Read Finding Sky (A Nicki Valentine Mystery Book 1) for Free Online Page A

stopped.
    “Keys in the ignition,” said another. Uh oh. My mistake. “Lotsa shit in the front seat.” Oops again. Good thing the binoculars looked like a jigsaw puzzle.
    Someone jiggled the door handle, sending a zing of fear through my limbs and gut. What if I’d pressed unlock instead of lock ?
    “Come on, man. We don’t need that heat. We’ll use my ma’s car.”
    I didn’t move until their voices faded away. Then I lifted my head just enough to use the rear passenger window. The teens, similarly dressed in baggy jeans and tight T-shirts, went into Marcus’s house and closed the front door. I waited nervously, thinking about him. If he’d done something to Beth, would he be walking around, socializing and laughing? Sure. Violence was a way of life for gang members. Sad to say, many of them had grown up with it.
    Finally they emerged, cigarettes lit, one carrying the remains of a six pack. I tried not to judge. If you watched a rerun of my teen years, many scenes would look like this. I didn’t smoke, but I was ready to party. Dad would have been transporting passengers somewhere, and Mom would have been home, asleep. Two clueless parents, one drunk teen. I still marvel that I survived.
    I crawled to the second row for a better view. The guys were sauntering toward a red Grand Marquis with impressive patches of rust. Marcus took the driver’s seat while the others surveyed their surroundings before hopping in. The car was a few spaces from mine, but its stereo might as well have been on my roof. Hardcore rap pulsed through the van, vulgar and packed with enough lingo to confuse most adults. I waited for them to drive two blocks before pulling out with my lights off.
    I fumbled around, hoping to write down the new street name, but I was too slow. I’d have to remember it. Left on Baylor . Wait. Coming back, it would be a right on Baylor. Right on Baylor , right on Baylor . Left on Willow. Right on Payne . Ahhh! I lost track. I had the sinking feeling they were heading deeper and deeper into the neighborhood. Maybe they were cruising gang territory.
    That theory was nixed when I noticed heavy traffic and a lack of parking spots. Teens marched down a sidewalk like ants to an anthill, toting drinks to a crowded front porch and dimly lit home. I squinted at the disheveled abode and its neighbors, trying to determine the address, but it was too dark. I wasn’t even sure the houses had numbers. They might have peeled off with the paint.
    Marcus was three cars ahead, creeping along, with no place to fit his boat of a vehicle. One pal leaned out the passenger window, gesturing toward the party. I slid down my window to hear what he was yelling. Instead I heard several loud cracks. The Marquis veered right, scraping the front of a shiny sedan, and then came to rest against a black pickup’s bumper, while mayhem erupted on the porch. Teens ran screaming to and from the house, car doors slammed, and kids tore down the street using all forms of transportation, including a skateboard.
    Two cars were stuck behind Marcus, whose angled car was oddly still, blocking both lanes. I couldn’t see the other drivers, but judging by how many passengers they’d stuffed in their back seats, they were either kids or clowns.
    I had three desires. I wanted to call 911, but I didn’t have a clue where I was. I wanted to help Marcus in case he was shot, but I was afraid to get out. I also wanted to back up and get the heck out of there. It was time to get creative.
    No one was behind me, so I gave an extended honk, hit reverse, and heard the contents of my front seat fly forward. I continued backward until I reached the corner, where I threw my wheel to the right and parked under a street sign that identified my location. Not bad. The cars in front of me backed up too and fled the scene.
    I felt frantic, but everything was in slow motion. All I could think of was Marcus. I threw open my door and dialed on the run. I have no idea what