Saige pats my bag while I sob into my jacket's sleeve. In the back of my mind, I feel bad for soiling the one-hundred dollar jean sleeve, but I'm more upset by my failure. How could I have missed the switch?

"It's going to be okay," Saige soothes. "Really, everything will be fine. You did your best. Not even I saw the switch happen."

"Yes, but I should've been more careful."

"Here." Saige holds my cross-body purse out. "Call your boss. What's the worst she can do? Fire you?"

A fresh wave of sobs overflows from me.

"Oh. I'm sorry." Saige nibbles her lip while I accept the purse with shaky hands.

"You're right," I say. "I should just come clean. She'll know sooner or later." I dial her number. Every time the ringtone blares in my ear, panic jolts through me. Then the ringing stops, replaced by a slight crackle.

"Hello, Tabitha Endlewood speaking."

"Hi, Tabitha? This is Cleo."

"Ah, yes. Did you get the wood?"

"N-not exactly." There's a beat on the other end of the phone. My voice speeds up. "You see, I did purchase the board. But as we were leaving the festival, a man bumped into me and switched the boards. He ran off before I realized what happened."

Silence. My eyes, glimmering with tears, lock on Saige's.

"Who's 'we?'" Tabitha asks at last.

Taken aback, I stammer, "m-my friend, Saige. She drove me there."

"You said you have a license."

"Yes."

"And I provided a car."

"Yes." My voice chokes up. I've really messed up now.

There's a long pause, one that seems to stretch from infinity and beyond. I almost wonder if she hung up on me, but my phone doesn't indicate that the call ended.

"No more group work going forward," Tabitha says finally. "You're to complete my tasks alone. Understood?"

"S-sure."

"Now, describe this man for me."

I provide as detailed a description I can: face, hair, build, clothes. When I'm done, Tabitha thanks me and says that she'll contact me shortly.

I hang up the phone, then bury my face in my hands. "She's so mad at me. What am I going to do?"

"Maybe it's for the best," Saige says. "She seems a little eccentric for an employer. And her jobs are just weird."

Slowly, my head nods of its own accord. "You're right."

"Let's go get some coffee. And maybe a nice scone?"

I fasten my seatbelt. "Yeah. That'd be nice." Get all the treats I can before Tabitha's generous money supply expires. As I lean my head against the window, watching as the Sorrel Gardens grows more and more distant, I wonder what I'd do without Saige at my side, if I have to continue working for Tabitha alone.

🕸 ✩⋆｡°🕸｡°⋆✩🕸

My phone rings. I dash from the kitchen, leaving my water glass on the counter, and snatch my phone from the couch cushions. My heart leaps in my throat when I read the caller ID.

Tabitha Endlewood.

"Hello?" I say.

"I have a job for you."

"Sure."

"Alone."

Apprehension flutters inside me, but I agree. I mean, it's not fair to be pulling Saige away from her job, anyway. Perhaps it's for the best.

"I need you to go to a small restaurant off exit fourteen. It's called 'Fries and Pies.' You should find either a beige Hyundai or a black Nissan sitting in the parking lot. Inside, look and see if you spot anything that could resemble the wooden board. If not, it's probably in the trunk. In your closet, there should be a toolbox labeled 'cars.' Look for it on the far right side of the closet."

The crease in my brow deepens as she continues. I can't quite grasp where this is going.

"There are skeleton keys inside the box that can work for a range of automobiles. Just find the one that will work on Nissans and Hyndais. If an alarm is tripped while you're trying to get the board out, just grab it and run."

My brain finally catches up. "Wait, you want me to break into a car?"

"How else are we going to get the board back?"

"I don't know! But isn't stealing it going too far? How—" I cut off. What I really want to ask is 'how important is this board?' Somehow, I don't think she would appreciate, or answer, that one.

"He stole it from you first. You're just taking what rightfully belongs to you."

I sigh, thinking. Tabitha makes a good point. I'm just concerned that the police wouldn't see it that way if they caught me. Then again, if I have a working key, what are the odds of getting caught?

The man could literally walk out as you're opening his car. I shove that thought back into the jumbled frey of thoughts.

"So, are you doing the job?" Tabitha asks impatiently.

"How do you know this is his car?" I blurt out.

"Let's just say I might've met him before."

Oh, gosh. Just add personal drama to this increasingly complicated web.

"Alright. I'll head out once I find the toolbox."

"Hurry, you might not have much time left." The line goes dead. I stare at my phone for a second, wondering what she meant.

Upstairs, I don't just find one toolbox in the closet. I hadn't noticed this when I first moved in, but behind the door of the right-most closet, there's a floor-to-ceiling panel of shelves containing all sorts of boxes and kits — lock-picking, scuba diving, drilling, and much, much more. The clown costume set has me especially concerned, but I try to ignore it, focusing on sliding out the box beside it.

"Cars" is the only label taped to the side. I open it to find the skeleton keys Tabitha referred to. I remove the ones that work on Hyndai and Nissans along with some other tools that may come in handy: putty for lock impressions, a crowbar, some wire, a flashlight, and a weird pen-looking thing that says 'lazer' on the side.

All the items get stashed inside a large, leather purse that hangs on the opposite wall. Then I head to my car and drive to Fries and Pies.

Anxiety shoots through me when I arrive. Only six vehicles are parked outside the building. The problem is that half of those include emergency responders, two police cars and an ambulance.

So much for not getting caught.

Police bustle in and out of the restaurant while several people stand on the sidewalk, watching. I park in a space nearest the parking lot's exit, then slip around the ambulance parked in the middle of the lot. Of the cars around, there is a red Honda, an SUV, and a black Nissan.

Bingo.

I try to appear casual as I approach the car on the edge of the lot. Fortunately, the man standing outside is absorbed in conversation with the officer, and his two kids are busy shoving fries up each others' noses. As I pass by the door to the restaurant, I peer around, trying to glimpse the man I saw earlier. But all I see is a woman and some employees speaking to the cops.

My glance is too fleeting to catch more. I'm already past the door and in front of the black Nissan, the car that Tabitha is certain belongs to the man who stole the board. The windows are tinted, making it difficult when I look inside, but I detect the outline of a bag laying against the dark seats.

I walk to the other side of the car. My heart thuds in my chest. I can't believe I'm about to break into someone else's car in broad daylight... with police around. The things I do for money.

Is this really worth it? I guess it's too late to decide that now. With a shaky breath, I insert the nissan key into the lock, cringing.

It... it doesn't fit. I press, wriggle, and prod, but it will not insert into the lock. My lungs decompress with relief. If the key doesn't fit, maybe I can just give up, tell Tabitha that the key didn't work and I couldn't get the door.

Reality crashes me back to earth. Of course I can't do that. She won't accept failure a second time. I have to figure out a different plan, a way to get the door open.

I stare into my yawning purse. Putty, wire, crowbar, flashlight, lazer.

Lazer. Could I just cut the window open, reach in, and pull the board out?

I lift the pen-shaped object, pressing the edge to the window pane. My thumb sinks onto the back of it, and it buzzes, zapping a hole in the glass. I gasp, releasing the back. A grin spreads on my face, and I quickly cut around the window's perimeter. Then, I ever so carefully give the glass the tiniest push.

It falls onto the seat, and an alarm blares from the vehicle.

Darn it. Time for plan C: run.

My arm stretches inside the window. I grasp the black bag on the seat, yanking it out. Then, I dash across the street, around the red car and SUV, behind the ambulance. Two officers in uniform race toward me.

Adrenaline and fear pump through my veins, propel my legs forward. My lungs burn for air, and all I can hear is the wind in my ears as I draw closer to my car. I press the lock on my keys, then jump into my car just before the officer reaches the car.

I throw the board into the passenger's seat while thrusting the keys into the ignition. The engine roars to life, and I drive over the curb in a semi-circle to avoid the officers behind me. I turn onto the road, right in front of another car speeding down the road. A loud "beeeep" sounds behind me, but I slam my foot on the gas and take off.

My head is a panicked fog, and my heart pounds in my chest. I can't believe I just did that. I can't believe this.

With one hand on the steering wheel, I frantically search for my phone. My hand lands on the phone case, and I maneuver to contacts, looking between my phone and the road every second to keep from crashing. I call the person at the top of my contacts, then hold the phone to the side of my head.

"Hello?" Saige says.

"Hey Saige?" I pant. "I'm going to need backup."