Page 14 of Pocketful of Shame

Willing some super human strength and coming up empty, I let out a pained scream as the needle entered my vein. "You don’t understand. Please. Please. I just need to see Sk–" My words broke off as a wave of heat rushed through my body, changing the rhythm of my heartbeat, and making my eyelids droop. Moments later, the darkness swallowed me up in a cocoon of nothingness.

Chapter Four

Sketch

"I've compiled a list," Presley announced proudly when I stepped out of the shower later that night. Sprawled across the lone double bed in our room, with an array of papers littered around him, he drummed his fingers against the thread-worn, brown blanket and grinned. "You know, I was always a fan of Clue growing up. Have you ever played? I could ask the lady behind the desk if she has any board games guests can borrow?"

Considering we were staying in a rundown motel that I was fairly sure contained more bugs than a junk yard, I somehow doubted the owners supplied their guests with entertainment. The fact that we had prepaid with cash and hadn't been asked for I.D when checking in only strengthened my theory. "Forget the games." I folded my arms across my chest and leveled him with a hard look. "You made a list?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Holden, I made a list."

"Don’t do that," I warned, shifting in discomfort. "It's weird."

"Don't do what?" he mused, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Refer to you by your given name?" I nodded and he smirked. "You've got it, buddy."

"So," unfolding my arms, I readjusted and tightened the towel around my waist before moving for the can of deodorant on top of the television set, "what about this list?"

"Ah, yes, the list." Reaching for one of the notepads on the mattress, he swiped up a pen and began to scribble furiously. "Well, I figured that while we wait to spring Romi from the joint later tonight, we should compile a list of potential suspects in Chris's death." Clearing his throat, he added, "I've already made a start on said list."

"Good idea," I agreed, squirting both pits with spray. "Did you write down the four men Romi saw follow Chris out of the restaurant that night?"

Presley shook his head. "No, forget the men. They're small fish in an ocean of sharks. I've compiled sharks, my friend."

"But those men clearly had something to do with it," I argued.

"Yes, Sketch, they clearly did, because they wereclearlysent by someone much higher up the food chain," he replied. "Why hunt the help when the employer is pulling the strings? Think about it."

I stilled. "I'm listening."

"Number one on the list," he said, tapping his finger against the pad. "The mysterious Jacob Toretto."

The name on the piece of paper hidden in Chris's secret cubbyhole in the floor. I nodded my approval. "Good choice."

"I know, right?" He grinned. "I've seen that name appear dozens of times in various journals and textbooks belonging to Chris. I didn’t know what it meant at the time – still don’t, but I think it's safe to say this Jacob guy is top of our list."

"Who's next?"

"Chris Capaldi."

"My brother, the murder victim?" I shook my head. "You truly are a headcase."

"Chris senior," he corrected. "As in, daddy dearest."

"My dad?" I stiffened. "Why?"

"Why not?"

"Because he was Chris'sfather," I shot back, feeling oddly defensive.

"So," Presley scoffed. "He's your father, too, Sketch, and we all know how un-fatherly he can be."

I flushed bright red, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. "He loved Chris."

"I know, and I mean no offense," Presley added with an apologetic grimace. "But considering the way you've been treated, it's plausible."

"No." I shook my head. "Leave my dad out of it."

"But –"

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