A Bad Day for Sunshine (Sunshine Vicram #1)(35)
But she wasn’t born yesterday. She knew the stakes. And she knew how to handle herself. She prodded her mom to let her help with another pleading glance.
As the principal droned on about something her mom had done in high school that involved a training bra and a stuffed monkey, her mom cast her a warning glare, ordering her to stand down.
Auri pursed her lips and lifted her shoulders, pleading.
Sunshine shook her head.
Auri spread her hands in the universal gesture for why not?
Sunshine crossed her arms, refusing to budge.
Auri crossed her arms, too, and sank down in her seat, literally pouting like a five-year-old.
Sunshine tilted her head to the side, asking her to understand her position.
Auri turned her face away, refusing to even try.
Sunshine released a long sigh.
Auri kept her gaze averted.
Sunshine softened her expression.
Auri sat up and offered up her best look of hope.
Sunshine caved, and she dipped her head in a barely perceivable nod of approval, but then her expression morphed into a lecture. A long lecture complete with PowerPoint slides and a pop quiz, and she did it all with one ominous glance.
Auri nodded. She understood what was at stake.
“And that’s how your mother came to be known as the Masked Potato.”
Auri sat beaming, then the principal’s words sank in. “The Masked what?”
“Can I have a moment alone with my daughter?” her mom asked him.
“Of course.” He grabbed the schedule from Corrine, handed it to the sheriff, and left them alone. Well, almost alone. Quincy was still in the room.
“That was fascinating,” he said. “Can all mothers and daughters have an entire conversation without saying a word?”
“Yes,” her mom said before leveling another death stare on her.
“I’m so sorry, Mom.”
Watching her mom downshift from an enraged law enforcement agent to a worried mom was what she imagined the melting of the polar ice caps looked like.
“Sweetheart, what you did was serious. Mr. Jacobs could press charges in a heartbeat. And this is a missing persons case. A young girl’s life is at stake.”
“I know, Mom. But I can help.”
“And if he comes after you? What then?”
“It doesn’t work that way,” she said. She considered quoting statistics, but her mom knew them even better than she did. Heck, her mom was the one who usually quoted them to her.
“It doesn’t usually work that way. We simply don’t know what’s going on. We can’t make assumptions this early in the investigation. If this guy feels like you’re a threat—”
“I know. But really, Mom, unless he goes to school here, how would he even know I was helping?”
“And who’s to say he doesn’t go to school here? Do you think high school kids don’t commit crimes?”
“I know they do. That’s exactly why you need me on the team. I’m your inside man. Only without man parts.” She could tell her mom was coming around to the idea. That meant she was desperate. “I’m your inside girl.”
“You’re something,” her mom agreed, shaking her head. “I’m just not sure what.”
Auri jumped up and hugged her. “I’ll let you know if I get any good intel.”
“Don’t even consider missing class for this.”
“Never!” she said, running out the door. She was late, yet again, only this time she didn’t care. She had a case to solve. What would Mom do without her?
9
Robbery suspect apprehended when Deputy Cooper
entered the building through a jimmied door and yelled,
“Marco!”
The suspect responded with, “Polo,” and was promptly
arrested.
—DEL SOL POLICE BLOTTER
“She’s been doing this for a while now.” Sunshine glanced at the behemoth in the passenger’s seat of her cruiser.
“The bean sprout? What do you mean?”
She turned up Cottonwood Drive, sliding in the melting snow as they conquered a steep incline. “I can’t be 100 percent certain, but I think she was doing some side jobs for her classmates at the academy.”
“Side jobs?”
“I believe she fancies herself a PI.”
“No shit? Do you think that had anything to do with her decision to switch schools?”
“I don’t know. I’m waiting for her to relax. To get comfortable in her new surroundings. Then I’ll take her into an interview room and give her the third degree.”
“Good plan. Or you could just ask her over tacos.”
“The direct approach? Where’s the fun in that?”
They pulled up to the St. Aubin home for the second time that day just as a text came through from Salazar. The dogs were on the way.
Two deputies, Zee and Salazar, sat in a cruiser waiting on them.
“You two start outside,” Sun said when they stepped out. “Canvass the area, but keep it light.”
“Got it, boss,” Salazar said.
She studied the front door, a massive oak with decorative carvings. But before they could climb the steps, Marianna St. Aubin rushed out, her cropped hair unkempt, her clothes, the same ones she wore that morning, wrinkled.