“What the hell happened?” he demanded, staring at the tires.
I had no idea what to say. I just shrugged.
“Somebody did this?”
It was a funny question. Of course somebody did it. “Looks like it,” I said.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Someone from the neighborhood, I bet,” he said. “Some dumb kid.”
“I don’t think so,” I said.
He turned to me. “What do you mean?”
I gave him the crumpled note and watched him uncrumple it.
As soon as he read it, he looked up at me. “What the hell?” he demanded.
I shrugged.
“Who wrote this?”
I shrugged again. “I found it under my windshield wiper.”
He was so shocked, it made me wonder if he was faking. “Someone put this under your wiper?”
I nodded.
“You have to tell the captain.”
“I am not telling the captain. Ever. And neither are you.”
The rookie walked over to my truck, studying it for other clues and thinking. Then he came back to study my face. “This isn’t the first time.”
“For what?” I said, stalling, knowing full well.
“The first time someone’s messed with you like this.”
I shook my head.
“What else? What else has happened?”
I sighed. No sense hiding it now. “Somebody wrote the word ‘slut’ in my locker.”
Owen frowned and took a few steps closer. “When?”
“The first shift after your parents’ party.”
I watched that sink in. I saw him click the pieces into place. “That’s what happened. Somebody scared you.”
“Nobody scares me,” I said. “It was a good reminder, that’s all.”
“Of what?”
“That I’m here to work. Not to”—but then I couldn’t think of a good word. “Do whatever that was we were doing.”
