Page 29 of No Headlines Please

He scoffed. "Sure you don't. But if you're smart, you'll lay low 'til the case is over."

Oh, for God's sake. "What case?"

He gave me a thin smile. "Nice try. But we'll be watching." And with that, he turned to go. I was still frozen in the open doorway when he turned back to say, "One more thing. If you're thinking of running to your friends on the island, forget it."

A knot of dread formed in my stomach. The island? There was only one island I visited – Mackinac Island, where my best friend had lived all her life…well, except for the time both of us were in college.

With a hard swallow, I asked, "The island?"

He gave another sigh. "Cut the act, will ya? You want some advice?"

I forced a laugh. "From you?"

He made a show of looking around before asking, "You see anyone else willing to help?"

"Help?" I scoffed. "How on Earth are you helping me?"

He moved closer and lowered his voice. "Look, I don't like doing this. It's not my usual gig. But just between you and me, I'd stay away from anyone you care about. No visits. No calls." After a quick glance over his shoulder, he whispered, "He has a way of checking."

By now, I felt like screaming. "Who has a way of checking?"

His jaw flexed. "So much for quiet." He shook his head, like he couldn't believe I was being so dense. "Just lay low, alright? It'll take what? A year?"

My jaw dropped. "A whole year? Are you freaking serious?"

He shrugged. "You're young. It'll go fast."

"What'll go fast?"

"Oh, just cut the act, will ya?" He gave me a hard look. "Now, if you don't mind, I'll consider the message delivered." And then, he turned on his heel and left, leaving me staring after him as he walked down the sidewalk and disappeared around the corner.

Well, that was something.

For the first couple of days, I'd tried to laugh it off. But then I spotted the same guy at a grocery store twenty minutes away. He didn't have a cart. But he was watching me. And when I tried to confront him, he pretended he had no idea who I was. And I came off looking like the crazy one.

Then, a couple days after that, I spotted him parked by my apartment in a sleek, dark sedan, with the driver's side window rolled down, like he wanted me to see him.

When I marched outside to confront him, he eased slowly away, as if the whole point had been to rattle me. Even more unsettling, the car had no license plate, which meant…what?

That time, I even called the police. But I'd been a total coward about it – calling anonymously to report a car with no plates.

They'd been decidedly unimpressed.

After a week on pins and needles, I finally barged into Lenny's office to ask him what was up. And of course, he'd been worse than no help.

His suggestion?

Just do what the guy said.

And then, he told me several bone-chilling tales of what happens when someone snitches – not just to the snitch, but to anyone within earshot, especially friends and family.

The only "helpful" advice he did give was to not call the cops, because you never knew who was on the take. I didn't believe it. But what if I was wrong?

The whole thing was completely ludicrous – like the plot of a bad mob movie. And yet, in my heart, I knew that if anyone got hurt because I couldn't control myself, I would never forget it.

I wouldn't be able to forgive myself either.

There was only one upside. The guy had mentioned a timetable.