Chapter 6 Dove #2
The rumble of an engine down the otherwise quiet street pulled me from my thoughts, and I snapped my head up my, heart skipping as a cherry-red Mustang rolled through the foggy haze like something out of a dream.
The car gleamed beneath the early light of the morning sun, the top still up.
Through the misted windshield, I could just make out Ellis behind the wheel.
Her red hair was down, draped over one shoulder in soft waves, and she wore a deep green V-neck sweater, the sleeves pushed to her elbows like she was already hot and flustered.
“Road trip, bitches!” Liv whooped as the car pulled up beside me, hanging out the back window in her clubbing clothes, looking very much like she’d been out all night.
I blinked at her in surprise, lips twitching despite the volume of her voice at this hour.
“I can see you’re full of life,” I teased, ignoring her disgruntled look as I opened the front passenger door and ducked my head inside to see Ellis, alarmed to find she was, in fact, wearing jeans.
“Morning,” I said, stuffing my duffel into the footwell and climbing in. The cold leather pressed through my leggings and sweater.
“Morning,” she grumbled, yawning softly. “Coffee?”
“Not yet,” I told her firmly.
“Hmph.” She grunted, then eyed my bag. “You can put it in the trunk, you know. If you want more room.”
“No, it’s fine,” I assured her. I needed quick access to that bag... for the detour. Something floral filled my senses, Ellis’s shampoo, maybe? The car was spotless, not that I was surprised, given who its owner was.
“Are we going or what?” Liv demanded, suddenly leaning forward between the seats.
“We need to make a quick detour,” I announced lightly, trying to keep my voice casual.
Ellis’s eyes narrowed, and Liv cocked her head.
“Detour?” Ellis asked, her voice flat.
“Yes,” I said, too quickly. “It’s on the way, somewhat. It won’t take long.”
Were my cheeks hot?
“Right... You want to tell me what kind of detour we’re taking?” she asked, her tone completely unconvinced.
“It’s personal,” I said bluntly, meeting her gaze. “Family stuff.”
Ellis held my stare, like she could see right through the bullshit, then tapped her fingers once against the steering wheel and gave a tight nod. “Fine. But if this in any way turns into something sketchy, I’m turning the car around.”
“Sketchy?” I scoffed. “I’m wearing a sweater with a cartoon frog on it. Do I look dressed for sketchy?”
“She’s right,” Liv cut in. “I would’ve been worried if she were dressed in all black.”
I nodded once and slid the seatbelt across my chest, my hands clammy against the material. “It won’t take long.”
“All right,” Ellis muttered, before her tone took on an airy, sarcastic edge in her next words. “Why not? We’re already driving across the country. Directions?”
A small breath of relief escaped me as I began guiding her. The shop faded in the rearview mirror, and for the first time since the funeral, something in my chest loosened.
For the first time since Margaret died, something just barely, felt within my control.
Liv was quiet as we drove, her head leaning against the window, watching the street with a far-off look in her eyes.
I wondered, briefly, if she had some supernatural way of knowing what I was planning.
Could dead people read minds? Did she already know about the empty extra-large sandwich bag and the one full of vacuum dust?
If she did, she didn’t say anything, which surprised me.
By the time we pulled onto Uncle Bill’s street, my stomach was twisting with adrenaline and nerves.
I was relieved I hadn’t had any coffee yet.
There would’ve been consequences for my stomach with this level of stress building, mixed with caffeine.
The car was already tense, my anxiety clearly rubbing off on Ellis, who now gripped the steering wheel like it had personally wronged her.
Liv had started bouncing in the back seat.
She knew.
She knew something.
“Okay... 2230 Primrose,” Ellis said slowly as she rolled to a stop.
“Nope. Drive three houses up,” I instructed, not looking at Uncle Bill’s house.
“Why?” Ellis asked gruffly, though she drove forward anyway, her hands loose on the steering wheel as she shifted the car into park.
“I need to grab something from my uncle’s, and I’d rather not have him, or his neighbors, see a vintage red Mustang parked out front while I’m doing it.”
Ellis frowned and pursed her lips. “And why would that matter if we’re not doing anything illegal?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek, trying to look casual, as if I weren’t about to break into my uncle’s house and steal my dead grandmother. Was it breaking in if I had a key?
“I’ll be five minutes,” I said firmly, ignoring her question as I opened the door.
“Oh, we aren’t all going?” Liv asked, pouting.
I blinked, my seatbelt halfway across my chest. “Nope. Just me.”
Liv tilted her head, an all-too-innocent smile spreading across her face. “Why not?”
“Because,” I said tightly, already feeling my plan begin to unravel, “it’s personal.”
“Everything is personal,” Liv said with a shrug. “That’s what makes it interesting.”
“Why does this feel sketchy?” Ellis asked, her tone stiff as she rested one hand on the wheel, like she was considering driving off.
“Because it is sketchy as hell,” I muttered under my breath, regret pooling in my stomach. I should’ve done this last night—come under the cover of darkness.
“Well,” Liv began, in that tone I’d grown to dread since the reading room, “if we don’t get to come, you don’t go at all.”
I glared at her. “Are you serious?”
“Deadly,” she said, lips curling around the word with enough irony to make me want to evaporate.
“Wow, you are such a pain in the ass,” I muttered, turning away from her to look at Ellis.
“You’re only just realizing that?” Ellis asked, exasperation flashing across her face. “Listen, I’m not doing anything illegal.”
“Cool, cool,” I murmured, unzipping the duffel bag at my feet and pulling out the two sandwich bags, one empty, one filled with dust from Margaret’s vacuum.
“What the hell is that?” Ellis demanded, her eyes going wide as she clocked them.
“The less you know, the better,” I said quickly, tucking the empty bag into the waistband of my pants.
“That’s what someone says before they commit a felony,” Liv sang, bouncing in the back seat and clapping her hands gleefully.
“I promise it’s not a felony,” I said. “Maybe, like... a minor misdemeanor. At most.”
“This is the best road trip I’ve ever been on, and we haven’t even left the city yet!” Liv shrieked, smacking the back of the seats. “Let’s go!”
I sighed grabbed my empty tote bag, tucking the dustbuster-filled bag inside.
“All right, time to go then,” I muttered, stepping out of the car. I heard Ellis’s door open, and Liv appeared beside me almost instantly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “This way.”
We walked in silence. The only sounds drifting through the still morning air were distant traffic and the occasional birdcall. It was still cold, but not quite as chilly as it had been when Ellis picked me up from the shop twenty minutes earlier.
I tried to look casual in case any neighbors were out and about on their weekday morning. I didn’t want to draw attention, and I was especially grateful that Liv’s visibility was limited to just Ellis and me. A girl with bright pink hair and clubbing clothes would’ve definitely turned heads.
I turned toward the side alley entrance of Uncle Bill’s house when Ellis’s arm suddenly curled around my bicep. My stomach flipped at the contact, and she tugged me to a stop, her expression puzzled.
“Shouldn’t we use the front door?” she asked, tension laced through her posture.
“No,” I muttered, shaking off her arm, for my own mental self-preservation, because apparently my brain had decided it was attracted to this snotty girl, and I couldn’t think with her touching me. “My grandmother always said front doors were for guests and Jehovah’s Witnesses.”
Ellis raised a brow but said nothing. After a beat, I turned on my heel and hopped over a flowerbed, heading for the locked side gate. I silently prayed Uncle Bill was still clueless enough not to have changed the code since the last time I’d come through here.
2–5–0–7.
His birthday.
The man had the imagination of a toddler and far too much faith in his fake security system.
The gate clicked open, and I slipped through, the other two following close behind. I eyed the annoyingly manicured garden as we moved deeper into the yard. Liv wandered a few paces ahead, eyeing the stone statues like she was silently judging his taste.
“Oh my God!” Ellis gasped, grabbing my arm again and jerking me to a stop as she pointed upward. “A camera!”
I sighed and shook her off, already irritated. “It’s fake,” I hissed. “This is why I wanted to come alone!”
“Well, excuse me,” Ellis snapped as I kept walking. “It’s not every day I do shady shit with a stranger and a ghost.”
I ignored her, though I was mildly concerned to see Liv now standing on the diving board over the pool, arms stretched wide like she was about to dive in.
“Third pot plant...” I muttered, approaching the line of oversized terracotta pots along the back patio.
“Do this often, huh?” Ellis asked, crossing her arms.
“Yeah,” I muttered, kneeling beside the third pot and shifting its base with my hands. “I’m an expert at stealing dead grandparents.” My fingers brushed against the cold key hidden beneath, and I dragged it out, a satisfied grin spreading across my face. “Bingo.”
“What—what do you mean?” Ellis hissed, her voice rising an octave. “Dove, what the actual hell are we doing here? What do you mean stealing dead grandparents?”