Page 85 of East

“How’s a hundred?” He leers at me lecherously. “And the weathergirl shows me her tits.”

Aus grabs the guy by the scruff of his shirt. “How’s fifty and I don’t pound your ass into next week?”

Greenbeard backs out of Aus’s grasp. “Fine, fine. Can’t blame a guy for trying. Would you like to come in?”

I peer inside. The place is strewn with beer bottles and stacks of old newspapers. “We’d rather stay outside, thanks. Can you pull the footage up on your phone?”

Greenbeard sucks in a breath and then holds up a finger. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an outdated smartphone, swiping a few times. “What do you want to see?”

“Thursday night. Starting around midnight,” I say.

He nods and scrolls on his phone. He looks up. “The money first.”

“Fine.” Aus pulls out a fifty and throws it at him.

Greenbeard holds it up to the light—as if he could tell it’s real or not—and nods, handing the phone to us. “Don’t think about trying to run off with it.”

I don’t bother mentioning I wouldn’t dream of running off with this guy’s phone. I was in high school when this model came out.

I instead squint through the smudged glass of the screen, zoom in on Wick’s porch. It’s at a weird angle, but it’s clear two people entered the house around midnight. One of them is moving unevenly—me, since I was drunk, and apparently high, off my ass—and the other one is crouching over the smart lock. Wick puts in the code. We walk inside.

It’s grainy as all hell, but it’s us. I don’t know if this would hold up in a court of law, but with Wick’s corroboration this could help prove my innocence. I scroll to five in the morning. A shadowy figure walks out, looks around, and gets into a car. My Uber Friday morning to work.

Good.

If the footage in between these two times shows no one coming in or out, I have something. I scroll back to midnight and play the footage on fast forward.

There’s a blip. Around two a.m.

My heart thrums as I scroll back and play it at regular speed.

A solitary figure, taller than I am and thinner than Wick, walks up to the house and enters it.

Ten minutes later, they depart.

My heart sinks.

Holy shit.

Wick and I weren’t alone that night.

30

AUS

“What the fuck?” I narrow my eyes. “Play it again.”

Thea scrolls back and plays the footage. Again a dark figure walks into the house around two and then leaves ten minutes later.

“Who could he be?” Thea asks.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I reply. I quickly download the video—everything between midnight and five—and Airdrop it to my own phone. I look up at the guy with the green-stained beard, hand his phone back. “Thank you for your time.”

“Whatever.” He slams the door in our faces.

Thea strokes her chin. “Maybe it was a late-night delivery?”

“At two in the morning? And why would he need to go inside for ten minutes?”