Toxic (Denazen #2)(52)

Someone had to keep me from killing her.

The rest of the way passed mostly in silence. A few times I shot Kale a sideways glance. Shoulders stiff, he kept his eyes straight ahead and said nothing. Twice I caught him flicking his fingers and saw the barest hint of lip movement as he counted. I knew it was my fault, but there was no way to fix it—at least not yet.

“This is it,” I said, stopping in front of the dark gray ranch. The lawn was meticulously trimmed, complete with an obnoxious pink flamingo and matching babies. A large pine tree shaded the entire front side of the house, reaching to the edge of the lawn.

“You’re sure no one is home?”

I pointed to the empty driveway and made my way around to the back of the house. “No cars.”

“How will we get inside?”

I stopped and waved him ahead. “I’ll leave it to the expert.”

Kale being Kale, I assumed he’d scale something in true ninja style or pick the lock. It’s what he did. Super stealthy with a side of infiltration awesome.

Instead, he walked up to the back door and put his elbow through the glass.

“Oh, my God!” I held my breath and shot a quick glance over my shoulder. Tiny plinking sounds filled the air as bits of glass bounced against the walkway. This was a quiet neighborhood. The houses were all relatively close together. It’d be easy for someone in their backyard to see or hear something and scamper off to call the neighborhood watch or whatever they had here. “Are you crazy?”

“There’s no one around. It’s safe.” He reached through, unlocked the door, and pushed it open.

I followed him inside. “There could have been an alarm.”

“There were no indications.”

I followed him through the door. “Indications?”

He rolled his eyes.

God. I loved when he did that.

“There are no stickers on any of the windows, and there were children playing on the front lawn several houses over. This is a quiet neighborhood. Low to no crime rate. They wouldn’t have need of an alarm.”

I closed the door behind me and pointed to the steps. “Come on. We only have a couple hours till Mr. and Mrs. Phillips get home.”

We found Layne’s room at the top of the stairs. Judging from the condition, I guessed her parents hadn’t had the heart to come back in after the night of the party. Clothes littered the floor, and half a sandwich sat on the corner of the desk. Several flies circled above, waiting for their chance to swoop down and grab dinner.

“You take that side,” I said, pointing to the half of the room with the window. A large coffee mug in the shape of Road Runner’s head sat balanced on the sill. There was a dresser and cedar chest against the wall with a small shoebox in the corner. I wanted the closet and desk for myself. “I’ll take this one.”

“What am I looking for?” Kale leaned forward and peered into the mug.

“There was a rumor she kept a diary. I’m hoping she has it hidden in here.”

Kale didn’t look convinced. “Wouldn’t someone have found it? Wasn’t she killed here? The police would have searched the room.”

I shrugged. “Depends on how well she hid it.”

We went to work, searching in silence for what seemed like hours. Every once in a while I’d look up to find Kale watching me with an odd expression on his face. He’d open his mouth to say something, but I’d quickly turn away. He didn’t push it.

When I checked my phone again, it was almost twelve o’clock. I kicked an empty shoebox across the room and sighed. I was almost through the closet and hadn’t found crap. “This blows.”

Kale pulled his head out from beneath the bed. “I don’t believe she’d leave a written statement confessing Supremacy involvement.”

I shoved myself away from the closet and stumbled upright. My leg had fallen asleep, so I teetered, almost losing my balance. Grabbing for the closest item—a hanger full of large, tacky purses—I tried to keep myself upright. I failed, taking the hanger full of bags along with several of the surrounding sweaters to the floor. I knocked my head against the doorframe and pulled a muscle in my good arm, but it was worth it.

“Wanna bet?” I untangled myself from the pile of clothes and leaned forward. On the wall of the closet, there was a poster of an M.C. Escher painting. The first and most obvious thing that made me suspicious was the fact that it was in the closet. Escher was epic. Why the hell would someone hide him in the closet? The second was a tiny red smudge on the wall at the corner. The poster would have covered the stain, but when I fell, one of the sweaters had come off the hanger and caught the corner, pulling it down.

Holding my breath, I reached out and tore the paper from the wall. Written in what looked suspiciously like dried blood was the word “Supremacy” over and over. Big letters. Small letters. Letters done in squiggles and zigzags. “That is seriously freaky.”

Kale came up behind me. He didn’t seem fazed. “But it doesn’t do much more than confirm your suspicion.”

A good point. Big deal? We knew for sure she was Supremacy. That didn’t give me anything useful.

Kale inclined his head and knelt down beside me. “Maybe there’s something in the panel behind the wall.”

“Huh?”

He reached around, grabbing one of the wire hangers off the rod. Unbending the hook, he leaned into the closet and jammed the metal into the wall. A few sharp pokes, and I saw the smallest hint of a seam. A few more jabs, and it separated from the wall, revealing a small cubby hole.