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Criminal
Criminal
Criminal
Ebook218 pages3 hours

Criminal

Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars

4.5/5

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About this ebook

What would you do for love? Nikki helps her boyfriend commit murder in this “dark, devastating, and realistic portrait of a girl in over her head” (Publishers Weekly).

Nikki’s life is far from perfect, but at least she has Dee. Her friends tell her that Dee is no good, but Nikki can’t imagine herself without him. He’s hot, he’s dangerous, he has her initials tattooed over his heart, and she loves him more than anything. There’s nothing Nikki wouldn’t do for Dee. Absolutely nothing.

So when Dee pulls Nikki into a crime – a crime that ends in murder – Nikki tells herself that it’s all for true love. Nothing can break them apart. Not the police. Not the arrest that lands Nikki in jail. Not even the investigators who want her to testify against him.

But what if Dee had motives that Nikki knew nothing about?

Nikki’s love for Dee is supposed to be unconditional…but even true love has a limit. And Nikki just might have reached hers.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateMay 7, 2013
ISBN9781442421646
Criminal
Author

Terra Elan McVoy

Terra Elan McVoy has held a variety of jobs centered on reading and writing, from managing an independent bookstore to answering fan mail for Captain Underpants. She lives in the same Atlanta neighborhood where many of her acclaimed YA novels are set.

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Rating: 4.4 out of 5 stars
4.5/5

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  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Young adult urban fiction so gritty and real it will draw reluctant readers from the get-go. Nikki is desperately in love with Denarius. He fills her with the self-worth she lacks. But her blind loyalty ends up implicating her as part of a murder and it's a hard-earned journey before she finds her own sense of self and fully understands her role in the crime. Nikki's transformation from pathetic to I-will-survive is authentically felt; I even cringed at her pleading for Dee's approval and love. The pacing is quick and the dialogue real without being bogged down with obscenities and street talk. The details about life in jail, police interrogations, lawyers, and being on trial will fascinate or be familiar. Anyone looking for controversial elements will find them in spades: obscenities, drug use, sex, murder. Everyone else looking for a burning page-turner will find it here.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I know I've read a good book when the words start a war within my head long before I've even finished it. And this book did just that. The war was between how conflicted I felt about the characters. Nikki is so in love with Dee she lets him leave for months without any questions. She can't help it, her life without him is nothing and his dangerous lifestyle is all that she wants. That is until one of his plans turns into a crime. A murderous one at that. The hardest thing about writing this review is the way I felt about the characters. I wanted so bad to like Nikki, but for the most part I thought she was stupid. But at the same time, it was just her being blinded by love. These things really happen. In the end I found myself just happy that she grew up and got herself together in the end. Then there was Bird. I loved her being so real, raw, and honest, but I also disliked her for a minute for leaving her like that when she needed someone the most. But then again, I understand completely why she did leave. This was also my first encounter with McVoy and her writing. Her writing style actually surprised me. The words felt jolty and scattered, but the story is about a girl who's scared and full of emotions so the scattered words just felt right. That was my favorite part of the book. I felt every raw emotion pouring off the page. This book is so angst ridden, I was sucked in from the very beginning just to see where the story would end up. This was a perfect coming of age story where the main character grows up and learns just how powerful love is.

Book preview

Criminal - Terra Elan McVoy

I’D BEEN DREAMING I WAS BEING CHASED BY A GIANT PIT bull. It was barking, and then it opened its mouth and I heard Doooom. Doooom. Dooom. Dooom, the bass beat sound Dee’s phone makes. It was ringing somewhere on the floor, under our clothes. My eyes opened as he leaned off the narrow futon to answer it. We hadn’t been touching because he can’t sleep with anyone touching him. But I could still feel him moving away.

We have to go, he told me when he hung up. He hadn’t said much into the phone.

I watched the stretch of his ribs as he pulled last night’s T-shirt over his head. The tattoo on his bronze chest disappeared: N—for Nikki—surrounded by swirling angels’ wings. I smiled, seeing it. Thinking of my lips on it last night.

Get up. He didn’t look at me.

Are you okay?

Get some clothes on. He walked out of the room. To the kitchen, or to find whatever narrow scrap of joint was left in the ashtray from last night.

I heard him muttering to Bird and her muttering back. Both of them low, short. I lay there hoping that Dee would say something to Bird about where we were going, what the phone call was about, but really I knew that hoping Dee and Bird would talk much to each other was like hoping the last scratch-off number on your ticket would reveal you’d won the whole $25,000 pot.

I kicked the blanket off and reached for whatever pair of shorts lay handy. I didn’t know where we were headed, but wherever Dee needed me to be, I was going to go.

"I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY THE POLICE WANT TO TALK TO you," I said to him once we were in the truck and he told me where we were going.

He just glared.

I mean, I tried again, how did they know to call you so fast?

It doesn’t matter why, he said, working the tight muscle of his jaw. What matters is what the fuck I’m going to say.

I tried to calm down my breathing, to think. Jesus. The police already? Well . . . We were at Bird’s yesterday. I mean, what else can we say?

We need a story, Nikki. Okay? What about after work Friday? He was staring hard at the road, trying to burn it up with his brown-black eyeballs.

You picked me up. Everyone saw you.

And then?

The truth. We got beer. At the corner. We partied, slept over.

We can’t tell the police that.

For a second I didn’t get it. Dee’s almost twenty-one, but he’s been buying me beer with his fake ID since we started going out the first time. October.

But doesn’t that make it more, I don’t know, real? That you’re being honest?

He nodded just barely. I’ll think about it. What else?

Um, you spent the night and then—

Then I went to the gym.

You went to the gym on Saturday morning like you always do.

He probably wouldn’t tell the police how we’d also done it that morning: hot, ferocious, hard. And then again, in the back of Bird’s car, after what happened. It wasn’t their business. Dee didn’t like to talk about that stuff anyway. But the thought of it still made me reach out, put my hand on his hard, narrow thigh. I didn’t move my hand away even when I felt him tensing under my touch.

The next part was tricky. Then you came back, and we . . . went to get sandwiches?

His eyes flicked over to me for just a second. Where?

Um—McDonald’s. Or, no. Tell them the QT.

The one up the street?

Yes, the one at the street.

We hung out.

We didn’t go anywhere.

Until we had to go get dinner, he said.

Right. The chicken. I forgot. And more beer.

We slept late this morning.

At Bird’s. I nodded.

My phone rang.

Your phone rang. It was your brother, telling you the police were looking for you. And we left right away.

His jaw, thigh, wrist on the steering wheel, everything was still tense. But he finally looked at me then. Really looked.

I WENT IN WITH HIM, SITTING IN THE WAITING ROOM, IN case—he told me—they wanted to ask me questions, too. There was no way I wanted to talk to the cops, or anyone, about yesterday, but the way Dee said it, I knew I had no choice. I spent the whole time staring at the floor, trying to slow down the red-swirling curls of panic behind my eyes. Nobody wanted to talk to me, though. Even though it took an unbearably long time, when Dee finally came out, he had that Don’t fuck with me expression on his face. For the cops and me both.

We got in the truck without talking. I had questions—what he said to them, what if they wanted to know more, what I should do with the wigs and clothes, what was going to happen next—but he wouldn’t even look at me, so I knew to keep my mouth shut. He turned the stereo on, loud. Drove fast. He wouldn’t answer if I did ask, anyway. Just pretend he hadn’t heard. Or, not even.

When we got to Bird’s, I wanted him to come in, explain how they knew to look for him so fast at least, not to mention why we went out to that house, what even really had happened, but he didn’t even unbuckle his seat belt.

Dee?

Go in and get the stuff.

What are—

I’ll handle it.

Where are you going to take them?

Don’t worry about it.

That wig was expensive. The red one.

He turned to me, slow. Flat expression, like a snake.

The wrong thing for me to say. Okay. You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.

I need you to do a little more of that, he said.

Which made me snap. How can I when I don’t even know what to think? When you won’t even tell me what really went on with those gunshots, and—

You know what? he growled. You’re right. You don’t need to think. What you need to do is shut up and just sit tight. Do what I tell you.

Dee, I just . . . I mean, this is crazy. And I need some—

Look, I’ve got some things to do. I told them where we were, okay? Just like we went over. They won’t need to know anything else.

He was already far away from here. But I needed him to stay a little longer.

But what if they come and—

What if I put my fist straight through that mouth of yours, crush your pipes so you can’t talk any more, huh? What if that? Okay? I said I would handle it. It’s handled. You don’t have nothing to worry about. Nobody knows what happened. I made sure. Now go get what I asked you.

He wasn’t going to hit me or anything, but I got out anyway. When he was fierce like this, it was better to just disappear. Eventually he’d quiet down. He always did. And after, he was always sorry. Always wanting. And he needed me to understand this about him. I was the only one who did.

Inside the house, Bird was in the kitchen, mouth full of pins, pinching together white satin along the waist of her friend, Kenyetta. Kenyetta was finally getting married next month, and Bird was so excited she was altering her dress for free. I said hey to both of them as I walked past and went into the back room where I stayed. Last night Dee had thrown the bag with his guns, wigs, everything into the big wood-patterned cardboard thing I used as a closet. You were supposed to hang your clothes on this rod across the front, but it slipped out if you hung too much on it. Most of my stuff was in a pile at the bottom. But Dee hadn’t bothered to hide that bag under anything. He just put it there, right on top.

Holding it, I thought for a brief moment about getting the red wig out. Maybe Bird and I could wash it somehow, get rid of any trace of him. It was pretty. And like I said, it had cost a lot. But I wouldn’t have anywhere else to keep it except here. If I took it down the street to my momma’s, she would just find it and wear it, and that could be a disaster. But more than that, I didn’t want Bird connected with what we’d done. Dee said they wouldn’t, but if they came here and somehow knew he’d had it on . . . I didn’t want to picture what. Even if I wasn’t supposed to think too much, I knew enough to know I needed to get all of this as far away from us as possible. I didn’t want to open the bag anyway. I didn’t even want to touch it.

Dee was more himself when I handed it to him through the driver’s side window.

I’ll call you, okay? he said.

When?

Later. And everything’s going to be fine. Don’t worry. I’m glad you came with me. It helped, talking it through.

I couldn’t help it. Smiling just a little. Knowing I was helping him.

Okay. He nodded toward the bag on the seat next to him.

All right, then. But really, when will I hear from you? Tonight?

Maybe. But, you know, it’s not a good idea for you to call me.

I wanted to ask why not, but he was starting the truck up again, so I just stepped back. His face was apologetic. He really had calmed down. Before he backed out, he leaned out the window a little and tapped his finger against his lips. I moved in and kissed him—a peck at first, but then more. Like we were swapping strength. Strength to prepare us for whatever was coming next. When I opened my eyes, he was smiling at me.

You do what I need you to do, baby. And I know that. Okay? And nobody’s going to ask nothing else, I promise.

Okay.

I love you, girl. We’ll talk soon.

Those words moving across his lips made everything turn gold. The insanity and fear of yesterday, of this morning at the police station—it faded into the background.

Love you too.

He left. I stood at the end of the driveway and watched the black end of his truck until I couldn’t see it anymore. Nobody was going to ask any more questions. Dee was going to get rid of the bag and everything inside. In a few days this would all be out of both of our minds. I hadn’t seen much of anything anyway. We were going to be safe.

• •

The house was dim inside, compared to the bright summer sun, and it took my eyes a minute to adjust. In the blinking switch over from outdoors to indoors, my vision was filled with Dee, running toward the Mustang yesterday. How . . . sexy and strange he looked. Running to me. And now he needed me to be strong and to help him. I was the only one—the only one—who he trusted.

Everything okay? Bird called to me from the kitchen.

I went in, said hey to her and Kenyetta, and scooped Jamelee out of her playpen.

Just some errands we had to run. I lifted the baby over my head and bounced her, making her giggle. Mostly I was doing this so I wouldn’t have to look at Bird, because she would know I was lying. You want any lunch?

Girl, please, Kenyetta said from under Bird’s hands. Tyson on some crazy caveman diet before the wedding. Eating nothing but nuts and fruit. Plain steak. I need some carbs and mayonnaise, honey.

We don’t want to get you too fat, Bird teased, pinching Kenyetta’s broomstick arm. To me she said, We got about twenty more minutes here, before she frowned back at the dress.

I put Jamelee back in her playpen and went around to open Bird’s cabinets. I took out some cans of tuna and Duke’s mayo while Kenyetta and Bird got back to gossiping together. The sound of their laughing and jeering, mixed with Jamelee’s squeals and gurgles, made me feel even calmer than kissing Dee had. Filling the kitchen with the smell of toasting bread was nicer still. Normal. I took a can of fancy green beans out of the pantry and threw those into a pan too, after chopping up a little onion and cooking it in some oil. By the time I was sprinkling pepper flakes on the beans and serving up plates, I was feeling more myself. I thought, when Kenyetta left, I’d ask Bird to show me what she’d bought yesterday on her trip to the outlets. We could maybe dress Jamelee up, take her out for ice cream. Everything would be fine. I would eventually stop hearing gunshots.

• •

We sat down with our lunch in front of the TV. Kenyetta was in charge of the remote, flipping around, trying to find something decent, when she passed a news channel and then clicked back.

You hear about this? she asked me and Bird. "Yesterday? Animals, I tell you. They shot this man just in broad day. Coming home from some speech to Boy Scouts."

A wad of tuna and bread and cheese stuck, dry, in my mouth. I was afraid I’d choke. On the TV screen was the house we were at yesterday, me and Dee. The yellow one with the porch. In front of it were a couple cop cars and that CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS tape all around the yard. A news lady with wide brown eyes and straightened hair was talking into her microphone. Serious.

. . . still have no official suspects in the case, but we’ve been told by police that they have begun questioning a few leads in the investigation. Neighbors said they believed the shots they heard in the area on Saturday afternoon were simply kids playing around with firecrackers. If more of them had investigated those sounds, police might now be closer to finding the persons involved in the murder of Deputy Marshall Palmer, who is survived only by his sister, in Indiana, and his seventeen year-old daughter, who was out of town at the time of the shooting. A sad homecoming for her, for these nearby neighbors, and the county police force as the search continues for these brazen killers. For now, I’m Kelly Douglas, reporting live.

Kenyetta and Bird were talking to each other while the report was going on, but I heard nothing. Only the words of the news reporter: persons involved. Persons. As in, more than one. Killers.

Kenyetta’s voice finally came into my head. . . . know they ain’t going to rest until they get these crazy-ass folks. Police don’t take killing one of they own kind too light. Who I really feel sorry for is his daughter, though. Only child and they say she was up in Ohio somewhere looking at college when it happen. Can you imagine? She put her hand up by her face like she was talking on the phone. ‘Hello, is this Miss Palmer? We sorry, honey, but your daddy dead. You need to come back on down here.’

Bird made tsking noises.

They think a gang done it, Kenyetta went on. "Man’s retired now, but

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