Page 116 of The Five Year Lie

“Um...” Tara says. “Sounds like he’s saying—take Buzz and run.”

“What the hell?” I demand. “Why would he scare me like that and then hang up?”

Larri cringes. “I don’t know, sweetie. Maybe check on him?”

I take my phone back and text:

Ariel: Zain, you okay?

“Okay, new rule,” Tara says, slapping the table. “No more eerie messages. Ever. Not even as a joke.”

Larri laughs. “Seriously. Anything that hits our phones better contain puppies or rainbows. Preferably with pictures.”

“Good rule,” I say, but my next sip of coffee tastes like acid. Maybe I should ask the waitress for my breakfast to go. I need to find Zain.

“And no more doorbell camera texts,” Tara says. “None.”

“Not even with puppies or rainbows?” I ask.

“Even then,” she insists. “They are just inherently creepy. Apologies to your family, Ariel, but a doorbell camera could make even a puppy look like Marilyn Manson after a bender.”

I snort. “Noted.” And then I eye my phone, hoping for a response from Zain.

Nothing.

“... And if you’re justnaturallya creep, you don’t stand a chance,” Tara says. She slides her phone my way. “Look. This is the photo that almost broke us up.”

I glance at the screen. She’s right about fish-eye lenses on Chime Co. cameras. They all have the bent lines and harsh lighting.

Then my gaze snags on the shadowed face of Tara’s former drug dealer. And I’ve seen her before, although it takes me a second to realize where. “Wait. Is she...” I hesitate, because I might be totally wrong. “Is her last name Zarkey?”

“Um...” Larri and Tara share a glance. “Yeah, babe,” Larri says slowly. “Her street name isWeezer. But how do you know her name?”

“She’s—” I swallow against a suddenly dry mouth. “Her brother used to work for Chime Co. At least Iassumethey’re siblings.”

“That’s wild,” Larri says.

Our food comes, and the waitress puts a steaming plate in front of me. I pick up my fork like a robot and take a bite. But my mind is elsewhere.

Money, drugs or pussy, Larri said.It’s always one of those.

I assumed the fake judge scam was about money, and maybe sexual harassment. But I haven’t considered drugs. “Do you think it could be a family business?”

Tara seems to shrink a little at the question.

“Baby,” Larri says heavily. She puts a hand on Tara’s arm. “What do you know?”

Tara drops her eyes to the table. “I tried not to ask too many questions,” she says quietly. “I was afraid of her. I still am. But I did meet the brother once. I got the feeling that he sourced the product and she was in charge of distribution.”

My fork lands on the table with a clatter. “Sorry. I think I’d better go. I’ve got to find Zain.” I lift a hand in the air and look around for our waitress. “Check?” I call when I spot her taking an order a few tables away.

She gives me a look of irritation, and I guess I can’t blame her.

But I’m suddenly terrified for Zain.

41

FIVE YEARS AGO, AUGUST