Page 64 of The Weight Of Falling
Joel shifts the cake box carefully in his arms. “What exactly are you doing here?”
Frowning a little at the trace of suspicion in his voice, I hold up the box of muffins as proof. “Kate asked me to pick these up. Lisset’s got a class party tomorrow.”
He goes still, staring at me. “Did she now?”
“What’s wrong?” I ask, confused.
“Kate was supposed to pick up the wedding cake for today’s shoot. Instead, she asked me.” His eyes lock unhappily with mine. “I think we’ve just been played.”
Before I can respond, movement on the street catches my attention. Owen is striding toward us, his expression grim.
My heart rate picks up. I clench my hands into fists so they won’t tremble. Beside me, Joel tenses.
Owen fixes his gaze on me, wasting no time on greetings. “We found the person who graffitied your car.”
25
The name snatches the air from my lungs. “I don’t believe it.”
Joel’s head jerks toward Owen. He looks as stunned as I feel. “Are you certain?”
We’re standing beside Joel’s Jeep. The cake box is stored safely in the back seat. Owen had insisted Joel be present for this conversation, and now I understand why.
“We’re sure,” Owen says. “Farah confessed when we knocked on her door.”
I press a hand to my stomach, trying to ease the hard knot there. “What led you to her?”
“One of her neighbors spotted the spray paint can in her trash. The color matches the tag on your car. They called it in, and we followed up.”
I spread my hands helplessly. “But why would she do it?”
Owen’s brown eyes settle on Joel for a beat before shifting back to me, giving nothing away. “Looks like she was jealous of you.”
“Me?” It comes out as a disbelieving squeak.
He nods, adjusting the brim of his hat, a familiar habit. “It seems she had her sights set on Joel, and then you came along. Jealousy got the better of her, and she decided to send you a message. And not a kind one.”
“No, it wasn’t kind,” I whisper, my brain still struggling to process Owen’s revelation.
Joel bows his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe she went that far.”
I’m acutely aware of the strain and tension in his posture. Everything about him radiates blame he doesn’t deserve. I want to tell him it isn’t his fault, but I can’t. Not with Owen here.
I take a long, centering breath. “What happens to her now?” I ask Owen.
He scratches his jaw. “We brought her in for questioning. We’ll finish the paperwork, and she’ll be released pending charges. Which brings me to you.” His face softens. “As the victim, you get a say here. Do you want to press charges?”
My chest squeezes. “I don’t know,” I stammer. “Not really.”
Joel turns to me, his frown deepening. “She vandalized your car. You don’t want her thinking she can get away with something like this.”
I bite my lip. “I agree, but I don’t want her life ruined over one mistake.”
“So she gets to call you a whore and walk away with a slap on the wrist?” he demands. “That’s the message you want to send?”
I turn to Owen. “Does she even seem remorseful?”
He gives a small shrug. “She says she is. Hard to say if that’s regret or just regret at being caught.”
