Sins & Needles(39)

It was too hard living a lie. I didn’t think I could share it with someone too.

In the sweet shade of a boulder, I parked my ass on a rock and brought out my notepad and pen. I needed to think hard and think smart. I didn’t want to pack up my car to leave tonight since my original plan had me hanging around town for a few more days. After all, it would look terribly suspicious if I happened to leave town the same time as the robbery. But, I had to take precautions and that meant hightailing my ass out of town if it came down to it.

I wanted to get in the house in the middle of the night. I knew Camden was tired from our early rise that morning and from the wine hangover we were both feeling. He’d probably be sleeping soundly by two in the morning, so I chose four as the best option. Only sordid things happened at four a.m.

I’d go in through the front door. Picking that lock would be easy. Then I’d get into the office and hit up the safe. I had come up with several number combinations that I thought were a good start. If they didn’t work, then I could either choose to bail or test my luck and try safe-cracking. Listening for those contact points took an awful lot of time, however, and time was something that wasn’t on my side.

But I’d listened to Camden a lot last night, even when I was drunk. My brain was always reeling stuff in. After trying 007, 311, 911, 411, 187, and 666 (some of the more easily remembered three-number codes), I’d try his birthday (6/11), his son’s birthday (10/03), the area code (760), or the last three digits of his license plate (299). Then I’d work through combinations of his lucky number (5) and his phone digits. Yes, I found out an awful lot of trivial information about Camden during our day of fun. Luckily he was the type to just talk and let me ask the questions.

Which, in retrospect, I did find a little weird. He hadn’t seen me since high school and aside from asking how Uncle Jim was doing, what song was tattooed on my arm, and that whole “I’ve been doing odd jobs” excuse, he hadn’t asked me anything about myself. Wasn’t I a bit of a mystery to him? Wasn’t he at all interested in what I’d been up to in the last eight or nine years or so?

Perhaps he was just being polite. He knew how defensive I could get over the smallest things. I decided to forget about that and be thankful that he had left his questioning out of it. As I said earlier, I’d have no problems lying to him—but it didn’t mean I liked doing it.

I had filled up the notepad with a rough map of his house and potential hazards when my phone beeped, breaking through the sound of ground doves and cicadas.

I fished it out of my pocket. It was a text from Camden. Oh boy.

Hey, was wondering if you wanted to catch a show with me tonight in San Bernardino. I know it’s kind of far but this band is really good. I think you’d like them. It starts at 10PM.

I pursed my lips, somewhat delighted at this chain of events, and texted him back.

Aw, sorry! I can’t, I’ve decided to go catch up with my friend in San Diego. Just about to leave now. It’ll just be for the night though, so maybe we can catch up for drinks tomorrow night? Have a great time at the show!

I pressed send and waited. The air seemed to get hotter by the second and soon my jeans felt like a sauna prison for my legs.

It wasn’t long before he replied back.

Wow, San Diego. That’s a long drive. Hope you’re careful. Bring back some of that sea breeze for me. Talk soon. Camden.

I thought it cute that he signed his name and exhaled a sigh of relief, tilting my head up to the sky. He was going to be out in San Bernardino all night. That was at least an hour away which meant he’d be gone by nine p.m. and wouldn’t be back until midnight at the earliest. I had three hours to do this.

I was going to rob Camden McQueen.





CHAPTER NINE





Unfortunately, lying to Camden also meant lying to my uncle. Their stories had to match because when the sheriff’s son was robbed, the whole town was going to know about it.

When I got back home from Joshua Tree, I packed my bags and left a note for him. He was somewhere out in the date groves and I didn’t have the time to hunt him down. Plus, I felt better lying on paper than to his face.

Basically, I told him the same thing I told Camden; I was going to San Diego for the night to see my friend Cindy. I know, I know. Cindy is totally the name of the girl you make up in your alibi. But I actually did have a friend called Cindy in San Diego, and she was one of those people who owed me big time. Let’s just say I did a lot of eco-terrorism on her behalf and her house is now overrun by the rabbits and dogs we liberated from an animal testing clinic.

I left the note on the counter and made myself promise that as soon as I had any extra money, I’d make sure that the mustard in Uncle Jim’s fridge would never be lonely. The man worked too hard and—in his own way—was far too generous to be missing the finer things in life. He may not have wanted charity, but I was sure he was going to get it somehow.