Page 12 of All In Good Time
He nodded. “I can try. At least I can start another report and get some eyes on the house.” He paused to take in Becca’s tired eyes. “You sure you should be heading there right now?”
“I have to try.”
He sighed and reached into his back pocket to pull out something. He motioned her forward, and she reached out her hand as he put a crumbled twenty-dollar bill into it. “For gas or something. I dunno, whatever you need.”
She smiled down at the money, grateful for his support right now. She had been worried he would push back against it, but instead, he gave her the proper backing. He believed her ridiculous story and even came to help out with the girls. “Thank you. I don’t know how long we’ll take, but I’ll keep in touch. Just, make sure she’s safe. See if there is anything you can do for them.”
“Whatever you say, kiddo.” He dropped a heavy hand on her shoulder and nodded. “Just don’t tell your mother I had anything to do with this. She’ll kill me.”
“I won’t tell her if you don’t.”
“Deal.”
She waved as they left the driveway, but with the headlights in her eyes, she couldn’t tell if they waved back. Their lights disappeared the same moment new ones came into sight, and a second car pulled into the driveway. Marty left his car idling as he got out and walked over to her.
“Jesus, you look like shit.” His hands were in his pockets, and his dark, naturally textured Afro was flattened on one side from sleep.
“Thanks for doing this.”
“You owe me big time. You know I hate getting involved with that dickhead.”
“I know.” She smiled fondly at him. He talked big, acted real tough, but her best friend was a sweetie. There was nothing he wouldn’t do, and she would gladly take a bullet for him as well. “I’ll make it up to you later.”
“You better.”
“Let me grab my stuff.”
She ran inside and turned down all the lights before grabbing the duffel bag she had stuffed with a dozen things she wasn’t sure she would need. A single outfit, every dollar she had saved, and an array of medical supplies.
In Marty’s car, she saw that he had also packed a bag, which she placed her own next to.
“You ready?” he asked, yawning and running a hand down the side of his face.
“Ready.”
He nodded and put the car in reverse. “Let’s go get that asshole.”
5
November 1984 | Before
After Halloween, it was like that night with Derek Stokes had never happened at all.
Becca never got a call, and when they returned to school, there was no sign that he even recognized her. While she watched him in the halls, not once did his eyes meet hers.
The only thing that proved she hadn’t made the entire thing up was the torn notebook paper she had ripped out to write her number down for him.
She sighed and buried her face in her hands during Ms. Carmine’s English lecture. She couldn’t stop thinking about their encounter, and now she only felt like an idiot for giving him that paper. He probably threw it out as soon as she went inside.
There had been a few times she felt like someone was watching her—in the cafeteria, in the parking lot—but when she turned to look, Derek wasn’t even looking remotely in her direction.
So she decided it was a lost cause and chose to forget it ever happened, just like he had.
Until that night.
Her mom was gone for only a week this time, and she had left in the morning. Becca decided that she wouldn’t be doing anything fun for the day and hunkered down under a warm blanket with a cup of tea and David Letterman.
It wasn’t uncommon for Marty or Winston to show up, even at night. So, when there was a knock at the door, she had expected Marty to be standing there on the step—maybe looking for something to do, since he often complained about being bored after he broke up with his cheating girlfriend. Not as many girls were interested in him lately.
