Life After Theft (28 page)

I sputtered and choked.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He flipped open the file, seemingly oblivious as I coughed up a lung. “There’s not an officer in the place, except maybe a rookie or two, who doesn’t know her name. We tried to make something stick to her for years.”

I was so shocked I almost couldn’t speak. “You—you caught her?”

“Not red-handed. But we had enough to prosecute. The problem was finding a willing prosecutor.”

“Why?”

“Well, technically, everything we had on her was petty. I wish we’d caught her stealing some of that jewelry you left at the homeless shelter. That would have been something we could
work
with.”

“I don’t get it.”

Officer Herrera let out a long breath. “For one thing, her father is about the most influential judge in Los Angeles County. For another, his family’s got more money than God and he’s not afraid to throw it around. We couldn’t pick her up for stealing earrings or stuffed animals. Some fancy-pants lawyer would get her off with a judge who was in the Schaffers’ pocket to begin with, and there’d be a big black mark on our station. Build up too many black marks and we’d see our funding get smaller and smaller. Not a nice guy, Judge Schaffer.”

Kimberlee instantly made more sense to me.

“But we kept records and they match up with a lot of the stuff you’ve been returning. It wasn’t too hard to put two and two together. And that’s what gets you off on the theft charges.”

Hope flooded through me. “Really?”

“And the codes get you off on B and E.” He shook his head. “I tell you, I don’t know how you got that key and those codes, but since you had Hennigan’s personal code, he can’t prove he didn’t give them to you, and that implies permission to enter. It’s a technicality, but I’ll make it work.”

I wanted to hug him. Really.

“The damage to the chem lab, however,” Officer Herrera said soberly, “is a different story. There’s a dollar amount associated with it, and unless you or your parents cough up the money, the school can sue you for it.”

My stomach sank. Hadn’t Hennigan said ten thousand dollars? Good kid or not, my parents believed in natural consequences; they’d expect me to pay the bill.

And there was only one thing I owned that would cover it.

“But none of our prosecutors are going to try their luck arguing criminal vandalism or malicious mischief to a sympathetic jury,” Officer Herrera said, interrupting my dismal thoughts. “Which, under the circumstances, I have no doubt you’d get. I’ve spoken to some of my friends downtown and criminal charges are off the table. So it’s just the restoration expenses and those are between you and the school.”

I felt myself grow a little weak with relief and I sank down in my chair a little. “Really?”

“Yep.”

It was all I could do to keep myself from bursting into hysterical laughter. I had to take several deep breaths to push it back. “So I’m fine? Everything’s okay?”

“Well, almost. I can’t fix much with your school. And Mr. Hennigan’s not really the forgiving type.”

I hate Mr. Hennigan
. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve spent the better part of the last hour on the phone with him and, since it’s a private school, the only people he really has to answer to are the board of directors. For starters, you’re suspended all next week.”

My heart sank at that, but it was a hell of a lot better than expulsion.

“I can’t convince him you’re anything but a hardened criminal, but I told him that keeping you in school is a vital part of rehabilitating you. That’s when he went ahead and decided against expulsion. You can remain at Whitestone.”

Lucky me
.

“But he’s going to watch you like a hawk for the rest of high school; there’s just nothing I can do about that. This is the best I can do.”

“Oh no, it’s great,” I said. “It’s so much more than I expected. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He paused. “You’re a good kid, Jeff. I mean it.”

I didn’t feel like a good kid at the moment, but I hoped he was right.

“Now, standard protocol at this point—even though you’re being released without being charged—is to contact your parents and have them come pick you up. But we haven’t been able to get a hold of them.”

“They’re on a weekend getaway thing. They won’t be back till tomorrow.”
Or so
.

“Okay. I’ll vouch for you this time. And there better not be a next time.” His face got as hard as stone. “Are you done, Jeff? Because if you’re not, it’s time to
give up
this project. I’m serious.”

“I’m done,” I said honestly. “As of last week everything was returned and . . . Kimberlee can rest in peace.” Whatever that meant.

“Good. Because if I see you in here again, you’re on your own, good motivation or not.”

I nodded.

“Okay. Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“My shift’s over. I’ll drive you back to your car.”

He stood and opened the door for me. As I got to my feet my handcuffs jingled.

Officer Herrera rolled his eyes. “Oh, for the love—” he muttered, digging into his pocket.

There has never been a sweeter moment in my life than the second when those cuffs clicked open and released my wrists. “Thanks,” I said for what felt like the fiftieth time.

“Let’s go,” Officer Herrera said, pointing down the hallway.

FOR THE SECOND TIME IN
as many weeks I slid into the passenger seat of Officer Hererra’s cruiser. The sky was dark now and for the first few minutes we rode in silence. Then I cleared my throat. “Officer Herrera?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you so much.” I ran my hands through my hair, the realization that everything had actually worked only beginning to sink in. My hands shook as the adrenaline of pure relief flowed through me.

“I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t believe you were doing the right thing, Jeff. You earned this.” Officer Herrera turned into the school parking lot—empty now except for Halle.

“I just wanted to make things right,” I said.

He pulled his car beside mine and shifted into park. “And that’s something I support. It’s why I came to your rescue.”

“Well, I’m glad,” I said, cracking a grin. “Because I would have been so screwed if you hadn’t shown up.”

He hesitated for a few seconds before adding, “I have to call on Monday and tell your parents what happened. But I think
you
need to tell them first.”

“I will,” I said, although the thought made my stomach feel like I’d just swallowed a chunk of ice.

“I also feel you should know that the two other teachers who were at the school with Hennigan told Officer Burke that you’re a good kid and that he should go easy on you. He thought it was a joke, but I’m telling you so you know that you’ll have support at school.” He laughed. “Hell, the kids’ll probably all love you.”

I hadn’t thought that far ahead. He was right—by Monday, everyone would know that Jeff Clayson was the Red Rose Returner.

Sera would know.

I had to tell her before she heard it from someone else.

I didn’t even know where to start.

As if he could read my thoughts, Officer Herrera patted my shoulder. “Get on home,” he said gently. “You’ll have your work cut out for you soon enough.”

I nodded and got out of the car. Then I stood in the parking lot and waved as I watched Officer Herrera drive away. I unlocked my car and was about to get in when I looked over and saw the last of the stickers still sitting on the pavement, though Bailey’s key was gone. I picked them up and put them in my pocket. Something to remember this by.

My house was dark except for a couple of security lights. I opened the fridge, but I didn’t feel hungry; I felt
empty
. For weeks I’d wanted nothing more than to get Kimberlee out of my life. And now, it looked like maybe I had.

But not by helping her move on. I’d chased her away, and even when she came back to stop me from turning myself in, we’d just argued more. I felt like I’d failed her. And she didn’t have a backup plan.

I hesitated as I pulled a quart of milk out of the fridge. Maybe she did. Maybe there
were
other people who could see her. She’d lied about everything else at least once; why not this? Maybe I was just the only one gullible enough to try and help her.

But a painful thudding in my chest told me it wasn’t true. It was the same ache I’d felt when she’d cried on my bed—a smoldering, hollow sense of helplessness. I spit my mouthful of milk into the sink and turned off the kitchen light, my appetite completely gone.

I dragged my backpack up the stairs, enjoying the thud of my books on the steps. It made me feel better, though I couldn’t say why. I walked through my open door and, just because no one was home, slammed it.

Damn, that feels good
.

I opened it and slammed it again, harder. I started to smile as I opened the door again.

“Please don’t.”

I froze, still holding onto the doorknob, and waited for her to speak again.

When she didn’t, I flexed my arm against the door and started to swing.

“Jeff.”

I let go of the door and turned to look. “Kimberlee?”

I almost didn’t recognize her. Her blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail and there was no makeup on her face—no red lips, or thick black lines around her eyes. She was wearing a plain white T-shirt and jeans. She stood leaning against my headboard with a pair of light blue flip-flops on her feet. “You’re back,” she said softly. “I was worried.”

She sounded serious, but I’d known her too long to believe it. “No thanks to you,” I said darkly.

She looked down at her feet. “I should have come with you.”

“Little late for that.”

“It’s a little late for a lot of things,” she said, her voice shaky.

I glared at her, trying to figure out what the trick was. Finally my curiosity got the better of me. “You look different.”

Kimberlee nodded but said nothing.

“Have you been able to do this the whole time?” I asked bitterly.

She shook her head. “No! I promise.” She looked down at herself. “And I can’t change back, either. Not that I’d want to,” she added quietly.

That made me pause for a minute. I figured for sure she’d be mad about her plain appearance. “What happened?”

“After I left here . . . I was so pissed. I went to the mall and tried to steal things, spied on a bunch of couples making out in the movie theater—all the stuff I used to do. And I couldn’t get you out of my head.”

Boy, that sounded familiar. A little payback is always satisfying.

“You did something today that didn’t benefit you at all. It was just for other people and your screwy sense of
the right thing to do
.”

I didn’t bother to argue.

“And I realized that even though I don’t feel like you do—I don’t care about doing the right thing—I
wanted
to. I wanted to have something, anything, that I believed in that much. So I came back,” she added after a long pause.

“You did?”

She nodded. “I was too late, though. I even went to the school, but everyone was gone. What happened?” she asked.

With a sigh I dropped my backpack on the floor and related the story. When I got to the part where Officer Herrera came into the interrogation room, Kimberlee started to smile.

“All that drama and I wasn’t even around to see it.” She paused, then said, “You’ve gone through so much trouble for me.”

“What else was I going to do on a girlfriendless Friday night?” I asked, forcing a smile.

We both laughed shakily for a moment before Kimberlee’s eyes filled with tears and she looked down at her feet. “I went to my parents’ house. Inside, I mean; not just to the cave. I hadn’t done that before.”

“Seriously?” Home was the first place I would have gone if I’d woken up and discovered I was a ghost.

She sniffed and wiped a tear from her cheek. She laughed just a little, then sank down on my bed and flopped to her back. “Yeah, you’d think everyone would want to go home when they were dead. But I hated my parents, so I didn’t. After a few months I thought maybe
they
would be able to see me. They’re my parents, after all. But you know where I went?”

I hazarded a guess. “Their work?”

She sniffled and nodded. “Their work. I went to their jobs. Even as a ghost I wanted things my way and on my terms. I’m such a spoiled brat.”

“No, you—”

“Don’t lie.”

So I didn’t.

The room was still dark. I thought about turning on the light, but it seemed too harsh. Instead I flipped on the bathroom light and closed the door halfway so a soft glow illuminated the room. I sat beside her on the bed. After a while that felt funny, so I lay down instead, at an angle so our heads were almost touching.

“One year, four months, and four days. That’s how long it took me to go home.” She rolled over onto her elbow, our faces only a breath apart. “And you know what? They loved me. They weren’t the greatest parents—I know that—but they loved me. Still do. They have my room just the same way it was, but with more pictures and old awards than I ever let them put out before. They have a huge painting of me in the entryway. It’s little embarrassing, actually.” Her voice was very quiet and serious. “My mom puts fresh roses in my room. Over a year later and she still puts fresh flowers in my room. I stood and stared at those roses for, like, an eternity,” she said so quietly I strained to hear her. “They were so beautiful and I could
almost
smell them. I wanted to try to touch them but I couldn’t stand to see my fingers pass through one more beautiful thing.

“Then I caught sight of the mirror on the wall and looked at myself . . . and I looked perfect. Just like always. When I was alive, I would have killed for makeup that never came off and hair that always fell just right.” The tears shone in her eyes for a few seconds, but she blinked them away. “I lost it, Jeff. I didn’t want to look like myself anymore. I wished so desperately that I could see whatever it was my parents saw.”

She smiled now, and it was a different smile than I’d ever seen on her. There was no guile or trickery in it—it was the kind of smile I was used to seeing on other people’s faces.