Promises I Made (15 page)

“Are you nervous?” Scotty asked as we wound our way up the peninsula later that night, following the directions Selena had texted me.

“Kind of,” I said. “But only because I want to know about Parker.” I looked out the window, the ocean stretching to infinity under the sun, setting in soft shades of orange and pink. “It feels like forever since I've seen him.”

“You love him,” Scotty said. “And he must love you very much, too. Otherwise he'd be cooperating with the DA. Maybe that's the good thing.”

I glanced over at him. “What good thing?”

He slowed down and pulled into a turnout at the side of the road. “I don't know . . . I always feel like something good comes out of everything, even the shitty stuff. Maybe it's because I believe in some kind of underlying order to chaos.
Either that or I'm just naive. But maybe you and Parker finding each other is the one good thing that came from your time with Cormac and Renee.” He turned off the car and reached for his door. “Let's take a look before Selena gets here.”

We ducked under a cut piece of chain-link fence. It was just like the one Parker and I had used to access another stretch of cliff one misty November morning when we'd finally reached a truce about the Fairchild job. Parker had wanted me to leave with him, to bail on Cormac and Renee and start over somewhere. But I had refused, using the fact that we were family as an excuse to stay together even while we lied and stole from good people, even while we were coming undone at the seams. Now Parker was in prison, and I wished I could go back to that day. Wished I could change my mind, agree to leave with him then and there. If I had, Logan's dad would still be okay, and Parker would be free.

I sometimes forgot that Scotty had been a cop, but I saw it in him as we stepped over the dry brush leading to the edge of the cliff. His eyes were watchful, and there was a practiced caution to his steps, like he was prepared for someone to jump out at us but didn't want to scare me by letting me know he expected it.

It took less than five minutes to reach the edge. Far beyond it, the water was calm. There were hardly any whitecaps, but waves still crashed against the base of the cliffs, the solid wall of rock breaking up their momentum, sending them back out to sea. The wind blew hard and fast, forcing
the long grass sideways and sneaking up into my jacket, billowing and snapping with the force of it.

We scanned the overgrown brush for signs of disturbance. When we didn't find any, Scotty stepped closer to the ledge, peering over it, trying to look casual when I knew he was looking for some kind of tactical SWAT team that might be suspended from the cliffs, lying in wait for me. I was almost flattered. As scared as I was of being caught, of being put in jail before I could help Parker, I didn't think I was important enough for the police to deploy cliff-climbing, gun-toting badasses to come after me. Then again, Scotty was the expert.

“Looks good,” he finally said, stepping back from the edge. His face was hard and too still, almost unrecognizable from the Scotty I was used to, the one who cooked and watered plants and chided Marcus for drinking straight out of the orange juice container. “I'm going to double back a bit, park on the road so I can keep an eye on everyone who's coming and going.” He met my eyes. “If anything looks out of line, I'll come running. Otherwise, text me when you're done.”

I could only nod as he gave me a quick squeeze good-bye. I watched him go, his words echoing through my mind:
If anything looks out of line, I'll come running.
It was the complete opposite of Cormac and Renee's strategy, where if you got caught, you were on your own, instructed not to out the family; you were prepared for the fact—not the possibility, the
fact
—that no one was coming to help you. Scotty was willing
to put the spotlight on himself, to risk the anonymity he and Marcus had built, to help me. I wasn't really sure what to do with that.

About five minutes after Scotty left, I heard the sound of dirt crunching behind me. When I turned around, I spotted Selena making her way across the brush. Her long hair was tied back in a ponytail that whipped around her face in the wind, and I recognized the slouchy sweater wrapped tightly around her body as one that had belonged to her mother.

“Hey,” she said when she reached me.

“Hey.”

She gazed at the water below us. “It's windy.”

I nodded.

“Want to sit?” she asked.

I looked around, but she seemed to be alone, and even from a distance, I felt Scotty's presence, a life raft in the tumultuous sea of my life. I sat down and Selena dropped to the ground next to me. She tucked her knees up under the sweater and hugged them to her chest.

“I'm sorry about Logan. If I'd known, I would have warned you.”

“It's not your fault. You gave me a place to stay, and I appreciate that.” I sighed, trying to banish the memory of Logan crying, the sobs that broke free from his throat and the pain in his voice when he asked me if I knew what I'd done to his family. “I just don't get how he was even suspicious.”

Selena looked away. “Logan and I have gotten . . . close
since you left.” I leaned away from her instinctively, my mind reeling, and she hurried to clarify. “Not like that! It's just . . . we were the closest to you. Everyone else—Olivia, Harper, Liam, David, Raj—they were surprised, maybe even a little hurt, but . . .”

She trailed off, and I filled in the blanks. “But not like you and Logan.”

She nodded. “It was hard. No one wanted to talk about it, especially after Logan's dad was checked into Shady Acres. I think they were afraid that it would upset Logan. But he needed to talk about it, and so did I. So we became friends. Really great friends. He was there for me when I was lost, and I like to think I was there for him, too.” She shook her head. “Anyway, we know each other pretty well now. In fact, I'd say he knows me better than anyone ever has, except maybe you.” She gave me a sad smile.

“So he just . . . had a feeling?” I asked.

“He said I was acting weird, hurrying to get home, spacing out at lunch. . . . Then we were in the library studying for the government final, and I had to go to the bathroom. He looked at my computer and saw that I'd been researching visitation procedures for LA County Jail.” She shrugged. “He took a guess. And he apologized for snooping, but I couldn't be mad. We weren't supposed to have secrets. After everything that happened, it was the one rule of our friendship. And I broke it.”

“Because of me,” I said angrily, pulling at the grass under my fingertips, throwing it to the wind.

“Not everything is your fault, Grace,” she said. “I made a choice. And even though Logan was upset, I'd do it again. You needed help. I'm glad I could give it to you, even if it didn't work out.”

“Are you guys okay?” I asked. “Is he still pissed at you?”

She sighed. “Yes and no. He's upset, but I really think it's just leftover hurt. He understands why I would want to help you. Why I still care about you.”

I wasn't prepared for the admission, and I suddenly didn't want it. Selena still cared about me because that was what Cormac and Renee had taught us: to bond with people under false circumstances, to get them to attach to us in ways that would make them loyal when normal people would question and doubt. The fact that Selena had risked her friendship with Logan to help me was just more evidence that I had been too good at my job. I stood up, suddenly angry under the weight of Selena's caring. “Well, you shouldn't.”

“I can't help it, Grace.” She laughed a little. “Believe me, I've tried.”

I looked away. “Because you're a good person.”

“And you're not?” She shook her head. “I'm starting to think it's not that simple.” She stood, brushing grass and dirt off her jeans. “Want to talk about Parker?”

I nodded.

“I have a visit scheduled for Saturday. Is that okay?”

“That's great,” I said. “Was it hard to set up?”

“Not at all. I was able to do it online.”

“Seriously?” I don't know why it surprised me.

She smiled. “Yeah. It was really easy. The only thing is, I had to agree to a video visit to get the Saturday slot. Otherwise it would have taken longer. Apparently there are too many inmates in County Jail and not enough visiting rooms.”

“Wait . . . you mean like Skype?”

She shrugged. “I guess. It just gave me the option to check in-person visit or video visit. I tried in-person first, but the first available date was a month from now. I figured you'd want me to get in there sooner than that.”

“Definitely. Thank you,” I said. “So will you do it from home, or . . . ?”

She shook her head. “There's a place I have to go to where the terminals are set up. But don't worry, I've got it worked out; I'm telling my dad that I'm going to Long Beach to watch Olivia compete in volleyball sectionals. That should cover me for the day.”

“Are you sure you want to do this? I know it's a lot to ask. I'll understand if you're not up for it.”

“It's no big deal. Just a little drive downtown and a few minutes in front of a computer. Now, if they wanted to strip-search me, we might be having a different conversation.”

I couldn't help laughing. “Fair enough.”

“So what should I say?” she asked.

I thought about it. It was a no-brainer that video visits would be monitored, so whatever Selena said had to sound boring, like the same stuff anyone else would talk about
when visiting someone in jail. “You should try to sound casual, natural, like you're just an old friend paying him a visit. Don't use my name; don't say anything about me. You won't have to worry about Parker's end of the conversation; he would never say anything to compromise his trial.”

“Okay, but if I don't use your name, how will he know you're trying to help him?” she asked. “Isn't that the whole point?”

“We just have to think of a way to let him know that no one else will understand.” I searched my memory for the jobs we'd done together, the lies we'd told. “I know—tell him you ran into Bailey, from DC.”

“Bailey?”

I nodded. “She was one of Parker's marks in Baltimore. Her parents joked that she and I looked so much alike that we could have been sisters.”

“And he'll know what I mean?” Selena asked.

“I think so.”

“Okay, then what?”

“Tell him . . .” I paused, trying to think of a way to let Parker know that I was nearby, that I was going to get him out, without giving myself—or Selena—away. “Tell him you ran into Bailey from DC and she said she can't wait to see you, and she hopes it'll be soon.”

“Bailey from DC,” Selena muttered. “She can't wait to see you, hopes it'll be soon.” She looked at me. “I can do that.”

“Great. Thank you so much, Selena. Really.”

“It's no big deal. To be honest, I feel kind of bad that I
haven't thought to visit him before.”

“You feel
bad
?”

“I know,” she said, “it sounds crazy. But I never really thought about why you and Parker might have done it. I mean, I
thought
about it. But it never occurred to me that maybe you didn't want to, that maybe you were being used by Cormac and Renee.” She held up a hand to stop me when I started to say something. “And I know you say it was your choice, and that you have to take responsibility for your part of it. I even agree with those things. But I don't know.” She sighed. “I guess I can see where you might have gotten . . . confused about what to do and how to handle things.”

“Well, just so you know, I'm not nearly as forgiving of myself as you're being,” I said. “And for the record, Parker wanted me to run with him before we took Warren's gold.”

“Why didn't you?”

“I don't know. I feel stupid saying it now, but Cormac and Renee were my mom and dad, the only family I'd known. I guess Parker just saw things more clearly.”

“That's why he's the big brother,” she said.

I laughed a little.

Selena rubbed her arms. “We should go. It's getting dark.”

I looked at the horizon, the sun long gone, leaving a gray-violet haze over the water. “I guess so.”

We started walking back toward the road.

“Do you need a ride somewhere?” she asked when we reached her car.

“Nah, I'm good.”

“Are you sure? Where are you staying?” I bit my lip, and she laughed. “Got it. Can you at least tell me if you're okay? If you have everything that you need?”

“I do,” I said, surprised to find that for the first time in a long time, I meant it.

Now I just needed to get Parker.

I was sitting on a stool in the kitchen a couple of days later, Scotty knuckle deep in the foam on my head, when Marcus emerged from his office.

“Jesus!” he said, pretending I'd scared him. “What happened to your hair?”

“Ha-ha. Very funny,” I said. “My roots were showing. Scotty's helping me touch up the color.”

Marcus nodded, pouring himself a glass of wine. “What color is it? When you're not incognito, that is?”

It had been so long since I'd worn my natural color that I had to think about it. “Dirty-blondish, I guess? Like, dark blond?”

Marcus squinted a little as he studied my face, like he was trying to imagine the hair color on me. “You know what, kid? I think you'd look just as good with any color hair. Not
that I know hair. Or teenage girls.”

His voice had gone a little gruff, and I smiled at the roundabout compliment. When I looked up at Scotty, his hands coated with foam, he was smiling, too.

“Anyway,” Marcus said, clearing his throat. “I have a job for you.”

“For me?”

He nodded. “If you're feeling up to it.”

Scotty took his hands off my head. “Let it sit for a bit and then we'll rinse.”

“Thanks, Scotty.” I turned my attention back to Marcus. “I'm up to it. Is it about Cormac?”

He slid onto one of the stools. “Yep.”

“Did you find a lead?”

“I'm still working on something solid,” he said. “But I used some of the information you gave me about Seattle to narrow the field. Cormac can't use the most reputable fences and ID brokers. They won't touch someone who's as hot as he is right now.” I was still getting my head around the fact that there was such a thing as reputable fences and ID brokers when he continued. “That means he'll have to use the people on the bottom rung. Most of them aren't nice people, but he doesn't have a choice.”

“And that helped you track him?” I asked.

“It helped me narrow the field, assuming he's still in the Seattle area. And I think he is. Moving would be too expensive.”

I grabbed a peach from the basket on the island and bit
into it. “What can I do to help?”

“If Cormac is still in Seattle, I think he's most likely to be in a couple of places: neighborhoods with public transportation, cheap hotels, and close proximity to the bottom rung. Lucky for us, Scotty still has connections with the Seattle PD.”

I stopped chewing. “Did someone spot him?”

“Not yet,” Marcus said. “But I'm hoping you will.”

“I'm confused,” I admitted.

“I called in favors with some of the people I know on the force up north,” Scotty said. “We got some security footage in the areas Marcus is talking about. It's nothing comprehensive. In fact, it's kind of hit and miss—not every store has video surveillance, and not every street has traffic cameras. But it's something, and it's all we've got.”

“You want me to go through the tapes?” I asked. “See if I can spot him?”

“Basically,” Marcus said.

“And they're not all tapes,” Scotty said. “Some of it's digital footage that I can send to your laptop.”

I nodded. “I can do that, but you know Cormac has probably changed his appearance, dyed his hair or something.”

“I don't doubt it,” Marcus said, “although I'm willing to bet the bastard still looks like himself. Vanity is a killer in this business.”

“And anyway,” Scotty broke in, “you're still the best person to spot him. Marcus hasn't seen him up close in years.”

“That makes sense,” I said. After nearly two weeks
sleeping, reading, and stuffing my face with Scotty's cooking, I was suddenly excited to have a job. “When do I start?”

“As soon as you get that stuff out of your hair,” Marcus said. “I'll set everything up in the living room.”