by Lisa Roecker
I needed to know what had really happened between the two of them, but more than that, I needed to know exactly what Liam was capable of. If he really was some kind of pyro, maybe he had somehow played a role in what happened to Grace.
“Fine. I think I can do it. Mrs. Newbury always leaves early on Tuesdays for her bunco game.”
“Great. I’ll save you a seat on the late bus,” I said, already starting to walk away. I wanted to get out of there before he changed his mind.
“Oh, and Seth.” I turned back and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you!”
He turned bright red, and a huge smile practically split his face in half.
• • •
True to my word, I sat on the bus waiting for Seth. I had the entire bus to myself until Bradley and Alistair decided to climb on, draping their arms over the seat in front of me.
“Oh, hey, Kate. I didn’t know you were on this bus.” Alistair smiled lazily.
“Um, yeah. Most days, actually. I didn’t know you guys even knew buses existed,” I shot back. What the hell were they doing here? Seth was supposed to be here with the files any minute, and I didn’t have time to deal with these jackholes.
“Yeah, we’re not exactly bus people, but we were passing by and saw you sitting all by yourself and wanted to say hi.” Bradley’s smile was so bright, I had to look away.
There was a knock on the window next to the boys, and we all looked down to see Porter waiting outside, guitar and all.
“What’re you doing, Al? Mom said you have to take me to guitar practice today. I’m not walking again,” he called through the open window. I wasn’t sure if it was the pathetic note in his voice or the news that Porter actually took lessons and was still that abysmal at guitar, but I found myself laughing.
“Well, duty calls.” Alistair shrugged and stood up.
Bradley hung behind for a second, and his almost black eyes pierced mine. “Take care of yourself, Kate.” What the hell was that supposed to mean?
I nodded and watched him jog off the bus and over to Alistair and Porter waiting outside. Alistair and Bradley shoved at Porter as they walked, and I heard Alistair make some snide comment about Seth’s rolling backpack when he crossed their path.
Seth’s geriatric bag caught along the edges of the seats as he pulled it down the aisle. It made my heart hurt a little that he seemed so unfazed by the bullying outside, but I was soon distracted by the three fat files he delicately lifted from his bag as he sat down.
“I got them,” Seth said, looking around the bus like he was an undercover agent of some sort. “Not sure what you’re looking for, but whatever it is, it’s probably in here.”
We started sifting through the files and found all sorts of interesting information.
Apparently, Taylor’s father had donated a huge chunk of change to the school right before she was accepted. Guess she didn’t have to fill out that tedious application to get into PB like the rest of us.
As interesting as it was to learn about Taylor behind the scenes, the information wasn’t exactly what I was looking for. I thumbed through the pages in search of her guidance records. I knew from experience that the guidance counselors were forced to document every student visit by completing a form.
Taylor had a huge stack of guidance forms. Most of them were boring requests for more honors classes and petty complaints about teachers or students who had dared to defy Pemberly Brown’s reigning queen bee.
But one form had been flagged with a sticky note that read, “Urgent.” The entire page was filled with notes, and the counselor had stamped CONFIDENTIAL in huge, red block letters at the top of the sheet.
Taylor suffering from severe depression. Doctor has prescribed Zoloft to alleviate symptoms.
Taylor depressed? I felt like this must have gotten stuck in the wrong file. It was dated last November, so apparently she’d spent the last year stuffed with antidepressants too. This shouldn’t have made me happy, but it sort of did. I wondered if she went to Dr. P. I’d love to see the look on her face if I caught her in the waiting room.
Bethany’s file was completely useless. No trips to the guidance counselor, just a bunch of demerits for getting into fights throughout lower school. You’d think someone would have gotten this girl into anger-management counseling at some point.
But Liam’s file was just as fat as Taylor’s, although for a completely different reason. His guidance forms told a stereotypical bad-boy-with-issues story. One session from his middle-school years outlined feelings of loneliness after moving from school to school after his mom died. Detentions, suspensions, and one expulsion riddled the other forms, while another counselor marked notes about Liam’s struggle to transition from public to private school.
I felt a twinge of guilt looking through all of his confidential information, but I reminded myself I was doing this for Grace. I flipped through every form in the file, but there was nothing about a fire. Was it just another rumor?
“I thought you said Liam had some kind of history with fire,” I hissed at Seth.
“He did. The form should be in the back. Here, let me see.”
Seth grabbed the folder from my hands as we rounded a corner.
“All right, it’s got to be in here somewhere,” Seth whispered. “But I don’t see it. I know it was in here at the beginning of last year. I saw it when I was transferring files after the office was remodeled.” He sounded confused.
“Are you sure? Like, really sure? Because if he didn’t really do it…”
“Wait. What’s this one say?” Seth asked and picked up another form flagged with a sticky note. The bus hit a bump, and the file’s contents spread out on his lap. His forehead wrinkled as he read. “Something about community service.”
“That could be for any of these little incidents. What does it say?”
“Replanting trees…picking up garbage…rebuilding a garage…”
I was starting to get bus sick reading over Seth’s shoulder. I looked out the window to see how much longer we had and then glanced back at Seth. He was staring at the file, deep in thought. “They give an address. Maybe if we look it up we’ll be able to find more info.”
“Fine. I’ll check it out tonight and see what else I can find.”
The bus jerked to a stop, and our driver pulled the door open. I shoved the papers back into Liam’s file and, with a heavy heart, stepped down into the fresh air.
The street was blanketed in red, yellow, and orange leaves that crunched beneath my feet as I headed home. Only yesterday, the leaves had been arranged neatly on branches, vibrant against the blue backdrop of the sky. Now they had all come tumbling down, edges curled, color faded, making the world look a whole lot less beautiful.
I regretted ever getting involved with Liam, regretted ever trusting him, letting him in, liking him. I used my finger to catch the tears before they fell, wiping them across my skirt.
Whoever said “The truth hurts” wasn’t kidding.
Chapter 37
Google is a beautiful thing. When I plugged in the address, “2547 Longview Drive, New Albany, OH,” all sorts of things popped up. First off, I could actually see the property, a gorgeous home set on a stately lawn (thank you, Google Earth), and one hit was a helpful news article—a blurb from the local newspaper’s police blotter.
This particular blurb referenced the address in Liam’s file. Apparently a minor had been charged with arson. A shed had burned down and a neighboring house damaged.
Liam.
It had to have been him, and I had to find out exactly what had happened that night. I spent the entire night planning my attack. I couldn’t avoid him anymore. I’d have to pretend like everything was fine in order to infiltrate. Yes, I said “infiltrate.” I was taking this investigation to a whole new level.
It also occurred to me that I was starting to sound like a spy from one of Seth’s crazy-ass conspiracy theories. Obviously my new sidekick was wearing off on me.
<
br /> Mental note: no matter how tempting it may seem, do not start hanging out in tree houses and reading books about how the moon landing took place in some studio on Hollywood Boulevard as opposed to the actual moon. The last thing I needed was more distractions.
• • •
I sat in the office sending as many brain waves as I could muster toward Mrs. Newbury. Bunco, bunco, bunco. Seth and I needed her to get the hell out of there so we could effectively launch Investigation Firestarter. Yes, that’s a code name, and no, it definitely wasn’t my idea.
Finally Mrs. Newbury leaned under the desk to grab her purse. “That about does it.” She swung the bag over her shoulder. “I leave the office in good hands.” She ruffled Seth’s red curls, and I felt a little guilty about what we were going to do next.
We gave Mrs. Newbury exactly seven minutes and thirty-nine seconds to leave the building. A habitual woman, she stopped to visit with the same three people: Mrs. Laney in guidance; Mr. Stewart, one of the youngest male faculty members, who we were fairly sure she had a tiny crush on; and Bob, the nicest custodian on staff. If my calculations were correct, Liam would hold the door for Mrs. Newbury after he finished hanging out with his friends in the courtyard on his way in to grab books from his locker.
“Okay,” I said, staring at the clock on my cell phone. “Now!”
Seth picked up the phone receiver and pressed the “All School Page” button. He lowered his voice approximately three octaves and said, “Liam Gilmour to the main office. Liam Gilmour to the main office.” He sounded like a serial killer.
“It’ll be a miracle if Liam or any remaining teachers in the building don’t call the police after that page.” I couldn’t help myself.
“I didn’t want him to recognize my voice,” Seth replied, hurt.
I decided not to mention that Liam wouldn’t have been able to pick his face out of a lineup, let alone his voice. “Okay, so you have your assignment. Hunter-green Jeep, zip windows, lower-left area of parking lot, license plate number EIO315.”
“On it!” Seth scurried out of the office in the direction of the parking lot, and I waited to see whether Liam would actually show up after that bomb threat of a page to the office.
Sure enough, about four minutes after Seth made his exit, Liam casually pulled open the glass doors. When he saw me, his forehead wrinkled in confusion.
“Did you hear someone page me?” He set his book bag down inside the office. “I thought maybe Mrs. Newbury needed help. It sounded like an ax murderer.”
“Oh…um…yeah, it was just a temp that they hired for after school, but…um…he had to step out.” Wow. This was going well.
“So you’ve decided to talk to me again? I’ve tried calling and texting every day and nothing, but now you’re waiting for me in the office?”
Really well.
“I’ve just been…busy, that’s all. And I’m not waiting for you. Like I said, the…um…temp paged you.”
“Well, do you know why the temp called me down here?” He looked amused. Clearly he could smell my bullshit from a mile away.
“Lost and Found,” I said, realizing too late that my lame excuse sounded much better in my head. “I think they found something of yours.”
“Ahh,” he said, approaching the box and peering in. He lifted up a ratty-looking sweatshirt, one dirty sock, and a broken pair of sunglasses. “Wow, thank God they found my sock. I’ve been looking everywhere for it.”
“I think they have the valuable stuff locked up or something,” I finished lamely.
He glanced at the clock and then back at me. “Well, tell the temp I’ll come back tomorrow. I’ve gotta run.”
I thought of Seth probably just having found Liam’s car and only about halfway through unzipping it. I couldn’t let Liam leave. I had to stall him.
“Oh, wait!” I said, getting to my feet. “Did you…um…see the new fish they added to the tank?” I rushed over and patted the glass. “Mrs. Newbury said this big one ate all the smaller ones.” Officially the worst stall attempt in history.
Liam again flashed me his amused semi-smile. I was failing. Miserably. He reached for the door. Oh, God. Here goes nothing.
I rushed to the door and threw my arms around Liam’s middle. He stiffened as I touched him, and I realized all at once that I’d never hugged him before. We’d knocked shoulders or touched arms, but full-body contact with my fingers spread across his stomach? No. I tried not to think about the grooves I felt beneath his uniform shirt or how the back of him grazed the front of me. This was about figuring out how he was connected to Grace’s death. Nothing more.
“I’m sorry. This is so stupid,” I mumbled into his back. “I just…I needed a hug, and…I don’t know, you’re here.” I loosened my grip around him, each second of silence adding to my humiliation. I wondered which was worse, having to pretend to need a hug from the guy I used to like but now suspected was a convicted arsonist—or having Seth get caught breaking and entering.
“I really have to go,” he mumbled, and headed for the exit. I swore under my breath and slipped out the doors behind him.
Lucky for me, Liam stopped to talk to a few kids who were hanging out near the entrance of the school. I sprinted as fast as I could and made a big loop around the parking lot so he wouldn’t see me. When I found Liam’s car, I saw Seth had slung his body over the seat and was digging around in back. Without thinking, I slammed my fist on the side of the car to get his attention, and Seth fell headfirst into the back, grabbing at his heart.
“Geez, Kate, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” he yelled.
“Get out of there now!” He stared at me blankly, so I tried speaking a language he’d understand. “Code Red! Code Red! Abort! Abort!”
Seth dove up into the backseat, clutching a sheet of paper to his skinny chest, and slid out the unzipped plastic window. He shoved the paper at me, which I pushed down my uniform shirt, and we both scrambled to re-zip the window. We were casually leaning against Liam’s Jeep when he walked to his car looking more confused than ever.
“Um…hi?” He looked from me to Seth and back.
Seth nodded his head, and I said a quick prayer that he’d let me do the talking. No. Such. Luck.
“Oh, hey, there, Liam. Kate was just showing me your sweet set of wheels here.” Seth banged on the side of the car. “What type of gas mileage does this beauty get?”
Oh, my God. He sounded like a geriatric car enthusiast.
Something dark flashed in Liam’s eyes as he looked closely at Seth and me. Was it jealousy or something else? I wasn’t going to wait around to find out.
“Actually, Liam, we were just going.” I dragged Seth by the sleeve of his shirt and didn’t look back. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow. Bye!”
Once we were settled into our usual seats on the late bus, I reached down into my uniform shirt to retrieve the paper and smoothed it on my thigh.
Audi, Vide, Tace was sketched across the page. But this had taken time—he had included shadows and shading, a level of detail only a true artist could apply.
“I knew I didn’t trust that guy,” Seth said, staring at the words. “He just had that look about him.”
I wasn’t in the mood for Seth’s I-told-you-so’s.
But as I flipped the sheet over, I noticed another set of words drawn in the same way. Fortes Et Liber. “Strong and Free.” For a second I was hopeful.
“Maybe it’s just a coincidence?” I showed Seth the back of the paper. “This is the motto on Brown’s old crest. Maybe he was using them for a band poster or something.”
Deep down I knew the truth, but I shook my head, not wanting to believe it. Despite the evidence stacked up against him—the conspiring with Beefany, the Rolling Stones T-shirt, the email, and now the Latin words—I wanted a different ending. One that didn’t involve me asking the tough questions.
We had plenty of proof to confront him, but my stomach twisted at the thought. I remembered all too clea
rly the feeling of Cameron’s fingers gripping my upper arm in his car or the way Liam had grabbed me in the hallway. So it was looking like we were going to have to go black ops for this one.
And, yes, I just made that up. I have no idea what “black ops” means, but I can tell you it most definitely doesn’t involve confronting another suspect in or near a car. Been there, done that.
Chapter 38
When Seth and I finally made it home, the sun had just about set. We said a quick good-bye and headed back to our respective worlds. He ran home to have a nice, normal dinner with his family while I walked into a dark, empty house and found twenty dollars on the counter and a note to order takeout.
I called Geraci’s and placed the order for my favorite pizza with pineapple. I briefly debated grabbing a pint of Chubby Hubby from the freezer to take the edge off but settled for catching up on some mindless reality television instead.
The soothing sounds of catfights must have lulled me to sleep, because when I jerked awake, the family room was almost pitch-black. Out of sorts, I glanced at the clock and wondered why the pizza guy hadn’t come yet. The phone showed no missed calls, so I headed into the kitchen to grab a Diet Coke. And that’s when I saw it.
A shadowed figure ran in front of our huge bay window.
I froze. I could hear the blood pumping in my ears. And then I heard something else.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The glare of the TV made it impossible to see anything except the outline of a person.
The tapping turned to knocking, and the figure gestured at the front door. He wanted to be let in.
The TV flashed to a commercial break, and in the brief moment of darkness, I got a look at my visitor’s face.
Liam.
I screamed. I couldn’t help it. I knew he was somehow involved in whatever had happened to Grace, but I’d never expected him to show up at my house. I grabbed the phone to call the police, but when I started to dial he disappeared.
