But Grace hadn’t known that Kennedy and Friends would be at the pool hall when she’d let Madeline persuade her to join this crazy scheme. She hadn’t even considered the fact that Let The Good Times Roll was so close, or that on Thursdays the owner featured margaritas for a dollar. She’d thought exclusively of her stepsister. When Grace initially refused to accompany her, Madeline had started off alone, which made Grace give in and go after her. She couldn’t sit at home while her sister broke into the automotive shop. Because she already had the answers Madeline wanted so badly, Grace felt responsible for the risks her stepsister was taking.
“I’m an assistant district attorney,” she whispered, breathing deeply and resting her head against the gritty surface of the brick wall. “I can’t believe I’m breaking the law. I prosecute scum like us.”
“You can’t prosecute anyone the cops don’t catch, right?” Madeline looked carefully around the corner to see down the alley. “And we know the cops are exactly where I said they’d be. Nothing ever happens in Stillwater. They’re not expecting trouble.”
Grace wished it wasn’t so damn hot. She was feeling light-headed. “Okay, let’s get this over with. You want me to go first?” If she couldn’t talk her stepsister out of this misadventure, she had a strong desire to be finished with it as soon as possible, which provoked a certain recklessness. She wanted to rush forward, cut the chain, do the search and get out.
“No, I’m the one who got us into this. I’ll go first.” Madeline darted off, circling around the parking lot.
Grace hesitated, listening to the buzz of conversation drifting out of the pool hall along with the music, then quickly followed. By the time she caught up, the dog next door was busy devouring the steak Madeline had tossed it and ignoring them completely.
That was a positive omen. But step two of their plan didn’t go quite so smoothly. Cutting a chain wasn’t nearly as easy as it looked on TV. They both had to grab hold of the cutters and squeeze with all their might before the chain finally fell to the ground. Then it thudded in the dirt with a quiet jingle—but to Grace that jingle sounded as loud as crashing cymbals.
“See?” Madeline said as though the noise didn’t bother her in the least. “The hard part’s already over.”
Grace glanced behind them. No one came out of the tavern—and no lights flashed on in the houses that backed onto the alley.
Maybe Madeline was right. Maybe she was overreacting. They were only going to slip in, check a file drawer or two and slip out. Stillwater was a sleepy town; a quick peek at Jed’s cabinets couldn’t be that dangerous.
“Let’s go.” Her stepsister stepped through the gate, but Grace yanked her back.
“Not without gloves, Maddy. Where are they?”
“Anyone in town could’ve touched this gate.”
“I don’t care. We wear them starting now.”
“Okay. You’re the D.A.”
“Don’t remind me.”
Setting her backpack on the ground, Madeline reached into a front compartment and handed Grace a pair of yellow rubber gloves.
Grace blinked in astonishment. “You’re kidding, right? You want me to debut as a criminal looking like I’m about to wash someone’s dishes?”
“I brought what I had.”
“I have a really bad feeling about this. If nothing else, it’s unauthorized entry of property.”
“You mean trespassing?”
“And forcible entry/vandalism,” she added, eyeing the cut lock, but she allowed Madeline to tug her into the yard.
When they arrived at the building, Grace wanted to immediately duck inside its dark confines. But, like the gate, it was locked. Which didn’t come as any big surprise. “How do you plan to get in?” she asked.
Madeline removed her gloves and shoved them at Grace. “Hold these,” she said, and fished a nail file from her “crime kit.”
“You know how to pick a lock?” Grace whispered. “Who taught you that?”
“Who do you think?”
“Kirk again? Should I be worried about you dating him?”
Madeline chuckled as she worked. “When he was a kid and he got into trouble, his dad would lock his bike in the shed. Kirk figured out how to pick the lock so he could get it out after his father went to work.”
“Your bare hands are touching that knob,” Grace pointed out. Talking helped calm her nerves, made their actions seem more natural somehow. But knowing her sister was leaving fingerprints everywhere didn’t help Grace’s peace of mind.
“I’ll wipe it off before we leave.”
“Maddy, I’m sure Jed had nothing to do with what happened eighteen years ago,” Grace said. “Can’t we just go home?”
Madeline was too busy with the lock to listen. “Shh…”
“What if someone comes by later, notices that the shop’s unprotected and steals everything? It’ll be our fault.”
“Who’d steal a bunch of car repair tools?”
“You’d be surprised. I’ve met folks who’ll steal anything.”
“Not in Stillwater. People here rarely even lock their houses. But we’ll make the gate look the same as we found it, just in case.”
“That’s some consolation,” Grace said sarcastically.
“Quit worrying.”
The lock-picking was taking forever. Grace hovered in the shadows of the corrugated metal building and glanced nervously toward the pool hall. “We’ll probably find a bag of pot or something. That’ll be the big secret. And what do we care if Jed smokes weed? It doesn’t affect our lives in the least.”
“We could find something a lot more relevant than weed.”
“If we ever get in.”
With a curse, Madeline yanked her file from the lock.
The tension in Grace’s body edged up yet another notch. “What is it?”
“I can’t—”
Two men ambled out of the pool hall. At the sound of their voices, Grace pulled her stepsister down to the ground, out of sight. The chain link fence surrounding the property certainly didn’t give them much cover. “Who is it?” she breathed when the two men stood talking in the parking lot.
“Marcus and Roger Vincelli,” Madeline whispered.
“Joe’s dad?”
“And his brother.”
“Oh, God,” Grace said. “Is Joe with them?”