Accomplice Read online

  Accomplice

  ALSO BY VALERIE SHERRARD

  Young Adult Novels

  Kate

  Sam’s Light

  Sarah’s Legacy

  Speechless

  Three Million Acres of Flame

  Watcher

  Junior Novels

  Tumbleweed Skies

  The Glory Wind

  The Shelby Belgarden Mysteries

  Out of the Ashes

  In Too Deep

  Chasing Shadows

  Hiding in Plain Sight

  Eyes of a Stalker

  Searching for Yesterday

  Books for Younger People

  There’s A COW Under My Bed

  There’s A GOLDFISH In My Shoe

  Accomplice

  Valerie Sherrard

  DUNDURN PRESS

  TORONTO

  Copyright © Valerie Sherrard, 2011

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purposes of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.

  Editor: Shannon Whibbs

  Design: Jesse Hooper

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Sherrard, Valerie

  Accomplice / by Valerie Sherrard.

  Issued also in an electronic format.

  ISBN 978-1-55488-764-4

  I. Title.

  PS8587.H3867A74 2011 jC813’.6 C2010-902453-2

  We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and Livres Canada Books, and the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Book Publishers Tax Credit program, and the Ontario Media Development Corporation.

  Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credits in subsequent editions.

  J. Kirk Howard, President

  Printed and bound in Canada.

  www.dundurn.com

  Dundurn Press

  3 Church Street, Suite 500

  Toronto, Ontario, Canada

  M5E 1M2

  Gazelle Book Services Limited

  White Cross Mills

  High Town, Lancaster, England

  LA1 4XS

  Dundurn Press

  2250 Military Road

  Tonawanda, NY

  U.S.A. 14150

  This book is in memory of

  two lovely young women who were with us

  too short a while

  Lori Ann Malley

  May 12, 1974–July 29, 2010

  and

  Angela Sarah Pitre

  October 16, 1985–August 20, 2010

  Prologue

  Handcuffs are cold.

  My name is Lexie Malton. I’m fifteen years old and I’m in the back of the sheriff’s van, on my way to being locked up. You might think there would be some serious things to think about at a moment like this. But my brain has switched to some kind of freeze-frame mode. Only short flashes of information are getting through — like the coldness of the metal circling my wrists. At least they’re cuffed in front of me. Any time I’ve seen the cops slap the cuffs on someone in a movie, it’s always behind them. I bet that would be a lot more uncomfortable.

  Not that comfort is my main concern right now.

  My eyes slide closed as I try to block out the reality of where I am. It doesn’t help. Sometimes what’s in your head is worse than what’s around you. Screams and gunshots, blood and sirens flood my thoughts.

  I open my eyes again and look around for something to distract me. I lean to the side until I can see out the front window of the van. As I get my bearings, I realize that we’re leaving the city behind. The city, my life, and my family. I can’t stand to think about my father, or how his face crumpled when they put the handcuffs and shackles on me.

  Yes, shackles, too. They feel surprisingly heavy around my ankles. I can’t help but think that they weren’t really necessary. I mean, even if I made a break for it, it’s not like I’d get far. Having your hands cuffed doesn’t exactly help your balance. I picture myself trying to run like that. There’s no doubt I’d end up sprawled out on the ground. My captors probably wouldn’t even have to break a sweat to catch me.

  The image that comes to mind might even be funny if it wasn’t for the trouble I’m in. So much trouble.

  It’s hard to believe that this morning started out just like any other day.

  Chapter One

  Three months earlier ...

  The rain was too good to be true — plump drops splashing down like tiny water-bombs bursting. It lasted six minutes. I know this because the clock on the wall of a used bike shop across the street said 2:17 when it started. He was seventeen minutes late then, and twenty-three minutes late when it stopped.

  I watch the after-rain steam coming off the street, hazy wisps rising up in the afternoon heat. It’s been unbearably hot and humid, but the brief downpour hasn’t done a thing to clear the air. If anything, it’s worse. I feel like I’m breathing through a wet sheet.

  I scrounge around in the printed canvas bag I have slung over my shoulder, find a nearly empty pack of gum and shove a piece through the green foil. As I chew it, I wish I’d thought to bring a few fresh packs and a couple of Mars bars with me. Things like that can buy five, even ten minutes with Devlin, before he evaporates like the afternoon’s rain.

  Another glance at the clock tells me that more than half an hour has now passed since I got here — and there’s still no sign of him. It’s okay that he’s late. I just want him to show up. It’s the only way I can be sure he’s still alive.

  People pass in and out of view. Every time I’m in this part of town I’m struck by how sluggish their movements are. Their slow, dragging feet seem to lack purpose — as if they’re plodding forward with nowhere to go.

  An older woman stares at me as she goes by. She looks puzzled. Maybe she thinks she knows me from somewhere, but there’s something angry in her expression, too. When she moves past me I realize I’ve been holding my breath. It escapes in a rush and I gulp in air.

  “Would you like to tell me why you aren’t in school, young lady?”

  I jump, startled, but the deep voice doesn’t fool me for more than a split second. I turn to face Devlin, who has somehow managed to sneak up behind me.

  A sloppy smile is splashed on his face. There was a time that my heart did a happy skip at that sight, but it’s been a while since that happened. Now, my stomach clenches in a mixture of anger and guilt.

  “Hey, Dev,” I say, brushing away unpleasant thoughts.

  “You have something for me?” The smile is still there, but it’s already becoming thin and stretched. It reminds me of a super-villain, though I can’t remember which one.

  I know I’m doing the wrong thing. Enabling. Helping him destroy himself. I always start out saying “no,” but it’s not that easy to stick to it. He sounds so desperate when he calls. He begs and tells me I’m the only one who ever cared for him. He swears it will be the last time. He screams and says horrible things. He cries and talks about having nothing to live for. It just goes on and on and in the end I give in. Every time.

  “Hey, c’mon,” he says.
“You have it or not?” His eyes dart around, but they keep coming back to my bag.

  “I could only get ten,” I tell him.

  “Okay, so, give it to me.” He’s more jittery than I’ve ever seen him before. It’s like his feet are rubber, the way he’s bouncing up and down from foot to foot.

  I reach into the bag and slide my fingers into the side pocket where the bill is tucked. The second my hand comes back into sight holding the money, Devlin reaches out, snatching it. A tremor passes through him. Anticipation.

  “Thanks, Lexie. You’re the best.”

  I feel like a fool. “It’s okay,” I tell him. “But remember — this is the last time. I mean it. Don’t ask me again.”

  “Yeah, no problem.” He’s antsy now — itching to get out of there. I know the next thing he’s going to say before it comes out of his mouth. “So, anyway, I gotta go.”

  He leans forward and kisses my forehead. It takes all of my resolve not to draw back from the smell of his unwashed clothes and body and hair.

  He turns and walks away, his steps quick and eager in spite of the heat that’s making everyone sluggish. From what I’ve seen, that’s the only time you see someone move fast in this part of Vancouver — when they’re going to score.

  Devlin turns the corner, disappearing from sight. Not until he’s gone do I start to move, making my way toward the Skytrain station. It’s the seventh time I’ve come to this part of town. Now, for the seventh time I promise myself it will be the last.

  Even if it wasn’t wrong to give Devlin money, I know I shouldn’t be walking around in this part of the city. I don’t feel safe here. The thought pops into my head that my stepmother, Andrea, won’t even drive through this neighbourhood.

  I picture what her pointy little face would look like if she knew I was in the East Hastings area, instead of at my desk at Killarney Secondary. It’s almost enough to make me smile. But when I glance up, I’m jolted back to the here and now.

  A group of half a dozen guys who are probably in their late teens or a bit older are converged at the intersection just ahead. I see at once that they’re wearing colours. My stomach knots as they catch sight of me and turn in my direction.

  Scanning the buildings ahead for somewhere to duck doesn’t offer much hope. First up is a Laundromat that’s so run down I’m not even sure it’s open. There’s no way it’s staffed. The storefront past that is boarded up and sporting a sign advertising it for sale or lease.

  On the other side of the street is a small pawn shop with bars in its windows. The sign in front says it’s open. After fighting the urge to turn and run in the opposite direction, I figure that it’s my best option.

  I’m halfway across the street when the gang members make their move.

  Chapter Two

  The slow, deliberate way they start toward me is somehow scarier than if they were running. It says they’re confident — that there’s no need to hurry because they know they’ll catch me.

  My heart is pounding so hard that I can hear the blood roar in my ears. I’m almost to the pawnshop by then but it now seems like the stupidest place I could have picked to go. I hear a muffled shout to my left, followed by laughter.

  I stumble slightly at the edge of the sidewalk, but regain my balance before it’s too late. Sweat runs into my eyes and my shirt clings damply to my back. Then I’m at the door, taking hold of the handle and yanking it open. Even in this state of panic, the cool air that blasts over me is a welcome relief. I blink as my eyes adjust from the bright glare outside to the indoor light.

  An old woman is looking at me from behind a display case where she’s seated. Great. She’ll be a lot of help, I’m sure.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, is there a back way out?” I ask, trying to stay calm so I won’t frighten her.

  She shakes her head slowly while I glance back and forth between her and the plate glass window. The gang has almost reached the store. One of the guys breaks into a huge grin as he catches sight of me standing there. He says something to the others and they all look in and laugh.

  They’re almost at the door … and I’m trapped! I try to think, but it’s as if my brain is frozen. The squeaky sounds of the old lady’s voice float across the room to me, but I can’t make out the words. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I can neither move nor speak.

  They’re here! But they don’t turn toward the door. I watch in disbelief as they just keep walking. Convinced it’s a trick, I step a little closer to the door and peek out. They’re moving farther away, talking among themselves.

  Relief rushes through me. My knees threaten to give out. I reach for the nearest display case and sag against it.

  “You go! You go now!”

  The poor old woman at the cash is looking at me anxiously. I try to explain, but I can see she thinks I’m stoned, or maybe crazy. She keeps waving her hands, shooing me out the door, I guess.

  “Okay, okay. I’m going,” I tell her. I figure, why upset the poor old thing? And anyway, it’s easier than trying to persuade her that I’m no threat.

  The blast of heat that hits me when I step back outside nearly knocks me over after the cooler air inside the pawnshop. I look to my left and see that the gang members are moving steadily away. As I watch them, one glances back over his shoulder and sees me there. He turns suddenly and makes a lunging move in my direction.

  I jump and let out a little scream. By then, the others have turned and are watching. A great roar of laughter goes up from the group. One of them yells, “Boo!” which increases their amusement.

  I smile sheepishly, wanting to show them that I’m a good sport. It’s now clear to me that they were entertaining themselves at my expense, but I’m not kidding myself. It would be stupid to do anything that could make them angry.

  The tallest of them lifts an arm in some kind of salute before they turn away again. I almost envy them for being able to move so fearlessly in this part of town.

  It’s just a couple more blocks to the Skytrain and I head there as quickly as I can through the stifling waves of heat.

  It’s a relief to reach the station at Main and make my way to the platform. A gentle rumble from the ground tells me a train is coming seconds before it bursts into view. It glides into the station and comes to a stop, its doors opening quickly for the exchange of passengers getting on and off.

  I hurry on and sink into an available seat. My eyes close for a few moments as I try to shut out the day and its events. It doesn’t work. Instead, I see Devlin’s pale face — the loose smile and eyes that are focused so far away. I wonder if I might have imagined the times, not so very long ago, when it seemed those same eyes saw things in me that no one else ever had.

  How did it all turn into such a complete mess?

  And I wonder what Oscar would say if he knew where I was — and why. Most guys would totally flip out over something like that. And break up with me.

  Oh, yeah, I have a boyfriend. I guess that makes it seem even stranger that I’m here, risking my neck to meet up with an ex. And giving him money.

  First thing you’d think would be that I still care for Devlin. Well, I do, but not because there’s a whole lot of lingering romance. I care about him as a friend and a human being. But mostly, I feel responsible for him. And guilty.

  This kind of guilt is hard to shake. It eats away at me every day, like some kind of black worm gnawing through my insides. I can’t shake it. I can’t talk myself out of it.

  A year ago Devlin was my boyfriend. He was also one of the school’s star athletes, and a decent, if not great, student.

  And then I did something that destroyed him.

  Chapter Three

  “Where were you this afternoon?”

  I look up from my locker to find Oscar peering at me through the deep brown clump of hair that
falls over his forehead. His expression is barely inquisitive and I wonder just how much he knows.

  “What do you mean?” I ask. I keep my voice casual and go back to digging in my locker. I’d made it back to school about twenty minutes before the final bell and was hoping no one had noticed I’d been gone.

  “I was looking for you at break and Vaughn said he saw you heading toward the side doors right after lunch. I thought maybe you went somewhere.”

  Vaughn is Oscar’s twin brother. Fraternal, that is. They couldn’t look any different if they tried. Oscar is tall and slim with dark hair and eyes. Vaughn is shorter and broader, with lighter hair and eyes that are washed-away blue-green.

  “The side doors?” I say, like this is the first time I’ve heard of them. “Oh, over in history. Yeah, I was down that way. Vaughn thought I was busting out, did he?”

  The laugh I manage sounds a little off to me, but Oscar doesn’t seem to notice. He shakes his head and shrugs.

  “Whatever,” he says. “No big deal.”

  I smile at him and sling my pack over my shoulder, but it bothers me — how good I’m getting at lying. Not just to Oscar, either. To my dad, and my sisters, too, and it doesn’t even end there! Last week, I lied to my best-friend-since-grade-eight, Dori Tocher, when we were supposed to meet for Whoppers at BK and then go shopping for bathing suits. A frantic call from Devlin ended with me weeping and ditching Dori to take him fourteen dollars — which was the last bit of cash I had stashed away for emergencies.

  It’s getting out of control — I know it is. What I don’t know is how to stop it.

  Oscar walks at my side, oblivious to the thoughts churning in my head. I fight the temptation to confess, to tell him everything. For some reason, I can’t seem to get that scene to play.

  It makes me really start to wonder. What would Oscar say if I should suddenly admit that I’ve been sneaking off to meet up with Devlin, and taking him money?

  I don’t imagine he’d be thrilled, but I find I’m coming up blank trying to picture exactly how he’d react. That bothers me. Seems that I should be able to figure out how my boyfriend would take something like that.