26. On The Way Down
ON THE WAY DOWN
PRESENT
My nerves don’t settle for the next three hours, especially after I confirm that, yes, only the security system administrator can remove video logs.
I’m only a “Shared User,” which isn’t surprising, but I discovered that my dad is one, too.
If he, of all people, doesn’t have full access to the account, there’s no way Blythe or Vanessa allowed anyone else.
Knowing that there’s proof of him illegally entering my house, Patrick definitely has a motive to delete the footage, and he’s the kind of guy with the resources to make things disappear…
But why would he also bother deleting the proof of Jase returning to the house?
The answer: he wouldn’t.
There also isn’t any proof of Jase leaving the house again after I did, and I saw what he was capable of hacking into when we were younger. I doubt he hasn’t honed his skills since then, enough so that he could get into Blythe’s computer, which is conveniently at the house, where I left him alone.
I’m apparently too distracted trying to figure out what Jase could be up to that I don’t realize what’s wrong until a loud whine plays over the music I’m blasting. I cut off the song just in time to hear the engine sputter.
What the hell?
My foot pumps on the accelerator, but the car only continues to slow down. I steal a glance at the fuel gauge to see that the needle has dropped below E.
No, that can’t be right. I haven’t driven the car these last two days, and I still had a quarter of a tank—
Tell that to the engine, Ali, because the car inevitably coasts to a stop despite the low-fuel light and audible alert never going off.
I pound my palms on the steering wheel, already knowing the culprit.
It’s official.
I am going to murder my sister.
Thank God I decided to cut through the neighborhood to avoid the traffic on the main drag, so at least the car hasn’t died out in the middle of a busy intersection, but I also don’t see anybody around to help me.
It’s hot as hell outside, so anyone in their right mind is taking refuge somewhere with air conditioning.
Dad’s at some convention, Blythe’s busy with her country club friends, Maggie is still on shift, and Hell would freeze over before Vanessa would come to help me.
Pulling out my phone, I go to a ride-hailing app, only to be met with a “pick up area unavailable” message.
Are you fucking kidding me?
I open another app and get a screen that reads, “Reserve Not Available.” With no other alternative, I put the gears into Neutral and climb out of the car.
Heaving all my weight into the back end, I push on the bumper, slowly easing the car forward.
The road isn’t on an uphill ‘slope’ per se, but there’s still a bit of an incline.
Wrestling to gain momentum, I actually manage to get the Camry down the block, where the road finally levels out onto a flat surface.
It’s so hot outside that I could fry an egg on the pavement, and that heat radiates off the blacktop like a Mo-Fo.
Exhaustion has me plopping my upper body onto the trunk, which I immediately regret. The hot steel burns my exposed skin all along my arms. Quickly repelling off the surface, I grapple at the scalded flesh with a howl.
A low, theatrical cough resonates behind me as I flail my arms about like an idiot, and I don’t need to look to know who it is. I only peer over my shoulder because I hear a door open and close.
A door to a car Jase doesn’t own.
Yet, there he is, strolling around the front of an old Buick, the black and white paint making it obvious the car used to be a police vehicle, likely back in the 90s.
“Please, anybody but him,” I growl lowly, looking up at the sky.
Jase gives a soft laugh. “Even a serial killer?”
“At least they’d put me out of my misery.”
He laughs again, but I choose to ignore him, turning my attention back to pushing my weight into the bumper.
“Car trouble?”
“No, this is just how I like to travel. I really enjoy putting in the footwork,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.
“Yeah, I don’t think Flintstoning your way around town is the safest bet.” He eases my hands off the back end and motions me to the side. “You want me to take a look under the hood?”
“Don’t bother. I already know the problem,” I say, plastering on a fake smile. “There was an idiot behind the wheel.”
“Aww, you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself now.” I know he’s just teasing, but I still cut him a glare.
“I wasn’t referring to me . The car’s out of gas.”
He nods, clearly putting the pieces together, which isn’t too hard given that he already knows my sister’s penchant for borrowing other people’s cars. I push him out of the way and head to the front seat, checking the time on my phone. Damn it!
“You have somewhere you’ve gotta be?”
“Yeah, but there’s no way in hell I’m making it there now. The appointment’s at 1:15.” And it’s already 1:08.
“Appointment?”
“For the bridesmaid’s dress.”
“Well, the closest gas station has to be at least a mile from here, not to mention you have to pass through a couple busy intersections to get there.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious. What other helpful insights do you have for me? The sky is blue? Goldfish aren’t actually made of gold? You shouldn’t try microwaving your dog, perhaps?”
He chuckles. “Not exactly. I was just going to offer you a ride. We can go to the appointment, and when you’re done, I’ll swing by a station and fill up a gas can for you.”
“I’m fine.” I know I’m being immature, but I’m also hot and tired and confused and not in the mindset to handle any more of his bullshit right now.
I open the first ride-hailing app again, hoping the third time’s the charm, but the phone is plucked from my hands before I can even tap on the screen. “Jase!”
He suddenly grabs me by the waist, and, in one fluid motion, I’m hoisted over his shoulder. “Stop being stubborn, Birdie.”
I uselessly kick my legs and swat my arms at him, but he doesn’t set me back down until he’s standing by the passenger side of the cop car. Even then, Jase doesn’t let me go. Not until he’s lowered me inside the car and on the seat.
“Now…stay,” he warns playfully, mimicking an owner to his feisty canine. As if I have another option. The jackass still has my phone, and he tucks it into his pocket, walking back over to my car and using his muscles far more efficiently to push it closer to the curb before locking up.
“You don’t have to do me any favors,” I say when he gets behind the wheel.
“It’s not a problem.”
“Okay, I don’t want you doing me any favors.”
He has the gall to look genuinely confused. “Why?”
“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe because I don’t want to be dragged into whatever game you’re playing at here.” Seriously, after last night, I anticipated him to be cold or cocky or mocking. Instead, he’s riding in on his stallion to play White Knight for the second time this morning.
And I’m not buying it.
Jase holds up his hands. “I’m just being nice—”
“Exactly. It’s weird and, quite frankly, unsettling. You’re giving me whiplash.”
The furrow between his eyebrows only deepens. “That would imply I’ve been something other than nice.”
“…Yeeeah.”
“And when was that exactly?”
He can’t be serious. I look around the car, taking a dramatically long inhale. “I’m sorry, is there a gas leak in here? Because I believe it was you who manipulated his way into my home as some sort of twisted tactical maneuver.”
The strangest smile creeps across his lips.
“Are you going to tell me I’m wrong?”
“No, that was very much strategic.” He says this so offhandedly, not missing a beat as he turns back onto the main drag.
I let out a hollow laugh. “And yet you can’t seem to understand why I think you’re an asshole?”
“I said my decision was strategic. I didn’t say it was against you.”
“Meaning?”
He just continues peering out the front windshield, that crooked, devious grin growing with every passing block.
“Why did you delete the security footage from earlier?”
I anticipate him playing dumb or continuing with the silent treatment act, so I’m more than a little taken aback when he admits, “Because a lot of people are going to be sniffing around, and I don’t need to leave a paper trail…or digital footprint, in this case.”
Again, Jase says this so casually, like he’s talking about the weather when, in actuality, he’s being as shady as all hell.
“You didn’t just come across me back there by happenstance, did you?”
“Nope.”
Righteous indignation flares up in my chest and quickly spreads through the rest of me. “You’ve been following me? For how long?”
The jackass consults his watch. “Let’s see, you left the restaurant seventeen minutes ago, so…seventeen minutes.”
I give him a flat look, which only makes him laugh again.
“Relax, I don’t make a habit out of stalking people, and before you ask, no, I’m not tracing you through your phone,” he says, not missing my eyes drift to his cell sitting in the cup holder.
I know I’m really not one to talk, since I had gone snooping through his things and followed him to Murdock’s, but I can’t hold back my irritation, nor my confusion.
“Not sure if you noticed, Birdie—” he gestures at the fading bruises on the side of his face “—but Patrick has a bit of an impulse problem. I wasn’t about to risk the jackass having some stupid, knee-jerk reaction that might have him going after you in retaliation.”
“Retaliation for what ?”
Jase knows I’m talking about more than just this morning, so it comes as no surprise that he goes quiet.
“Look, what you do with your own time is none of my business. You can sell or peddle whatever drugs you want, but when your business comes to my house , we’ve got a problem.”