by Marlie May
The jade elephants and stone cats yielded nothing.
“Where are you?” I whispered, becoming frantic.
Out front, a thump drew me to the window where I carefully tucked the curtain to the side. A man climbed out of a black car and straightened his equally black suit. He studied the house intently, making me duck back to keep him from seeing me standing at the window.
I peeked again, watching as he strode up the walk and onto the front porch. The bell rang downstairs.
The Somerfields had a visitor.
“Come on in,” I heard Mr. Somerfield say once he’d opened the door. “We’re in the parlor.”
We? Was this man part of whatever meeting I’d hear bits of downstairs?
I grabbed paper and a pen from Mr. Somerfield’s desk and wrote down the vehicle’s license plate number. Maybe Manuel would know how to look it up online. I tucked the paper in my pocket and returned to stare at the file cabinet.
What was I going to do? I had to look inside, but I didn’t dare force it. Even if I could somehow pick it open, I’d leave evidence behind. Scratches or something that would indicate someone had broken in. If Mr. Somerfield guessed someone had lured him away from his office the other day, he’d know that person was on to his crime.
Hoping Mr. Somerfield was predictable, I rushed to the desk and slid open the middle drawer again. There. Buried behind a deck of cards, I found a set of keys. The chair thumped against the wall when I stood and raced around the desk to the cabinet.
I inserted the key, and the lock clicked. Thank the almighty above.
I slid the top drawer open. Empty. In the bottom and the middle drawer, I hit the ball out of the park. Or, what I hoped was a home run: a series of green folders with tabs indicating dates. Gnawing my lower lip, I started with the furthest date, pulling out papers. I sorted through them as fast as possible, skimming through a chronicle of Mr. Somerfield and Dad’s business growth, starting with the banking app Dad developed after they formed their partnership. Moving forward in time, I found papers outlining the apps developed six months before the yacht accident. One of them made daily stock investments by rounding up to the nearest dollar on any store purchase. And the other would make automatic purchases if a price suddenly dropped, say on Amazon. Dad had told me about them during dinner.
Actually, he’d jokingly told me the apps were going to make us all wealthy. When in reality, they’d actually made Mr. Somerfield wealthy. Dad’s hard efforts—and his life—traded away to line Mr. Somerfield’s pocket. It disgusted me.
Shuddering, I dropped the sheath of papers back into the folder. Tears swam in my eyes. It wasn’t easy seeing this, knowing Dad’s computer savvy might’ve brought about his death. Funny how I’d actually hoped I wouldn’t find evidence Mr. Somerfield had been involved. That it truly had been an accident.
But this wasn’t sufficient evidence. Circumstantial, it could help prove motive, but it would be natural for Mr. Somerfield to store copies of their business developments here. Him possessing them didn’t prove he’d murdered my family and friend.
I sniffed and used the hem of my shirt to wipe my face.
In the back of the bottom drawer, I finally found something interesting. Sheets of paper clipped together. They weren’t even in a folder. And they weren’t computer apps as far as I could tell.
My curiosity had me leaning forward to spread the sheets out on the floor beside the cabinet. I stood and stared down at them.
Chemical formulas with writing around them and arrows pointing toward parts of the equations. My few weeks of basic chemistry were useless in deciphering what this could mean. Maybe nothing, but the fact that he’d locked them up told me they could be important. Pulling my phone, I took pictures. Later, I’d transcribe everything onto note cards. Acting casual, I might be able to get someone to tell me what the formulas created, if anything.
Manuel knocked on the door, then jerked it open. “Hurry. He’s coming up the stairs.”
Shit.
Manuel rushed into the room and closed the door behind him.
I widened my eyes. My limbs were ablaze, but I couldn’t move a muscle.
“Where can we hide?” Manuel grabbed my upper arms. “Janie? You okay?”
Mr. Somerfield was coming. We didn’t have much time. Focus on that!
I forced my body to move. After gathering up the papers, I put them away like they’d been before, locked the cabinet, and returned the key to the desk. Then I circled the office, a trapped beast seeking a place to hide.
No closet. No door exiting into an adjoining room. And footsteps approached from down the hall.
We were going to get caught.
“Shit,” Manuel said, snapping his head around, his gaze narrowed. “Tell you what. Let me do the talking. I’ll take the blame. I’ll say I brought you up here for some reason. As soon as I think of one.”
Footsteps thudded closer. I gulped.
Outside in the hall, Mr. Somerfield said, “Yes, yes. That’s okay.”
Who was he talking to? Not that it mattered, because we were more than sunk. Shackles would soon become our new jewelry. While I wouldn’t turn eighteen until March, they’d try me as an adult.
I didn’t want to go to jail. My breath jerking in and out, I stared at Manuel, whose eyes grew bigger than mine.
While I appreciated his willingness to take the fall for me, I couldn’t let him do it.
I grabbed his shirt and pulled him over to the leather sofa, tugging him down so he landed almost on top of me.
“What the?” Hands braced on either side of my shoulders, he blinked. “Janie?”
“Wanna make out?” Oh, jeez. Was I really taking us in this direction? I like Manuel as a friend. Okay, maybe a tiny bit more than a friend, but—
His eyes smoldered. “Hell, yeah, but this isn’t the time or—”
As the door swung open, I yanked him down and lifted myself up to find his mouth. Or his mouth found mine.
We found each other.
His fingertips sunk into the hair at my neck while his lips, firm at first, softened. Opened. To me. Like I was opening to him. As my vulnerability and newly awakened need to be with him grew inside me.
He tasted sweet from his soda and he smelled like moonlight, trust, and ocean spray at dawn.
He groaned, and his tongue touched mine. His shoulders relaxed under my palms and his arms wrapped around my waist, hauling me near. The heat of him sunk through my bones, and I floated in a pool of his warmth. His weight felt right. Good. I arched up and—
“Janine?”
The harsh voice woke me from the trance I’d fallen into. Manuel lifted his head, but his eyes remained locked on mine. He grinned, and my belly flipped.
How? Why?
Yes.
Jaw unhinged, Mr. Somerfield stood on the other side of the room with a phone in his hand. He fumbled, nearly dropping it. “What’s going on here?” He glared around before narrowing his attention on us again. “What are you two doing in my office?”
One would think it would be obvious.
This wasn’t funny. I shouldn’t laugh. But the look on Mr. Somerfield’s face…
Manuel chuckled and levered himself up and off me. He settled beside me on the couch while I sat up and shoved my hair out of my eyes. Manuel took my hand and held tight. My heart beat faster than a deer run down by a lion, and it wasn’t solely from fear.
“We wanted privacy.” Manuel’s lips curled up into a satisfied grin.
Mr. Somerfield stalked over to stand in front of us. “If I was your father, I’d whip your ass.” He glared at Manuel. “Your father may be Chief of Police, and I may support your mother in her campaign for reelection, but—”
“Stepmother,” Manuel said.
Mr. Somerfield shook his head. “This gives you no right to touch this girl.”
Jeez. “We were only kissing.”
Well, and Manuel was laying on top of me. I shouldn’t be thinking about that co
mponent.
“That’s beside the point.”
“I’m sorry.” I struggled to maintain a serious expression but it was difficult. There was nothing comical about this situation. It was more than scary. But I felt giddy for some reason. “It won’t happen again.”
Manuel leaned over and whispered by my ear, “Actually, it might.”
Belly aflutter, I tried not to smile.
Mr. Somerfield’s gaze swept the room, narrowing in on the file cabinet. While my jaw trembled and my humor dissolved, he strode over and yanked on the drawers.
He had no way of knowing I’d searched. Nothing looked different than when I’d entered the office a few minutes ago. Crossing to his desk, he retrieved the keys and pocketed them. His scowl fell on us again. “You two didn’t touch anything in here, did you?”
Just each other. A statement that would not go over well at the moment.
“I’m truly disappointed in you, Janine.”
I hung my head and tried to ignore Manuel’s shaking shoulders. He released a low snicker.
“Go back to the beach with the other kids,” Mr. Somerfield said, his back a metal rod. “And stay out of the house for the rest of the evening. I pray I’ll never find you in this…disgusting situation again.”
“I’m sorry.” I kept my voice subdued. We were getting off easy, considering what I’d really been up to.
“This is unbecoming behavior in a well-brought-up young lady,” he said. “I’m tempted to call your guardian and fill her in on your actions.”
A woman who handed me a fistful of condoms before I left the house might tell him to remind me to use them. Best not to mention that to Mr. Somerfield, however.
We got up off the sofa while Mr. Somerfield stomped around the room, fuming. He halted and pointed to the door. “Leave.”
Like a chastened pup who’d been caught peeing on the rug, I slunk from the room, Manuel right behind me. He chuckled, and it was all I could do not to burst into laughter along with him.
“Stop it,” I whispered in the hall. Jeez, I had to stop smiling, at least until I’d gotten out of the house.
Manuel’s fingertips trailed along the back of my waist, making my heart patter.
Mr. Somerfield slammed the office door as we hurried down the stairs, around the corner and through the kitchen, and out onto the deck. We took the back stairs to the pool area. Running, we kept going until we’d reached the beach where I braced my hands on my thighs and let it all go, laughing out loud. Tears streamed down my cheeks, and my pulse surged in my throat. But the tension I’d trapped inside me fled.
I straightened and wiped my face.
The moon hid behind clouds, but the tiki torches lit up the area. People still mingled near the buffet, some played volleyball or cornhole, but most had dragged chairs over near the bonfire to sit. Well fueled, the flames licked high in the sky, sending up clusters of dancing sparks.
Manuel took my hand and pulled me away from everyone, to one of the remaining lounge chairs that had been abandoned close to the water. He collapsed onto the chair and tugged me down beside him, both of us facing the sea.
This moment should be awkward. Why wasn’t it?
While my laughter faded, he squeezed my hand. “Well, Ms. Davis, it seems you’ve been a naughty girl,” he said.
I giggled. It felt awesome to be naughty. “Imagine. Sneaking into the house to make out with a boy!”
“You kissed me,” he said quietly.
“I did.”
“Then I only want to know one thing. Was it all for cover, or did you mean really it?”
“A little of both, but…”
“But?” His voice came out vulnerable, so I stopped teasing.
“I liked it.”
He grinned. “Me, too.”
I sobered. “You’re not fooling around with me this time, are you?”
This boy had been the king of jokes since I’d met him. If this was all for fun, if he didn’t mean anything by it, I was going to be in deep trouble.
“No joking around.” He levered around to face me. “With you, I’m always serious.”
17
There was a good chance I was going to have to start calling him Manly. But only in private.
I sat beside him staring at the water while the world went on around us. I would’ve been happy to keep hanging out and talking with him until dawn if Sean hadn’t interrupted us. Not that he was rude; it was his interruption that irked me.
“I’m glad for you two,” he said, grinning.
When I sat up, I caught him wincing, and I felt bad because me and Manuel together must remind him of what he’d never have again with Brianna.
“It’s time to go,” Sean said. “Mr. Somerfield is on patrol, telling everyone the party’s over.”
The bonfire was out, someone was cleaning up the buffet, and nearly everyone else had left. I smoothed my lips with my fingertip and glanced at Manuel, who watched the movement and looked ready to kiss me again.
I was tempted to tell Sean to find his own way home.
“One-o-clock curfew?” Sean said, reminding me of my promise to Aunt Kristy.
I grumbled. While I wanted to stay here all night, life was crowding back in. It wasn’t only the fact that I needed to get home by one. I also wanted to transcribe those photos into something resembling schoolwork so I could show them someone who could tell me what they meant.
We stood. A breeze swept across us, and my shiver told me I missed the warmth of Manuel’s arm around my shoulders already.
“You’re not drunk,” I said as I studied Sean.
“It didn’t seem worth it. I’d just wake up with a hangover and nothing will help me forget.”
Stepping forward, I hugged him. “I understand.”
“And I’m sorry I had to interrupt. You deserve this bit of happiness.”
“So do you.”
We both sighed, knowing his moment had passed while mine might just be beginning.
Sean nudged his head toward the house. “Come on.”
I took Manuel’s hand and we followed. Instead of going into the house, we skirted it, making our way to the front.
We were walking down the drive when I paused, startled.
Mr. Somerfield left the shadows on the opposite side of the cars and moved toward us. “Have a nice night, kids. Drive safe.”
“Thanks,” we said.
I stared after him as he strolled toward the house before turning to Manuel. “I’ll drop you off if you want.”
“Appreciate it.”
We got into my car, Manuel in the front. Sean took the back, stretching out across the seats.
“Buckle up,” I told him.
“Aw, Mom,” Sean said. “Do I have to?”
I snickered, but the tap of my foot on the mat continued until he’d straightened and buckled.
Manuel directed me to his house, which wasn’t far, just a few streets away from Brandon’s. I put my car into park out front.
Manuel squeezed my hand and leaned close. “Talk to you tomorrow?”
“Yes. I’ll tell you”—I cut my eyes to Sean, who stared out the window—“what I discovered.”
We’d been too busy getting to know each other better and hadn’t discussed my office find.
Manuel touched my cheek with the back of his knuckles. Before he got out of the car, he winked. Our investigation had yielded more than photos. Something wonderful had happened. I watched while he walked up to his front door where he turned and waved.
Sean tumbled over the seat into the front. “I’m tired.”
I waited.
He grumbled but buckled.
A few streets later, deeper into town, I pulled up to his apartment building and he got out. He leaned back inside the car. “Drive safe, okay? There are crazies on the road this late at night.”
“I promise.”
“Text me when you get home, okay?” At my nod, he shut the door and I eased the car away from the c
urb.
I yawned and checked the time. Twelve-thirty-five. If I was lucky with the lights, it would only take me twenty minutes to get home. I was cutting it close, but a few minutes after one wouldn’t break any rules. To be on the safe side, I pressed down on the accelerator, taking my car to five miles over the speed limit. While I was tempted to go faster, I wouldn’t risk a speeding ticket.
Despite Sean’s fear, there weren’t many people out tonight. I breezed through a green light and turned onto one of the main roads. With the radio blasting music, I hummed and swayed along with the tune. For the first time in a long time, I actually felt like dancing.
A text came through on my phone, which I’d dropped in the drink holder.
I couldn’t resist peeking.
Unknown caller.
I’d promised my aunt I wouldn’t text and drive but I needed to know who had sent the text and what it said.
It wasn’t texting if I only read, right?
Lifting my phone, I opened the message.
Mind your own business, or you’ll wind up dead.
My heart jolted and kept beating faster.
Someone knew I’d been snooping. Again.
I squinted in my rearview mirror. Side mirrors, too, but I only saw normal traffic. No one hovered on my tail with their high beams blazing. No cars roared up beside me, ready to shove me off the road.
But an unsettled feeling told me someone watched me.
I turned off the radio, and my jagged breathing echoed in the silence left behind. With clammy hands, I turned the wheel, driving onto another road.
No one followed.
Stop thinking about this. I could deal with it when I got home, after I’d driven into the garage, ensured all the windows and doors inside the house were locked, and I was huddled underneath my covers.
Tucking my phone into my back pocket, I focused on my driving and the rearview mirror, which revealed nothing. My sweaty hands slipped on the wheel.
Ahead, a light turned yellow, heading toward red. Desperate to get home, I sped up. Red light. But I was nearly underneath, so I gave the car more gas.
