Take the Fall(78)

“Can I help you?” The guy with the shaved head eyes us from behind the counter. He’s a lot older than I’d guessed from across the lot.

“I wanted to ask someone about my car,” Marcus says.

“The Caddy out there?” The man creaks out of his chair and gestures with interest through the window. “That there’s a classic. Had one when I was about your age.”

“Yeah . . . a friend of mine said to come here and ask for Alex?”

The man’s face falls. He looks at me, then retreats behind the desk and cracks open a door. “Alex! Customer of yours!” He settles back onto his stool and frowns. “He don’t handle any of his ‘business’ in here. He’ll meet you outside.”

Marcus and I exchange a glance. But maybe it’s best if they think we’re looking to score drugs. Back on the lot, the air is thinner, cleaner. I step toward the Rottie lying in the sun and she rolls over for a belly rub. I opt to scratch behind her ears and her nubby tail wags until we’re joined by a glowering guy in coveralls. I recognize him immediately from his mug shot, though his tan has faded to a pasty white and his hair is longer than I remember. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing a tattoo of a devil on one forearm and an angel on the other. His eyes are intense. Gretchen probably fell for him at first sight.

“Something wrong with your car?” he asks.

Marcus straightens and clears his throat. “Actually, I was hoping we could just ask you some questions.”

The guy stops. “Shit. Seriously?” His voice is gruff, eyes shifting from Marcus over to me. “Look, my uncle told the press—”

“We’re not reporters,” I say quickly.

“Then what the f*ck do you want?”

Marcus steps closer to me. “We’re friends of Gretchen Meyer’s—”

“I’ve got nothing to say.” He sneers, kicking an old hubcap on his way back toward the shop.

Marcus starts after him, but I call out. “Wait, Alex!”

He turns and glares at me.

“Gretchen was my best friend . . . but she never told me about you.”

He snorts.

“She never could resist a guy she was attracted to.” I force myself to smile. “She must’ve had it bad to want to sneak around like that.”

Alex’s shoulders relax a little. He looks back at the shop.

“Bet she came on pretty strong,” I say. “And if I never heard about it, it must’ve been fast.”

He scratches his head. “Look, we only hooked up a few times before—” He catches himself, narrowing his eyes at me. “Who did you say you were?”

“What, you don’t recognize her when she’s not running away in the dark?”

“Marcus.”

Alex’s eyes widen and I know we’ve screwed up. “You’re that kid they think killed her.”

Marcus’s face darkens. “Pretty sure that honor goes to you.”

“You come here to pin your shit on me?”

I jump in, trying to salvage what I can from this. “What were you doing in her room that night?”

“None of your damn business.” He turns back to the shop and I call out.

“Alex, was she threatening you?”

He stops.

I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “I’m just saying, I know Gretchen wasn’t always as sweet as she looked. If she had something on you—”

“I thought you said she never mentioned me.” He comes close, looks me up and down. His breath smells like chew. “You know something about it?”

“I . . . I might.” I hold his gaze, trying to maintain my bluff.

He spits at my feet. “Then maybe someone should push your sweet little ass in those falls.”

I gasp.

Marcus shoves him. “Get away from her!”

They both go stumbling toward a car missing wheels and a hood. The Rottie gets up and starts barking. Marcus’s hands are on Alex’s arm, but the mechanic yanks out of his grip. He swings at Marcus and misses. I fumble for my pepper spray, but before I can get it out of my pocket, Alex lands a punch squarely in Marcus’s gut. The old man sticks his head out of the auto shop door.

“I’ll call the cops on all of you,” he hollers.

“Good,” Alex says. “Tell them I’m being harassed.”

Marcus groans, but manages to stay on his feet. I grab his arm.

“Come on, we have to go.”

He growls. “He threatened you.”

“And you recorded it,” I whisper. “Now let’s get out of here.”





THIRTY-SIX


“YOU SURE YOU’RE OKAY?”

Marcus shuts off the engine in front of his house, touches his side, and winces. “Aside from that being the second time I’ve been punched in front of you, yeah.”

I search the planes of his face, but the bruise Kip gave him has completely healed. “You’re getting better at it,” I say, trying to lighten his mood.

He hits the steering wheel and I jump. “I’m sorry. I f*cked up. He pissed me off . . . and when he threatened you, I just freaked.”

“It’s okay.” I bite my lip. “He wouldn’t have told us anything either way.”