The Cheerleaders(52)

She sounds so sure of herself, but my stomach is a pressure cooker of anxiety. And not just because the idea about putting in a fake 911 call about an intruder in Mike’s yard nauseates me.

We’ve gone over the plan dozens of times this week, and I haven’t been able to tell Ginny about the part of the plan that’s really worrying me.

Panda nudges Ginny’s arm. Ginny stands up and heads to the counter, where a bag of Friskies treats is waiting. Panda leaps onto the counter, beating Ginny to it.

While her back is turned, I take a deep breath. “I’m really nervous about something. Mike might get suspicious if I say I’m just there to say hi.”

Ginny’s turns to me, her forehead creased. “But that’s why you’re bringing him dinner.”

“I know. But what if he’s not on his computer? I need to get him onto the database Daphne was talking about. That eliminates the problem of him potentially not being logged in.”

A sigh flutters through Ginny’s lips. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

My heart climbs into my throat as Ginny feeds Panda a treat. Just say it.

I swallow. “What if I told him you needed help finding your dad?”

“My dad?” Ginny goes quiet, the bag of treats in her hand. “I know where my dad is.”

And this is why I knew I shouldn’t have brought it up. The look on her face right now—I’ve never felt like a bigger piece of shit. “I’m sorry. I thought you said he left and you haven’t spoken to him.”

“He did. And I haven’t.” She’s retreating into herself, a far-off look in her eyes.

“Look, forget it,” I say. “I can come up with another excuse—”

“No,” she says. She looks up at me, as if she’s snapped out of a trance. “It’s fine. You can ask him about my dad. It’s not like Mike will know the difference.”

She gives me a smile, as if to say, Really, it’s fine, but when she turns around, I see it dissolve from her face.



* * *



—

By ten after seven, Ginny and I are in the 7-Eleven parking lot across from the police station, twenty feet away from the pay phone Ginny will use when I give her the go-ahead. There’s a hefty McDonald’s bag on my lap, warming my thighs.

“This could all go to shit very quickly,” I say.

“It might.” Ginny cracks her fingers at each joint, then absentmindedly slips her thumbnail in her mouth. I swat her hand away.

“Sorry,” I say. “But you have really nice fingers. You should let your nails grow.”

Ginny stretches her fingers out in front of her and gives them a wiggle like she’s never seen them before. “?‘Really nice fingers’?”

“Okay. That was a little creepy.”

Ginny breaks into a grin. There’s a tiny chip in one of her eyeteeth that I never noticed before. “A lot creepy. Who says that?”

I smile in spite of myself, and then we’re both laughing, and then a big guy steps out of the 7-Eleven, yelling at the woman trailing behind him. Ginny and I fall silent and I remember why we’re here, what we came here to do, and I suddenly want to puke.

“Hey,” she says softly. “You don’t have to do this.”

“It’s the only idea I have left.”

Ginny nods. “If you change your mind—or if something starts to go wrong—text me a code word or something.”

“Like a safe word?”

Ginny’s upper lip quivers with laughter. “Yes. Sort of.”

I laugh, because I don’t know what else to do, and it feels good. “What should it be?”

We kick around a bunch of phrases straight out of an erotica novel before remembering how serious this is and settle on stop.

My fingers tremble around the seat belt buckle. As I reach for the door handle, Ginny says my name.

“You’ve got this,” she says. “I have faith in you.”

At least someone does. I give her a nod and head through the double doors into the police station.

I’ve never seen the older woman behind the front desk before, but she knows who I am. “Officer Carlino’s gone for the night, hon. PBA dinner.”

“Oh, I know. I wanted to say hi to Uncle Mike.” I have never once called Mike “uncle.” But this woman doesn’t know that. I hold up the McDonald’s bag and flash an innocent smile. “I brought him dinner.”

“How sweet of you,” the woman says. “I think he was just about to take his break. You know where his office is?”

“Down the hall and to the left.” I smile at the woman again and she grins back, nodding for me to walk on back.

This is going to blow up in my face.

I drop my shoulders, trying to look relaxed and not like I’m about to commit a felony as I push open the counter gate and make my way down the hall. In one of the cubicles in the larger squad room off the main entrance, the officer from the assembly—Officer DiBiase—is drinking a Big Gulp and clicking around her computer. She doesn’t notice me.

Shit, shit. I should have known Mike wouldn’t be the only officer on duty tonight. I slink past the main squad room down the hall, texting Ginny: The woman is here too!