Sitting in a national chain restaurant known for their gigantic breakfasts, Chloe just wanted the whole day to be over. After listening to her voicemail, her mom was bound to be in a panic—and likely her father was aware she’d been out all night as well.
Maybe that’s a good thing. Eloy is acting weird. I wonder if he’d let me call my parents again.
Their server came and looked at the remaining half of the giant cinnamon roll made into French toast she’d ordered. “Are you going to need a box for that?”
Chloe opened her mouth to respond, but he beat her to it.
“Sure. We don’t want that food to go to waste.” He beamed at the woman.
The waitress returned his grin. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
“I can’t take that,” she whispered to him. “My mom thinks I’ve been sleeping off a hangover.”
“I can bring it home with me.” He watched the server walking their way with a to-go box and the bill in her hand.
“Here you are,” she said as she handed her the container and the leather sleeve holding their tab.
He glanced at the total, withdrew his wallet, and paid in cash, plus adding a sizable tip. “Thanks so much.” He looked across the table at her. “Come on. Disneyland awaits.”
“Oh! You two have fun.”
“Thank you.”
As they walked out of the restaurant, she forced herself to be brave and ask if she could try calling her mom again.
“You’re going to be there in an hour or so.”
“I’m worried that she’ll get my dad all spun up, and he’ll involve the cops or something.”
“So what? They’ll tell your folks they have to wait at least a day before they can report someone missing. By that time, you’ll already be home.” He smiled at her as he opened the passenger door of his Jeep. “Buckle up.”
In her seat, she was weighed down with dread.
She’d run away from home when she was eleven, and her folks had waited twenty-four hours before filing a report because that’s what they’d seen on TV and what they believed was true.
The officers were appalled they’d waited so long. The cops informed her parents that, in the City of Los Angeles, they could report a missing person at any time—especially when the subject was such a young age.
“Listen, when we reach the park, I think we should set up my tent alongside some of the homeless.”
“Why?”
“Because our alibi guy is worried about being seen with us. He doesn’t want to get caught up in our crime.”
“So we have to pretend we’re bums or strung out on drugs? Why don’t we pick him up on a corner and discuss things while we drive around?”
Eloy swerved to the curb and pulled into a red no-parking zone—the only place to stop on the busy street. He threw the car in park and turned to face her. “This guy is doing us a favor. He doesn’t want to be seen. If he’s caught lying to the police or to the court, he’ll do jail time. Be grateful someone is willing to help, otherwise we both might wind up in prison.”
She started crying. “Since that cop was killed, everything has gone out of control. I’ve lied to everybody I know, and now we’re involving some stranger in our mess, and we’ll probably get caught anyway. Maybe we should just turn ourselves in and say it was an accident.”
“Are you really that stupid?” His eyes narrowed, conveying a lit fury within. “I’m an adult, so I have a lot more to lose than you do, and killing a cop will put you and me away for life. You just have to trust the plan. It will all work out.”
“Following your plan is what got me here in the first place,” she spat out.
In an instant, he’d grabbed her head and beat it against the passenger window several times.
Dazed, she tried to reach for the door handle.