Page 99 of Enemies to Prom Dates
It should have made sense, but it didn’t.
Locke didn’t strike me as someone who would be so posh as to live in the elegant townhome. It was all so suburban and normal, whereas he conveyed an aura of someone who was distinctly other.
Before I could get out of the car, the front door to his home opened and Locke stepped out and waved me inside.
I frowned. Reen must have told him I was coming. I got out of the car and walked toward him.
He was dressed in his typical black shirt, black jeans and black sneakers, which, to my eye, always made his complexion seem really pale. But I felt like something was missing.
His vaping pen. Perfect, I thought. Maybe I wouldn’t be dealing with a stoned Locke for a change.
Not that his vaping habits had ever seemed to impair his thought process.
“I heard you coming,” he announced, stating what I already suspected.
“Reen told you.”
He shook his head confused. “No. No, Iheardyou coming. Your mother’s car makes a specifically pitched squeaking noise whenever the brakes are applied. On that subject, you should probably get the car in for a tune-up fairly soon.”
He could tell my mother’s car from the sound of the brakes. Reen was right. He wasn’t like us.
“Do you know why I’m here?” I asked.
“Of course I know why you’re here. I know everything. Come in, my brother’s not here so we have privacy.”
I was grateful his brother wasn’t at home. I didn’t have the energy to play polite fellow high school student Beth Bennet. I wanted to get to the heart of the problem quickly and share any information I could about Fitz.
“Fitz is asking for your help. He says he’ll owe you another favor.”
Locke stepped back and allowed me to enter what was a small but beautifully decorated formal living room. I took a seat and oddly crossed my feet at the ankles, like my mother had often instructed when visiting with company. I thought the gesture ridiculous, but in this elegant living room, in this posh townhome with a British Locke it seemed appropriate.
Locke remained standing. “He’s going to have a hard time repaying favors if he’s been escorted off to jail.”
“That’s never going to happen. Regardless of what the police think they have as evidence, Senator Darcy is not going to let her son spend a day in jail.”
“You think she wields that kind of power? Power over the law.”
“No. She wields the powerofthe law. Trust me, whatever she does will be legal, but it won’t end with Fitz in prison. However, I don’t want it to even get that far. He didn’t do it. We need to find proof. He thought you could help. Can you?”
He placed his finger and thumb along his chin and stroked it as if it was a long habit.
After a moment of silence, he announced. “I have gotten hold of the police report.”
The words shocked me, but maybe they shouldn’t have.
He’s not like us.
Or maybe it was simpler than that. I smiled and nodded. “You are a narc, aren’t you? How old are you really?”
There was a wisp of a smile. “I’m not workingforthe police if that’s what you’re asking. Let’s just say someone owed me a favor. Do you want to know their evidence or not?”
“Yes.”
“An eyewitness saw Darcy’s car intentionally ram into the back of Wick’s, forcing it off the road. Said witness also provided a partial license plate number. Matching paint samples from Wick’s car on Darcy’s bumper. And video footage of Darcy at an intersection very close to the accident exactly two minutes before the accident occurred.”
I frowned at the mention of video footage. That couldn’t be right. There couldn’t be an actual video if he didn’t do it.
“Having doubts about your boyfriend now?”
