To Catch a Killer(43)

He texted back that this was a good place to meet.

I should hide my extreme euphoria at hearing his voice, but I can’t. “Hey guys. Look, it’s Journey.” I flash him my most inviting smile. “Need a ride? Hop in.”

Lysa turns around in her seat. “Why didn’t you just tell us you wanted to pick him up?”

“I was afraid you’d say no,” I say.

“That’s right, because Rachel doesn’t want you around him,” Spam says.

“What are you, my parent?”

Lysa shrugs. “I’m not supposed to be around him, either.”

I rise out of my seat and throw one leg over, ready to climb out of the car. “Fine. I’ll ride the bus with him.”

Journey stands by the car, his gaze shifting back and forth between our faces. He’s a little baffled. “What’s going on?”

Spam and I glare at each other for a long minute. I shift my weight toward the outside of the car. She snaps the door handle, opening her door and getting out. Pulling her seat forward, she gestures Journey toward the backseat. “Get in.”

“Erin?” he asks.

“It’s okay. Come on.” I bring my leg back inside.

He climbs into the back and slides over to sit behind Lysa.

“Who wants coffee?” I ask.

Lysa waves her hand in the air. “I’m good.”

Spam sinks back into her seat. “Me, too,” she says, buckling her seat belt.

“Okay. On to school, I guess.” I slide down in my seat and buckle in. Journey watches me with a puzzled look. “What?” I smile. “We’re a team now.”

“You better hope my dad isn’t monitoring my GPS this morning,” Lysa says as she guides the car out of the parking lot and drives toward school. “Or I will be seriously grounded.”

Journey snakes his hand across the seat and pats my hand. I pat his hand in reply, but when I sense Spam eyeing me over her shoulder, I move my hand and replace it with my messenger bag.

“You’re not supposed to see me anymore?” he whispers.

“Don’t worry. Rachel’s just a little freaked out about the whole van-munching-Vespy thing.”

Spam turns in her seat. “Maybe she has a reason to be freaked out.”

“How can you say that?” I’m feeling attacked from every side.

“Because every time something bad happens, he’s there, too.” Spam crosses her arms over her chest.

“Don’t get all Judge Judy. Journey saved my life. And besides, we agreed we’re a team.”

“How are we a team when you promised Rachel you wouldn’t see him outside of school?”

My finger comes up, right in her face. “I didn’t promise her that … you did.”

Journey puts his arm up between Spam and me. “Hey, whoa. This isn’t getting us anywhere.”

I sit back and gaze at the business neighborhood whizzing past; we’re a couple of blocks from school. “We need a homework session … tonight, my house. Six o’clock, okay?”

“Are you including him?” Spam asks.

“Of course I’m including him.”

Spam starts to open her mouth to argue, but I read her mind.

“Rachel’s covering three to midnight again tonight. She won’t be home.”

Lysa pulls into a parking space at school and there’s complete silence in the car.

Journey speaks first. “I’ll be there.”

“Me, too,” adds Lysa.

Spam is quiet for a long minute. “Fine,” she says.

We get out of the car, slam the doors, and each head toward class separately.

Picking Journey up this morning must’ve pushed Spam and Lysa pretty hard because even though I stop by all of our usual spots I don’t see either of them during lunch. Instead I find a quiet table and try to figure out our next steps.

I refer back to the list in my notebook. Item one: What was Miss P working on. Spam’s already agreed to check out the phone records. Miss P’s house is the crime scene, so I’ll never get in there, but I do know another place that might help us.

I need to get us into the lab at school.





22

There’s always right and wrong. And then there’s what your gut tells you to do. My gut has never steered me wrong.





—VICTOR FLEMMING


I slide into biology class as the echo of the tardy bell fades. Of course, we have a substitute teacher again today, and we will continue to have them for some time to come.

This one, an older grandmother type, offers me a patient smile before scrawling her name on the board: Mrs. Henderson.

I give her two days.

She announces we’ll be watching a movie. My guess is we’ll be watching a lot of movies over the coming weeks, until they sort out who’s going to take over the class.

To follow through on finding out what Miss P was up to during her final days, I need to get into the lab and snoop around, but without a qualified biology teacher on hand, that’s not going to happen. If I want in there today I’m going to have to be creative.

I’m wearing a navy blue hoodie over a white tank with thin straps. I slip my hand inside my hoodie, grasp the strap, and pull hard. It takes a couple of tries, but I manage to break the strap. I rummage in my purse for my mini sewing kit.