Chapter 15
Cassie
“Are you sure you want to look at this?” Quinn’s brown eyes are full of uncertainty.
“Of course, I'm not sure. This is a violation of Lincoln's privacy. If you ever did anything like this to me, I would be furious.” It’s eating away at me, what we’re doing.
I fight back my objection and give a curt nod. “Yes, I'm sure.”
Quinn is a good friend for trusting me when it comes to Lincoln.
“If he ever finds out…” she trails off.
We both know we are risking our future friendship with Lincoln. She’s just confirming with me to see if I think it’s worth it. Of course, I do. Even good friends need an intervention occasionally, and with the antics Lincoln’s been pulling, I think he needs one.
He asked for it, remember? I remind myself. There would be no reason to be poking into Lincoln’s business if he was being a little less secretive about his past .
“Haven't you known Lincoln for most of your life?” Quinn looks over at me as she keeps typing. She's been searching all morning for records. She finally found them, and I'm not sure if I should be glad or disappointed. Looking into someone’s past is a big responsibility when they might not want you to see it.
I think about the first time Dad brought Lincoln around the house. I was a teenager and didn't pay him much mind. I just saw him as another one of my dad's friends. The haunted, sad look in his eyes the first time he was in our dining room comes to mind. I slip back into the memory as if it were yesterday.
I come running down the stairs when I hear the sound of my dad's station wagon in the drive. I skid to a halt when I see it isn't just him in the dining room. We have company. Not surprising, just a bit jarring. I wrap my arms around my middle.
A man sits next to Dad. He’s a lot younger than him but older than me. Both of them look my way. Dad’s eyebrows raise as if he forgot for a moment that I was at the house, waiting for him.
“Cassie, I'm going to have to cancel our plans tonight. I have something to take care of,” Dad says, glancing between me and the newcomer. “By the way, this is Lincoln. He's going to be staying in the garage for a while.”
My eyebrows shoot up, and I pin him with an are-you-serious look. My dad is notorious for bringing in strays. Sometimes it’s for a couple of days, and sometimes it’s for longer. He tries to get them a job and set them up with something more permanent. I don’t mind, but canceling our plans? That’s a bit annoying.
His expression falls as if he can read my mind.
“I promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, and we’ll go to your favorite restaurant, okay, kiddo? I just need to get Lincoln settled tonight. ”
I’m no kiddo anymore, but he still calls me that. A smile wins and spreads across my face. “Sure thing, Dad.”
Lincoln looks up from whatever was so interesting about our countertop and frowns.
“You don't have to cancel any plans on my behalf, Robbie,” he says. His voice is gruff and low. It sends a shiver through me. I notice the sharp angle of his face and the scruff on his chin. He looks kind and charming—the type of guy everyone at school is head over heels for on TV.
I shake my head. I am way too young for him. However, I know all the girls at school will be terribly jealous when they find out he is staying in my dad's garage.
“It’s all right. I've got homework anyway.”
Helping people is what Dad does. We can catch up with plans later. I turn and hurry back up the steps, wondering how long this particular project of my dad's will last.
Pulling myself back to the present, I smile at the memory. Back then, I had a dumb schoolgirl crush. I never actually thought things could escalate between Lincoln and me. Now that I'm twenty-six and an adult in every way, I’ve found myself thinking more and more about him. It's different than when I was a teenager. It's deeper, more real. Our connection is intertwined with the past, but also something new and of its own.
“Cassie, are you still with me?” Quinn gives me a little smirk. “Thinking about Lincoln? Your cheeks are bright red.”
I blush even deeper. “I was just thinking about when he first came to our house. I was so young then.”
“I guess it's easy to forget he knew you when you were a kid,” she laughs.
“It was nothing like that, and I was almost seventeen,” I correct her quickly. “Lincoln never looked at me twice back then, and the few times we did spend time together, he treated me like I was a nuisance and nothing more. I never expected things to change when I came back here.”
“Well, it’s not all bad,” says Quinn with another mischievous smile. “It’s certainly entertaining to watch.”
I shake my head. “Let’s get this over with and see what you’ve found.”
“All right then.” Quinn takes a deep breath as if she knows whatever we see in these files will change how we see Lincoln. I just hope it won’t be too much. She double-clicks, and what pops up makes my heart sink.
It is a picture of Lincoln, though a much younger version. His dark brown hair flops messily over his forehead, and his eyes are wide and frantic. He couldn’t be more than sixteen or seventeen in the mugshot, and the list of charges underneath it makes my heart beat faster: petty theft, grand theft auto, and a drug charge.
None of it is super huge on its own. I suppose the biggest thing is he never said anything about it to me. Since I returned, we’ve avoided discussing the past—other than my dad. And as a kid, I suppose I was a little too na?ve for such topics. But it’s still hurtful. I thought we were friends, or maybe even...
No. I shake that thought from my head. There’s no room for that when it comes to Lincoln.
“Do you think he's getting mixed up in things like this again?” Quinn asks, her tone barely above a whisper.
“I don’t know,” I reply, “but judging by Phineas’s reputation, it almost looks like he's falling into a bad crowd again. The question is, what can we do to help him? ”
No matter how hurt I am by Lincoln's decisions lately or his secrecy, that doesn’t mean I don’t care about him—as a friend and for old times’ sake. After all, he cared for my father when no one else could. I want to help him, and if he is falling into his old ways, I want to bring him back.
“I feel kind of bad now,” Quinn says, closing the report. “It’s like… I don’t know; we’re not supposed to know what we do.”
“Me too,” I sigh. “Do you know if he ever hung out around Phineas much?”
“During the last four or five months of your dad’s life, and right after he died, Lincoln was with Phineas for a while. I heard they worked on something small together—Lincoln doing him a favor or something.” Quinn shakes her head. “He never talked much about it, and I knew Phineas's men kind of had it out for him. He always changed the topic when I brought it up. I’d just started working for him, so we didn’t know each other well enough to discuss stuff like that.”
My heart feels like a hand is clutching it in a vise.
If only there were a way to break down Lincoln's walls and convince him that I could be trusted with whatever he's hiding from the world. This discovery has me questioning how well I know him… and what else he's been hiding from me.
Link
It's been a long day, and when I spot my bed with its familiar sag in the middle and ratty quilt over the top, I sigh in relief. Thank goodness this day is over .
After our run-in with Leo, I went to the office and started assembling a timeline regarding Nathan's disappearance.
Little details keep popping out at me, and I wonder what they mean. Nathan is in serious trouble based on the financials and his behavior over the last couple of weeks. I'm not sure if that trouble involves Phineas or someone else, possibly someone in the Thornton family.
Even though Cassie was skeptical about Anita's theory regarding the Ponzi scheme and crime, I'm not so sure she is wrong. Ponzi schemes, ripping people off, and piles of money all seem to be right up Phineas’s alley.
I flick off the light just as a blood-curdling scream rips through the house—Cassie.
"Cassie!" I dart out of bed and race through the garage to the door separating our living space. It's locked. What’s going on in the kitchen? Is she hurt? Who is attacking her? She screams again.
"Cassie!" I yell before throwing all my weight into the door, splintering it straight off the hinges. I race into the kitchen to find Cassie standing on a dining room chair, her eyes wide with fear, looking into a corner of the room. There is no intruder, no thief.
"What on earth is going on?" I ask before I realize I'm in my shorts and a T-shirt, looking ridiculous. I figured an intruder was a bigger priority than fashion.
She points a shaky finger toward the corner. "There's a rat."
A rat. I should have known. Cassie, with all of her fire and confidence, can still be terrified of a rat? The incredulous situation takes shape before my eyes.
"It's the size of a small dog!" Her voice shakes, and a laugh bubbles up in my throat .
"A rat? You're seriously screaming like that for a rat?" I'm absolutely incredulous as I grab a broom and head toward the dreaded corner.
My heart is still thumping a million miles per minute against my rib cage. Good grief . After poking around in the furniture for a couple of seconds, the little gray animal races across the floor in a final scurry to save its life.
It's too late, and the next minute, it's pinned underneath my broom. I motion for Cassie to grab something.
"Get a bucket or something to put it in to take it outside," I say, holding the squiggling creature down. "It's not a rat. If anything, it's a mouse, perhaps slightly overweight from overeating."
She shakes her head. "What if it gets loose?" The way her eyes dart about, looking for any signs of a second one, is adorable.
"It is going to get loose if you don't get me something to put it in," I insist.
She finally jumps down from the chair and races into the kitchen, returning with a small bucket a few seconds later. She hands it to me before leaping back onto the chair and watching with big eyes as I discard the animal outside.
When I come back in, she seems to have calmed down a bit and has a sheepish smile.
"I hope I didn't wake you up," she says softly.
"No, you didn't. I was just about to go to sleep," I chuckle. "I've never seen you scared of anything, especially something as insignificant as a mouse no bigger than my pinky finger."
"It was much bigger than your pinky finger!" She slaps at my arm .
"Was not," I laugh and avoid another slap. Her expression turns serious.
"Where were you today?" she asks.
For the first time, I notice how close we are standing. She’s almost up against the dining room table, making it feel even more confined than it is.
"I went to check the police report our stalker victim filed last week. You know, the new case?” Guilt rolls through me. I did do that, but I was also off with Phineas, tracking down leads on Nathan.
“You said you'd show up."
I frown. I said I would show up, but things with Phineas took longer than I planned. Maybe the truth is in order. "I'm sorry. I was?—"
"I know, I know… with Phineas." The disappointment coats her words, and it makes my stomach drop.
"I'm sorry, Cassie. I wish I could tell you what we're doing. I really do."
"That's all right." She swallows hard. "Do you remember the day my dad first brought you home?"
"How could I forget it? And why does it matter?" I ask. "That was a long time ago."
“I was just wondering… what were you like before I knew you?” Her tone drops, and her eyes search mine, searching for truth. Why is it that the more I try to protect her, the more I end up hurting her?
“Not someone you would have wanted to know.” My voice is heavy with emotion. Those years of my life are times I'd like to forget forever.
“Maybe I would have liked to know you more.”
She wouldn’t have. Even if she had been old enough to keep my company back then, she would have hated me .
“Your dad saved me from that life, Cass, and I’m never going back. Once this whole thing with Phineas is behind me, I will be different moving forward, better. It’s just something I have to see until the end.”
In a way, working with Phineas has become a sort of closure for me. I see it as my last go at the illegal life, the last time to put everything behind me.
While we’ve been talking, she’s gotten closer. She’s standing so close now I could reach out and touch her. My heart picks up speed.
She nods, licking her lips. “No matter how mad I am at you or what’s going on, I hope you know I am here for you.”
I swallow hard. I do know that, and I'm not sure if it makes me feel better or worse.