You Owe Me a Murder(83)

Sure. The block of tension in my stomach melted. Another ping a second later.Not Thai.

I laughed.Deal.

Dad raised an eyebrow. “That your friend Alex?”

I smiled. “Yeah.”

Mom’s mouth pinched. “I hope you’re not letting things get too serious.” Dad nudged her and she shut her mouth.

I didn’t bother answering. Now that he was safe, that we were both safe, I was hoping it would get serious. Emily would be back home this weekend too. I wanted her to meet Alex. She would like him.

I could never tell either of them what had happened.

That was my real punishment. I was going to have to carry this on my own. I’d pushed Nicki into losing her temper. I’d wanted her off balance. I hadn’t imagined how it would end, but I wasn’t totally innocent, either. I’d wanted her to be scared, but I’d never wanted what had happened. Even if, in the end, that had been her choice.

My dad unlocked the car with a beep of his key fob and I hefted my bag into the trunk before he could do it. I opened the window as soon as I got into the car.

“Do you really want that open?” Mom asked. “It’s going to blow your hair around.”

“The air smells different here,” I said. “Clean.”

She shook her head slightly and stared out the windshield, her Coach handbag held tightly on her lap.

“Anything in particular take your fancy to eat?” Dad asked over his shoulder as we pulled out of the garage, merging with traffic headed toward the city. “We could stop for sushi, or head to Earls for some pub grub, or there’s that barbecue place on Granville.”

Sushi was one of my favorites and I’d missed it in London, where it had been so expensive. But I also knew my mom didn’t care for it. She wouldn’t admit it because she thought sushi was something she should like. If we ever went, she’d order a California roll and some vegetable tempura and then pick at the food as though it were something the waitress had fished out of the garbage for her.

“What about Secret Garden Tea,” I suggested, listing my mom’s favorite place. “Or is that too out of the way?”

Mom sat up straighter in the passenger seat. “That might be nice. We could get some scones to go for the morning.”

“Secret Garden it is.” Dad caught my eye in the rearview mirror. “I swear, you do look older.” I could tell he was pleased I was doing my part to smooth the waters. He didn’t know I wasn’t doing it for my mom’s approval. I was doing it because it was the right thing to do. “You know what they say: Travel changes a person.”

I nodded and gazed out the window. He had no idea.



THE END





Acknowledgments


I know all too well how many great books are out there (I have a stack sitting right here) so I appreciate you, the reader, for taking the time on this book. Thanks to all the readers, booksellers, librarians (special call out to librarian super-hero Rachel Joyce) and teachers for spreading book love far and wide.

I tend to write about friendships that are twisted, but in real life I have the best friends in the world. For being there for me when I needed you most, big thanks to Laura Sullivan, Jamie Hillegonds, CJ Hunt, Kelly Charron, Joelle Anthony, Robyn Harding, Naomi Anderson, Mary Robinette-Kowal, Donna Barker, Joelle Charbonneau, Jeanette Caul, Lisa Voisin and so many more. Also, a big call out to family who have to be nice to me, but I suspect would anyway. My family might be crazy, but they’re my kind of crazy.

Writing is a craft, but publishing is a business. I’m lucky to work with some of the best people in the industry. Barbara Poelle is a dream agent?—?the perfect balance of support and butt kicking. I’m grateful for her belief in me along with her willingness to share cocktail recipes. The entire team at HMH is amazing, but I have to give a special call out to my editor Emilia Rhodes who shares my love of murder podcasts and dogs. Thanks also to Tara Sonin, Sammy Brown, Lisa Vega, and Mary Magrisso for being so supportive and amazing.

Finally, a wag of the tail to my two dogs who can be counted on to sleep on my feet while I write, bark when I’m on the phone, dig holes where they shouldn’t, shed on everything I own, and their ability to provide unconditional love.





One


Destiny is like a boulder. Bulky and hard to move. It’s easier to leave it alone than to try to change it. But that never kept anyone from trying. Trust me: I’m a professional.

Reading people is a talent. I’ve always been a good observer, but as with any natural ability, if you want to be any good, you’ve got work at it. When I talk to people, I size them up. I listen to what they say and, more important, to what they don’t. I notice what they wear, what brands they choose, how they style their hair. I watch their body language to see if it matches their words. The image they work so hard to show off tells me what they’re trying to hide.

I make guesses and let them lead me. It’s easier than it looks. Then again, most people aren’t paying that much attention when someone tells them what they want to hear.

“What do you think, Skye—?will it work out?” Sara leaned forward, ignoring the rest of what was going on in our school cafeteria. She chewed her lips. There were sticky pink clots of Sephora lip gloss on her teeth. Nerves. She was worried about what I would say. She’d have been better off worrying about why she wanted to stay with a guy who was a class-A jackass. However, she wasn’t paying me for love advice; she was paying for a psychic connection to the universe.