Marked (6 page)

Then I flipped to the next page where I'd copied another triangle. I stared at that too.

I jumped on my bike and raced back to the most recent crime scene.

I stared at the last triangle I had copied down and counted the houses on the street. My mouth was hanging open. What were the chances? I thought.

Then I saw someone come out of the house. It was the woman who had accused me of being involved in the break-in. I got on my bike and got out of there, fast. I headed back to the park where I'd had lunch so that I could think.

I sat on the same bench and flipped through my sketchbook. I looked at all three triangles.

“Hey,” someone said behind me.

I turned. It was Alyssa. She had only two dogs with her now—Buster and Cody, the German shepherd.

“Hey,” I said.

“I thought you said you were going back to work.”

“I thought you said you were taking the dogs home.”

“I am,” she said. “I have one to go.” She looked down at my sketchbook. Her smile faded. “What are you doing?” she said.

I had been sitting there wondering who to tell. The cops? Would they believe me or would they think I'd been involved? Ray? What would he think? I knew my mom would listen to me. She would believe me. But what about a regular person? What would a regular person think?

“You know the areas where I've been working?” I said. “There's been a bunch of break-ins—at the house where the people were on vacation, at the house of an old lady who's practically deaf, and at a third house that has security company stickers but doesn't really have an alarm system.” I had been thinking about it and thinking about it. “I think that whoever broke into those houses knew what they were doing.”

“What do you mean?” Alyssa said.

“I think they knew that family was away. And that the old lady was deaf—if she hadn't
got up to get a glass of water, she would never have been hurt—”

“What are you saying, Colin?”

“I think someone marked those houses,” I said.

“Marked them?”

“Maybe someone who knows the people who live around there left marks to tip off the thieves.”

She shrugged out of her backpack and sank down onto the bench beside me. “What are you talking about?”

I flipped to the first triangle and showed it to her. She frowned.

“This was on a utility pole near the first house that was robbed,” I said. “It was right in front of number one-zero-five.”

She was still staring at the triangle. I could tell she didn't get it.

“And one-zero-five is on the south side of the street,” I said. “The house that was robbed was on the north side of the street, exactly nine houses east of where this triangle was.”

She still didn't get it.

“It's a code,” I said. “
N
for the north side of the street,
E
for the house being east of where the triangle was, nine for the number of houses away.” I flipped to the next triangle and explained that one to her. Then the next one. “You get it?” I said. “Whoever painted these triangles onto those poles was tipping off the thieves.”

She looked serious as she nodded.

“What are you going to do?” she said.

“Go to the cops, I guess,” I said.

It sounded like a good idea until she said, “Are you sure you want to get involved?”

I stared at her.

“Why wouldn't I want to get involved?”

Cody, the German shepherd was nosing around her backpack again. But he was behind Alyssa, so she didn't notice.

“You don't know who the thieves are,” she said. “They break into people's houses. They're probably dangerous.”

I gulped.

“Maybe. But the cops are suspicious of me,” I said. I had already told her about
the cops talking to me after the first two robberies. Now I told her about the woman who had accused me of being involved. “She said I'd overheard what she said about her house having no alarm system,” I said. “The cops took me in for questioning. If there's another robbery, and I just happen to be there, they're going to arrest me. I just know it.”

Cody grabbed one of the straps of her backpack and started shaking it.

“Hey!” I said.

She turned to see what was going on. The German shepherd must have thought there were treats in the backpack, because he was shaking it hard. The pack opened up and stuff went flying out—her wallet, a hairbrush, a small ball, probably for playing with Buster. A spray can.

Alyssa and I stood up at the exact same time.

We bent down at the same time.

We both reached for the spray can.

I picked it up.

I stared at it.

It was a can of neon orange spray paint.

I looked at it, and then I looked at her.

She spent a lot of time in the neighborhood where the robberies were happening.

She talked to a lot of people in the neighborhood. I bet she noticed things too.

“You knew that house didn't have a real security system,” I said. “You knew because I told you.”

She picked up her backpack and put her wallet, her hairbrush and the ball into it. Then she reached for the can of spray paint.

“It's you,” I said. “You've been leaving those codes, haven't you? You're a thief.” She used to walk dogs over in Hillmount too. The graffiti had stopped there—no wonder. She was here now. I wondered how many robberies there had been in Hillmount.

I stared at her. She was so pretty, and she seemed nice. She didn't look at all like a thief.

She was calm. She took the spray can from my hand, tucked it into her backpack and pulled the drawstring to close her pack.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she said.

“Yes, you do. But I don't get it,” I said. “You have a job with that vet. You walk all those dogs. Why are you stealing?”

Her eyes flashed. Boy, did she look mad.

“I'm not,” she said.

“Right. Let's see what the cops say.”

“I'm
not
stealing,” she said.

“You're telling them which houses to break into. It's the same thing.”

“No, it isn't,” she said. “It isn't the same thing at all.”

I couldn't believe it. She had just as good as admitted that she was involved. Maybe she wasn't breaking into those houses, but she was working with the thieves. She was telling them where to go.

I backed away from her.

“I'm going to the cops,” I said. “You
can come with me or not, it's your choice. But I'm going to tell them what's going on.”

She snapped her fingers.

The German shepherd went still. His ears stood straight up. His tail didn't move. He growled at me. She had told me that Cody was a guard dog. Was he also an attack dog?

“If you go to the cops, I'll tell them you were in on it with me,” she said.

“You know that's not true.”

“I know it now,” she said. “But you said it yourself. The cops already suspect you. That woman knows you overheard her. I'll tell the cops you told me what you heard. And you're always there, first thing, getting rid of the marks, getting rid of the evidence. If that doesn't make it look like you're involved, I don't know what does.”

I couldn't believe what was happening. She could make big trouble for me. I reminded myself—
again
—that I hadn't done anything wrong.

I turned to leave.

I heard her fingers snap again. Cody growled at me. Then he lunged in front of me, blocking my way.

“I don't want to mess you up,” she said. “But I'm not kidding. If you go to the cops, I'll make sure you end up in trouble too. That's a promise.”

I turned slowly.

“Why are you doing this?” I said.

She bit her lip. Finally she said, “It's my brother.”

“Your brother is a thief?” I said.

Her eyes flashed again. I think she wanted to punch me, even though she was a girl and I was a lot bigger than her.

“My brother made a mistake, that's all,” she said. “He did something stupid—he trusted the wrong person. Now he's in prison.”

“I thought he was in the hospital.”

“He's in a prison hospital,” she said, her voice bitter. “My brother isn't tough. He
isn't bad. He's gentle. He wanted to be a social worker, only now he's in prison. It's awful in there, especially if you're like my brother. There are guys in there that bully you. They won't leave you alone unless you pay them—and my brother doesn't have any money.”

“Is that what this is all about?” I said. “You're stealing stuff so that your brother won't get bullied?”

“
I'm
not stealing anything,” she said again.

“But you're helping them.”

“I wanted to stop. I told my brother I wasn't going to do it anymore. That's when they beat him up.”

Oh.

“Is that why he's in the hospital?”

She nodded. “If I go to the cops, they'll hurt him.”

“If you go to the cops and tell them what's going on, they'll protect him.”

She was shaking her head before I finished talking.

“They'll blame my brother. They'll say he's the one behind it.”

“But you just said—”

“You don't get it,” she said. “He's the one who told me what to do.”

“Your brother?”

“I only ever spoke to him. He told me what they wanted me to do. He said if I went to the cops, they would say he was calling the shots. He'll never get out of prison.”

“So you find places and you leave those marks to tell them which house.”

She nodded.

“But there are so many streets,” I said. “What do they do, drive around the neighborhood looking for marks?”

“I leave a sign somewhere else, to tell them which street,” she said.

“Where?”

“There's this box,” she said. She didn't need to say any more. I knew which box she was talking about—the utility control box. “I leave a sign there, and the next day I leave another one on whatever street it is, to tell them which house. I do a lot of other tags too, you know, so it looks like there are a lot of kids tagging.”

“And I'm always there first thing after the robbery, cleaning up the evidence,” I said.

“I call this graffiti hotline,” she said.

“Yeah, well, lucky for them that your marks are always first on my job list,” I said.

She gave me a look. “You think
that's
a coincidence?”

What did she mean by that?

Oh.

“If they even suspect I talked to the cops, they'll say my brother is the ringleader,” she said. “And he won't give anyone up—no way. They'd kill him. There's no way out.”

I didn't know what to say. But I did know that what she was doing was wrong.

I took a step backward.

The German shepherd growled at me.

I looked at Alyssa. was she going to snap her fingers? Or did she have a different signal to get Cody to attack?

She raised her hand.

What would happen if I ran?

I looked at the big German shepherd. Then I turned to Alyssa.

“It's all a mistake,” she said. “My brother never should have gotten arrested. He was just helping a guy he knew move some stuff. It turned out that the stuff was stolen. My brother didn't know. Then the guy—his so-called friend—blamed my brother when he got caught, so he told the cops my
brother was in on it. Then, once he was in prison, some other guys started giving him a hard time. I don't want anything bad to happen to him. I want him to get out in one piece.”

I believed her. If I had a brother and he was in a jam like that, I'd want to help him. But that didn't make what she was doing right.

“You said it yourself, Alyssa,” I said. “These guys are dangerous. They break into people's houses. They beat up your brother. You have to go to the cops.”

She shook her head. “No way.”

I glanced at Cody again. He still looked like he was ready to attack me. My mind raced. How was I going to get out of this?

Two little kids ran past us on their way to the swings and slides. Two more little kids chased after them. C couple of women pushing strollers followed them. Alyssa looked at them. She called Buster, picked up his leash, and then she stood there for a moment, both leashes in her hand.

“I meant what I said, Colin,” she said. “If you tell, you'll be sorry. He's my brother. What choice do I have?”

She turned and walked out of the park.

I didn't know what to do. What if Alyssa told the guys she was helping that I had figured out what they were doing? What if they came looking for me? What if they beat
me
up?

I thought of telling my mom what had happened, but she would just make me go to the police and tell them about Alyssa. what if Alyssa carried out her threat? What if she told them that I was in on it?

Then I had another idea.

Dave Marsh was surprised when I turned up at his office.

“How's the job going, Colin?” he said. “Is everything okay?”

“Not exactly,” I said.

I took a deep breath and told him all about the markings on the utility control box and the utility poles. I showed him
my sketchbook. I told him about the graffiti hotline and how the first jobs on my work sheet were always the places that had the special markings on them. I didn't tell him Alyssa's name. Not at first. But I did tell him that the person who was marking the houses had been forced into it and that the person was scared.

Dave Marsh leaned back in his chair. His face was more serious than I had ever seen it. I couldn't tell whether he believed me or not. Finally he said, “You want to help this person, is that it, Colin?”