“That’s not the way retribution works,” said Lily, peering into the hallway.
“You already found this hallway, didn’t you.” Shay watched Lily try to feign surprise. Okay, lying was not a strength. Good thing to know.
“What? You knew and didn’t tell me? I thought we had a pact?” Peyton asked, anguished.
“This seemed beyond the scope of our pact.”
“How did you get in there?”
“Weird magic, I told you. Comes in handy at the oddest times.”
“You’re going to have to show me some time,” said Shay.
“We’ll make a trade,” said Lily.
“My tricks had nothing to do with you, Peyton. I set up all this before I ever thought of saving your skinny ass.”
“But why didn’t you tell me about it earlier?”
Shay shrugged. “It was a test, especially after your little stunts earlier tracking down warehouses, I was curious to see if you could find out about it yourself. The surveillance footage is bullshit, obviously.”
Peyton shook his head. “I can’t believe this has been here the entire time and I didn’t even know about it. I’m both embarrassed and impressed.”
“I still have a few secrets, Peyton. Don’t underestimate me just because you’ve managed to get a few over on me.”
He laughed. “I respect and fear you, but I never underestimate you.”
“I just respect you,” said Lily.
Shay gestured to the hallway and entered. Buzzing lights clicked on with each step she took.
Peyton hurried after her. “Why do I half-suspect I’ll find Narnia at the other end?”
“What’s Narnia?” asked Lily. “Don’t mention the school again, just help me out.”
“I have a book for you later. And Peyton, I had some Turkish Delight when I was in Turkey. I wasn’t that impressed.”
“What kind of candy would you sell your family out for?”
Shay snickered. “We both have shitty families. It’s not like we need candy to sell them out.”
They reached the end of the hallway where another set of DNA and retinal scanners, along with a keypad, awaited.
After the requisite security ritual the door slid open and bright lights flooded the space, revealing row after row of wigs, clothing, and accessories. Dozens of cars filled half the room, ranging from a rusty station wagon to a bright yellow Lamborghini.
Shay pointed to an elevator across the room. “There’s a second floor, too. No cars up there, though.”
“Can I have a car?” Lily stood there with her mouth half open.
“You’re not even old enough to drive.”
“Hasn’t stopped me yet.”
“The Warehouse Three Annex is your closet and garage all in one?” Peyton surveyed the warehouse, awestruck.
“That’s one way to look at it.” Shay pointed to a computer in a small office near the hall. “Have a database in there with a catalog of everything. It’s all carefully arranged—the clothing or cars needed for any identity. Not only do I have the individual pieces stored, but each car has the stuff needed for a couple weeks in a given identity. Documents, account numbers—that sort of thing.”
Peyton shook his head. “Why do you even have all this?”
“I used to have a warehouse like this in New York for my old job.”
“I get why you needed that. It’s not like you announced who you were when you killed people.”
Shay shook her head. “You, more than anyone else, know how everything we do leaves a trace somewhere. If you’re not actively trying to avoid it, you’ll end up with a trail that leads back to you.”
“But you never got caught. You faked your death.”
“Yeah, and that worked because of how careful I was. Don’t you get it? As far as the cops know, Shay Carson never killed anyone. Some other person did. In fact, different people did, and this is how I maintained that. Different appearances, documents, identities, cars. Whatever I needed.” She started walking down one of the rows. “There are two ways to handle trails. One way is to try not to leave one. The second is to leave a false trail. Or ten false trails.”
Peyton wandered after her and whistled. “This is like gangster’s Halloween.” He put on an impressive velvet broad-brimmed hat with a feather. “I think I’d take on jobs all the time just to try out the different outfits.”
Lily slid on oversized Jackie-O style sunglasses and a large floppy hat.
Shay chuckled. “It’s not for fun. I don’t wear or use any of this shit unless it’s for the fake identity. If I have any reason to think an identity’s been compromised I burn it.”
“How do you burn an identity?”
“Same way as before. I destroy everything associated with it.”
Peyton swallowed. “Everything?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna kill you anytime soon.”
“I’m not worried about me.” He pointed to the Lamborghini. “I’m worried about that beautiful thing. You wouldn’t destroy the car.”
“I got rid of more than a few sports cars during my years as a killer.” Shay let the word slip out before she knew it and quickly looked at Lily.
Lily took off the hat and moved on to a rack of dresses.
“I already told her about your old profession. It was less of a big reveal than you would imagine.” Peyton groaned. “How many cars? That’s just…wrong.”
She almost laughed at the idea of him being more offended by her destruction of sports cars than her murdering people. They were a regular Addams Family. “Cars can always be replaced. They’re just things, in the end.”
“In that case, maybe I should take it for a spin. Just in case you need to destroy it later. I’d like to have the experience.” He nodded toward the Lamborghini. “You might not even have a reason to drive any of these.”
“I call shotgun!” yelled Lily.
“You can’t drive the Lamborghini.”
Peyton threw up his hands. “What about the Aston Martin, then?”
“Nope. Not that one either.”
“What about the—”
Shay cut him off with a glare. “No cars. These are part of identities, and you don’t have the tits to pull off most of them.”
“Just asking.” Peyton set down the
