By the Pale Moonlight (Book One of the Moonlight Series) Page 17

  o0o

  Whether he was really on board with the dance or not, Ty certainly acted like he was. At lunch with Melanie, he declared the next week Homecoming week.

  "I mean it," he said. "I want you girls out buying dresses and getting ready for the dance. I'll be fine working on things alone."

  "There isn't time for this," I said. "Listen, I'll just tell my parents we decided not to—"

  Ty raised a hand, cutting me off. "We're going."

  I chewed my lower lip and exchanged a look with Melanie. She shrugged, clearly as unexcited as I was by the idea. There was too much to do. And with my inability to track down a capture gun, I had even more to worry about.

  Lost to my thoughts, it took a moment to register that Ty was dangling something in front of my face. It was small, metallic, and looked remarkably like the keys to his car. For added measure, he shook them, making them jingle like a wind chime.

  "What?" I said. "Are you serious?"

  The day I would get the chance to drive Ty's car—well, quite frankly, was the day I thought hell would freeze over.

  He closed his eyes, as though gathering his courage. When he opened them again, he nodded. "Yes." With that, he dropped the keys into my awaiting palm.

  I cast a glance around the room—at Melanie—then back at Ty again. Was this really happening?

  "Don't make me regret this," he said, taking a large bite of the sandwich in front of him.

  Lest he change his mind, I quickly pocketed the set. Only then did I have second thoughts. Could I really be bought off so easily? I opened my mouth to make another protest against the dance when movement in the corner of the room caught my eye.

  Two seniors had pushed back their chairs to face one another across their table. Their exact words were hard to decipher, but the tone of the conversation left little doubt that it was a heated one. I recognized the first boy—Trent Perry. I was surprised to see him in school. Last I'd heard, he had been suspended—something to do with drugs.

  The other boy was Caleb Martin.

  The latter was the calmer of the two, but even from this distance, I could see the tension thrumming through his body. Trent was taller and easily outweighed Caleb by a good thirty pounds. If this argument came to blows, my money was on him.

  I half turned to ask Ty to tell me what they were saying, but just then Caleb's arm shot out, grabbing Trent by the scruff of the shirt. He leaned in close, almost nose to nose with the taller boy, and spoke low. When he was finished, Caleb released the boy's shirt so suddenly that Trent stumbled backwards before regaining his footing.

  The two boys exchanged a few more words, but despite his obvious anger, Trent loped out of the room. Caleb, outwardly unruffled by the encounter, shook black hair out of his face and gathered the meager remains of his lunch and tossed it in a nearby trash can.

  His dark eyes caught mine. I quickly turned away, embarrassed to have been caught staring at him yet again. When I looked back, he was making his way out of the room.

  I turned back to Melanie and Ty. Ty lifted his eyebrows at my obvious distraction. I smiled and shook my head, indicating it was nothing. Try as I could, however, I couldn't pick back up on the thread of their conversation.

  I was too busy formulating a plan in my head.

  Before leaving the cafeteria, I patted my jeans pocket, comforted by the weight of the car keys resting there.

  Chapter 21

  It didn't take much effort to talk Melanie into bypassing shopping for the day. We both felt the urgency to keep up with our research efforts.

  "Besides," I said, climbing into the drivers' side of Ty's Cutlass. "Mom will kill me if I don't include her. We'll all go tomorrow instead."

  Melanie, in the process of buckling herself into the passenger seat, paused. "You know, Mac...I don't think I'm going to the dance."

  There was fear in her hazel eyes. I realized, belatedly, that Ty and I had both worked under the assumption that she would take no issue with going to the dance. I hadn't stopped to consider the fact she may not have a date and probably wouldn't relish the idea of going alone—or worse, as a third wheel.

  I made a show of adjusting the seat and mirrors, and watched her surreptitiously out of the corner of my eye. Not one to wear make-up or dress up for school, Melanie tended to blend into the background. She was pretty though—in an understated way. With her hair swept up and just the right dress, she might be able to shine a little for once.

  A date was another matter. As far back as I could recall, I couldn't remember her being linked romantically with anyone. She had had her crushes on various boys when we were younger, but it wasn't likely she had ever been on a date. Not that I knew of at any rate.

  "You know, Mel..." I began, buckling my own seat belt. "Ty has lots of friends. I'm sure..."

  The petite girl turned bright red, and covered her face with her hands. "Oh God, please don't. I'd be so embarrassed."

  I laughed despite myself. "It's no big deal. I bet there are plenty of guys who would love to take you out. You just have to give someone a chance."

  At that, she cracked her fingers and peered at me. "Really?"

  "Of course! Geez, girl. It's just a dance."

  She dropped her hands in her lap. "That's easy for you to say. I bet you've never sat home on a Saturday night."

  I gave her a stern look. "Please. I've spent plenty of time at home—alone," I added when she rolled her eyes. "If we have to go to this dance," I sighed. "And clearly we have to—we might as well make the best of it. That means I want you in a dress, with a date, having a good time."

  She still looked doubtful.

  I plunged the key into the ignition and slid my sunglasses in place. "Trust me. I'll take care of everything."

  We rode in silence. My thoughts shifted gears to other matters.

  "You have no idea how lucky you are." Melanie said, breaking the silence. Sadness pulled the corners of her mouth down, and her hazel eyes dropped to the foot well. "This is all so easy for you. Dances—boys, clothes. I envy you."

  "It's easy, Mel—I'll help you."

  She nodded, glancing out the window at the buildings rushing by. "I miss her so much. Miss talking to her."

  I didn't know what to say. I suddenly felt very selfish for my distracted thoughts. Mere words couldn't erase or take back all that she had lost, and the last thing I wanted was to add to her pain.

  "It must be so hard," I said finally, knowing my response wasn't even close to being adequate.

  She nodded, dark hair falling across her face to hide her expression. "Sometimes I wish I could take back that night—change what happened."

  "I know..." I reached across the seat and squeezed her hand. "We'll find the person who did this. I promise."

  She swallowed and nodded, a determined glint hardening her eyes. "Speaking of which, we better get to the library."

  A couple of hours later, Melanie and I emerged from the library, exhausted from yet another fruitless search.

  "Maybe we'll find something in these books," Melanie said, always one to look on the positive side. She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and shifted her load of books to the opposite hip.

  "Maybe." I didn't want to admit to the sinking feeling that settled over me. Left with few options, we'd resorted to checking out works geared toward understanding dog behavior. I doubted they would be much help.

  She caught my eye and frowned at my slumped shoulders. "Come on, Mac. We'll find something."

  "Yeah." I flashed her a smile I didn't feel, relieved to see Ty's car parked ahead of us.

  My thoughts were ten paces ahead of me, and I stopped myself several times before I blurted out my plans to Melanie. I knew she wouldn't approve. My reasons would never justify the methods I was about to take. And the last thing I wanted was hers—or even worse, Ty's—disapproval.

  Melanie looked up in surprise when I turned on to her street. "I thought we were going back to your place?" she said, raising an eyebro
w when I slid Ty's car to a stop in front of her house.

  "I know that was the plan," I said, unable to look at her directly. Instead, I made a big deal of gazing at a passing car outside of my window. "But I have to run a couple of errands first."

  "Oh," she said, her brows knitting together. She considered me for a couple of long beats, and at last I was forced to look at her. I'm not sure whether or not she gleaned anything from what I hoped was a blank expression, but a moment later she was exiting the car. She slammed the door closed and leaned in to look at me. "I'll come around later. Eight sound good?"

  I nodded, putting the car into drive. "See you then."

  o0o

  When I returned to school, the parking lot was nearly empty. I could still hear activity in the building, but most of the students had gone by then. Hopefully the same was true of the teachers. I knew Ty would be home by now, having hitched a ride with one of his buddies. Even so, I inched my way through the building as quietly as possible.

  The office was deserted and locked for the evening. I knew the janitorial staff would make a pass at some point in the early evening, but hopefully I would be in and out long before they arrived. The building still had the feel of recent activity, and as I slipped my mother's key into the records office door, I found myself nervously peeking over my shoulder. All I needed was a straggler—be it teacher or student—to catch me in this compromising position.

  No one appeared, however, and I slipped into the room and closed the door firmly behind me. There were no windows in the records office, which was little more than a broom closet stuffed with filing cabinets. I clicked on the small flashlight I brought, pausing just a moment to listen for any sounds outside of the door. Once I was sure no one was about to burst in and demand to know what I was doing, I swept the thin beam of light across the rows of cabinets until I landed on the drawer marked M.

  o0o

  The sun hung low in the sky when I pulled into the small gas station where Caleb worked—and lived. I drew my jacket tight around me as I stepped out of the car.

  The jingle of a bell announced my arrival when I entered the station. The small building appeared even dirtier in the dim light of day streaking through the windows. I couldn't believe Caleb lived there. Someone shouted they'd be right with me, and I debated whether or not I should sit. Given I'd never done anything like this, I wasn't really sure what the proper etiquette would be. In the end, I stood, fidgeting in nervous anticipation.

  A man with grease-stained hands stepped through a door I presumed led to the garage. He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and swiped it across his forehead.

  "Can I help you?" he asked, an easy smile reaching warm blue eyes.

  Joe Kramer. I'd read all about him.

  "I'm looking for Caleb," I said, barely able to push the words through dry lips. "Is he here?"

  The older man studied me for a moment, his eyes traveling over me with interest. I probably wasn't the typical visitor—if Caleb even got visitors. From what I could tell, he was a complete loner, preferring to brave things alone rather than make friends.

  "This way," Joe said with a jerk of his chin.

  I followed him through the door. It indeed led to the garage. There were several cars lined up in a row—some elevated, some on the ground, their hoods raised. It wasn't your typical gas station with attendants coming out of the woodwork. As far as I could tell, Caleb was alone. I could just make out his dark head under the chassis of a Buick. He wore blue coveralls and his hands were smudged with grime. In the middle of loosening something or other under the vehicle, the grate of his socket wrench paused when he saw me standing there.

  "Someone to see you," Joe said. A tiny bell sounded, and Joe ducked back inside the store leaving me alone with Caleb. I swallowed hard. It was now or never.

  Caleb came out from under the car, wiping his hands with a rag. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

  "I need your help," I said.

  At that, Caleb's eyebrow quirked.

  I swallowed, and dug out a folded piece of paper from my pocket, smoothing it out on the bumper of the F-150 parked closest to me. Caleb studied me for a long moment before stepping forward to take a look. He barely glanced at the page before he was moving away to pick up the wrench he had dropped earlier.

  "Can you get one?"

  He moved beneath the sedan and began tightening a bolt with even twists of his wrist.

  "Can you?" I said again, snatching the paper up and holding it at eye level so he could see it. It was a picture of a capture gun with all of the specific specs I needed. Including the tranquilizer I would use to drug Ty—should the need arise. Caleb glanced down at the paper again and back up to his work. I stood there feeling like an idiot as he finished up whatever the hell he had been doing. Only when he put down his wrench and wiped his hands off with a dirty rag did I thrust it in his face again.

  "Can you at least answer me?"

  He brushed past me. "This isn't a department store, Princess."

  I swore under my breath and rounded on him. "I realize that. But I know you have connections."

  His shoulders stiffened but he didn't turn to face me again. Instead, he busied himself at the work bench in front him. "You don't know shit about me, Princess."

  "Stop calling me that!"

  I nearly gave in then and left. But that wasn't an option. Not now. I had gone too far already.

  What Caleb didn't know was that in my back pocket I held what amounted to his life story over the past several years. It hadn't been an easy one. Parents who were alcoholics, addicts, and eventually, people who couldn't hack being parents at all. They abandoned him at the age of 14. Left to his own devices, Caleb struggled to survive on his own, eventually turning to a way of life he was all too familiar with. It was only when Joe stepped in that he began cleaning up his act.

  "I know more than you think," I said, a slight tremor in my words.

  At that, he did turn to look at me, his eyes dark.

  "What the hell is this?" he said, stepping toward me, his hand clenching the tool in his hand so tightly I could see the white around his knuckles.

  "It's a business deal, pure and simple," I said, my voice growing more confident as the words spilled out. "You give me what I want, and I go away."

  The corner of Caleb's mouth quirked up at that, but the humor didn't reach his eyes. "Is that right?"

  I didn't answer and made myself return his forthright gaze.

  He stepped forward and took the sheet of paper I held out to him. He studied it for a long moment.

  I ripped the sheet out of his hand. "Can you, yes or no?"

  He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the pick-up truck. His dark eyes traveled over me, as though searching for something on my person that could explain my sudden appearance in his shop. I could barely explain it myself. Blackmail wasn't exactly something I'd ever listed on my to-do list. I wondered who was more shocked by my behavior—Caleb or me.

  "I'm clean. Have been for a long time," Caleb said.

  I nodded, trying but not quite able to look him in the eye. "If you help me, no one will ever think differently."

  At that, he did laugh. A short bark of laughter that had no humor in the sound. "So if I refuse, you talk. And it's you they'll believe. That's your big plan."

  I wasn't sure if he was impressed or amused by my actions. I realized then that he could very easily refuse me, call my bluff, and I'd be left back at square one. I couldn't follow through on my threat, and I think we both knew it. Given that, I was surprised when he pushed away from the truck and took the paper back.

  "It'll take a few days. Cash on delivery." He tucked the page into the pocket of his overalls and turned back to his work.

  At his words, I felt like a puppet whose strings had been snipped. "How will I know—"

  "I'll find you—Princess."

  Caleb raised the hood of the F-150 and ducked his head under to take a look at its inner
workings. He didn't speak again, and after a moment to collect myself, I forced myself to walk away. It took every last bit of concerted effort on my part, and when I made it to the Cutlass, I collapsed in the driver's seat. With shaking hands, I fired up the engine and drove away.

  Chapter 22

  I couldn't get the encounter with Caleb out of my mind during the next few days. There was nothing I could do but wait. Knowing that didn't make it any easier.

  I kept expecting to receive word from him—worried how he would go about contacting me. Would he phone—would he text—would he simply show up on my doorstep, gun in hand? The unknown was killing me.

  Left with no other option, I tried to throw myself into dance preparations to take my mind off of things. It was easier to get caught up in the spectacle than I anticipated.

  My mother was overcome at the prospect of buying a dress for the dance. At her insistence, we spent all weekend and the early part of the next week combing the local stores. Not just any old thing would be good enough for the occasion, and I tried on countless garments in her quest to find the perfect one. On Wednesday, we finally settled on a simple gown in the palest of blues. The neckline was softly pleated and held up with thin, rhinestone straps. Exposing most of my back, the dress hugged the gentle curve of my hips and cascaded to the ground in soft waves. It was beautiful.

  I ran my hands over the silky fabric and gazed at myself in the mirror. I'd never felt so utterly feminine before.

  "It's beautiful," Melanie said, a little breathless. I smiled at her through the mirror, a little giddy.

  "Ty's going to love it," my mom whispered, her eyes misting as she took in my reflection. "You're going to knock his socks off. Now...shoes!"