“Is she about ninety pounds and has green hair and a smart mouth?” Daisy asked, looking at Jasmine.
“Are you a spy for the cops?” Jasmine demanded.
“No, crazy J. I don’t think the cops have spies, and even if they did, I doubt they’d bother sending one in as a teacher to hunt down a graffiti artist. They don’t really have the budget for that.”
Jasmine pondered that. “Being a spy for the cops would actually be a pretty cool job,” she observed as they walked along.
“Where are you going now?” she asked Jasmine.
“Probably go tag some more buildings.”
“Why don’t you help me clean up the playground instead?” Daisy suggested again. “Less chance of getting arrested.”
“What’s in it for me?” Jasmine persisted.
“The pleasure of my company.”
Jasmine pretended to think about it. “Nah. Not really feeling it.” She held out her hand and rubbed her thumb against her index finger. “What else is in it for me?”
“You’re quite the capitalist, aren’t you?” Daisy said, torn between amusement and annoyance.
“Quite the what?” Jasmine looked puzzled.
“Never mind.” Daisy fished in her purse. “Fine, I’ll bribe you. Here’s ten bucks. Go get me coffee and a cruller from Debbie’s Donutz, and get something for yourself too.”
“What if I run off with the money and never come back?”
“Ten bucks?” Daisy scoffed. “Yeah, that should get you over the border into Mexico, at least. If you run off, you will be deprived of my witty repartee and the chance to sell me your graffiti paintings. Besides, you wouldn’t leave your grandma behind.” Daisy knew that Jasmine was very close to her grandmother, who was raising her and barely eking out a living as a nurse’s aide.
“I did not say that I was Jkat2016, and I don’t know what ‘re-partay’ is. I might come back if you promise to stop using all those vocabulary words.” And Jasmine left at a fast trot.
Chapter Six
Daisy was tired and sweaty and dirty after spending the morning cleaning up the school playground,and all she wanted was a hot shower. But something was wrong. She paused in the doorway of her apartment, and the hair on the back of her neck rose. “Cadence? Larissa?” she called. Their cars hadn’t been parked in their usual spots, so she knew they weren’t there, which was not surprising. It was a bright sunny day – they’d be out shopping or at the movies or at a museum.
But…someone had been in the apartment. Strangers.
She scented the air and listened. She was pretty sure that nobody was there right now.
Hesitantly, she walked through the doorway. Everything in the living room looked fine, but she had the oddest feeling that someone had been there.
Then she saw a note on the coffee table. It was from her roommate Cadence. “Thanks for telling me about this! Not.”
Telling her about what?
Daisy walked into her bedroom, exasperated – and her heart almost stopped.
Everything was gone.
The room was completely empty.
The bed, dresser, nightstand, lamps, pictures…even the curtains.
She rushed over to her closet. It was stripped bare.
She rushed back out to the living room. There were a few things missing. The ficus plant. Three paintings. A vase and end table.
All things that belonged to her.
Who would do this? Her pack? That seemed the most likely answer, since at a quick glance it looked as if everything belonging to Cadence, Larissa and Doris was still there. If so, she’d never see any of her belongings again. They were wealthy and powerful and owned the police in her county. They’d smugly deny it, thinking that now she’d have no choice but to go home. She’d be left with the clothes on her back.
With shaking fingers, she called the police to report the robbery, then sat down on the couch to wait.
What would she do? She hadn’t paid for renter’s insurance, because she was so broke, so if the police couldn’t find her stuff, then she was truly, totally screwed.
Her phone vibrated, and she remembered that she’d turned off the volume when she’d gone to clean up the school. Her aunt had called, her mother had called, Cadence had called. She didn’t have the heart to talk to any of them right now.
She sat there by herself, and burst into tears as she waited for the police to arrive.
A police officer arrived about twenty minutes later. He was a stocky, middle-aged wolf shifter.
As she started explaining what had happened, a small fleet of cars pulled up. There was Ryker in his little red sports car, and his Uncle Walt and some woman Daisy didn’t recognize in a shiny new Porsche, and a group of other people in a mini-van pulled up next to them.