Two Can Keep a Secret(66)
Malcolm and I exchange glances. The straight path to the door is strewn with dancing classmates and chaperones, so we skirt around the edge of the gym until we come to the opposite side. We slip underneath the bleachers and make our way along the wall toward the door, encountering only one couple making out. When we emerge on the other side, we look around more carefully than Katrin did before following her out the door.
It’s cool and quiet outside, the moon full and bright above us. Katrin’s nowhere in sight. The football field is to our left, the front of the building to our right. By unspoken agreement, we both go right.
When we turn the corner nearest the school entrance, Katrin stands frozen near the Echo Ridge High sign. Malcolm tugs me back into the shadows as she half turns, and I spy a clutch in her hands. My eyes strain and my heart catches as I watch her fumble with the clasp. Even though the sensible part of my brain wonders what she could possibly manage to fit in there other than keys and a tube of lip gloss, I pull out my cell phone and set it to Video.
But before Katrin can take anything out of the bag, she drops it. My phone frames her in almost cinematic moonlight as she freezes, bends at the waist, and vomits loudly into the grass.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Ellery
Sunday, October 8
Post-homecoming Echo Ridge seems tired on Sunday, as though the entire town is hung over. Church is emptier than usual, and we hardly see anyone while we run errands with Nana after. Even Melanie, who usually jogs past at some point while we’re doing yard work, is nowhere in sight when Ezra and I pull weeds from the side lawn.
“So how did you end things with Malcolm?” Ezra asks.
I yank on a dandelion and accidentally behead it instead of pulling it out by the roots. “I mean, you saw,” I say, annoyed. The dance ended promptly at ten o’clock last night, and we all got herded out of the auditorium like cattle with a strict curfew. Daisy beat Nana’s deadline by fifteen minutes. Nana stayed up unusually late, hovering around both of us, and I ended up texting Ezra an update of my night instead of telling him in person. “We said good-night.”
“Yeah, but you must’ve made plans, right?”
I extract the rest of the dandelion and toss it into the plastic bucket between us. “I think we might go to a clown museum.”
Ezra frowns. “A what now?”
“A clown museum. That’s kind of beside the point, though, isn’t it?” I sit back on my haunches, frustrated. “I really thought something else would happen last night. With Katrin, I mean. But all we did was catch her in the dastardly act of throwing up.”
Ezra shrugs. “It wasn’t a bad idea. She’s pretty central to everything that’s been going on around here, but …” He trails off and wipes his brow, leaving a faint smear of dirt on his forehead. “But maybe we should let the experts handle it. Give the receipt to the police. You don’t have to tell them how you got it. Malcolm could say he found it.”
“But then it doesn’t make any sense. The only reason the receipt is meaningful is because Brooke was trying to get it back.”
“Oh. Right.”
The faint roar of a car engine approaches, and I turn to see Officer Rodriguez’s police cruiser pass our house and turn into his driveway a few doors down. “Too bad our local officer is so sketchy,” I mutter.
“Haven’t you given that up yet?” Ezra asks. “Daisy told you last night that Officer Rodriguez didn’t make a scene at Lacey’s funeral. Nana said the same thing. I don’t know why Sadie would say he did if it wasn’t true, but at the very least, whatever she thinks she saw is open to interpretation. Other than that, what has the guy done? Taken a bad yearbook photo? Maybe you should give him a chance.”
I get to my feet and brush off my jeans. “Maybe you’re right. Come on.”
“Huh?” Ezra squints up at me. “I didn’t mean now.”
“Why not? Nana’s been after us to bring over those moving boxes, right? So he can pack up his house before he tries to sell it? Let’s do it now. Maybe we can feel him out about what’s happening with the investigation.”
We leave our yard tools where they are and head inside. Nana is upstairs dusting when we gather a couple dozen flattened cardboard boxes from the basement. When we shout up to her what we’re doing, she doesn’t protest.
Ezra takes the lion’s share of the boxes and I grab the rest, following him outside onto the wide dirt road that leads to the Rodriguezes’ house. It’s a dark-brown Cape, smaller than the rest of the neighborhood homes and set back from the street. I’ve never seen it up close before. The front windows have bright blue flower boxes, but everything inside them looks like it’s been dead for months.
Officer Rodriguez answers within a few seconds of Ezra pressing the bell. He’s out of uniform in a blue T-shirt and sweatpants, and his hair looks overdue for a trim. “Oh, hey,” he says, pulling the door open wide. “Nora mentioned she’d be sending those over. Great timing. I’m taking some things out of the living room now.”
He didn’t invite us in, exactly, but I step into the hallway anyway. “You’re moving?” I ask, hoping to keep the conversation going. Now that I’m inside the Rodriguezes’ house, I’m more curious about him than ever.