Chapter 9
Aubrey
The Alibi
Camille drives off in the old Honda just as I get the Range Rover cranked. I’ve never owned a car, and today will be the first time I’ve been in, much less driven, one as fancy as this. I can’t believe she’s trusting me with it.
But trust is a funny thing. She didn’t hesitate giving me her car or her platinum card, but her phone was a different story. I have to carry it around with me all day but it will remain locked. The trust doesn’t extend to me reading her messages.
I get it, though. I wouldn’t let her read mine either.
Before I back out of the parking spot, I remind myself of the schedule we mapped out last week at Doug’s just before closing one night.
First up, there’s a festival being held in the park near the St. Francisville Inn, the hotel where she’s staying.
From noon to two p.m., I’m supposed to wander that area and buy things from three different vendors using her credit card.
I pull out of the gas station onto the main highway that runs through town, tugging on the wig when I see it’s a bit askew in the rearview mirror.
But instead of turning right to head to the park, I turn left.
Camille doesn’t know it yet but I’m going off script. She’s got her iPad to answer her texts, so there’s a good chance she can see the location of her phone too, and I’m sure she’ll ask me about this later. And later is when I’ll worry about that.
A quarter of a mile down the road, I’m at my new destination.
It’s a gorgeous October morning and the feed store parking lot is packed with trucks and SUVs.
I drive Camille’s car to the far-left side, pulling into one of the few open spots near a row of hunting stands for sale and pallets stacked high with deer corn.
The shiny red 1970 Mustang pulls in next to me, right on time.
He exits the car at the same moment I do.
I stand next to Camille’s car while he walks toward me, a black backpack slung over one shoulder. “So much for trying not to attract attention.”
He laughs. “You’re the one who picked the busiest spot in town.”
He’s not wrong.
I look behind him, toward the Mustang. “Where’s Shane?”
“We’re meeting up after I leave here. You look weird with that wig on.”
Rolling my eyes, I lean back inside the Range Rover and grab the key. “Love you too, Eddie.”
Eddie puts the backpack on the hood of Camille’s car and digs inside until he pulls out a small device. I hand him the key and he holds the two together, then pushes a button until it beeps.
“So that’s all it takes to copy it? That little machine?”
Eddie jiggles the device once he’s finished. “Only after a few modifications Shane made to it. But yeah, all I’m doing is sending the signal to unlock the car to this instead of the vehicle. And the code is recorded.”
Eddie and Shane moved into the house about six months after I did.
Both grew up in the foster care system. They were placed in the same group home when they were teens and have been together ever since.
They have a special skill set: There’s not an engine they can’t rebuild, not a car they can’t steal.
As auto technology has evolved, so have they.
Now, they are retired car thieves. Mostly.
Camille would be furious if she found out that not only do my housemates know what is happening today but they’re also helping make sure I don’t get screwed.
Eddie hands me back the remote. “Let me get the tracker attached and then I can grab her garage-door signal if it’s programmed to the car. There’s a good chance once we’re in the garage, the door to get inside the house won’t be locked.”
Yes, trust is a very funny thing.
Do I trust that if Camille is able to find proof of Ben’s wrongdoing that she’ll share it?
No, I don’t.
So my housemates and I made our own plan that she doesn’t know about.
And step one is to make sure we have access to Camille’s car and home as well as knowledge of her location after I turn this car back over to her.
Eddie nods toward the Mustang. “Grab my phone from the car. I’ll download the Range Rover app and connect to her car so we have that as well in case the tracker fails. Ben drives a Range Rover too, right?”
I nod. “Yeah, I think one just like this but black.”
“How cute.”
Once I’ve given him his phone, he goes through the steps to connect to her car. “There’s a good chance their two accounts are connected and we can see where he is too.”
I scratch at the wig. “This seems too easy.”
Eddie shrugs. “The only easy part is getting through the door. I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that.”
“Thank you for helping me today. Tell Shane thanks too,” I say quietly.
He stops what he’s doing and looks at me. “We’re a team. Ben Bayliss tries to screw with you then we’re all going to screw with him.”
For the first time today, a smile breaks out on my face.
Yeah, I may not trust Camille, but I sure as hell trust Eddie and Shane.
It only takes him a few more minutes and then he’s done.
“Okay, I got everything I need.”
I step close, hugging him tight. “Thank you again.”
“No more thank-yous.” He squeezes me back and ruffles the wig, making it slide across my head. “Want me to hang around until they get here?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m good.”
Eddie makes a scene when the Mustang peels out of the lot, and I can’t help but laugh.
Glancing at the clock, I’m guessing Camille has gotten to Baton Rouge and is close to her house. I turn the music up after I crank the car.
Just about time for step two.