Eleventh Grave in Moonlight (Charley Davidson #11)(54)

“Got it.”

“And no flirting.”

“What?” he asked, pretending to be offended. “I would never.”

Maybe this was a bad idea after all.

*

Three hours later, we were in the principal’s office, never a place I liked to be. Uncle Bob was giving her the details of our operation and asked her to keep it all confidential. He showed his badge and said it had all been approved by the captain, and that seemed good enough for her. Thank goodness. She could have insisted on a warrant of some kind.

Ubie and I didn’t come with Amber. We wanted everything to appear as normal as possible, so Cookie dropped her off at the same spot she did every morning. Amber had walked by us, backpack in place, but pretended not to notice us. Good girl. She’d pull this off beautifully.

But the first bell was minutes away and still no sign of Osh. I poked my head into the hallway again. Nothing.

“What can I do for you?” the admin assistant asked.

I turned to see a skater kid with spiky dark hair under a grungy hoodie, baggy pants, and high-tops—untied high-tops—sitting in a corner of the main office. Although sitting would be an overstatement. He was making it his personal mission to elevate the slouch to an art form.

He shrugged as I took another peek into the hall. “I’m just waiting on my uncle to finish with the principal. He’s getting me checked in.”

I whirled around and gaped. “Osh?” I said, surprise shooting through me.

He lifted his chin in greeting and gave me a lopsided grin.

I hurried over and sat beside him. “Holy cow, Osh. You look … this is amazing.”

“Yeah?” he asked. “So, you approve?”

“Osh, um, yes.” I could hardly speak, then I realized the lengths he had gone to. “You cut your hair.”

His gaze studied my face a moment. “Only a little. It grows fast.”

“I’m … I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s Amber, right? And you care for her a lot.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then so do I.”

It was like talking to a kid. Like a genuine fifteen-year-old kid. One that would definitely pass as a freshman, albeit a tall one.

I squeezed his hand, then led him into the principal’s office. When Uncle Bob got a load of him, he was as impressed as I was. We rushed through the introductions, and the principal gave her spiel about what Osh was and was not allowed to do. Sadly, sucking the souls out of her students did not make an appearance.

“Have you ever thought about a career in law enforcement?” Ubie asked Osh. “We could use some good UCs in high schools.”

He grinned. “I’ve seen 21 Jump Street. I’m not sure I fit the mold.”

Uncle Bob shook his head. “That’s too bad.”

“Okay, remember,” I said, handing him Amber’s schedule, “you’re Amber’s cousin from Denver. Your family just moved here. Your dad’s—”

“Sugar,” he said, his sudden Southern drawl and sensual grin stopping me. “I got this.”

“Okay. Right. Sorry.”

He saluted, mocking our authority over him exactly like a freshman in high school might, and headed toward Amber’s first class.

Because we didn’t know if the stalker had access to Amber’s text messages—he could easily have cloned her phone—we instructed her to text her mom and friends as she normally would. Even her boyfriend, Quentin, who had an out-of-town basketball tournament that weekend.

Some of the texts from the stalker gave me a sneaking suspicion he did indeed have access to her text messages. He simply knew too much about her family and friends.

Something good had already come out of this whole operation. Since telling us the truth, Amber’s mental state had taken a dramatic turn for the better. I could feel her relief while we were explaining the plan that morning. Knowing we were on the case. Knowing she would be kept safe.

The entire situation broke my heart. And made my skin crawl. Stalkers were a different sort and terribly unpredictable. At least the male ones were. Female stalkers rarely resorted to violence, but one just never knew about the male ones.

I watched as all eyes turned toward Osh when he passed. The new kid. The mysterious new kid who … crap. Every girl in school was going to be swooning over him. I hadn’t thought of that. And Osh, the most irredeemable flirt I’d ever met.

Oh, well. We’d programmed a new number in Amber’s phone from a burner I would carry. I would be Jess and would invite her to the mall the next day. Considering the circumstances, Amber would argue back and forth, saying she couldn’t go, that she had a lot of stuff going on, but I would eventually convince her to go. And then we would be ready for the sting Saturday morning.

We’d also set up some codes, so I could secretly make sure everything was okay without tipping off Joe Stalker. I’d have to ask her about her cousin Osh. See how his first day of school was going. Make sure he wasn’t setting up any dates for later. From what I’d seen, many of the seniors at Roadrunner High could moonlight as supermodels. Maybe there was something in the water. I didn’t remember the girls at my high school looking like pop artists and movie stars.

“Okay, we’re all set,” Uncle Bob said, walking out of the principal’s office. Underneath his very Uncle Bob exterior beat the heart of a pissed-off Uncle Bob interior. Whoever this stalker was, his life was about to take a turn for the worse.