Marked by Norah McClintock

houses to break into. It’s the same thing.”
    â€œNo, it isn’t,” she said. “It isn’t the same thing at all.”
    I couldn’t believe it. She had just as good as admitted that she was involved. Maybe she wasn’t breaking into those houses, but she was working with the thieves. She was telling them where to go.
    I backed away from her.
    â€œI’m going to the cops,” I said. “Youcan come with me or not, it’s your choice. But I’m going to tell them what’s going on.”
    She snapped her fingers.
    The German shepherd went still. His ears stood straight up. His tail didn’t move. He growled at me. She had told me that Cody was a guard dog. Was he also an attack dog?
    â€œIf you go to the cops, I’ll tell them you were in on it with me,” she said.
    â€œYou know that’s not true.”
    â€œI know it now,” she said. “But you said it yourself. The cops already suspect you. That woman knows you overheard her. I’ll tell the cops you told me what you heard. And you’re always there, first thing, getting rid of the marks, getting rid of the evidence. If that doesn’t make it look like you’re involved, I don’t know what does.”
    I couldn’t believe what was happening. She could make big trouble for me. I reminded myself—
again
—that I hadn’t done anything wrong.
    I turned to leave.
    I heard her fingers snap again. Cody growled at me. Then he lunged in front of me, blocking my way.
    â€œI don’t want to mess you up,” she said. “But I’m not kidding. If you go to the cops, I’ll make sure you end up in trouble too. That’s a promise.”
    I turned slowly.
    â€œWhy are you doing this?” I said.
    She bit her lip. Finally she said, “It’s my brother.”

chapter twelve
    â€œYour brother is a thief?” I said.
    Her eyes flashed again. I think she wanted to punch me, even though she was a girl and I was a lot bigger than her.
    â€œMy brother made a mistake, that’s all,” she said. “He did something stupid—he trusted the wrong person. Now he’s in prison.”
    â€œI thought he was in the hospital.”
    â€œHe’s in a prison hospital,” she said, her voice bitter. “My brother isn’t tough. Heisn’t bad. He’s gentle. He wanted to be a social worker, only now he’s in prison. It’s awful in there, especially if you’re like my brother. There are guys in there that bully you. They won’t leave you alone unless you pay them—and my brother doesn’t have any money.”
    â€œIs that what this is all about?” I said. “You’re stealing stuff so that your brother won’t get bullied?”
    â€œ
I’m
not stealing anything,” she said again.
    â€œBut you’re helping them.”
    â€œI wanted to stop. I told my brother I wasn’t going to do it anymore. That’s when they beat him up.”
    Oh.
    â€œIs that why he’s in the hospital?”
    She nodded. “If I go to the cops, they’ll hurt him.”
    â€œIf you go to the cops and tell them what’s going on, they’ll protect him.”
    She was shaking her head before I finished talking.
    â€œThey’ll blame my brother. They’ll say he’s the one behind it.”
    â€œBut you just said—”
    â€œYou don’t get it,” she said. “He’s the one who told me what to do.”
    â€œYour brother?”
    â€œI only ever spoke to him. He told me what they wanted me to do. He said if I went to the cops, they would say he was calling the shots. He’ll never get out of prison.”
    â€œSo you find places and you leave those marks to tell them which house.”
    She nodded.
    â€œBut there are so many streets,” I said. “What do they do, drive around the neighborhood looking for marks?”
    â€œI leave a sign