Needy Little Things(55)

Jude looks over his shoulder at Tim, who watches as we walk away. “That guy’s strange.”

“He can be strange all he wants. We made bank. We need to find a new spot next time, though.”

We both stop short when someone steps out from behind a column and blocks our path.

Nurse Rincon crosses his arms and taps his foot.

“Oh, hi!”

“Don’t oh, hi me, miss. Not all creeps are as obvious as your little friend over there.” He scowls at Tim, who is now eyeing us from a train window. “And I know your mother taught you not to talk so loud about how much money you got in your pockets. Are you trying to get robbed? And what use are you?” He gives Jude a once-over and frowns even harder.

“Don’t make that face,” I say. “We both tried traditional employment, and look what happened.”

“The pharmacy is hiring. Why didn’t you come ask?”

Because this is easier. More immediate. And to be honest, way more money. But I don’t say that. I say the other truth. “I didn’t think of it.”

“I missed my train looking out for you two. I wanted to let you make your last street dollars under the safety of my watch.”

“Last?” He’s cool and all, but who’s he to make that decision for me?

“Yes, last. La vidente, the game you are playing is dangerous. You are young and too trusting. Both of you. And it’s beautiful. I don’t want to take that away from you. The trust you have, even after all you have been through. But this cannot continue.”

“I just needed to make some quick money.”

“Like I said, come by the pharmacy. Both of you. We can work something out. And I’m not sure I agree with it, but if you are committed to this side hustle, there are safer ways. I can look into getting you a little booth set up at a farmers market or something, you know, somewhere legitimate where you don’t have to hide from security”—he scrunches up his nose—“somewhere that doesn’t smell like cat piss. But until then, if you need help with your finances, you have people who care for you who are more than willing to assist.”

He pats my shoulder and slips a crumpled bill sporting Benjamin Franklin’s face into my tip jar. It’s majorly generous, but it’ll pay for like one hour of an investigator’s time.

“Put that in your bag right now and carry it in front of your body all the way home,” Rincon says. “If I see you two out here again, I’m calling both of your mothers. Consider that a token of appreciation for all the times you’ve hooked me up.” He walks off down the platform. “Stay safe and see you both at school on Monday morning!”

Jude watches him leave, face all screwed up.

“He just tipped one hundred dollars, Jude. Think you have to forgive him for giving you a hard time.”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

“Whoa. Where’s that coming from?”

“You don’t think it’s strange how he just pops up everywhere?”

I laugh, confused. “What?”

“He works at our school. He was at the festival that night. He was just watching us for who knows how long. Now he’s offering jobs and dropping big money to get us to stop hanging around here. I don’t know. He seems a little too invested and a little too … present.”

“Jude, come on. Rincon’s a good guy. He’s the one who brought up talking to the police in the first place.”

“People do that all the time to make themselves seem innocent. How many times have you heard about the nice guy that no one ever suspected actually turning out to be a trash human?” He starts walking again. “I’m looking him up.”

We exit the MARTA station into the bright afternoon light, Jude hotly tapping away on his phone.

“Find anything?”

He grunts and keeps on scrolling.

“Jude?” I prod after another minute or two.

“Look!” he shouts suddenly, thrusting his phone in my face.

I take a step back and use my hand to shield the screen from the sun. He has the faculty and staff page of our school website pulled up. “What?”

“Look! His name. Jahir Rincon. J. That is one coincidence too many, Sariyah.”

I search my mind, grasping for something to definitively prove he had nothing to do with this, but I don’t find anything. What I do find is a heavy regret over not bringing up the card to the police sooner. “I—I should talk to Detective Habib. I need to give him the Valentine’s Day card. I should have done it the moment I found it. Why didn’t I do it the moment I found it? What if…” I start to hyperventilate.

“Here. Let’s sit down.” Jude leads me to a concrete bench and places his hand on my back, rubs large circles there. “Take some deep breaths.”

“Do you really think Rincon could have been involved with Deja somehow?”

“Look. Seems like everybody and they mama’s name starts with J right now. It could be nothing. The whole Valentine’s Day card angle could be nothing, but I agree that we should call the detective.”

Once my breathing settles, I do just that. The line rings so many times, I start thinking up what to say on his voicemail, but then a gruff voice comes on the line.

“This is Detective Habib.”