Rolling down my window, I turned onto New York Street. Not much New York about it, but it was a main road, double lanes in both directions boxed in by small corner malls and fast food. Plenty of cars out even though it’s a school night. We passed Taco Bell and KFC, both still open, deep-fried smells loose in the air. I should have asked if she was hungry—she was probably starving—but Taco Bell was already gone from my rearview mirror.

Everything else we passed was closed. Pancake Heaven, Something Borrowed, Mia’s Dry Clean, Jerry’s Bait and Liquor.

“I’ll pay you back,” she said nonchalantly. Noncommitted. “How much of a dent?”

“Seven hundred fifty.”

She directed her entire body toward me. “You’re kidding? Holy hell. That asshole. Well, alright. Shit, that’s gonna take me a while.”

“What asshole?”

“Don’t even worry about it.”

Seven hundred fifty was seriously low for bail. I was surprised she had no idea. The county judge who set her bail probably knew her. Small town perks.

It occurred to me then, I could have called the police station. Should have. Called, found out she was there, and pretended I’d never read about her arrest.

“You were there a long time. You didn’t call anyone?”

“My dad would have killed me. Since he’s retired, he doesn’t know the new breed of cops and he doesn’t read the news, so I think I can get by without him finding out. None of my friends have any cash.” Her implying I had cash lying around irked me. We wouldn’t have to move money around to cover her bail, but Trevor would notice. Well, if he weren’t so busy, he would notice.

I opened my mouth to ask for details, what came next, when would she be arraigned, then closed it. I didn’t want to know.

“My boyfriend was on shift,” she said. “He was probably coming soon. Why’d you come anyway?”

It was an abrupt question with several possible implications, one being Why’d you come here, we’re not even friends?

Why was I here?

Well, we connected. She reminded me of Becky, physically, that first time I saw her. And, honestly, she reminded me of myself at twenty-four. Rough around the edges, a lazy moral compass. A comfort with the ugly side of humanity. Maybe she hadn’t felt the connection.

Also, my mom. Desiree had said she didn’t know anything else about my mom, but I didn’t believe that. Even if she wasn’t lying outright, she might know more than she thought.

And, there was also Emily.

“Well, you’ve been nice to us,” I said. “To Emily.”