You Owe Me a Murder(40)
Alex dipped the spring roll in the sweet-and-sour sauce. “But what would you have done if you’d located her? Even if she didn’t do anything, she’s clearly got issues—?why else send you that thing? She’s fixated on you for some reason. Someone like that can be dangerous.”
“So, you believe me that she exists?” My voice came out so small that it was almost lost in all the crashing and banging of pans that came from the open kitchen.
He put his fork down. “Of course. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I didn’t believe she existed—?I just wasn’t sure she was the one who sent the article.” He stared down at the table, then shook his head before reaching over and touching me lightly on the hand. “I really want to help and I feel like I screwed this all up.”
I kicked him lightly under the table. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.”
“Really?”
“It’s impossible to be mad at a man wearing that T-shirt.” I waved my fork toward his chest. The design read: There are 10 kinds of people in the world, those who understand binary and those who don’t.
Alex looked down at his shirt. “I figured if anyone was going to like a coding joke, it would be you.”
“I appreciate you offering to be my alibi. No one’s ever looked out for me like that before.” I realized it was true. My parents worried about me, but what they were really worried about was what people would think of the job they were doing as parents. Alex cared about me. He thought I was worth it, and that made me begin to trust in myself. “You’re my knight in shining armor.”
Alex blushed, the freckles sprinkled across his nose disappearing in the flush. “I always knew all those years of role-playing games and watching Lord of the Rings movies would pay off.”
The waitress came over with a plate of pad thai. “You share?” We nodded and she dropped the plate in the center of the table.
“I’m not sure it was the games,” I said.
“They taught me how to act brave.”
“You don’t act brave,” I said. “I think you just are brave.”
He smiled. Then he reached across the table and took my hand and squeezed it.
Eighteen
August 23
8 Days Remaining
I was still thinking about Alex and his hand squeeze as I thundered down the stairs, hoping that my clothes were done in the washer so that I could quickly put them in the dryer and wouldn’t be late to meet Sophie. I’d been blowing off everyone except for Alex and I didn’t want to lose my connection with the rest of the Student Scholars. Sophie seemed the easiest way back in.
The machines in the basement had minds of their own when it came to locking our clothing inside and spinning it around for an indeterminate amount of time before finally declaring their job done. Everyone in our group had tried to figure out if the washers had a cycle that could be a determined length of time, but the machines were totally random. Sometimes they took forty minutes; other times they boiled your clothing for hours, refusing to open no matter what button you pushed. This wouldn’t be too much of a problem, except if you weren’t there when your washer dinged its completion, someone else would drag your stuff out and leave it in a damp heap on the questionably clean folding table.
“There you are. I was beginning to think you’d abandoned your things.”
I froze in the doorway. Nicki sat cross-legged on top of the table. Sunshine from the narrow window near the ceiling behind her made it difficult to see her features. She uncrossed her legs, looking like a spider getting up to move in on something caught in her web. She paused on the edge for a second, then jumped down.
“You know, you’ve got to be careful. Places like this, there’s always some weird knicker sniffer who will steal your panties.” She winked.
I slowly reached down and patted my pocket. I didn’t have my phone with me. I’d left it upstairs. Nicki smiled at me as though she knew what I was doing. So much for recording her.
“I went ahead and put your stuff in the dryer. My treat.” If she was waiting for me to thank her, it was going to be a long time. “So, I have something for you.”
I took a step back, avoiding whatever was in her hand. “Whatever it is, I don’t want it.”
She didn’t seem bothered that I refused to take what she’d brought. Instead she just laid a tiny square of paper onto the table. “It’s the address. Where you’ll find my mum.”
I swallowed before speaking, doing my best to remain calm and remember my strategy. “I’m not doing anything to your mom.”
“My thought is that you could kill her later tonight,” Nicki said, as if I hadn’t even spoken. “I won’t be home, plus she started drinking early. She had a pitcher of mimosas going, saying friends were supposed to come over, but really it was just an excuse. She’s already tipsy and it’s not even noon.” Nicki rolled her eyes. “She thinks if she serves things in fancy crystal it means she can’t be an alcoholic. She’ll keep it up all day, which means by tonight she’ll be ready to pass out. She’ll be dead to the world.” Nicki giggled. “Well, not dead dead, but close enough for it to be easy for you.”
“I’m not breaking into your house.”