I glanced surreptitiously at the sky, where a crescent moon hung pale in the fading cerulean. The chief and I had never discussed it, but I was pretty sure he scheduled Cody for patrol duty very, very carefully.

“Call me?” Jen asked hopefully.

Cody’s gaze slid sideways toward me. He had light brown eyes speckled with gold, a distinctive topaz color. There was a hint of phosphorescent green behind them that only I could see. “We’ll see.”

He left, and the locals in attendance retrieved various prohibited adult beverages they’d hidden from his view.

“Jeez!” Jen muttered under her breath. “Call or don’t call, but you don’t have to be a jerk about it.” She paused. “Do you think he’ll call?”

I shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.”

Chapter Two

Two

The band was good.

And that was a good thing, since it helped distract me while Jen went on and on and back and forth about Cody Fairfax, and whether or not he really was a jerk, whether or not he might call, whether I thought she should go out with him if he did. . . .

Well, that was an easy one.

“No,” I said. “I don’t.”

She eyed me suspiciously. “So he is a jerk?”

I sighed. Lying isn’t one of the Seven Deadlies, but I tried to avoid it. When you’re condemned to go through life worrying about being the spawn of Satan, you learn to avoid anything that leads you down a dark path. “Not exactly. It’s just . . . you know his track record.”

“Yeah, but people change.” Jen scanned the crowd, looking for her eleven-year-old brother. “Brandon! Stay where I can see you, okay?” Lowering her voice, she turned back to me. “Is it true that Cody only became a cop so he could make sure his family doesn’t get busted for growing pot in the county woods?”

“No,” I said honestly. “I’m pretty sure that’s not true.”

“They’re a little like the Joads or something, aren’t they? Like one of those inbred redneck families Mr. Leary made us read about.” Jen nibbled on a manicured thumbnail, caught herself doing it, and stopped. “But Cody’s different.” She shrugged. “Anyway, who are you or I to talk about family, right?”

I didn’t say anything. Jen’s family was no prize. Her father worked as a caretaker and handyman for a bunch of wealthy families with summer homes. He could fix almost anything, and when he was sober, he had a reputation for being a reasonably decent guy. But he wasn’t sober often, especially at home. He had a chip on his shoulder that grew ten times bigger when he drank, and he took his temper out on Jen’s mother.

Still, compared to my father, that was nothing.

“Sorry.” Jen made a self-deprecating face. “You know what I mean. Your mom’s great. You know I love her.”