The Vanishing Stair (Truly Devious, #2)(44)

“Original road map printed in 1935,” Fenton said.

It was a conspiracy wall. A true, real conspiracy wall. The only things missing were the bits of string that connected the various points.

“So,” Fenton said, “how did we do?”

Stevie pushed over the notepad.

“I have two hundred and ninety out of three hundred and seven,” Stevie said. “A few things were missing. I couldn’t find the one china pattern you wanted.”

Fenton hmmed and flipped through the pad, rolling one of her gray spiral curls around her finger.

“Let me read through this,” she said. “Go and get yourself a Coke or something in the kitchen.”

Fenton waved Stevie off. Stevie went back through the living room, stopping to pet a big ginger cat on one of the sofas. The sofa was thick with cat hair, almost to the point where the color of the sofa was obscured. There were traces of cat litter around the floor, along with ash and specks of paper. Every exposed surface had water rings on it. She had a feeling that the kitchen would not be a pleasant experience, but some effort had been made. There were many dirty glasses, but they were clustered together by the sink. There were some empty wine bottles and a pizza box on the floor by the trash. Nothing good would come of opening the refrigerator. Stevie came from an uptight family, where the slightest smell or stain or smudge in the kitchen was unacceptable, and she just knew that there would be a smell in this fridge from something incorrectly sealed and outdated.

There were, however, some warm Cokes in a box on the floor. Stevie took one, opened it, and wiped the top of the can with her sleeve before sipping. She glanced through the pile of books on the table, and had just opened one about the Yorkshire Ripper when she heard the door open.

“Hey!” called a voice.

She leaned over to look and saw Hunter coming in the door, leaning his crutch against the wall and dropping his backpack to remove his puffer coat. Stevie leaned back in, feeling weird about being in his house, drinking his warm Coke, even though she was allowed to be here.

“I couldn’t get any limes,” he said. “But I bought some lunch meat . . .”

He came into the kitchen and blinked in surprise.

“Hey!” he said. “Oh. Hey. Sorry. Hi.”

“Hunter?” Fenton yelled.

“Yeah!”

“Get Stevie a Coke!”

Hunter smirked in gentle embarrassment and nodded at the Coke Stevie was holding.

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s kind of a mess in here. Are you . . . working?”

“Your aunt is going through some stuff I did.”

“Oh. Cool.” Hunter looked around, as if he was sorry for intruding in his own house. There was something sunny about Hunter. He had light hair. The cut was a little too short, probably a cheap and fast one, or maybe a home job. His smattering of freckles made him look younger than he was.

“So,” he said, sitting down. “What’s Ellingham like?”

“Intense,” she said. “Really good. A lot.”

“So how did you get in?”

“I just wrote about how I was obsessed with the case,” she said. “I didn’t think they’d take me. Someone liked me, though.”

“I guess you have the something,” he said. “Actually, I applied. I didn’t get my letter from Hogwarts.”

She realized for the first time that she was an insider to others who might have wanted to go there, wanted to have this magic. She was to be envied. It was weird, and not entirely comfortable, and she wanted to say something to make Hunter feel better, but she knew that if someone had said something to her in that position, she would have taken it as being patronizing.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I wasn’t hanging on it or anything. I just knew about it because of my aunt and I took a shot.”

He smirked and glanced around, as if embarrassed by everything he was saying.

“I still think I was a mistake,” Stevie said.

“Everyone must say that.”

“No one says that,” Stevie said. “But me. It may be true. My friend Janelle is a genius. My friend Nate is an author. Everyone’s something there.”

“And you’re something,” he said.

“I like crime,” she said.

“Who doesn’t?” he said, smiling.

“Lots of people.”

“Stupid people,” he said.

This made her smile.

“Good work.” Fenton was standing in the doorway. “You did this a lot faster than I expected. My lazy-ass grad students would have taken all semester. Come on.”

Hunter grimaced just a bit, and Stevie got up to follow Fenton back to her office. Once inside, Fenton shut the double doors and then sat and looked Stevie over.

“You’re serious,” she said. “I like that. I thought we were going to be screwing around, but all right. Maybe we can do some real work together.”

Stevie wondered what she had just spent a week doing if it was not real work.

“First rule,” Fenton said, pointing at the wall of document boxes. “Don’t put your stuff on the internet. Once you put it online, it’s worthless. It’s not yours.”

She took the cigarette from behind her ear and lit it with a lighter from her desk.