I say, trying another travel site. âLooks like Wednesday would be the cheapest day to fly. Maybe if thereâs record label money . . .â
âThe label,â Caleb groans. âWhat are we going to tell Jason?â
âI donât know,â I say. âOne thing at a time.â
âOkay. Iâ Oh shit.â
âWhat?â I look up and see that we are turning onto Calebâs street.
And I see the police car parked in front of his house.
2:56 p.m.
Randyâs stalker van is in the driveway. We park beside it and shuffle slowly up the walkway, holding hands, not speaking.
They are in the living room: Charity, Randy, a uniformed police officer, and another woman in a suit, sitting stiffly on the couches across from each other.
âHi guys,â says Charity, her face tight.
Caleb and I stand frozen in the doorway, no idea what to do.
âYouâre Caleb?â says the plainclothes officer, a badge around her neck. She checks a notepad. âAnd . . . Catherine?â
âYes.â
We both answer like itâs elementary school attendance. My heart is slamming, and I can feel Calebâs hand shaking in mine.
âIâm Detective Reyes. Weâre here about Cassie Fowler. You two arenât in any trouble, but we do need to know everything you can tell us.â
âItâs okay,â says Charity as we continue to stand there like statues. âThey know youâre related to her,â she says to Caleb, âand I already told them that Val had been staying here up until last week.â
âMs. Fowler says she wonât press charges as long as the girl is returned home,â says the detective. âSo if you cooperate, this should all go smoothly.â
âIf we can trust Ms. Fowler ,â Randy grumbles.
âHave a seat,â says the officer, her face impassive.
Caleb and I shuffle to the kitchen table. Detective Reyes sits across from us. She leads with a smile. Trying to put us at ease. But it fades as she flips open her notebook, a pen poised over blank lines.
âSo we know most everything,â she begins. âObviously you both care about Val, and you thought you were helping her by harboring her. Certainly having her in your home was safer than letting her sleep on the streets. Also, sheâs been part of your band.â
âSheâs family,â says Caleb.
âOf course. We understand the last time you saw her was in New York, is that correct?â
âYes,â says Caleb.
âAnd you havenât been in contact with her since.â
âNo,â Caleb answers immediately.
Detective Reyes glances at Caleb, then jots down a note. Thereâs something about these quick looks she gives us, like she can see right through any lie we might tell. I imagineher writing liar. âWeâd like to get a few more details about the events in New York,â she says, the searing glance aimed at me this time, and I feel my nerves explode. âMaybe we can start with your trip to the Fowler residence on February nineteenth.â
Damn.
I donât want to look at Caleb. He stares hard into the table, but he might as well be glaring at me.
I never told him about my trip with Val to her old house.
Val didnât want me to. Iâd meant to afterward, but there hasnât exactly been a chance. But now it looks like Iâve been holding out on him.
âWe, um,â I say, âVal wanted to get some things. She didnât want to go alone so I agreed. We kept it a secret because she knew it was risky.â
Detective Reyes checks her notes. âMelanie says that Cassie stole money in the form of a blank check. Princeton police confirm that Valâs fingerprints were on the checkbook and nightstand.â
âIt wasnât stealing,â I say, although I guess it maybe was. âVal just wanted Melanieâs account number so that she could send her money for her medical