He shrugged. “So what now? Why’d you come back?” He looked around, like he expected someone to be with me. “You think you can convince me to turn myself in? Cut a deal for Parker?” He laughed a little. “You would have had better luck if you hadn’t stolen my money, forced me out of the game with Miranda.”
“I already know you won’t turn yourself in.” I heard the sadness in my voice and wondered how I still had the capacity to be sad about Cormac and Renee. I guess sadness wasn’t some kind of reservoir you could drain dry. It was more like an underground spring, always replenished through some secret source hidden under the surface.
“Then what’s the point? Closure?” he asked.
I shifted on my feet. How long had we been standing here? Had my phone dialed Scotty? Had the call dropped? Was he on his way?
“I came to get you,” I said. It was the truth, but it was lame. I hadn’t been able to do anything on my own. I sure as hell wasn’t going to bring Cormac in.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Grace. But I have things to do. Take care.”
He turned to walk away, and for a few seconds all I could do was watch him go, my former rage impotent and silent. Then something small but persistent started to scream in the recesses of my mind. It rattled the bars of its cage, determined to get my attention.
I ran forward so fast that he didn’t even start to turn around until I was almost on him. When he did, I grabbed his arm and started pulling and screaming. I didn’t know where I was taking him, didn’t even know what I was saying, but I tugged at his arm, trying to drag him back toward the gas station like I could bring him in myself.
He was stronger than I expected. His free hand clamped down painfully on the arm that was holding him. I cried out, but I held on. If I let him go, it was over.
He grunted, prying at my fingers, trying to remove them, but I held fast, digging my short nails into the flesh of his forearm. For a second, I thought I had him. I didn’t know what I would do with him, but it seemed that he couldn’t shake me, and I felt a moment’s triumph right before the back of his free hand connected like a brick to the side of my face.
I fell back onto the pavement and was still trying to register what had happened when he started running. I watched him get smaller, my vision blurry and out of focus.
He’d almost reached the corner when a car came into view at the end of the street. But it wasn’t a police car, and I dropped my head back to the pavement and watched Cormac slow down as the front door of the car opened. Two figures emerged. Someone was coming for Cormac. He had new partners now, and they were coming to help him. I’d never see him again, and I’d probably never see Parker again either. I’d been stupid. Stupid to think I could catch Cormac and stupid to let Renee go. Hope leaked from my body as I struggled to sit up, commanded my brain to obey.
And then someone spoke. No, not spoke. Shouted.
“Stop! Police! Put your hands up!”
Two blurry objects came into view at the end of the block, stopping next to the first car. My vision got fuzzier as the movement on the street increased. And then Scotty’s face was above me, his eyes dark and worried, his hands gentle on my forehead.
“It’s okay, honey. Just hang on. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Forty-One
I shifted in my seat at the front of the courtroom. Scotty and Marcus were next to Detective Castillo in the row behind me, and Logan and his mother were at the back of the room. Detective Fletcher hadn’t come. I guess he was looking for his next piece of steak. Selena wasn’t there, either. She had texted me from the airport, on her way to Nicaragua, after we got back from Seattle.
It didn’t matter. Everyone else was in the periphery. My eyes were on the doors at the side of the room.
“You ready?” a voice whispered.
I turned to face the woman next to me. Her name was Kate Levy, and she had copper-colored hair and kind green eyes. Scotty and Marcus had insisted on hiring her to represent Parker and me. They’d waved me away when I promised to pay them back.
I nodded, trying to swallow the nervousness that seemed to block my airway.
She met my eyes. “Just remember what I said: Keep your answers short and sweet. Don’t volunteer anything. The plea has been arranged, so this is just a formality.” She smiled. “Everything will be fine.”
I wanted to smile at her, but I was starting to feel sick to my stomach. The pessimism that had kept me alive all my life was fighting against my fledgling belief that when you did the right thing, everything would somehow be okay. There would always be tough things, hard things, but there would be good things, too. It was one of Scotty’s many New Agey beliefs that made sense to me, and I’d vowed to do my part from here on out, to do the right thing and let the chips fall where they may. That was one of Marcus’s sayings, but I’d found that Marcus’s peculiar brand of wisdom came in handy just as often as Scotty’s, the two of them a perfect mix of practicality and faith.
I glanced at the table on the opposite side of the courtroom. The plea had been orchestrated by Kate, but I recognized the assistant DA—his name was Brandon Melville—from the news. A woman stood next to him in a crisp pencil skirt and suit, but I had no idea who she was.
Detective Ling had called Detective Castillo as soon as they had Cormac in custody. It had taken over a week—and an official delay in Parker’s trial date—to extradite Cormac to Playa Hermosa. I’d given them a new description of Renee along with my cell phone. Maybe their tech geniuses would be able to do something to track it. I was still confused about my feelings for her, but I couldn’t afford to feel bad. We’d all paid a price for what we did—Logan and his family most of all. It wouldn’t be fair to protect her. I’d been afraid that Scotty and Marcus would be mad that I’d kept my meeting with Renee from them, but Scotty had just draped an arm over my shoulders and squeezed, and Marcus hadn’t said a word. Somehow I think they understood. After that, the details of the plea had been handled by Kate and the DA’s office until they’d reached an agreement that Kate said was fair.
Everyone swiveled as the door opened at the side of the courtroom. A uniformed bailiff stepped through the doorway, and behind him, another bailiff holding on to Parker’s arm.
I stood, forcing myself to remain in place. I hadn’t seen him since the night he’d dropped me off at Logan’s house almost seven months before. The night we’d stolen the Fairchilds’ gold. He was thinner, his body lost in the folds of the suit Kate had sent for him to wear to court. He also looked older, the hard angles of his face accentuated by the short haircut he now wore.
But he was still Parker, and his eyes scanned the courtroom until they found mine. When they did, I couldn’t keep the smile from my face. The corners of his mouth turned up just a little as the bailiffs escorted him to the defendants’ table and the chair next to mine.
“Grace . . .” He breathed my name, like he couldn’t believe it was me. He shook his head. “How did you do it?”
I smiled. “I had help.”
I turned and introduced him to Scotty and Marcus, and I could see that they were sizing Parker up like protective parents, trying to connect the dots, to match all the things I’d told them about Parker with the person who stood in front of them.
“Thank you,” Parker said to them. “For everything you’ve done for Grace. And for me.”
A sharp voice barked from the front of the courtroom before they could respond.
“All rise for the honorable Judge Elizabeth Hancock.”
We faced the front of the courtroom and watched as a woman in a long black robe stepped up to the judge’s seat.
“Please be seated,” Judge Hancock said. “Now calling for the record the case of the people of the State of California versus Parker Dawson, and, concurrently, the people of the State of California versus Grace Abbott. Counsel, please identify yourself for the record.”
“Kate Levy for the defendants Ms. Abbott and Mr. Dawson, Your Honor.”
Judge Hancock turned her eyes on the other table.
“Brandon Melville, representing the County of Los Angeles, Your Honor.” The woman next to him spoke next. “Maude Gillcrest, family court social worker, Your Honor.”
“Thank you,” Judge Hancock said. She looked at Kate Levy. “Has counsel advised the defendants against concurrent proceedings?”
Kate nodded. “I have, Your Honor. However, since a plea agreement has been reached with Mr. Melville’s office, the defendants have opted to stand together.”
Judge Hancock nodded, dropping her gaze to a stack of papers in front of her. She paged through them for a few seconds before speaking again. “I see a plea has been reached in exchange for your cooperation in the apprehension of Peter Bukowski. Terms and conditions as follows: For Parker Dawson, a reduced charge of ten counts misdemeanor vandalism, one count accessory to petty theft. Sentence will be five years’ probation, one hundred hours’ community service, and time served. Should Mr. Dawson commit further crimes during his five-year probationary period, he will be immediately remanded back to Los Angeles County Jail.” She leveled her gaze at Parker. “Do you accept this plea, Mr. Dawson?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Parker said.
“Very well.” The judge turned her eyes on me. “For Grace Abbott, a reduced charge of trespassing, one count petty theft, one count felony fraud. Sentence will be five years’ probation and one hundred hours’ community service. Furthermore, the minor defendant will remain in the custody of Mr. Scott Thompson and Mr. Marcus Fitzgerald until this Friday, after which time she will be remanded into the custody of Child Protective Services until her eighteenth birthday, effective . . .” She looked down, checking her calendar. “Next February twentieth. Do you accept the terms and conditions of this plea, Ms. Abbott?”
I hesitated. Not because I didn’t want the deal. The alternative was jail, and I definitely didn’t want that. But I’d avoided thinking about leaving Scotty and Marcus. Now it was right in front of me, only four days away. I’d be back in foster care, back to living with people I didn’t know, being wary, hoping for the best. But it was part of my new plan: finish high school, go to college, build a life that no one could take away from me. Scotty and Marcus had promised to keep in touch wherever I was, and I’d be eighteen in just seven months. This was what it meant to make good choices—doing the right thing even when it was hard.
“Ms. Abbott?” Judge Hancock said again. “Do you accept the terms and conditions of this plea?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
She nodded. “Very well.”
After that, everything moved quickly. Judge Hancock repeated the details of our plea agreements and Parker and I repeated our acceptance of them under oath. We had to answer a bunch of questions: were we under any kind of duress in our acceptance of the plea, were we under the influence of drugs or alcohol, did we know we were entitled to a trial if we wanted one. About twenty minutes later, Judge Hancock instructed us to contact the Office of Probation. Then it was over, and I had a few seconds to hug Parker before they took him away to sign the papers that would set him free.
Kate Levy shook my hand. “Good luck, Ms. Abbott. I hope you get the second chance you deserve.”
“Thank you.” I found myself choking back tears, not because it was over, but because someone else thought I deserved something good. Someone besides Marcus and Scotty.
She turned to leave, and Detective Castillo took her place. He’d been there every step of the way, just like he’d promised, urging the DA to give Parker and me a break. It turned out that Parker knew more than I did, and he was perfectly willing to share the information once he knew I was safe. But none of it would have been possible without Raul Castillo. His had been the voice on the other end of the phone when I’d had no one else.
“I can never thank you enough,” I said.
He shook his head. “It was all you. And I have a feeling this is just the beginning; you’re going to do great things.”
“You think so?” I asked.
He smiled. “I know so.”
We promised to keep in touch, and then Scotty was there, pulling me into his arms in a giant bear hug. I held on tight, trying to memorize the feeling of being loved and protected, of being safe.
“I’m so proud of you, honey,” he said.
“I couldn’t have done it without you.”
He pulled back to look at my face. “You could have and you would have, I have no doubt about that. But I’m glad we were here to help.”
He stepped aside for Marcus, in his dress chinos and a freshly pressed shirt in yellow and orange that made him look like a tropical fruit salad. He grinned. “We did it, kid.”
I smiled. “We did.”
We stood there for a minute, grinning at each other like idiots.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” he said, grabbing me for a hug. I laughed into his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. “This place gives me the creeps.”
I grabbed my bag, and we headed for the hallway to wait for Parker. Marcus and Scotty were talking to the social worker when I heard a soft voice behind me.
“Grace.”
I turned to see Leslie Fairchild, clutching her handbag.
“Mrs. Fairchild,” I said. “Hello.”
I don’t know what I expected. She looked a lot like she had in December. Maybe she had a couple more wrinkles around her eyes, a little more gray in her hair, but her back was still straight, her gaze still strong. We had hurt the Fairchilds, but somehow I knew we hadn’t beaten them. I was glad about that.
“I’m happy you have a chance to start again.” She looked down at the purse in her hands before returning her eyes to mine. “I wanted to tell you I forgive you.” She nodded, like she was pleased with the words she’d chosen. “I understand the predicament you were in, and I forgive you, Grace.”
I shook my head. “Please don’t make excuses for me,” I said. “I hurt you and your family when you were nothing but kind to me. I’m so, so sorry for that. I know it doesn’t change anything, but I want you to know it anyway.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“You didn’t deserve what we did to you.” I was still trying to reconcile all the things that happen to us in this life with my naive sense of justice. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to it all. Bad stuff happened to good people, and just as often, it seemed like undeserving people got everything good. It made life that much harder to understand. Had I ended up in foster care because I’d been a bad kid? Even I knew that was unlikely. And the Fairchilds hadn’t deserved what we’d done to them, either, however much Cormac tried to convince us otherwise. No one was guaranteed anything. That was the sad, scary, screwed-up, and, yes, beautiful truth of it. All we could do was keep our little corner of the world clean and hope for the best.
Leslie Fairchild smiled a little. “If only it were that simple.” She took a deep breath. “I think . . . well, I think we’re all just here to help each other figure things out.”
“But we stole from you. Hurt you. Hurt your family.”
“Yes, but I learned something, too.” She didn’t wait for me to ask to give the answer. “Logan and Warren and I are stronger than we knew. And I think that will make me a little less afraid from now on.” I hardly had time to register my surprise—Leslie Fairchild had never seemed afraid to me—before she continued. “I wish you well, Grace. I hope that frees you somehow. It does me.”
She gave me a quick hug and stepped aside. And then Logan was there. Right in front of me.
“Congratulations,” he said. I shook my head. Despite the fact that Parker was being released, today wasn’t a congratulations type of day. “What will you do now?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Finish high school. Go on to college. Try to make up for what I’ve done.” He nodded, his eyes burning into mine. He was beautiful. More than that, he was good and true. But all the magic that had been between us was gone, murdered by my own hand. “What ab
out you?” I asked him.
“Summer, then college.”
“Where are you going?” I asked. And then, because it had only just occurred to me: “If you want to tell me, I mean.”
“USC,” he said. “I need to try living out from under my dad’s illness, but I also need to be close in case my mom needs me,” he explained. “Which I guess doesn’t make sense at all.”
“It makes perfect sense,” I said.
He shifted from one foot to the other. “Well, I better go.”
“Take care, Logan.”
His mother took his arm and they started down the hallway. They were almost to the elevator when he turned around. “Abbott, huh?”
I nodded.
He smiled just a little. “Good luck, Grace Abbott.”
Forty-Two
I was packing up my things Sunday night when a knock sounded outside my door. It was late, too late to be Scotty or Marcus, which meant it had to be Parker.
We’d spent the last couple of days sitting outside in the hammock, watching the birds while we talked about the past few months. “Come in.”
The door swung open and he stepped inside. I was still getting used to seeing him again. Sometimes I’d look at him and it seemed like the last seven months apart had been nothing but a bad dream. Other times, his presence made it even more real, and I’d have to stuff down my fear at the knowledge that we’d be separated again all too soon. I knew he’d visit me, but it would never be the same.
“Hey,” I said, throwing my pajamas into the suitcase Scotty had insisted I keep. “Can’t sleep?”
They’d given him back his bracelets when he’d been released, and the leather bands marched up his arm in familiar formation. The smudges under his eyes had faded a little, but he still looked haunted and a little off-balance. Scotty and Marcus had told him he could stay as long as he wanted. I hoped he would take them up on it. He was still too thin, and nothing could cure that problem like Scotty’s cooking.
He sat down on the edge of my bed. “Grace . . .” He rubbed his hands on his thighs like he was trying to wipe his palms clean. “I’m leaving.”