A Bad Day for Sunshine (Sunshine Vicram #1)(26)

“Let me guess,” he said, guessing. “You want me to find out everything I can about Sybil St. Aubin’s parents.”

“Wow, you’re a good guesser.” She leaned over to start the cruiser when Anita Escobar, her blond administrative assistant, came through the radio.

“Boss,” she said, her voice hushed.

Sun pressed the button on the radio at her shoulder. “Go ahead.”

“Yeah, you need to get back here.”

“On the way. ETA seven minutes. What’s up?”

“There are marshals here. Two of them. They’re pretty much taking over your office.”

“Like hell they are,” Sun said, throwing the cruiser into reverse. “Buckle up, buttercup. It’s go time.”

She’d never gone to war with a U.S. Marshal, but there was a first time for everything.





7


Del Sol deputies responded to a call claiming that patrons

of the Pecos Street Grocers were being harassed by a man on a

drunken joyride with a motorized scooter from Walmart.

It should be noted that Del Sol does not have a Walmart.



—DEL SOL POLICE BLOTTER

Sadly, Auri’s hiatus from the glares was short-lived. Her third class of the day was a veritable cornucopia of narc haters. Yet there seemed to be more furtive scowls than blatant glares. A step in the right direction, perhaps?

She’d made a pit stop between classes at her locker. A janitor was cleaning the red spray paint off it, so she decided to keep her two new books with her. Cruz had looked on curiously, then, realizing what it said, he’d darkened. He dropped her off at her classroom and stalked away as though he’d made a horrible mistake in friending her.

She could hardly blame him.

After repeating the usual routine, handing the teacher her schedule, then sitting in an empty seat, Auri settled herself between a girl in full gang regalia, who could probably kill her with her pinkie, and a guy dressed much the same way, who would look on with delight as she did so. She decided to forgo eye contact and busied herself by taking out a notebook and a pen.

A knock sounded at the door a microsecond after the bell rang. Auri stiffened, praying the principal wasn’t after her again. The teacher, a young woman the width of a two-by-four, answered the door and spoke quietly, but Auri couldn’t see with whom.

The girl turned around to her and raised her chin. “Hey,” she said, her expression both amiable and curious. “What’s your name?”

“Auri.”

“Right. The narc.” She said it with a friendly giggle, and Auri couldn’t help but smile.

The kid behind her laughed, too.

“I’m Beatrice, but everyone calls me Bea. And that’s Raymond.” She gestured to the kid in back.

“And everyone calls me Raymond,” he said, leaning forward to take her hand.

They shook as a brunette from the next row leaned over and whispered to Bea.

“Really?” Bea said. She turned to Raymond. “They’re looking for that girl in fifth with the braids and the glasses.”

“No shit? What’d she do?”

Before Bea could answer, the teacher closed the door and walked to her desk.

“Welcome back, guys. Hope Santa was good to you.”

Some of her classmates nodded. Some shrugged. Most ignored.

“We have a new student today.”

Auri froze.

“This is Aurora,” she said, gesturing in her general direction. “I’d appreciate your best behavior.”

A wave of heat washed over her.

“Why?” someone asked. “She’ll figure out it’s all a lie soon enough.”

The class erupted. Well, most of the class. A couple of the students were still in glare mode, but oddly enough, when Bea turned to them, they suddenly had somewhere else to glare.

Auri considered asking if Bea would be her bestie but figured it was too soon. She didn’t want to come across as the desperate newbie she was. And besides, she already had a brand-new bestie, even though she had yet to see Sybil. The girl she’d met over winter break. The girl who wore braids and glasses.

Concern itched the back of her neck, and she used her inhaler again just in case. Why would they be looking for Sybil?

As class went on, Auri heard more and more of the whispers that chained across the room. They were looking for a girl. A girl named Sybil. The principal was going from room to room. That’s who was at the door, the principal, asking if their teacher had seen her. She wasn’t in trouble. No, she was in trouble. She had run away. She’d been abducted. She was last seen at the park. She was last seen walking north on I-25. They’d put out an Amber Alert. She could be dead.

By the time class was wrapping up, Auri knew only one thing for certain. Sybil St. Aubin was missing.

Risking everything, mostly her phone privileges, Auri took out her cell, angled it away from the teacher’s line of sight, and texted her mom. “911. A girl is missing? Mom, I know her. What’s going on?”

Then she palmed the phone and waited as panic slowly took hold.

The second the bell rang, and she hurried to the bathroom to call her mom. She locked the stall and dialed her mom’s cell.

“Hey, bean sprout,” Quincy said. “You’re mom’s driving. I’m putting you on speaker.”