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But the graverobbing? The body snatching? The desecrating of iconic Bonaventure Cemetery?
Definitelyillegal.
Even knowing the other drivers would hate me for it, I parked across two spots, guaranteeing I had room to maneuver if I had to make a quick exit. We rode down in an elevator that reeked of stale beer and hot wings then walked a block to the nearest cobbled ramp winding down to River Street.
“I can’t make it on this bum leg.” Josie rubbed her thigh with the heel of her palm. “Go on without me.”
“Idiot.” I picked my way down, careful not to turn an ankle. “I didn’t pinch you that hard.”
“You have fingers like vises.” She caught up to me. “That’s what made you such a good pickpocket.”
Nostalgia crept over me like a warm blanket, but I grunted, “How about you check on our repo?”
“How about you buy me a caramel apple when we get to the shop, and I forgive you?”
“You’re my little sister.” I considered tripping her for good measure. “I don’t care if you forgive me.”
“Liar, liar,” she sing-songed, bending down to rest her head on my much lower shoulder.
The crowd wasn’t too bad for this time of night, which could work for or against us. More people meant an easier time blending in until we cornered the repo, but it also gave us worse odds of catching her if she ran. And they always ran.Always.That was why I lived in sneakers.
Wading through the throng, we were almost to Hereafter when a woman exited with three kids in tow.
“We never get this lucky.” Josie jabbed me in the ribs. “We should buy lotto tickets on the way home.”
A fresh prickle of unease stung my spine because she was right, but I called out, “Mrs. Grimshaw.”
The repo turned toward me wearing a polite, automatic smile that didn’t bode well then dissolved into bloodcurdling screams that drew the eye of everyone on the street. Of all the ways I expected a repo to react when faced with collection, shrieking like a horror movie extra didn’t rank in my top one hundred.
“Help.” She gathered the kids around her. “Please, someone.” She pointed at Josie. “She’s got a gun.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, stepping in front of my sister.
Half the people scattered, ducking into stores, but the other half closed ranks, eager to be heroes.
“I’m unarmed,” Josie yelled from behind me. “Call the police. I’ll submit to a search.”
One of the nearest men dialed 911 on speakerphone. The second the operator finished asking what the nature of his emergency was, he blurted in a rush, “There’s a woman on River Street waving a gun.”
This situation was spinning out of control faster by the minute, and I didn’t trust the rapid escalation.
Magic. Some type of agitation spell maybe? But who had cast it? Grimshaw couldn’t have done it.
“What gun?” I was screaming to be heard, but no one was listening. “There’s no gun.”
“She threatened to shoot my children if I didn’t give her my wallet,” Mrs. Grimshaw wailed, pitching her voice over the crowd for the operator’s sake. “Don’t just stand there. Grab her. Don’t let her get away.”
Grab her? Really? That was how she wanted to play this?
If Grimshaw wasn’t already dead, I would have wrung her neck for pulling this stunt.
“We’ll wait here for the police.” I held my arms out, shielding Josie. “They’ll verify my sister is unarmed.”
“How can we trust you?” A woman stepped forward, crackling her taser. “You have a gun.”
“I thought y’all said she had the gun?” I rolled my eyes. “Get your stories straight.”
“Please put that away.” Josie grimaced. “Those things hurt like the dickens.”
