“You know you could have just had the garage refund my money. You didn’t have to track me down in person.”
“I know.”
“Did you want to yell at me that badly?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
Again, there’s no hesitation. “Yes.”
I’m still in the process of reaching for the last bill. The bird in my chest makes one last attempt at freedom before collapsing into a motionless ball right below my heart.
A door bangs open behind me, and Jeff’s voice fills the nearly empty parking lot. “That’s what you said last time. Come on, Angel. One drink. It’s not that late.” The whiny/pleading tone in his voice cuts off when he sees me. “Brooke? What are you still doing here?”
My gaze shoots to Heath, but his truck hides him from Jeff’s view. Jeff was obsessed with Cal’s murder. He’d know who Heath is immediately. At the thought of his finding me and Heath together, nausea flares then subsides just as quickly. “I had an issue with the trash bags,” I say to Jeff as I gather up the last bill and stand. “But it’s fine. I’m leaving now.”
“Brooke.” Jeff says my name using the same tone you’d use if you were facing someone holding a loaded gun—a mix of fear and accusation. “What’s in your hand?” His gaze moves almost comically to the building then back to me. “Did you—did you steal that money from the register?”
CHAPTER 7
“What?”Incredulity forces the word out harsher than I’ve ever dared with Jeff. “No, I—” I start to say this is my money from my last paycheck, but technically it’s Heath’s.
Jeff’s eyes are so wide that I know he’s already convicted me in his mind. “How much did you take, Brooke?”
He could have slapped me and I wouldn’t have felt more dumbstruck. I glance at the money I’m holding then back at Jeff. “Are you accusing me of stealing and then waiting outside so you could catch me counting it?” I’m trying to inject as much disbelief as possible into my voice, but Jeff’s opinion of my intelligence is apparently as low as it is of my morals, because he doesn’t even blink.
“Jeff.” I wait a few seconds to make sure he’s listening and not lost in some fantasy where he fires me and gets a special commendation from the police department for catching a thief. “You emptied the register. You counted the drawer, I even watched you do it.” I make the mistake of laughing. It’s a single sound, the kind meant to disarm and invite him to reassess, but instead Jeff’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead as if I confessed.
In the back of my mind, a note of panic starts to sound that makes me forget that Jeff and I aren’t alone in the parking lot.
“You left the door open.” My arm shoots out, pointing. “I could see into the office while I was resurfacing the ice. I wasn’t—” I fumble for the right word, but in my increasing agitation I can’t find it. “I have never stolen anything in my life.”
Jeff doesn’t say anything to me, instead directing his response to whomever he has on the phone, eyeing me like I might try to flee. “I’m not going to be able to meet you tonight after all. I’ve got a theft situation with one of my employees that I have to deal with.”
My breath exhales in a high-pitched, disbelieving huff. The real surprise isn’t Jeff accusing me of stealing—an offense he’d finally be able to fire me over—it’s that he hasn’t done something like this before.
He’s unbelievable. I have been an exemplary employee since the day I started working here, and he continues to make me feel like he’s doing me a favor by letting me clean toilets and take out the trash. He’s not. It’s a job I do because after all Jason’s legal bills, I can’t afford to pay for ice time without it, and I do it despite him treating me like the only difference between me and my incarcerated brother is time.
I think even my parents would understand me losing my temper in this situation, but I don’t. It wouldn’t do any good. If he wants to have a power trip in order to show off for whomever he’s got on his phone, me yelling will only make it worse.
“I didn’t take anything and I’d like to go home now.”
His entire body goes rigid. “And I’m just supposed to take your word for it because you come from such a law-abiding family?”
I see spots. Blacks and reds bursting in my vision until Jeff and the parking lot are almost entirely gone. “I’m not a thief,” I say, but so quietly I might be the only one who hears.
He starts to pocket his phone then stops, glancing from it to me before puffing out his chest and placing his free hand on his hip. “You have two choices here, Brooke. We can go back inside while I recount what’s in the safe or I can call the police and let them deal with you. I’m guessing they aren’t going to be overly sympathetic once they hear that your last name is Covington. They might just decide to take you in and sort this out at the station.” Jeff makes a show of unlocking the door and opening it wide. “What’s it gonna be?”
It’s no choice at all, and Jeff knows it, but that doesn’t stop him from sighing audibly every few steps as I precede him back inside. The heavy metal door closes behind us and for a moment the darkness is so thick that it seems to sluice down my throat and into my lungs, but then the light comes on and I squint away from the brightness. We have to stop while he unlocks the door to the office.
“This is not how I planned to end my night, Brooke.” But he’s reveling in it. He opens the office door. “Inside. Now.”
I go willingly. There is no money missing. He can posture all he wants. I’ve done nothing wrong.
Knowing that and proving it to Jeff is easier said than done. He makes me watch as he painstakingly counts every bill from the day, laying them out in neat stacks on the desk. His hands start to shake when he nears the end. When he finishes and looks up to meet my gaze, my expression is stone-faced. Rather than offer me an apology, Jeff gathers up the money and begins to count again, licking his finger between each bill.
“I told you I didn’t take anything.”
He doesn’t even acknowledge I’ve spoken; instead he finishes his second recount and starts a third. It takes twenty minutes for Jeff to accept that I didn’t somehow pilfer the register he himself emptied and counted earlier. I’m convinced the only reason he relents is that he realizes how inept it would make him look if that were true rather than any actual belief in my innocence.
I deserve an apology. What I get is a shift cut.
