A Twisted Love Story(92)

“If you’re asking if I knew her the way I know you, no.”

“I’m not talking about sex.”

“No,” he says. “I never really knew her.”

“She knew a lot about you,” Abigail says. “Including that parking sticker in your desk.”

Parking sticker. He hasn’t thought about that for a long time. Forgot he even had it.

He shouldn’t have.

The sticker was for a garage downtown, the expensive kind that charged by the hour. Wes and Ivy didn’t have the money for it, but Ivy had a friend who worked for the company. She gave Ivy a sticker, and they used it every time they needed a place to park downtown.

It was one of the only things Ivy kept from the 4Runner before pushing it into the lake.

Ivy didn’t want to ask her friend for another sticker, so she kept the one they had and taped it onto their replacement car. The Saab. Eventually, it stopped sticking, which happened on a day Wes had the car. He put it in his pocket, then in his desk drawer, and never thought about it again.

Wes hears a click in his head as the pieces start to fall into place. The police have that sticker now. A hard thing to remove from a car that’s been stolen.

But the picture isn’t complete. Still a few blank spots.

“The sticker,” he says. “How did she know it was important?”

“A picture of your car. The sticker was on it, and Bianca is the one who saw it.”

Of course. He hadn’t even thought about the photos of their car. A perfect example of how and why criminals get caught. Very few can think of everything, himself included.

“That still doesn’t explain why you lied,” he says.

“You thought I’d help you just because we’ve slept together?”

“You’re answering a question with a question again.”

“Because of Joey,” she says. “He was Bianca’s boyfriend in high school.”

The news hits like a physical blow. Wes had no idea. This was all personal for Bianca, and she had brought Abigail into it.

The old saying is true: Hell hath no fury. Wes knows a little about that from Ivy.

“But why would you—”

“You think I’m going to help you get away with killing someone?” Abigail scoffs. “I’m not your girlfriend, Wes. I’m just the one you slept with when you were waiting for Ivy to come back.”

“I didn’t know about Joey and Bianca,” he says.

“I did. I also knew that parking sticker was in your desk. I even double-checked it was still there before the police arrived.”

“But why are you helping her? That’s what I don’t under—”

“You don’t need to understand,” Abigail says. “Focus, Wes. Your concern should be the gun pointed at you.”

Wes has no idea what kind of deal Abigail and Bianca made, but she’s right. He doesn’t need the details. Whatever happened between them, it involved Abigail lying to the police.

“I may not know everything, but it’s enough,” he finally says. “I know you lied because of Bianca.”

She laughs at him. “Like the police would believe you. Although you’ll have plenty of time to try and convince them, because you won’t be out on bail again.”

“You’re going to turn me in?”

“Damn right I am.”

“Really? How are you going to call them?” Wes points down. Her phone is on the floor next to his foot.

“Kick it over to me,” she says. Her hand is still gripped around that gun, but it shakes a little.

It’s his turn to smile. “Come and get it.”



* * *



—

The more Heath talks, the more sense he makes. If Ivy wants to stay out of jail.

She does.

“Wes jumped bail,” he says. “And if they do find him, he’ll face more charges and he won’t get bail a second time. You need to think about what’s best for you.”

All true. Ivy knows this, and it’s the only reason she’s still sitting here. Still listening.

“Tell the police he came to you for help,” Heath says. “And you refused.”

“I don’t think they’ll believe I turned him down.”

“You’re right.” Heath squeezes her hand. “Let me think for a second.”

Wes left without warning, not bothering to tell her what he was going to do or where he was going.

A betrayal.

Ivy has been avoiding that thought all day, hoping there was some other reason he did this. She wanted a sign from him, letting her know everything was okay. But there’s been nothing. No note, no call, no text. Not even from his new number—the one the police don’t have.

Heath is right. She doesn’t have a lot of options now, and Wes is nowhere.

“Let’s go through it in detail,” she says. “I need to figure out exactly what I’m going to say.”

“Maybe Wes was acting crazy?” Heath says. “Out of control, like he was on drugs. He scared you, so you wouldn’t help and wouldn’t give him any money.” Heath stands up, getting more and more into this story, gesturing wildly as he talks. “He got angry, really angry, and he . . . maybe he restrained you? Tied you up, stole your money and your car?”