The Red Pyramid (Kane Chronicles #1)(10)

I suppose I should’ve felt threatened by an odd man staring up at me in the dark of night. But his expression was full of concern. And he looked so familiar. It was driving me mad that I couldn’t remember why.

Behind me, the inspector cleared his throat. “Sadie, no one blames you for the attack on the museum. We understand you were dragged into this against your will.”

I turned from the window. “Against my will? I chained the curator in his office.”

The inspector’s eyebrow started to creep up again. “Be that as it may, surely you didn’t understand what your father meant to do. Possibly your brother was involved?”

I snorted. “Carter? Please.”

“So you are determined to protect him as well. You consider him a proper brother, do you?”

I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to smack his face. “What’s that supposed to mean? Because he doesn’t look like me?”

The inspector blinked. “I only meant—”

“I know what you meant. Of course he’s my brother!”

Inspector Williams held up his hands apologetically, but I was still seething. As much as Carter annoyed me, I hated it when people assumed we weren’t related, or looked at my father askance when he said the three of us were a family—like we’d done something wrong. Stupid Dr. Martin at the museum. Inspector Williams. It happened every time Dad and Carter and I were together. Every bloody time.

“I’m sorry, Sadie,” the inspector said. “I only want to make sure we separate the innocent from the guilty. It will go much easier for everyone if you cooperate. Any information. Anything your father said. People he might’ve mentioned.”

“Amos,” I blurted out, just to see his reaction. “He met a man named Amos.”

Inspector Williams sighed. “Sadie, he couldn’t have done. Surely you know that. We spoke with Amos not one hour ago, on the phone from his home in New York.”

“He isn’t in New York!” I insisted. “He’s right—”

I glanced out the window and Amos was gone. Bloody typical.

“That’s not possible,” I said.

“Exactly,” the inspector said.

“But he was here!” I exclaimed. “Who is he? One of Dad’s colleagues? How did you know to call him?”

“Really, Sadie. This acting must stop.”

“Acting?”

The inspector studied me for a moment, then set his jaw as if he’d made a decision. “We’ve already had the truth from Carter. I didn’t want to upset you, but he told us everything. He understands there’s no point protecting your father now. You might as well help us, and there will be no charges against you.”

“You shouldn’t lie to children!” I yelled, hoping my voice carried all the way downstairs. “Carter would never say a word against Dad, and neither will I!”

The inspector didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed.

He crossed his arms. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Sadie. I’m afraid it’s time we went downstairs...to discuss consequences with your grandparents.”

Chapter 4. Kidnapped by a Not-So-Stranger

I JUST LOVE FAMILY MEETINGS. Very cozy, with the Christmas garlands round the fireplace and a nice pot of tea and a detective from Scotland Yard ready to arrest you.

Carter slumped on the sofa, cradling Dad’s workbag. I wondered why the police had let him keep it. It should have been evidence or something, but the inspector didn’t seem to notice it at all.

Carter looked awful—I mean even worse than usual. Honestly, the boy had never been in a proper school, and he dressed like a junior professor, with his khaki trousers and a button-down shirt and loafers. He’s not bad looking, I suppose. He’s reasonably tall and fit and his hair isn’t hopeless. He’s got Dad’s eyes, and my mates Liz and Emma have even told me from his picture that he’s hot, which I must take with a grain of salt because (a) he’s my brother, and (b) my mates are a bit crazed. When it came to clothes, Carter wouldn’t have known hot if it bit him on the bum.

[Oh, don’t look at me like that, Carter. You know it’s true.]

At any rate, I shouldn’t have been too hard on him. He was taking Dad’s disappearance even worse than I was.

Gran and Gramps sat on either side of him, looking quite nervous. The pot of tea and a plate of biscuits sat on the table, but no one was having any. Chief Inspector Williams ordered me into the only free chair. Then he paced in front of the fireplace importantly. Two more police stood by the front door—the woman from earlier and a big bloke who kept eyeing the biscuits.

“Mr. and Mrs. Faust,” Inspector Williams said, “I’m afraid we have two uncooperative children.”

Gran fidgeted with the trim of her dress. It’s hard to believe she’s related to Mum. Gran is frail and colorless, like a stick person really, while Mum in the photos always looked so happy and full of life. “They’re just children,” she managed. “Surely you can’t blame them.”

“Pah!” Gramps said. “This is ridiculous, Inspector. They aren’t responsible!”

Gramps is a former rugby player. He has beefy arms, a belly much too big for his shirt, and eyes sunk deep in his face, as if someone had punched them (well, actually Dad had punched them years ago, but that’s another story). Gramps is quite scary looking. Usually people got out of his way, but Inspector Williams didn’t seem impressed.