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CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Madelyn
Dexter stayed quiet through the drive back, flipping through something on his phone, but I couldn’t say I minded. My body was still buzzing with adrenaline after the confrontation in the mechanic shop, my mind whirling.
That guy had been so willing to use physical force to threaten me. What the hell else did they do in that place other than deal in stolen cars?
And where had the menace I’d seen from Logan come from? He’d always stood up to bullies—the fact that he’d done as much for me back in junior high was one of the main reasons I’d first developed a crush on him—but back then he’d done it with easy-going confidence and disarming words. His substantial physical presence had helped, but I’d never seen him go out of his way to be outright intimidating.
But then, I’d already realized that a lot had changed with him.
When I parked outside my residence building, a strange sense of resignation settled over me. This was it. I’d retrieved my car, and the Vigil’s job was complete. No more verbal sparring with Logan, and no more heart-pounding adventures into the criminal underside of the city.
I knew it was for the best, but something tugged at my chest as I thought about going back to my comparatively mundane life with no idea what else these guys were getting into.
As Dexter pushed open the door to get out, nodding to the other guys who’d just pulled up in Logan’s car across from us, I leaned over to open the glove compartment. Now that I knew how easily my car could be stolen, I’d like to put Dad’s box somewhere that seemed a little less precarious. Stashed away in my dorm room seemed like a reasonable temporary solution.
The compartment swung open… and I simply stared.
There was the user’s manual. There was my lip gloss and the first aid kit and mini flashlight I kept in the car for emergencies. A couple of folded papers were sitting on top of the manual, and I snatched them up.
My insurance documentation. The records that I’d been keeping inside Dad’s box… which wasn’t in the glove compartment at all.
I gaped at the opening for a few moments longer, as if the black lacquer box might materialize before my eyes. Then I pawed at the other items in case it’d somehow gotten obscured behind them.
There was no denying it. The box wasn’t there.
I swiveled in my seat, checking under both of the front seats and then peering into the back of the car. No sign of it. I popped the trunk and hurried around to check that too. It still held my spare tire and emergency blanket, but that was it. My stomach twisted.
Slade had sauntered over with a jaunty smile. “Those were some moves you used on that prick back at the shop. Where’d you learn how to do that?”
“Martial arts classes,” I said automatically, my attention still focused on finding my treasured possession. “I took them for years. Wanted to learn how to defend myself.”
Partly because I’d been ashamed when I’d realized how easily Logan had stood up for me back when we were kids. I hadn’t wanted to be the weak, shrinking girl I’d become after Dad’s death. Discovering my physical power had been one of the steps I’d taken toward becoming as strong as the boy who’d defended me—as strong as Dad would have wanted me to be. Not that I could admit that to my stepbrother now without him laughing in my face.
“You obviously learned well.” Slade chuckled, but his expression turned more serious as I shoved down the lid of the trunk and he saw my face. “What’s wrong?”
“My dad’s box.” I spun around to look at him and the other two guys who’d joined him. “It’s not in there. It’s not anywhere.”
The guys exchanged a glance. Logan frowned. “Are you—”
I jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t you dare ask if I’msure, Logan. I checked the glove compartment where I normally keep it, and all through the inside of the car, and the trunk. There’s no reason for anyone to have taken it out of the glove compartment to begin with, but it isn’t anywhere!”
He held up his hands. “All right, all right.”
“Maybe the thieves chucked it out with a bunch of other stuff when they were preparing to pass the car on to the chop shop?” Slade suggested, rubbing his mouth.
I shook my head. “Nothing else is missing. I had a bunch of other things in the glove compartment and the trunk, and everything else is still there. They even took my insurance papers out of the box and leftthosebehind.” I swept my hair back from my face, my thoughts whirling. “Why would anyone take that? It didn’t have anything else in it. It couldn’t have been worth much money. It was only important to me because it was my dad’s.”
I’d rather the culprits had managed to scrap the entire car for parts but left that behind than taken the trinket box. It’d held so many memories… It’d been the one thing of Dad’s I’d brought with me to college. This didn’t make any sense.
Dexter knit his brow. He stepped past me to check the car over himself, brisky and efficiently—and without any of Logan’s condescension, so I didn’t mind that much. He straightened up with a shake of his head. “Definitely not in there. And given the other factors, it seems like whoever took it must have wanted the box specifically for some reason.”
“Butwhy?” I asked. “What the heck is going on here?” Had the thief already known they wanted the box before they’d stolen the car? Had I been targeted somehow? It sounded absurd, but I couldn’t see why someone who didn’t know me would think the box had any significance. It didn’t look expensive.
But even as I sorted through those possibilities, I caught the shift of Logan’s weight as he glanced at Slade and the tightening of Slade’s mouth in return.
“I don’t know,” Logan said. “It’s pretty strange.”
