Mind Games

by Heather W. Petty

“You mean at a crime scene. If the victim is no longer in the room, you want to know if you’re looking for a corpse or a living victim.”

  He shot me an impressed look and then set his beaker aside. “I can tell you that the man who left this stain most likely survived long enough to get to the hospital, but this man . . .” He pointed to a carpet sample in the corner that had a much wider stain across the square. “I don’t need to see the body to know that the man who made that stain is dead. They use a similar method to train nurses in a hospital setting—”

  A call from Alice stopped Sherlock’s mini lecture short. She sounded like she’d just run down the stairs when she asked, “Mori, where are you?”

  “With Sherlock. Why?”

  “Stay out for a while. Mallory’s here. Apparently it’s not just anonymous calls coming in anymore. There’s a real witness.”

  “To what?” I stood and moved to the far side of the room.

  Alice paused and I could hear her thudding steps on the kitchen floor. “Some woman came forward to make a statement about seeing you with the sword in the park. I think I can keep Mallory away from your school, but we’re going to have to go to the station. Probably right after your last class.”

  “Okay.”

  Alice paused again. “What are you going to tell Mallory?”

  I lowered my voice, though I wasn’t sure there was enough noise in the room to mask what I said completely. “I need you to do something for me.”

  “What is it?”

  “I need to know who it is. See if you can make him tell you.”

  I could hear the smile in Alice’s voice when she said, “God, you’re like her. You’re just like her.”

  I did my best to control my expression as I ended the call and turned back toward Lock, just in time to witness another pool of liquid expand until it was threatening to overtake the edges of the carpet sample. Lock didn’t ask about the call, which meant we were back to him playing mad forensic tech and me playing fascinated observer. But the longer I watched him moving around the room, the more I wondered whether or not I should tell him about the witness, about my impending trip into custody for questioning. Would it be a welcome distraction or just another stress on top of all that he was already dealing with? Wasn’t his need for distraction the whole purpose of his experimenting when he should have been in class?

  I watched as Lock flicked the cap from his pen to write an observation on a glass board standing behind him and then popped it back into place before moving on to a new pipette and the next beaker. He was so fully immersed in his task, I felt like I had somehow merged into the background of the room. I wasn’t sure he was even aware I was there anymore. Or perhaps he was. I thought he would pour out the liquid onto the shaggy rug sample that was up next, but instead Lock looked up from his experiment and right into my eyes. He immediately set the pipette down, straddled a rolling office chair, and propelled himself across the floor to me, stopping only when he was close enough that I could smell vinegar on his hands.

  “What is it?”

  I ignored the question at first, instead focusing on his proximity and the complete lack of emotion in his expression. While he wasn’t impeccably dressed, he wasn’t rumpled like Mycroft had been. He was normal rumpled. Everything about him was normal—or might have been, if I hadn’t known better.

  He seemed to find my silence entirely amusing. “Or remain unfathomable. Either way.”

  I wanted that playful quirk to stay on his lips, so instead of telling him about me, I said, “I’ve decided to be mad at you for ignoring me, like a proper needy girlfriend.” It felt weird to use the title, but Sherlock seemed pleased to hear me say it.

  “Very well.” He stood and swiveled the chair around before plopping back onto it and draping one long leg over the other. “I’m sure you’ve a long list of grievances. Have at me.”

  I stared at him blankly, then looked over his shoulder to stare at the blue flame coming out of a lit burner that had no reason to be lit, at the half of a rag draping out of his autoclave, like he’d only just started to sanitize it before moving on. There were pipettes lined up, each with a little white pill sitting in the bottom, but only half had been filled with liquids. Everything half done. Useless. He was desperate for distraction and nothing was working. Some kind of pain flared in my chest, and I had the sudden urge to throw my arms around his neck and hold him until it faded.

  “Come on, then,” he challenged.

  “I’ve no intention of ‘having at’ you.”

  “So, is it to be silent seething then? You are so lovely when you seethe.”

  “I really am.” I reached across the space between us to smooth his hair down. “But it’s neither today, I’m afraid. I’ve somewhere I need to be.”

  I got up to leave, but he kicked his foot out to block my way to the door.

  “Don’t go. It’s no fun if you go.”

  “You’ll have plenty of fun staining carpets without me.”

  He stared at me for a few seconds before a thoughtful expression replaced his playful arrogance and he stood suddenly, blocking me with his whole body and forcing me to look up. “Tell me?”

  I shook my head quickly and made sure my grin didn’t drop. “Last week of school. I can’t miss all my classes.”

  He nodded, but he didn’t move out of my way. “I have somewhere to take you after school.”

  “Not today. I promised Alice I’d be home. I probably won’t be able to come to the hospital tonight either.”

  Sherlock’s expression went blank for a few moments, and I almost told him about Mallory right then and there. I wondered if learning about this new evidence against me would make him worry for me or if he’d just be fascinated to see another piece of the puzzle. But then he smiled again, and I decided it wasn’t worth the risk.

  “I’ll take you tomorrow,” he said. “You’ll like it, I think. I may finally have an answer to our great mobile phone heist.”

  “Jealous girl secretly in love with your client and hoping to steal him from his first love?”

  Lock’s smile widened. “You’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

  “Is this your ploy to get me to come with you this afternoon? Did you think I’d be too curious to stay away?”

  “Is it working?”

  “Sadly, no. But we’ll go tomorrow for sure. Our lover boy deserves a proper ending to his torment.”

  “And me? Is there no end to mine?”

  I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down until we were eye to eye. “Your torment will also have to wait until tomorrow.” I kissed him quickly and spun around him to walk freely toward the door. But at the last minute I ran back to him and handed him the envelope with the drawings in them. “More evidence for my case.”

  He nodded, his expression sobering a bit. “Yes. I’ll hold on to these for you. See if I can find all the things you missed.”

  I pulled him down toward me again, which seemed to brighten his mood back up. “Shall I give you a hint?”

  “Are we playing a game?”

  I nodded. “The artist is not the one sending me the cards.” I released the front of his shirt and called out, “Tell me when you see it!” as I left his lab.

  “I’ll know before tomorrow!” he called after me. And the smile in his voice meant he hadn’t seen the fear in my eyes.

  “I might be in jail tomorrow,” I told the staircase as I made my way back upstairs. One last class until I had to face Mallory, and I had no idea what to do. One last class.

  Chapter 16

  Lily sat next to me in drama, to the open shock and dismay of her friends. She didn’t say a word to me, however, ensuring they didn’t completely implode. It was an odd development, but I tried not to take it too seriously, tried to be the same as I always was.

  Once Miss Francis had properly addressed her teacher duties, she left us to study for other exams while she finished up grading the last few final performances. Lily, as usual, rea
ched for her music scores, but her bag tipped over, spilling paper and folders out onto the floor. I scooped up the pages that fell at my feet and as I handed the stack to Lily, her necklace fell from under her shirt.

  It was the first time I’d seen Lily’s bronze cross up close, a Celtic cross with vines wrapping around it. The image was instantly familiar, though it took me longer than usual to put together just where I’d seen it before.

  “The attic,” I said to myself minutes later, when everyone else had gone back to minding their own business. Thankfully, only the two people closest to me heard what I’d said, and one was Lily, who didn’t even bother to look up from her cello scores.

  But the symbol was on a box in my attic—a box housing cash and a lock pick with a really heavy lid. And, really, I should’ve put it together much sooner than I did. Even without seeing Lily’s cross, the box was obviously what had been buried at Patel’s murder site. The money must have been Patel’s getaway cache, which meant the empty wrappers once contained money my father had spent.

  It was suddenly intolerable to spend even one second more in the theater that afternoon. So I feigned sick to a distracted Miss Francis, and as I stood to leave, I dropped a note in Lily’s lap that said, “Right after class. Park. Important.” Then I left to sneak home somehow and fetch Lily’s money.

  • • •

  I got to the tree first and realized that the last time I’d been to the place in daylight, Sadie had been with me and I’d been looking for the clover symbol and proof of Lock’s and my theories of the crime. Had that really been only a few weeks ago? I lined myself up with the clover symbol, just like I had before, and paced toward where Sadie had stepped into the box’s previous burial site. When I reached it, I could see another carving just ahead in a tree not six feet from where I stood. The etching was rudimentary and dirty, but a recognizable Celtic cross. The box had been buried exactly in the middle of the two.

  I placed the container right above where her dad had hidden it and then sat next to it to wait. Lily was there before school ended, carrying flowers and beer, which meant she hadn’t managed to stay through all of the drama herself. I thought for sure she’d recognize the symbol on top of the box, but she didn’t even look at it.

  “Why are we here?” she asked.

  I nodded toward where a bundle of wilted flowers had been kicked behind the clover-marked tree. “You first.”

  She followed her ritual, though she seemed more aware of my presence this time. Once the beer was poured, she came over to sit next to me in the dirt and watched the foam settle. I probably should have shown some kind of respect for her thoughts, but my patience didn’t extend for more than a minute or two. I pushed the box wordlessly in front of her crossed legs and watched for her response.

  She clutched the pendant to her chest and traced the cross on top of the box for a few long seconds. “Where did you find this? How do you have it?”

  “Was it your father’s?”

  Lily started to shake her head, then stopped and said, “I don’t know. I’ve never seen it before. But it must be, right?”

  “I think so. Look inside.”

  She used her thumbs to push open the lid and slide it back slowly, almost like she was afraid of what the box might contain. I’d cleaned out all the empty tissues, leaving only the three bundles of cash and the lock-pick multitool. I watched quietly as she went through them, letting her have whatever kind of moment would suit her best.

  She tore open only one bundle before pushing them aside to seize the lock pick. One by one, she opened the tools. She nodded at most, but a few of them seemed to be new to her, and she didn’t close any of them until they were all out of their hiding places looking like a tiny metal arm topped with a dozen frightening claws.

  When they were all put away again, she flipped the tool over in her hand a few times before pulling the cash free from its tissue.

  “Do you ever wonder what it was like?” Lily fanned the money so that only her eyes could be seen above the edges of the bills. Still, I could tell she was smiling.

  “Does the money make you that happy?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not the money.”

  “What then?”

  She dropped the notes into her lap, reached into her purse to pull out her father’s lucky clover coin, and then met my eyes. “We should start again. Sorte Juntos. We should do it again.”

  It was a ludicrous idea, but my heart still began to race. “So it is the money?”

  “No. Not money. Legacy. We could revive our parents’ greatest years. We could immortalize them by continuing their work.”

  I stared out at the gathering shadows. It was impossible. I didn’t have the time. My priorities were protecting the boys and finding a way to keep my father from torturing us from his prison cell. All of that, while trying to keep out of prison myself, was far more important than some pipe dream from my mother’s wild years. But still, a spark of something had ignited in my mind at Lily’s suggestion. I didn’t care about legacy or immortality. I didn’t much care for amassing great sums of money, either. But the idea of re-creating a network, of the power and freedom that could bring. Something about that felt right.

  “You’re thinking about it,” Lily teased.

  “It’s ridiculous.” Only it wasn’t.

  “But you want to. I can tell.”

  If I’d sent someone else to the lake that day with the sword, I’d be untouchable just now. If I’d sent a team of somebodies to take care of my father problem, he’d probably be dead. If I could sit back as the mastermind and send others out to do the work of it, never knowing why or how, just that they’d be paid.

  “We don’t have the skills,” I made myself say, though I wondered if that was really true.

  “I know how to use this.” Lily held up the lock pick and flicked open one of the tools with her thumb. “I also have access to copies of keys to every important building my dad’s ever serviced.”

  Mr. Patel, the locksmith. Yes. That could be useful.

  “And you can be our leader, just like your mom.”

  I didn’t bother to hide my surprise that she’d worked out which of the women in the picture was my mother, but it couldn’t have been too hard of a deduction. “The pictures.”

  “You look just like her. Not necessarily in feature, but your expressions are identical to your mother’s.”

  I nodded and looked back out at the shadows.

  “She was beautiful,” Lily said.

  I should have said something. My silence was giving away too much about how I felt right then. I wanted so much to see those pictures. I just didn’t know how to ask, and I didn’t trust Lily not to ask for something in return. I didn’t want to owe her.

  “My dad told me that she was the cleverest person he’d ever met. The way her mind worked, yours is like that too, isn’t it? I know it is. You were the one who figured out the truth about your dad, not Sherlock like they said. I’m right? It was you?”

  I looked up and Lily’s expression had darkened. She was suddenly greedy, maybe. But for what, I couldn’t say. I was almost sure it wasn’t about the money, however.

  “I had more information than he did.”

  She wouldn’t look away from me, and her expression was unnerving, but when she pulled her dad’s coin out of her handbag and held it in her palm, she seemed suddenly very pleased with herself. Like she’d been proven right about something. We stared at each other quietly for a few beats, before I realized that her greed was for me. She wanted something from me—or, rather, she’d just figured out a way for me to be useful to her.

  “We should start it again,” she said, confirming my guess.

  She flipped her coin and it landed on the damp earth between us, clover-side down, which is when I realized that all the coins were different. Instead of the Tree of Life I’d expected to see, Lily’s coin had her dad’s cross emblem. All the members had their own symbol on their coins, and I was willing
to bet that all their hidden cache spots were marked with both the clover and their specific symbol. I wondered then, just how much money was hidden around London and in the outer boroughs now that everyone was dead—hidden fortunes marked with symbols no one else would understand.

  “Sorte Juntos had an entire team of people to rob those places. We have just the two of us. It’s not enough.”

  Lily frowned at that. “Then we’ll find others. We’ll find who we need.”

  “To do what?”

  “Anything we want.”

  The way she looked at me then brought to mind what Lock had said before—the statement I’d dismissed so easily. I was wondering how much Lily Patel hates you. The answer was in her eyes just then. She hated me. But she also wanted something from me, and the war those emotions created inside her was fascinating to watch.

  “And what do you want, Lily?”

  She looked down at the contents of her dad’s box again, smiling to cover whatever else it was that she was thinking. And then she stood and grabbed all her things. “Think about it,” she said.

  She left me there, sitting between the now-meaningless symbols of her father’s coin.

  Chapter 17

  I should’ve gone straight home, but that only meant being bustled off to Mallory and his inane questions, and facing down some unknown witness bent on destroying me and releasing the monster. And I was tired. Tired of fighting things and people I couldn’t see, of not being able to move on with my life.

  In the end I couldn’t seem to make it past the bandstand. Past the willow tree at the edge of the lake. That was where I’d found my best friend dead, where I’d known for sure my father needed to die. Would it also be the place I made the one mistake that could free him? Would that one lame attempt to disarm a killer become my greatest regret?

  My mobile rang before I could find an answer, and I ignored it at first. Texts came next, but I knew I couldn’t neglect Alice forever. So I called her back.

  “Where are you?”

  I kicked my heels up and let them thud back against the cement base of the bandstand. “I’m in the park.”