backpack full of cash from my closet so the cops wouldn’t find it, but then she tossed it out my window—toyou! And you were all too happy to help her get rid of it, weren’t you?”
“She’s lying!” Jackson said, gripping the fire extinguisher. “There’s no way she has any proof!”
“Don’t interrupt! I’m not finished,” Vero snapped.
Ben’s head tipped thoughtfully. His tie was loose and a spot of pizza grease stained his button-down, but his eyes were shrewd, his demeanor sagacious. “Go on,” he said in a cool,measured voice. This wasn’t Bennett the Frat Boy, I realized; this was Bennett the Businessman. The PR rep. The expert in damage control, assessing the extent of the fire he would now have to put out. My fingers itched for a weapon, but the box cutter was out of reach.
