Cipher (The Cipher Series)

by Cindi Madsen

  “The perfect blend of snark and heart, Cipher is one fresh take on death you've never seen before!” – Rachel Harris, author of A Tale of Two Centuries.

  “Deliciously addicting, funny, and bittersweet, Cipher will leave you begging for more.” – Kika, Yaromance.com

  “Cindi was born to write kisses.” –Fictitious Delicious

  Cipher

  by

  Cindi Madsen

  Copyright © 2013 Cindi Madsen

  All rights reserved

  By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this book. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The reverse engineering, uploading, and/or distributing of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

  Cover and book design by

  THE KILLION GROUP

  www.thekilliongroupinc.com

  To the awesome girlfriends I've had in my life. Amanda, not everyone is lucky enough to still be friends with their best friend from high school. I'm glad we're the exception. To Christy and Ariane, thanks for all the laughs when I needed them most. And to the girls of HB 207, college was so much fun with you all.

  Acknowledgements

  These characters have always held a special place in my heart. For a long time, Kika MacFarlane was the only one who knew them besides me. Thanks, Kika, for loving them and reading all three books and telling me I should put them out already! I often think of Troy as Troy Boy because of you. Thanks to Anne Eliot, for also telling me (sometimes quite forcefully) that I needed to get this series out there. And thanks to Mackenzie Weller for being my other teen reader.

  I’ve been blessed with some awesome girlfriends who I’ve dedicated this book to, but I just want to say again to Amanda, Christy, Ariane, Rozzie, Annie, Kelli, Jolene, and Dallas, you gals were amazing friends. Thanks for that.

  Shout out to the people at Hot Damn Designs for a beautiful cover and for being so awesome to work with. Thanks to support from fabulous and funny authors Rachel Harris, Karen Erickson, and Lisa Burstein. Hugs to you all! Brandy Vallance, Bob Spiller, and Julia Allen, you’ve taught me so much about writing. You get hugs, too.

  Michael Madsen, only a crazy person would support his wife in this line of work. I’m so glad you’re a crazy person. I also love that my kids get excited for my books and want to thank my extended family for their support. To my mom, dad, Randa, April, Tod, and Greg, just because.

  Thanks to my editor Jeremy Leatham for catching all the little things. And for speculating about the Angel of Death’s love interests. Lol. Jennie, Marty, Deanna, Chris, Lana, and Michelle, thanks for the meet ups and pub talk. To my Time Zones Will Not Defeat Us girls, you all rock and keep me smiling! I’ve met so many cool people and know the best bloggers—seriously, THE BEST! I know I’ll probably forget someone, but I have to say an extra big thanks to book bloggers Andrea from the Bookish Babe, Autumn from Autumn Review, Valerie from Stuck in Books, Jenna from Shortie Says, Karen from For What It’s Worth, Jana, the Book Goddess, Jen & Amy from Fictitious Delicious, Amy from Book Loving Mom, and Jamie from Two Chicks on Books. When I asked for help you all were so awesome!

  And finally, thanks to my readers!

  Table of Contents

  The First Time

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Sneak Peek

  About the Author

  The First Time

  Nothing to worry about. I’m only going to remember this night for the rest of my life.

  All of Summer’s hard work came down to these three minutes. Three minutes of everyone staring. Three minutes to forget the steps or fall on her face.

  A wave of nausea hit her and she put her hands over her stomach, hoping the cheeseburger she’d had for lunch didn’t make a reappearance. A white bucket was near the stage’s entrance, just in case. The thought of having to use it—especially if someone already had—made her feel even more like throwing up.

  She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. This always happened right before she stepped onstage. Tonight it was worse than normal, not only because of the huge crowd, but also because it was the first time she’d be performing a ballet solo.

  You’re ready. You got this.

  Earlier, she’d felt so confident. After all, she’d been working on the routine for months—years if you counted all the dance classes it took to get to this level. She’d taken her first class at age four, fell in love with dancing, and spent the next ten years taking everything from jazz to hip-hop.

  Heart pounding, Summer toe-heel walked to the middle of the stage.

  The familiar music started and her instincts took over. She pirouetted, nailed the grand jeté in the middle, and finished off with a fouetté en tournant.

  The song struck its final note, and she held her pose.

  For a couple of seconds, everything was quiet. Then the audience started clapping. When Summer heard whistling, she knew it was Mom—she did that two-fingers-in-the-mouth whistle that made people in close proximity plug their ears and scoot away. In a crowd of uptight mothers hoping their daughter would be the next prima ballerina, Mom stuck out.

  Trying hard to maintain her composure, Summer kept the demure smile expected of a serious ballerina and curtsied. The spotlight glowed off the blond curls that had escaped her bun.

  Heavy black curtains slid across the stage, narrowing her view of the audience. As soon as they met in the middle, she rushed offstage.

  The other performers were buzzing with excitement, but Summer didn’t have time to chat or offer congratulations. She didn’t even have time to change out of her black-skirted leotard. She sat down on a wooden bench, exchanged her ballet shoes for her purple Converse sneakers, and headed to find Mom.

  The second she stepped out of the dressing room, Mom pulled Summer into a huge hug. “You were so great up there! Absolutely amazing!”

  “Yeah, I heard the whistling.” Summer pulled back and raised an eyebrow. “I thou
ght you were going to take it down a notch.”

  “That was taking it down a notch. I didn’t make any cat calls, or yell, ‘That’s my girl, who’s so much better than all of your daughters.’”

  Smiling, Summer shook her head. “Well, I guess I should thank you for holding back then.”

  “You definitely should.” Mom hooked her arm through Summer’s. “We better get going. I don’t want your dad thinking we abandoned him at the airport.” Her eyes got that dreamy look, and a smile touched her lips. “I can’t wait to give him a proper welcome home.”

  “Ugh, you’re going to embarrass me, aren’t you? You and Dad are so mushy. I’m totally scarred for life, I hope you know.”

  Mom’s smile widened. She pushed out the double doors of the auditorium, and they stepped outside. The sidewalks of downtown Chicago were packed tonight. Some of the people were out enjoying the warm evening, looking like they didn’t have a care in the world; others were all business, rushing around, wearing serious expressions.

  “So, you want to keep doing the ballerina thing, or are you ready for something new?” Mom asked.

  “Hmm.” As much as Summer loved being onstage tonight, she wasn’t sure prima ballerina was her ultimate goal. It was about time for a change. “We haven’t done Irish dancing yet.”

  Mom’s brown eyes widened, excitement flickering through them. “Ooh, I’ve always wanted to try that. All that kicking and bouncing, and it sounds so cool, too. First thing tomorrow, I’ll see if I can find us a class.”

  A man in a suit charged toward them, his eyes on his phone. Summer tried to move out of his way, but as he passed, his briefcase bumped her leg, and his arm brushed hers.

  The man sits in the back of the taxi, talking on the phone. Through the window to his right, a car coming, not slowing down like the others. Tires screech. Glass shatters. Metal buckles, trapping the man in its folds. An awful choking noise comes from him as he struggles for air. Then everything goes quiet, and the light leaves his eyes.

  “Sorry,” the man said as the scene unfolded in Summer’s mind. “I was in such a hurry to get home I didn’t even see you there.”

  Cold filled her, and she felt nauseated for the second time tonight. “I’m uh… You’re… It’s…”

  Mom draped her arm around Summer’s shoulders and smiled at the man. “Have a safe journey home.”

  “You, too. And again, I’m sorry.” He stepped to the edge of the curb and hailed a cab.

  Summer watched him lift his phone to his ear as he climbed into the yellow car. This can’t be real. Surely he’s not going to…

  As terrified as she was of seeing the impact, she couldn’t tear her gaze off the taxi as it entered the flow of traffic. Her pulse pounded in her head, drowning out all other noises.

  When the car drove out of sight, she blew out a shaky breath. Nothing happened. My mind’s playing tricks on me. It was just a weird hallucination or something. One hell of a vivid, weird hallucination.

  “Summer?” Mom leaned closer, eyebrows scrunched together. “Are you okay?”

  “I guess all the dancing took it out of me. I suddenly feel exhausted.” Summer put a hand on her stomach. “And really hungry.”

  “We’ll grab something on the way home from the airport.” Mom glanced at her watch. “Dad’s due in fifteen, and it’ll take us at least forty to get there.”

  “Let’s get going then.” Summer started toward the car, doing her best to act like everything was fine. But the graphic image of the man’s lifeless body kept flashing through her mind, and she had this weird feeling that she’d never be the same again.

  Chapter One

  Three years later…

  Summer barely restrained herself from putting on a dance show for the neighbors. Bobbing her head just didn’t do justice to the music pumping through her earphones. All she wanted to do was get into the house, celebrate the start of the weekend with some dancing, and then relax for a couple hours before going out with Cody.

  What am I going to wear? If I don’t do a load of laundry soon, I’m going to have to pull something off the floor and hope it’s not too wrinkled or smelly.

  The sun reflected off her plastic GET OFF THE ROAD, I’M 16 keychain into her eye, making her attempt at finding the house key more of a challenge. Dad had bought the keychain, thinking it was hilarious, and had also attached a canister of mace. Summer put up with both because they’d come with a car. Since she’d turned seventeen a while ago, she thought she might be able to rid herself of the keychain without Dad getting too upset—the mace wasn’t optional; she knew that without having to ask.

  Finally. Summer inserted the key and opened the door. She tossed her keys into the bowl on the side table, then ran up the stairs, singing along with Hayley Williams.

  At the top of the stairs, she added some dance moves, swinging her curls back and forth across her vision. Moving to the beat, she danced into her open bedroom door.

  The sunlight coming through her window was blinding, so she moved across the room and closed her curtains. She spun away from the window, belting out the chorus.

  The strange woman perched on the end of the bed put a quick end to Summer’s song and dance. Summer stared, hair covering one of her eyes, heart beating a million-miles-a-minute.

  That woman wasn’t there a minute ago.

  Was she?

  The woman smiled, displaying a set of startlingly white teeth. She didn’t look dangerous. In fact, she was the human version of cotton candy—a pink fluffy dress, bubblegum colored lips, and a Marilyn Monroe hairdo.

  Just in case the woman wasn’t as friendly as she looked, Summer reached into her pocket to retrieve her cell phone. Where is my…? Oh holy crap, I left it charging in the car. Summer thought of her mace, downstairs, next to the front door. So close, yet so far away.

  The woman tapped her ear and then pointed to Summer.

  A gentle tug popped the earphones out of Summer’s ears. Afraid to look away from the woman, she dropped the wires, leaving them hanging from the iPod in her pocket. Without music filling her head, the situation suddenly seemed more real.

  She’s dainty. The woman didn’t look very tall either, although she was sitting down, so it was hard to tell for sure. I bet I could take her if it came down to it.

  Please don’t let it come down to it.

  “Hi, Summer,” the woman said, her voice light and airy. “We need to talk.”

  How does she know my name? Summer studied the woman again, sure she’d never met her before. She’d for sure remember a grown woman who dressed like a cartoon princess.

  “Maybe we should talk outside on the lawn,” Summer said. Witnesses would put her at ease. Of course, Mrs. Graves was most likely the only person home right now. As far as witnesses went, she wasn’t a very good one. An axe murderer probably couldn’t coax a reaction from Summer’s mentally-out-to-lunch neighbor—a harmless-looking lady wouldn’t even register. Mrs. Graves would probably stare out her window with detached interest, then go feed her army of cats.

  “Well, no one can see me but you, so it would look like you’re talking to yourself. And I’m rather sure your reaction to this news is going to be attention-grabbing.” The Cotton Candy Fairy blinked her big eyes like one of those creepy dolls with the moveable eyelids and long lashes.

  Okay, it’s official. This woman’s completely insane.

  Summer swallowed past the lump rising in her throat. “Are you lost? I know a place down on Peach Street that’s really nice.” That’s where the mental hospital was. If this lady hadn’t come from the hospital, she could use an extended visit there.

  “I’m not insane and I don’t have time for this. You’re a special circumstance. I’ve never had to start from scratch before.” The woman tapped her manicured finger on her lips and turned her eyes to the ceiling, like she expected to find answers there. “Let me think for a second. I know it’s going to be hard for you to accept from someone you don’t know.”

&
nbsp; The woman slapped her hand to her forehead. “Goodness, me! I never even introduced myself. No wonder you think I’m insane.”

  Yes, the introduction was the problem. Not that you broke into my bedroom, claim I’m the only one who can see you, or that wings are all you need to complete your fairy costume.

  “I’m Gabriella,” she said with a big flourish and a giant smile, like she was in a beauty pageant. “I dole out assignments, welcome people home, that kind of thing. Before long, you’ll get the hang of this and it’ll become second nature to you. We’ll get you started and then you’ll be right as rain.”

  Summer just nodded. This lady was obviously off her meds, and she knew better than to disagree with a mentally unstable person. Under normal circumstances, she’d point out that the phrase right as rain didn’t even make sense.

  “Since this is your first assignment, you’ll have more time. It takes a certain skill, and,” Gabriella—if that was even her real name—looked Summer up and down, “I think it might take you a bit to get going.”

  The shorts-and-T-shirt getup was because Summer had been at dance practice. “I don’t normally wear this.” Wait. Why am I explaining myself to her?

  Summer took a deep breath, trying to clear her head. She eyed the door, wondering if she could get to it faster than Gabriella. “Look, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I can call someone for you if you like.” She took a generous step toward the door. “Family?” Another step. “Friends?”

  Gabriella stood, and Summer froze in place. “I guess I might as well charge on through. Tip-toeing is getting us nowhere. There’s a girl who goes to your school named Ashlyn Moore. Do you know her?”

  The name sounded familiar, but Summer couldn’t place a face with it. “No.”

  “Well, you need to get to know her. She doesn’t have much time, and she needs you.”

  “She needs me to…?” Summer wondered if she was helping or hurting by indulging this crazy woman.