“She wouldn’t.” I opened the fridge and pulled out a Bud.
“Then why the fuck is she with that guy?”
“Let’s ask her when she gets home.”
He followed me back to the living room. “And what if it’s too late? What if she’s singing like a fucking canary right now and any second the cops are going to bust down the door?”
I laughed. “Singing like a canary? Are you in the mob now or what?”
“Why aren’t you more upset about this?”
“Because I trust my sister.” I sat on the couch and turned the TV on. She was my blood, and I knew I could trust her.
“I don’t like this. She shouldn’t be hanging out with that guy.”
“Maybe she knew him before the robbery.”
“Exactly!” he boomed. “He got shot, so why wouldn’t she tell the cops who shot him?”
I thought for a moment. Micky was right; Cassie hanging with that guy was weird. I had done more shit to her in her life than she deserved. What if this was her revenge on me for taking her insurance money? What if this was her revenge on me for robbing her workplace? What if it was part of her plan to get us out of the house?
“What the fuck do we do?”
Micky sat on the other end of the sectional and sighed. “I don’t know, but if we go to jail tonight, I’ll be pissed.”
I grabbed my bong off the table and took a hit before passing it to him. Blowing out smoke, I suggested, “Maybe we should go across the street to Rose’s and hang out until Cassie gets home. Then we can see if the cops show up.”
Rose was the old lady across the street who made sure we had food after my parents died. I made sure to cut her grass once a week, and she gave me money whenever I needed it.
“Yeah, let’s go over there,” he agreed.
I took another hit before we walked across the street to wait.
It was late by the time I saw the truck pull up outside of my house. Luckily, it wasonlya truck. Micky and I watched from the front window of Rose’s living room. She was sleeping in her recliner and not privy to what we were doing. She thought we had come to help her around the house—which we did by changing light bulbs and taking out the garbage.
The guy got out of his truck and walked Cassie to the front door. I could barely see what was happening, and the guy didn’t stay long or go inside.
Once he drove away, Micky and I waited a few minutes to make sure no one else showed up, and when it was clear, we walked back to my house. Cassie was nowhere in sight.
“She’s probably in her room,” Micky stated.
We walked up the stairs, and I knocked on her door. She opened it. “Can we talk?” I asked.
She took a deep breath and averted her gaze. I wasn’t sure what that meant. Was she hiding something? Was she about to betray me? “Can we talk in the morning? I’m not feeling well.”
“No!” Micky snapped. “We need to talk right now. That guy—”
“This is because I went out with Brad?”
“Is that his name?” Micky questioned.
“Yes, that’s his name. Why do you care?”
“Is he a cop?” I asked.
She sucked in a breath. “I …”
“So he is a cop?” Micky pressed.