Catherine Nelson - Zoe Grey 02 - The Trouble with Theft by Catherine Nelson Read Free Book Online

tip, so you’ll
have to pay that. Oh, and you have to wear a condom. My test results haven’t
come back yet.”
    I took a step toward
him.
    Smile gone now, he
immediately stepped back.
    I stopped and looked
at him. “That’s what I thought. Now, where’s Cory?”
    The kid moved off the
sidewalk and pointed an almost accusatory finger at the house. “Inside.”
    I climbed the stairs
onto the porch that spanned the entire front of the house and went in the open
door. The house was what you’d expect for one built in 1910. The rooms were
small and square, the floors hardwood, the walls tight and angular. I made my
way through the rooms on the first floor, finding them empty. As I was coming
back to the stairs, I heard footsteps. I looked up and saw Dix coming
downstairs.
    He slowed when he saw
me, grinning in what I’m sure he thought was a charming fashion. I forced
myself to smile back. What the hell was wrong with these college boys?
    “Please tell me you’re
looking for me,” he said.
    “Actually, I am.”
    He was surprised.
“What? Really?”
    I nodded and came to a
stop at the bottom of the stairs. Dix was a couple inches shorter than six feet
and very thin. He had dark hair, light brown eyes, angular facial features, and
a big nose. He was wearing jeans and a green Sesame Street t-shirt. Whoever
introduced the look of adult-sized kids clothes should be shot.
    “You’re Cory, right?”
    “Yeah …”
    “Then I’m looking for
you.”
    Then he was serious.
“This doesn’t happen to me. What do you really want?”
    “I need to talk to you
about your court date.”
    It was all I got out.
As soon as he heard the word “court,” he spun around and darted up the stairs.
    I rolled my eyes and
started after him, but my goal was only to keep him in sight, because I was
sure he was trapping himself.
    Of course he had to
run.
    After the first three
steps, I was panting, sweating, and more than a little angry. My legs were
screaming, and I thought it a real possibility they might stop working and I’d
fall flat on my face. Until that happened, though, I pushed on.
    Dix cleared the top of
the stairs before I’d climbed five and was gone around the corner to the left.
I heard his hurried footsteps on the hardwood, and as I got to the top, I heard
a loud banging, like a door crashing open, and some yelling. Making a left, I
sprinted (I use the term loosely) down the hall in the direction of the
yelling.
    “What the fuck, man!
Get out!”
    I heard what I thought
was a window opening, and as I got to an open doorway in the middle of the
hall, I smelled something distinct. I thought I knew which room Dix had barged
into and why the current occupant was yelling about the interruption. Sure
enough, when I got to the open door, I saw it was a bathroom. Another
college-aged kid was fastening his belt, a magazine on the nearby counter. And
he hadn’t flushed yet.
    This was beyond the
normal stink. Based on the smell, the guy must have had an upset stomach, and I
wanted to suggest he take something for it. But there wasn’t time for
conversation. As I came into the doorway, I saw Dix’s legs disappear through
the open window behind the toilet. In a moment of temporary insanity brought on
by anger and a lack of oxygen, I raced forward. Just as Dix had done, I stepped
onto the toilet seat and reached for the window ledge. Two things caused me to
stop.
    One, a good look out
the window revealed just exactly how Dix had gotten down from the second story:
there was a large tree with a branch about four feet from the side of the
house. I could only imagine the damage I’d do to my still-recovering shoulder
if I went swinging around in that tree like a freaking monkey. Two, I heard a
splash, and before I looked, I knew what had happened.
    I’d lifted my right
foot onto the toilet. The motion of lifting my leg had pushed my cell phone up and
out of my pocket. Leaning forward had caused it to slide away from my leg and
drop