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Her voice sounds like it’s just outside our door.
I have no idea why she’s here, playing nice with the police officers about to arrest us.
I attempt to move to look out the window, but Quinn squeezes my hand, so I stay put.
“What are you boys doing here?” Cynthia asks, but surely, she knows—they’re here for me.
“Well, this pickup has been reported stolen. We’re just about to go inside and talk to the manager to see who checked in with the vehicle.”
“Oh, stolen? That’s just awful. What’s happening around here? Just this morning, I was talking to Mr. Bourke, and he told me someone broke into his home and stole some money and documents out of his safe,” my mother concludes with a sigh.
“Mr. Bourke?” questions an officer I think is Mike. “You mean Mr. Bourke, who lives on Cherry Lane?”
“Yes, that’s right. Do you know him?”
From the choice curse words Mike uses, I dare say he does.
“Isn’t that Amanda’s grandpa?” asks Dean.
“Amanda…she’s your girlfriend?” Cynthia innocently asks.
“Shit,” mutters Mike.
There’s a long pause, and I look at Quinn, hoping he can shed some light on what the hell is going on, but he looks just as puzzled.
“If you’ll excuse me, Cynthia. I better go check that out,” Mike says, and I can hear his footsteps retreating.
“Yeah, Mike. You’re in the doghouse as it is with her, and you’ve only had two dates. Maybe checking on her pops will win you some brownie points.” Dean chuckles loudly.
“It certainly would help,” replies Mike, and suddenly, Cynthia’s plan becomes clear.
“What about the pickup?” she asks.
I can see her silhouette just outside the window.
“Oh, it’s probably just a bunch of kids,” Mike replies in the distance. “We’ll come back later to check it out. Have a good day, Cynthia.”
A car’s engine revs to life and pulls out of the parking lot with a loud squeal.
It’s only when I hear silence do I let out the breath I was barely holding on to.
Although I think I know what’s happening here, I have to find out for certain because Cynthia lying to save us from getting caught makes no sense.
“You can open up. They’re gone,” she says through the door, jiggling the locked handle.
Quinn looks at me, ensuring I’m okay with allowing her inside.
I nod, sitting shakily on the sofa as he opens the door.
When she quickly enters, I try not to recoil. The memories from yesterday come flooding back, but I suck it up and meet her flighty eyes because I want answers.
“What are you doing here?” I bluntly ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
I don’t fail to see the hurt flicker across her face at my direct question, but I don’t care. I’m done trying to play nice and leaving with nothing in return.
“Hi, Mia,” she says, taking a small step toward me. She at least seems a lot more coherent and groomed today.
“Hi,” I reply curtly, my arms still crossed.
