You'll Be the Death of Me(46)



“I did,” Cal says, folding his arms across his chest. “Charlie told me he found a big stash of Oxy at a party last month, and he’s been selling it ever since. Him and Boney.” Ivy gasps, and Cal finally lets his eyes settle on mine. They’re cool and appraising as he adds, “Along with your cousin. But you already knew that, right?”





CAL


I only half believe what I’m saying until Mateo sags against the wall, rubbing a hand across his jaw. “Yeah,” he says tiredly. “I did.”

“Wait. What?” Ivy asks. Her eyes are so huge, she looks like an anime character. “You’ve been selling drugs?”

“Autumn has,” Mateo says. “And I…haven’t stopped her.”

My frayed nerves, already stretched thin from trying to decipher Charlie’s babbling while these two were getting cozy in the bathroom, snap at his words. “So all this time, while we’ve been trying to figure out what happened to Boney, you knew he was a drug dealer?” I ask. “You saw him lying there with a syringe practically dangling from his arm and thought, Eh, probably not relevant, won’t mention it?”

“I didn’t know Boney was involved,” Mateo insists. “Autumn wouldn’t tell me who she was selling with. She kept saying, The less you know, the better.”

My first instinct is to snipe How convenient, and I force myself to swallow the words because I don’t know where they’re coming from. Do I think Mateo is lying, or am I just angry with him? Both? I need more information before I can decide. “Did you know about Charlie?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even.

    Mateo hesitates. “Not exactly. But I saw the name on Autumn’s phone this morning, and she acted all sketchy, so I wondered if one of the people she was selling with was named Charlie. Then all of a sudden Boney’s dead, and there’s this list with his name circled, and Charlie’s—and mine, which made no sense. So I wanted to talk to Charlie about it.”

I glare at him. “But not to us, huh? Even though we straight-up asked if there was any connection you could think of.”

“Opioids,” Ivy says faintly. “But that’s what—oh God, I never told you, did I?” Mateo furrows his brow, confused, until she adds, “That’s what my mother’s award is about. She was the lead statistician for the governor’s report on opioid abuse.”

Mateo’s shoulders slump even lower. “Shit, I didn’t—I had no idea.”

I fold my arms. “Would it have changed anything if you did?”

He doesn’t reply, and Ivy speaks up again. “Is that why you went into Charlie’s house alone?” she asks, her gaze fixed intently on Mateo. “Because you didn’t want us to know what Autumn’s been doing?”

I almost ask how brave she thinks he is now, but manage to bite it back. It’s a cheap shot, and she’s not the one I’m angry with right now.

Mateo’s face turns a dull red. “Yeah. I should’ve said something, I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight.” He throws Ivy an apologetic, almost pleading look, and the fact that he’s worried about her reaction, when I’m the one who just spent ten minutes trying to coax sense out of Charlie, makes my temper spike even higher.

    “Were you thinking straight while you were selling Oxy?” I snap.

“I wasn’t the one selling,” Mateo says, a hard edge creeping into his voice.

Usually, when Mateo sounds like that, I back down. I’m not a tough guy by any stretch of the imagination. But for the first time all day, I’m not the one who needs to justify himself. It’s Mateo’s turn, and he’s more than earned it.

“Does it matter?” I ask coldly. “You knew. Maybe if you’d bothered to give us a heads-up, we wouldn’t have walked into Charlie’s ransacked drug den like a bunch of clueless—” And then I freeze, all the rage draining out of me as I’m struck by a single, horrifying thought. “Wait a sec. Charlie said he doesn’t keep Oxy at home, so whoever ripped his house apart didn’t find what they were looking for. If they’re working from the list, they probably moved on to your house. Is anyone home?”

“No,” Mateo says quickly. “Autumn’s at work and my mom’s in the Bronx, remember?” He drags a hand through his hair, his expression ragged. “But yeah, my house probably looks like Charlie’s right about now. Autumn doesn’t keep anything there, either—she says they moved the stash from the shed where they found it to some other location—but I guess it doesn’t matter. Whoever’s doing this isn’t asking questions, they’re just…they’re doing whatever the hell they want.” He swallows hard. “Autumn really messed with the wrong people.”

“Yeah, she did. And you let her,” I say, my anger returning now that I know his family is safe. For now, at least. “Oxy’s no joke, Mateo.” I don’t know much about it, to be honest, but ever since Wes learned about a spike at Carlton College, he’s been up late most nights reading about addiction and overdose rates. Sometimes he shares his findings over breakfast, and I can hear his worried voice as clear as a bell as I continue, “People’s lives get ruined. Do you even understand how serious this is?”

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