2 Sisters Detective Agency(17)

The publicists snapped to attention, turning away.

“Ashton, if this guy knows who we are, we’re in deep shit,” Sean said. “I can’t believe you could let this happen. Did you disable your phone?”

“Yeah,” Ashton said. “It’s dead.”

“How long after he took you did you disable it? Could he have gotten all your contacts? Your videos?”

Ashton didn’t answer.

“The guy doesn’t know who we are,” Vera said. Her voice sliced through the growing tension like a knife through butter. She hung an arm over the back of Ashton’s chair—let them see she thought it was no big deal. “He knows who Ashton is.”

The crew considered this.

“He grabbed you outside the Playhouse, right? You said he was waiting for you there,” Vera said.

“Yeah.” Ashton nodded.

“So he’s been watching you onstage,” Vera reasoned. “He sounds like some creep kiddy fiddler looking for a fresh young boy to play around with. He probably came snooping around a few months back, saw you doing the Romeo soliloquy or whatever the hell, and got a boner, thought he’d wait for you after class. Give you what children deserve.”

“That makes sense,” Benzo said.

“I don’t know,” Ashton said. “I feel like it was connected to the game. Like someone figured it out.”

“That’s because you’ve been thinking we’ll be found out since we started the Midnight Crew.” Vera shook her head. “You feel guilty and you want to get caught. Funny, you weren’t feeling so guilty when we hit your drunk uncle’s house to teach him a lesson about smacking your aunt around. I seem to remember you enjoying that one very much. You were guilt-free.”

Vera’s coffee came. Penny shut the menu in disgust and flung it on the floor. The waitress darted back and scooped it up.

“Completely pedestrian,” she snapped at the waitress. “Ginger granola? Who designed this menu? Are you serious? Is Raoul back there?”

“Raoul’s off today,” the waitress said. “Our resident chef this morning is—”

“Let’s go.” Penny stood. “We might as well go to Burger King at this rate.”

“Please don’t go.” The waitress fluttered about the table. “Take a moment to decide what you’d like, and I’m sure we can accommodate your preferences.”

Penny smiled as the waitress scrambled away. Penny had been a waitress for a week once. Her mother had wanted her to experience a “real job” as punishment for Penny ramming her birthday Mercedes into a tree because she’d wanted a Jaguar instead. Penny had hated waitresses ever since.

“This guy, whoever he is, he isn’t the threat,” Vera said. “Ashton is. It’s what Ash did that could get us all killed.”





Chapter 20



“What are you talking about?” Benzo leaned in.

“Ashton blabbed to a private investigator that he was abducted. He went crying to some—”

“I took it back,” Ashton blurted. “I told them I was lying. They’re not gonna—”

“Never interrupt me,” Vera snapped. She felt the gaze of nearby diners on her. “Never. Ever. Interrupt me.”

The crew turned to Ashton. He hunkered down, sulking.

“What did you say to these people?” Penny asked.

“I didn’t tell them about the Midnight Crew,” Ashton said.

“You better not have,” Benzo snarled, his nostrils flaring.

“It was stupid,” Vera said. “I’m not even sure ‘stupid’ cuts it. It was moronic. It was dangerous.”

“I made like it was a prank. It’s not going to go any further.”

“Do you understand?” Vera said. “If the cops find out about what we’ve been doing with the Midnight Crew game, we’re all doing time. People like that hate rich kids from the hills. They’ll make a circus of the whole thing. They’ll put us in jail. Real jail. With actual criminals. How long do you think you’d survive in prison, Ash?”

“I know I’d be fine.” Benzo flexed his pecs.

“Whoever the guy who grabbed you was, he wasn’t one of our victims,” Vera continued. “We’ve never hit anyone who wasn’t a coward or a loser, and we’ve never really done anything bad enough to make people want to find us. We give them a scare, that’s all. Make them realize the kind of pathetic, mindless, blessed lives they’re living. We do them a favor. Because we’re nice people.”

Sean snickered. He was watching the waitress pour his water. A drip splashed on the tablecloth. He leaned over to Benzo and murmured, “If my entire working life revolved around serving people and I couldn’t figure out how to pour a fucking glass of water properly, I’d hurl myself out a window.”

Benzo gave a heavy chuckle.

Sean continued watching the waitress for a moment, calculating, measuring. “Can I make you a deal?” he asked her eventually.

“Excuse me, sir?” The waitress looked around the table as if for help.

“What’s your name, honey?” Sean asked.

“Janice.”

“Janice, I want to get you out of here,” he said.