Page 90 of The Five Year Lie

He smiles in spite of himself, because that sounds like something he would have said to Ernie back in the day.

When Omar is done, they get into the rental car and Jay drives them to a fish-and-chips shack one town over.

“Why we all the way out here, Jay?” Omar asks as they sit down at a weathered picnic table.

“There really are eyes all over the fucking place in Lowden,” he says. He took a chance already that LiveMatch would ID him playing basketball with the kids. “You weren’t wrong about that. It creeps me out.”

Omar’s dark eyes narrow. “How do you know?”

“Research,” he says. He hasn’t told Omar where he’s working in Portland. Nobody can know.

“Any word on selling the house?” is the kid’s next question. Omar knows that he’ll get a little money from Ernie’s estate. The will divided it up among all the former inhabitants of Shawmut Street.

It’s Jay’s job to sell off the place and determine how many of Ernie’s foster kids are eligible to receive a share. The will giveshim full discretion to hold the payment back—either temporarily or permanently—from anyone “whose lifestyle would not be made healthier by a sudden cash windfall.”

It’s a lot of responsibility. For his trouble, he’s supposed to receive a double share—the extra as payment for settling the estate. But he doesn’t plan to keep that extra money. He doesn’t feel he’s earned it.

Not yet, anyway.

“The sale can’t go through until Halloween at the earliest,” he tells Omar. “You don’t need to look for a new place yet. Did you get the front hall painted?”

“Yeah, and I got proof. Hang on.” Omar shoves a fry in his mouth. Then he pulls out his phone and shows off some photos of the entryway.

“Nice. And you used a drop cloth, right?”

“Of course. Wasn’t born yesterday.”

He was, though. Practically. Omar is only nineteen. And when Jay leaves Maine behind in a few weeks, he’s leaving Omar, too.

Shit.

Pulling his wallet out, Jay hands him two hundred dollars in twenties. “Your next job is deep cleaning the kitchen. Start with the backsplash.”

“The... what?”

“The tiles on the wall behind the stove and the sink. They’ve built up grease over the years. Use Soft Scrub and a toothbrush. Then use a sponge on the underside of the wall cabinets.”

“Okay, sure.” He pockets the money.

“There’ll be dust on the light fixtures. It has to go. Just be very careful if you take any of them down to clean. Maybe kill the breaker first.”

“What, I shouldn’t stick my finger in the socket?” Omar grins.

He’s going to miss this little asshole. He really is.

“That all?” He takes a big bite of fish. “Thought you had something to ask me.”

“Yeah.” It’s just that he’s been avoiding it. “Tell me again about the video that upset Amina. Ernie told me some things, but I want to hear it from you. Tell me everything you remember.”

Omar puts his piece of fish down and looks immediately ill. “Why?”

“Maybe I can prove that video exists. And now I want to figure out how the cop got it.”

“How?” Omar demands. “Cop would never tell you.”

“I know some hackers” is his answer. “Guys I went to school with.”

“They can hack thecops?” His eyes go round.