CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I"m pissed when I leave the police station. I should have known better than to go to the fucking cops. Of course, they would zero in on me. Forget Clara acting like an insane banshee. Forget Julian looking like a sociopath. No, it must be the dirty little pool boy with the rap sheet.

My left arm itches again, and I sigh and slap the steering wheel. It"s my damned fault. Of course, the first thing I do when I walk into the police station is start scratching my fucking elbow.

Goddamned heroin. Goddamned needle. Stupid fucking dreams of dead sisters and naked women and fucking bullshit.

"Fuck!"

I glance to my left to see the woman in the lane next to me staring at me warily. I smile and wave, which does the opposite of calm her nerves. The light turns and she speeds off, leaving the crazy kid in the work van behind her.

I can't believe I actually went to the cops. What a fucking idiot. What did I think they were going to do, decide to go after the rich people after all? Did I forget what happened with Annie?

It"s just unfair. Annie and now Lila. Lila"s not even poor, but because her parents are rich and still alive, she"s just an inconvenience to the cops like Annie was.

It's just bullshit. It's all bullshit. Lila was murdered, and no one's doing anything to figure out why but me.

An idea occurs to me. It's a bad idea. No, it's a terrible idea. I've had some really shitty ideas before, but I think I can say honestly that this is the worst idea I've ever had.

But I'm going to do it anyway. Someone has to do this. Someone has to care that Lila was murdered.

I think of Lila's playful smile, her sarcasm, the look in her eyes when she teased me about catching her in her underwear. Maybe it's silly of me, but I felt like maybe she and I could have had something.

Yeah, that is silly. But that doesn't mean it's not true. She liked me. I mean, it sure seemed like she did. And who knows? Maybe once I had a while to sleep on it, I wouldn't have been so afraid of losing my job just because a legal adult happened to have parents who thought of me as a servant.

I think of Vivian and feel a touch of guilt, but let's be real. Vivian's twenty years older than me. There's no future with her. There could have been a future with Lila. Hell, there could have been something.

Or maybe nothing. Maybe I'm just imagining all of this. I'll never know now.

And you know what? Forget about all that. Someone needs to care that Lila was murdered even if she and I would never have been anything together.

I head back to Autumn Downs and get there just in time to finish my afternoon clients. I get a text from Ahmed that two of my clients are pissed at me for rescheduling on short notice, so I tell him that I'll take care of them tonight after the afternoon clients are done and take care of the other four on my next day off.

That works for him, and it works for me because it gives me a reason to be here after dark.

I manage to get through the afternoon without going insane, which is a miracle. I also manage to avoid talking to crazy rich people and old friends with criminal history.

I'm grateful for being able to avoid conversation. I've just about had it with talking to people in this neighborhood. Everything is games and lies and deception with them. Even Vivian talks like she's playing some sort of political game, and she has to weigh every word she releases. The only person I've talked to in this damned place who isn't playing games is Lila, and she's dead now.

Well, I'm going to find out who killed her. I'm going to prove it, and I'm going to give the police one more chance to do their job. If they don't, I'll do it for them.

You're being an idiot, Nate. What are you going to do? Break into the Kensington's house and stab them to death?

"If I have to," I mutter to myself.

"What was that?"

I catch myself and smile at Mr. Ruhl. "Nothing. You're all set, sir. I look forward to being of service to you again soon."

He nods and offers me a disinterested smile. "Take care."

Oh, I will.

***

I park the van in the community park two blocks over from the Kensington. It"s dark out now, so there"s literally no one outside. I could probably have parked right in front of their house. Still, since I"m apparently suspecto numero uno now, I decide it"s a good idea to at least exercise some caution.

"Yeah, you're breaking into their house again, dipshit. Don't act like you're being careful."

My blood boils at that. Damn it, someone has to care. It has to matter to someone. She was a person, for fuck's sake.

Lila or Annie?

"Both of them," I say aloud again. "This is for both of them."

Bullshit. This is for yourself.

"Yeah, whatever."

I reach the street behind the Kensingtons' house and look around. The windows are all dark, and there's no one else outside. I walk in between two homes and end up behind the Kensingtons' house.

There's a light on in their house, so I slip back into the shadows and wait. My heart pounds. It's been a long time since I've broken into anyone's house.

I only did this a few times back when I was using. When business with Arturo was light, and I ran out of money for a fix, I would break into apartments and steal drugs if I could find them and cash if I couldn't.

I didn't like it. Boosting an empty car is one thing. Walking into someone's home when they're sleeping inside of it is another. It's a miracle I've never been shot.

But I have to do this. For Lila.

The door opens, and I hear Julian and Clara talking and laughing. I can"t see them well from this distance, but I can see that Julian has his hand on Clara"s ass, and she"s leaning on him with her chest pushed forward so he can see her tits push out. Evidently, offing the kid is working wonders for their marriage.

They get in their car and drive away, just as merry as can be.

I wait until their lights disappear, then get to work.

Apartments in Cudahy don't usually have security cameras or alarms, but ten-million-dollar houses in West Hollywood usually do, so my first step is to walk around the house and see what I'm looking at.

I count three cameras and spot a sign that announces that this home is proudly protected by Advanced Security Systems. That means they'll have entry alarms at the doors, but probably not the windows. Most people with real security hire commercial firms, not residential firms. ASS is a residential security firm, so chances are there's only a basic level of protection.

I hop the fence to the backyard. The camera faces the fence door, and there's a large blind spot that I use to make my way to the back just below Lila's bedroom window. I jump and catch the balcony rail, then pull myself up.

I take a moment to pray the glass door isn't locked. I brought a glass cutter just in case, but I'd rather this was easy.

I plant my fingertips on the door and pull. To my great relief, it slides open easily. I step into the room and leave the door open.

Looking around Lila's room breaks my heart. There's a stuffed kitten on the bed and vanity mirror with selfies, notes from friends and pictures of celebrities tucked in between the glass and the frame. There's a closet with at least twenty pairs of shoes and a pile of dirty clothes on the floor in one corner. The laptop is decorated with stickers of unicorns and puppies and cartoon images of shirtless surfers.

It's a rich girl's room, but it's a girl's room. It's normal. Just a normal girl hoping for a normal life who now won't get any life.

I look around for something that could prove that Clara and Julian are the ones who killed her. Clara's too far over the cuckoo's nest to tell her ass from a kangaroo, but Julian's probably smart enough to make sure there's nothing in the house that would incriminate him. I'd bet anything he was the one who cleaned the pool.

But neither of them would think to check Lila's room. Lila was nothing to them. It wouldn't occur to them that she might have suspected them of evil motives or that she might have recorded things they said or did that could prove that they weren't innocent.

Maybe I just hope that's the case. Maybe I'm wrong about all of this and Lila really did just slip and hit her head.

But I doubt it.

I carefully open drawers and look through dressers. I check under the bed and in the bathroom. I check the closet, and just when I'm about to give this up for a waste of time, I find a notebook on the top shelf of her closet pushed all the way back to the corner.

I pull it out and see the word DIARY on the front.

Jackpot.

I look through the diary, and my heart breaks again. I can see her journey from hopeful, vibrant teenager to anxious, frightened drug user to disillusioned, dejected junkie. She was using. Not coke or heroin. Percocet. She got some from a friend and never looked back. Or rather, she looked back constantly, but she had ridden the wagon too far to get off the train.

I know how that feels.

Near the end, I find what I'm looking for. My eyes widen when I read the secrets she puts down about both Clara and Julian. Clara's are pretty mundane. She's a junkie and an alcoholic and has been since as long as Lila can remember. She's also cheated on Julian with numerous men. Pretty standard stuff based on what I've seen of the neighborhood so far.

But Julian's secrets are a different kind entirely. Some of the stuff in here is like mob business. People disappearing, money coming out of nowhere, stone faced men with dark sunglasses showing up and staying for hours.

It's not enough to convict them, but it should be enough to get the police to look. If they care to look, anyway.

The last entry of the dialogue is the worst. Not because of what it says about Lila's parents, though. In fact, it doesn't mention them at all.

Met a guy today. Nate. He was cleaning the pool, and I left the window open so he'd see me in my underwear. I know, I know, I'm such a tease! Whatever. He was cute. Omg, you should have seen how nervous he was when I told him I caught him. He thought I was going to get him fired! So funny.

I think I'll call him tomorrow. I got his number from Mom's phone. Maybe I'll see if I can get him alone and let him see me out of my underwear. Oh, whatever, diary. He's cute, and he's nice, and most guys are only one of the two. Besides, maybe if he likes me, I won't need to pop pills to feel good anymore.

Anyway, here's hoping. Night, diary. Love you XXOOXO.

A tear falls on the last line and smears the last X and O. It takes me a moment to realize it came from my eyes.

Just a girl. Just a poor girl who was trying to hold on in a world that doesn't give a shit. And they took that from her.

I put the diary in my jacket and zip it up. Then I leave the way I came.

As I walk back to the van, my tears dry and my jaw hardens.

I'm going to get justice for you, Lila. I'm going to get these assholes back for what they did. I promise.