69. Weston

It’s morning when I get home from the road trip. I feel like I’m coming back as a new man. Like I’ve been baptized into this fresh new chapter in my life.

I’m putting everything behind us. I’m going to tell Renee that this thing between us has become more than I ever thought it would be, and I’m ready to see where it goes from here.

I feel good about it. She doesn’t deserve my suspicion, my malice. Any day now, the cops are going to ID the prints as some crackhead who wandered into the apartment building or a felon on the loose with a breaking and entering rap sheet a mile long.

It wasn’t her. It couldn’t have been.

Of course, as soon as I resolve that, the phone rings. I should’ve known this was coming. It’s like the story of my life. Nothing good can last.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Scott. This is Detective Shorz, LAPD Robbery unit.” He clears his throat. “I wanted to get back to you as soon as I had information and it just came through. So I’m calling to let you know that we ran all the prints that we collected from your place.”

“Good. That’s great.”

“Yeah, uh, well, the situation is that there were about five hundred different print samples taken from the apartment. Of those prints, there were none that weren’t known as an occupant or cleared visitor to your apartment.”

“What does that mean?” I know what he’s saying, but I need him to say the words.

“It means that of the prints we collected, all of them, belong either to you, Hunter Mariano, or Renee DuBois. So… those are your suspects right there. Without forced entry or the perp being Harry fuckin’ Potter, if you’ll pardon my French… bottom line is, there’s no way it was anyone else.”

“Okay. Yeah. Thanks.” I hang up and stare lifelessly at the door.

I went bungee jumping off a bridge once when I was in college. The inertia of the fall, then the second when the cord catches and springs… It”s exactly like this feeling. I’m freefalling.

This cannot be happening. Not again. I have a moment of self-pity. A why-is-this-happening-to-me kind of thing.

Because I know what I have to do next.

Hunter would never steal from me. He’s my oldest friend. All he has to do is ask and I would give him everything I have.

It has to be her.

It takes Hunter three rings to answer. When he does, he sounds groggy. “West…? What are you doin’?” His speech is slurred.

“You alright, man?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just having a nap.” Shit. I forgot how early it is. On his best day, he gets up at eight. After a night of drinking, this is more like the crack of dawn for him.

“Fuck, dude, I’m sorry. I’ll call back later.”

“No, no. I’m up now.” In the background, a woman is chattering. “Hang on.” He’s gone for a little while and I can hear voices without being able to make out what they’re saying. “Alright. What’s up that you feel compelled to disturb my beauty sleep?”

“The cops called. Prints came back. They all belong to us and Renee. And there’s no evidence of a break-in. It’s gotta be her.”

“Weston, I gotta tell you, it really doesn’t seem like something she would do. She’s pretty straight up about everything. Theft really isn’t her speed.”

“Wasn’t Eva’s speed either, huh?”

He sighs. “You’re traumatized, man. I get it—you’ve been robbed. But maybe you should think about it. Talk to her.”

“Talk to her? So she can fucking lie to me?” I shake my head. “Not happening. And speaking of which, where the fuck are you? You’re supposed to be watching my place.” Not that he is much of a deterrent. My place was ripped off while he was laying in the guestroom, drunk—twice. He’s a shitty guard dog.

“Dude, your place got broken into. I didn’t feel safe.”

“Ha ha, asshole. I’m glad you can joke about it. This is my fucking life.”

“Chill out, dude. Chill out and then call her. She’s not the kind of woman who would steal from you.”

“Why the hell are you defending her?”

If he knew what she’d accused him of, he wouldn’t be so quick to jump into her corner. Even then, it made me wonder why she was so intent on trying to drive a wedge between me and Hunter. Now, I get it.

“No. You know what? I’m over it. She’s going to know she fucked over the wrong guy. I’m not letting her ruin my life.”

I hang up before he can defend her anymore. I have other calls to make. I’m through letting women walk over me. I’m taking the fight to her.

I’m going to end this once and for all so that I never have to see her again.