“So what do we do? Break in? Drive over the mailbox? Set fire to the lawn?” Jasmine asked. “No more fires. Remember what happened last time? As in last week?” Riley said. What should have been a simple surveillance had turned into arson. Granted, the “victims” were terrible people, and the neighborhood was still celebrating the arrest of their horrible son. But still. “The fire part wasn’t our fault,” Jasmine insisted.
