To Catch a Killer(50)

“Roger that,” Spam murmurs, as she shoots a serious side-eye toward Lysa.

There’s an awkward silence.

They can’t really expect me to talk when my brain is exploding from the whole Journey-just-put-his-arm-around-me thing. Then I realize that this is the first time one of us has brought a sort-of boyfriend into our group and how much it might look to Spam and Lysa like Journey and I are squaring off against them.

“No matter what, we’re still a team, right?” I say.

Journey drops his hand from my waist and quietly studies his shoes.

“Yeah!” Lysa finally says. “A killer team.” She gives a weak arm pump. “Oh. Bad choice of words.”

I was trying to bring them together, but my team comment fell flat. There’s definitely a feeling of my side with Journey and their side with Spam and Lysa.

Journey clears his throat. “Do I need to slip out through the balcony like I came in?”

Spam and Lysa go all heavy eyebrows to each other again. I know what they’re thinking. That he’s been hanging out in my bedroom. But they’re wrong.

“It’s only nine-thirty; Rachel won’t be home for a couple of hours yet, and I’m pretty sure Victor’s still out.” We troop together out of the attic, down the stairs, and out the back through the kitchen. Spam and Lysa wave good-bye and continue on down the driveway. Journey hangs back. He takes my hand, massaging it with both of his.

“We’re going to figure this out,” he says. “You know that, right?”

I press my forehead into his shoulder. It’s solid, like a wall. He lightly circles his arms around me and pulls me close. His fingers play with the tips of my hair. I breathe out a long, pent-up sigh. I want to say something, but my throat is so tight a pea couldn’t slip through.

“Okay, yeah. Got it. I’ll get back to you in a day or so,” a low male voice promises, but it isn’t Journey. It’s coming from deep in my backyard.

I jump away from Journey and squint into the darkness. There’s a cement patio located behind a flower bed toward the back of our garage. Rachel and I never use this area. In the dim light, I can barely make out Victor sitting at an old table out there, talking into his cell phone. He clicks the phone off, rises, and comes toward us, shuffling through the dried leaves.

I panic but don’t know what to do. It would be obvious if Journey took off running mere seconds before Victor reaches us. Our backyard isn’t that big. There’s no way Victor hasn’t seen him. Instead we both just stand there with blank, guilty expressions.

Victor stops in front of us, looking from me to Journey and back to me.

“I assume this is Journey,” he says.

I avoid making direct eye contact.

Journey thrusts his hand forward. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” Victor takes his hand and they shake. Victor continues to the bottom of the stairs before pausing. “You coming up?”

Journey and I exchange a look. “I better go,” he says. “See you Monday?”

“Yeah. Monday,” I say.

Journey turns and lopes off down the driveway. I head up the stairs even though it feels like he’s taking a part of me with him.

Once inside the kitchen, Victor takes a seat at the table. I head for the refrigerator and pretend to check out the contents. “There’s some leftover pizza, if you’re hungry.”

“I’m good,” Victor says.

I close the door and stand at the table for a few seconds. I don’t want to sit down and discuss what Journey was doing here. I fake a yawn. “Well, I think I’m going up to bed.”

“So early?” Victor asks. He sounds disappointed.

“Yeah, it’s been a pretty long day.”

“Okay.” He studies me for a long minute. “Good night.”

I slowly ascend the stairs until I’m out of his sight, and then I race to my bedroom door. He didn’t say anything about Journey and neither did I. The question is, will he tell Rachel?





25

Life always finds a way.





—MISS PETERS


Saturday is Victor’s first weekend home since I’ve been part of the family, and Rachel has the whole day planned. First, pancakes for breakfast, then a drive through the old neighborhood and lunch at her favorite restaurant.

She invites Sydney to meet us for lunch, which turns out great because the conversation between Victor and Sydney is better than any crime-investigation class ever. Victor goes into great detail about all the amazing equipment he has in his lab at the FBI while Syd grumbles over Chief Culson’s reluctance to bring that same technology to our city.

“It’s the cost,” Victor says. “Setting up a crime lab is expensive.”

This supports what Journey said about Miss Peters’s idea to share a lab with the school and the police department. But Sydney shakes her head.

“Cost isn’t the whole story on him, I’m afraid,” Sydney says. “Charles is your basic gumshoe. He’s all about old-school detective work and truly believes a well-followed hunch is far more valuable than science.” She uses air quotes around the word “science.”

Wow. That’s surprising. What police officer wouldn’t want hard, cold science to support his cases? But I don’t ask the question out loud.