I waited for the guy to scowl at the detective. Instead his voice came out casually. “It’s who we thought and she named them all.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, thin box. A recorder.

My mouth dropped open. I felt like I had been punched. “You work for the police?”

His gaze flickered back to me. “When I have to.” He turned to the detective. “She didn’t know they were going to do it beforehand, and she didn’t get away because she was behind the building calling someone to ask how she should stop Bo. The guys saw the police coming and took off without her.”

The detective let out a short dismissive laugh. “What a great catch Bo is.” He took the recorder from the guy and slipped it into his breast pocket. “We’ll send some officers out to see if we can track down our missing artists. Thanks for your work.” He turned to me almost as an 41/356

afterthought. “Be glad you decided to cooperate with us, Tansy. It would have gone much worse for you otherwise. Your parents will pick you up soon.”

I couldn’t process much of what the detective said. He walked back across the lobby, and I stared at the guy who I had thought was my age, but was obviously some sort of undercover police officer. I had trusted him and he betrayed me. Why hadn’t I seen that coming?

I wanted to call him a string of names. Instead I slowly said, “You lied to me.”

“And you were an accessory to a crime. Which of us has had a worse night?” He stood up and wiped his hands on the front of his jeans as though to say he was finished with this job. I turned sharply away, erasing him from my line of vision. I didn’t want to look at him.

“You made the right choice to tell us, even if you don’t know it yet,” he said.

I clenched my teeth. “Drop dead.”

“And they couldn’t pin the other crimes on you,” he said as if I hadn’t spoken. “They couldn’t even pin this one on you. You don’t have any traces of spray paint on your hands or clothes. Anyone could tell you weren’t involved in the graffiti.” Which made this that much worse. They had known I hadn’t done it and had bullied me anyway. “You are such a jerk,” I said.

He laughed, and I hated the sound of it. “You know, Tansy, you’ve got the good guys and the bad guys confused. Your life will get better once you figure them out.”

He turned, walked across the lobby, and disappeared through the same door the detective had gone through.

I hated him. And I hated that as he walked away, I noticed how nicely his jeans fit across his muscular thighs. You shouldn’t notice that about a person you hate.

Chapter 3

My dad didn’t say anything as we climbed into our car. He had been tight-lipped and angry the entire time he was at the police station. He pulled out of the parking lot going about twice the speed limit, which was sort of careless considering where we were.

His silence didn’t last long. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you caused tonight?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “The only person in Rock Canyon who is worse to have on your bad side than Mayor Rossman is Police Chief Gardner. If there was ever a chance of saving the library, it’s gone now. All because you had to spray paint commentary about the library on city hall.” My father should have known I didn’t do that. I know how to spell

“library.”

“The police chief has been in a bad mood for a long time and is just looking for people to take it out on. You put us front and center in his sights.”

I wanted to say I was sorry, but I’ve always been lousy at apologies. Somehow I couldn’t say the words while he was yelling. Eventually he would ask why I had gone along with Bo, and then I would explain that I hadn’t known, and had called Nick to ask for advice.

Dad gripped the steering wheel with increasingly white knuckles.

“This is the end of it, Tansy. No more rebellious friends, no more attitude. If Bo says hi to you in the hallway at school, you are to walk by him without so much as a nod. Do you understand?” He still didn’t wait for me to answer. “You’re grounded until further notice, and from here on out, any friends who can’t produce proof that they’re on the honor roll will not have access to your phone number.” 43/356

I didn’t point out that none of his punishments mattered because I wouldn’t have friends now anyway.

He went on berating me about everything I had done ever since I moved in with them. He had a whole list. I wondered why he didn’t come out and say he didn’t want me. It was more than obvious. By the time we reached our house, tears pinched the back of my eyes.

When the car stopped, I opened my door and choked out, “What gives you the right to tell me how to live my life?”

“I’m your father,” he shouted, emphasizing every word. “And that boy deserted you at a crime scene!”

“Yeah, and you deserted me a long time before that!” I slammed the car door, ran into the house, and didn’t stop running until I reached my room.

For a while I lay on my bed, hugging my pillow to my stomach and crying. The real problem behind all of this, I decided, was that I kept looking for someone to love me. My father. Bo. All those guys I dated in Queens—I had gone out with some gems there. The guy who hit on my best friend. The guy who wanted me to do his math homework. The guy who was always too busy playing computer games to talk on the phone. Actually, that described a lot of them.

When was I going to learn that trying to pry affection out of people just made me vulnerable? I always ended up getting hurt. Love was a liability. I wouldn’t look for it anymore. I would give up on love and become one of those high-powered career women who crushed people beneath her stiletto heels.

My mom called. She yelled at me about being involved with vandals and then for telling my father he deserted me. I took it stoically. It was par for the night.

A half hour later my cell phone beeped. I opened a text from Bo.

His message consisted of four-letter words—except for the part where 44/356

he said he never wanted to see me again. I supposed that meant the police had found him.

I put my face back down in my pillow and tried to fall asleep, tried to stop the emotions that squeezed me. I made myself think of the positives: having no friends would make it easy to move to my grandma’s in December.

Well, not really. Grandma didn’t want footprints, let alone boarders, in her house. After she found out about tonight, she was going to harp on my criminal past for as long as I lived with her. She would probably count her possessions every night to make sure I didn’t pocket something.

There were no positives to this.

I heard a noise, like something tiny clearing its throat. I looked up. The room had a dim glow that hadn’t been there before, and when I glanced at the end of my bed I saw what looked like a six-inch leprechaun doll standing there.

A voice with a thick brogue accent said, “I must be at the right place. There’s the damsel crying her eyes out, but no bloomin’ fairy. I should have known that dosser would be late.” My first thought was that Nick had come into my room and was hiding at the end of my bed with a puppet in an attempt to cheer me up. He used to do that sort of thing with Kendall when she came for visits. Her Beanie Baby cat would have conversations with her about his plans to conquer the world. I wasn’t twelve though, and I wasn’t in the mood for these sorts of games. Even if I was glad that Nick cared.

“Just what I need right now,” I said dryly, “a leprechaun.”

“I’m short on gold,” he said, “so it won’t do you any good to ask for it.”

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“Of course you are. You wouldn’t be my leprechaun if you weren’t broke.” I picked up my pillow and chucked it toward the end of the bed.

The leprechaun ducked as the pillow flew over his head, which was pretty amazing considering I didn’t see Nick’s hand holding the doll anywhere. Were there strings somewhere?