Chương 13
Morales’s expression became careful.
“The unit is there.”
James stepped forward.
“And the computer?”
“We do not know yet.”
Devon appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
Morales looked at him.
“The facility manager recognized the description of Malik’s car.”
Devon gripped the banister.
“Does he rent there?”
“Not under that name.”
James’s face tightened.
“Then whose name?”
Morales paused.
“A woman named Denise Carter.”
Devon frowned.
“That is his mom.”
Morales watched him closely.
“You are sure?”
“Yes.”
He swallowed.
“She is the one who told everybody he transferred schools.”
Tasha looked at him.
“When?”
“March.”
“Why?”
Devon’s eyes widened as memory caught up with him.
“Because he got expelled.”
James looked at Devon.
“You knew he was expelled?”
“I knew he got kicked out.”
“For what?”
Devon shook his head.
“He said fighting.”
Officer Morales watched him.
“Who told you that?”
“Malik.”
“Anyone else?”
“No.”
She nodded.
“Then treat that as unverified.”
Devon swallowed.
“Okay.”
Morales’s radio crackled at her shoulder.
She listened, answered with her call sign, then looked toward James and Renee.
“We have enough information to request further access through the proper process.”
James immediately said, “How long?”
“I cannot promise.”
Tasha felt the familiar frustration rise.
Maybe again.
Procedure again.
Waiting again.
Then Morales looked at her.
“But the manager confirmed unit activity this afternoon.”
Tasha straightened.
“What kind of activity?”
“Someone left approximately forty minutes ago.”
“Malik?”
“The manager could not positively identify him.”
Devon stepped forward.
“What car?”
“Gray Honda with rear bumper damage.”
The room went still.
James said, “So he was there after sending that picture.”
“Possibly.”
“And now he knows police are involved.”
“Possibly.”
Devon rubbed both hands over his face.
“This is my fault.”
Nobody contradicted him.
That seemed to hurt more than an argument would have.
Morales turned to him.
“Do you have somewhere else you can stay tonight if necessary?”
Devon looked confused.
“Why?”
“Because if someone is sending intimidating messages and knows this address, we think about safety.”
Renee’s face tightened.
James answered immediately.
“My brother lives twenty minutes away.”
Morales nodded.
“Good.”
Devon looked at James.
“You’re sending me away?”
“I’m getting you out of the house for one night.”
“That sounds like sending me away.”
James stepped closer.
“It is one night.”
Devon’s mouth hardened.
Tasha recognized the old defensiveness returning.
“Whatever.”
James’s expression changed.
“Do not do that.”
“Do what?”
“Turn scared into disrespect because scared embarrasses you.”
Devon looked away.
No one spoke for a moment.
Morales gathered her notes.
Tasha asked, “What should I do about my scholarship?”
Morales looked at her.
“That part I cannot solve.”
Tasha nodded.
It was almost a relief to hear something plainly outside the officer’s power.
After the police left, the house became too quiet.
James locked both doors.
Renee put away the last groceries.
Devon packed an overnight bag without being told twice.
Tasha returned to her bedroom and sat in front of the useless monitor.
The empty space beneath the desk looked larger now.
She opened her laptop, an old machine with a cracked hinge, and tried to launch the animation software.
It took nearly three minutes.
Then it crashed.
She launched it again.
Devon appeared in the doorway with his backpack over one shoulder.
She did not look at him.
“I’m leaving.”
“I heard.”
He shifted.
“Uncle Marcus is coming.”
“Okay.”
Another silence.
“I found something.”
That made her turn.
Devon held out his phone.
“What?”
“I sent myself a clip once.”
Tasha frowned.
“Of what?”
“Your animation.”
She stared at him.
“Why?”
He looked embarrassed.
“I showed Malik.”
Her face hardened.
“Why did you show him my work?”
“He said it looked professional.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I was bragging.”
The word surprised her.
Devon looked down.
“I told him my sister made stuff that looked better than the ads online.”
Tasha said nothing.
He held out the phone again.
“There’s maybe thirty seconds.”
She took it.
The clip showed an early version of her project.
The lighting was unfinished.
One character’s movement was stiff.
But the timing data appeared briefly at the bottom of the editing window.
More importantly, a file path showed the project folder name and an autosave directory.
Tasha leaned closer.
“Send this to me.”
Devon did.
She replayed it.
Then again.
A memory surfaced.
She had enabled temporary cloud backups months earlier after the software crashed during a school project.
She opened the program settings on the old laptop.
The backup service required a login.
She entered her account.
A list appeared.
Three old projects.
Then one labeled CURRENT_FINAL_07.
Tasha stopped breathing.
She clicked it.
The download began.
Slowly.
Painfully slowly.
But it began.
Devon saw her face.
“Is that it?”
“Maybe.”
He stepped closer.
She held up a hand.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
The progress bar reached twelve percent.
Then eighteen.
Tasha watched it as if looking away might make it disappear.
At thirty-one percent, she whispered, “It’s the right size.”
Devon smiled.
Not much.
Just enough.
Tasha looked at him.
“This does not fix what you did.”
His smile disappeared.
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“You do not get credit because something survived.”
“I know.”
She stared at him for another second.
Then looked back at the screen.
Forty-six percent.
Devon shifted his backpack.
“I’m sorry.”
Tasha closed her eyes.
She was tired of the sentence.
Tired of hearing it.
Tired of wanting it and rejecting it at the same time.
When she opened her eyes, the progress bar had reached fifty-two.
“I believe you are sorry.”
Devon’s eyes lifted.
“That is not the same as forgiving you.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
For once, she believed that too.
Marcus arrived fifteen minutes later.
He was James’s younger brother, broad-shouldered and permanently underdressed, wearing basketball shorts and sandals despite the cooling evening.
He did not ask Devon questions in front of everyone.
He just took the backpack.
“Come on.”
Devon hesitated by the front door.
May you like
James handed him a jacket.
Devon almost laughed.
