by Amy Miles
I lowered my head. “Sorry for making you wait.”
“Well, you should be. I mean, what is up with cleaning Mr. McKay’s whiteboards? Is this Kiss Butt Day and I didn’t get the memo?”
“Just trying to be nice.” That, and trying to make-up for invading McKay’s privacy. That was so much worse than giving a pop quiz.
“What-evs,” she said, and then let out a high-pitched squeal when a guy dressed all in black suddenly blocked our path.
He flipped his head, moving his brown hair out of his bright green eyes, and then gave me an intense look. “I need to talk to you.”
My heart thumped, clearly startled, as I stared into Car Wash Guy’s eyes. He looked different with his shirt on, but just as hot. “Trip, right?”
“Yeah.” He seemed surprised I knew his name, but recovered quickly. “It’s top secret.” He glanced at Julie. “No civilians.”
“Maybe some other time.” I moved to my right.
Trip sidestepped me with ease. “Come on, don’t mess around. This is important police business.”
Julie eyed Trip up and down, then put on her best smile. “Do you know this guy, Kylie?”
“Not really.” Hey, it wasn’t like we’d been formally introduced. “Can you get out of my way?”
I fake-lunged to my left, then went right.
Trip blocked me without breaking a sweat.
I threw my hands in the air. “Do you mind? We’re trying to get some lunch.”
“Yeah.” Julie put a hand on her waist, jutted her hip out, and batted her eyes. “And why would we care about police stuff? We’re not taking political science this semester.”
“Five minutes. That’s all I ask.” He raised his palms, and then glanced at Julie. “In private.”
Julie raised her eyebrows, clearly annoyed that Trip hadn’t responded to her flirtation attempt.
I sighed, knowing I’d never get past this gung-ho wanna-be-cop. “Fine, Trip. Two minutes.” I checked my watch. “Starting now.”
Julie shot me a look of annoyance. “I’ll be in the caf. Meet me there when you’re done with your private moment.”
I turned to Trip once Julie was out of earshot. “One-minute forty-five seconds.”
He hooked his thumbs on the belt loops of his pants, and his green-eyed gaze cut through me. “They’re letting Bishop go.”
I crossed my arms. “Is it a problem if the bishop goes?” I tilted my head, wondering what the heck we were talking about. “Do you mean chess or religion?”
“Not a bishop. Aaron Bishop. The man you . . . talked to yesterday.”
A bomb dropped in my stomach. “How do you know about that?”
Trip’s eyes brightened. “I cracked Sam’s computer code and broke into his personal police notes. I know you’re a mind reader.”
My blood ran cold as I blinked. “You . . . do?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
I don’t know what I’d expected Trip to say, but that wasn’t it. “You know I’m a mind reader and you’re not, um, weirded out by that or anything?”
“Of course not.” Trip looked offended. “It’s completely professional. Lots of stations use psychics to help with tricky cases—”
“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m psychic.”
“—they just keep it under the radar.”
“Huh.” I stared at him. I’d spooked Blondie and Sam, so either Trip was very open-minded or he was a great bluffer. Either way, it was refreshing to have someone talk about it like I was normal. “So, they’re releasing the guy? Bishop? Wait a minute. What if he finds out what I did?”
He held his pinky finger in the air. “One, who’d believe you could read minds through a simple handshake?”
He had a point.
“And two,” his ring finger popped up, “Sam made sure that nobody besides him and Officer Collins knew about your involvement. According to his notes, your dad insisted on that.”
I crossed my arms. “Well, for it being so private, you seem to know an awful lot.”
His face lit up. “Thanks. It goes with the territory.”
“That makes me feel better.”
He leaned down, scratched his ankle under his sock, and his black button-up shirt fell open a couple inches. For a split second, I saw his bare chest. A flash of him shirtless, washing Sam’s car, popped into my mind.
My cheeks went hot. “Who’s protecting the little girl we found? Isn’t she in the hospital still?”
He stood up and pulled a small memo pad out of his back pocket, flipping to a middle page. “Amanda? Yep, she’s at Marmaduke Medical Center. I’m sure they have some kind of security there.”
“Amanda.” Finally, the name of the girl who looked like me. Trip may be keeping me from lunch, but at least he was giving me some information, unlike Sam and Blondie. “If Amanda’s at Marmaduke, they probably have her on some patient list to direct phone calls. Anyone could easily find her that way.”
“Have some faith in the Sac P.D. We’re a professional organization. I’m sure she’s fine.”
Laughter erupted across the courtyard as a small group of noisy jocks headed from the gym to the cafeteria where everyone else seemed to be on this chilly Friday afternoon.
My stomach rumbled. Guess eating any time soon wasn’t going to happen. Skipping breakfast turned out to be a big mistake. I turned back to Trip. “Why are you the one talking to me instead of Sam?”
He looked embarrassed. “Sam’s kinda pissed at me right now. For breaking into his notes.”
“No kidding.”
“And he said you’re to stay out of the case from now on.” He kicked the asphalt. “Your dad made Collins promise that before he offered to let you help. Guess he didn’t want to put you in danger.”
“And so you’re talking to me now because . . . ?”
Trip threw his hands in the air. “The girl’s mother said Bishop was an old acquaintance and had threatened her daughter before she disappeared. But it turns out the girl, Amanda, couldn’t ID Bishop in a line-up. He’s gonna get away with kidnapping and attempted murder unless . . . well, I doubt it’d hold up in court, but I’m wondering if you actually saw him when you, you know.”
“Read his mind?” I blinked at him several times as if this were a perfectly normal trait to possess.
“Yeah, read his mind.” He didn’t look nearly as cool about it this time. Ha! Bluffer. He stepped onto a bench, plopped his rear on top of the weathered picnic table and scratched his tousled hair, avoiding eye contact with me.
My stomach sank. He didn’t think I was normal. I wasn’t. Never would be. I’d have to keep my peek-a-boo brain a secret forever so people wouldn’t treat me weird. “I freak you out, don’t I?”
His mouth twisted, obviously not wanting to admit it.
“Answer me now or I’ll grab your palm.” I stepped toward him and flared my eyes.
He popped off the bench and took two steps back.
What a geek. “You don’t have to pretend to be all okay with what I can do. Nobody else is and to be perfectly honest, I’d go back to being normal if I had any choice in the matter.” The truth of my words surprised me. “But, I don’t.”
He was quiet a moment. “This isn’t about you, it’s about the case. It’s about Amanda. About making sure her kidnappers get caught and put behind bars where they belong.”
A flash of the unconscious girl with blonde curls flashed in my head, but I shook the image away. “Look, I’m not cut out for cop stuff. Somehow I got this power, I helped Sam find Amanda, and now I want out of it. I mean, isn’t Sam your boss? You should listen to him, right? Now, if you’ll excuse me?”
I headed away from the picnic tables, but Trip was right on my heels. “Fine, I’ll solve this thing myself. You can forget Amanda even exists for all I care.”
Not likely.
“But, do me one quick favor and then I’m out of your hair for good. Just tell me exactly what you saw when you . . . read his mind. Maybe t
here’s a clue or something.”
I stopped and faced him. “If I tell you this, then you’ll leave me alone about this case? Forever?”
He held up his right hand. “Scout’s honor.”
I rubbed my temples wanting to get on with the low-key normalcy that used to be my life. A few minutes more and I’d be out of danger for good. I could deal with that. “Fine.”
“You won’t regret it.”
“Let’s hope not.” I closed my eyes, and focused on the slideshow that appeared when I willed it. Mind reading seemed to come with a photographic memory. Flashes blipped in my head. None were of Bishop. “I didn’t actually see him drop her in the woods. It’s like all the images are coming from what he saw or something.” Pictures flashed, one after the other. “No, I never actually saw him. I could see this other guy though.”
Trip started bouncing from foot to foot, clearly excited. “Another guy? What other guy?”
“Mind reading doesn’t pop out a social security number if that’s what you’re thinking.” I watched him bounce up and down, all hyped up. “Besides, I told Sam about that guy. Wasn’t it in the notes you broke into?”
He frowned. “He caught me before I finished reading.”
I sighed. “Such pressure for a girl who isn’t on the police payroll.” Concentrating, I heard a mental click between slides as images rotated in my mind. “That guy with Bishop has got long dark hair, a tattoo on his right forearm in the shape of an ugly dragon-snake thingy, and he’s medium built. Kind looks like Orlando Bloom in Pirates of the Caribbean. What if Amanda could ID this guy and then the police can get him to rat out Bishop? Then they’d both go down.”
Go down? I was starting to talk cop. This was not good.
“That could work.” Trip jotted down notes onto his pad of paper. “That all you can remember?”
“Yeah, nothing else,” I said, then thought of something horrifying. “Hey, Trip?”
“Yeah.”
My throat went dry. “You’re not going to, um, tell anyone at school what I can do. Are you?”
Trip looked offended. “Of course not. I’m a professional.”
“Well, don’t be writing it in any computer notes either. You never know who might be snooping.” A cool breeze blew and I wrapped my sweatshirt tightly around me. “So, I helped you. That’s all I know. I’m out of this case now, right?”
“Right.”
“Okay.” For some reason I felt awkward leaving, like I was turning my back on Amanda or something. “Well, good luck catching Bishop and all. I hope it works out. I really do.”
He scribbled something on a piece of paper and held it out to me. “My cell number. In case you need it.”
I couldn’t imagine why I’d ever need it, but I shoved it in my front pocket anyway. “Well, bye.”
I gave an awkward wave and turned to walk away.
“Hey, Kylie.”
His voice was unusually loud and I turned around, wondering what he wanted. “Yeah?”
“I’ll see you after school.”
“Um, what?”
He slipped his notepad and pen into his back pocket. “I’m coming by your house so we can work on the case some more.”
My mouth dropped open. “But, I’m out. You swore.”
“I said Scout’s honor.” He shrugged, raised his hand in the air, and then waved it away. “Never was a boy scout though. Means nothing to me. Four o’clock sound good? You should be cooled off by then and ready to do the right thing.”
I stared in shock as Trip brushed his hair out of his eyes, smiled big, and then headed to the cafeteria just as the bell shrilled across the courtyard.
I’d been had. He’d gotten the information he wanted and was still insisting I help him with this case. Scout’s honor. That was so messed up, so sneaky, so . . . clever.
A breeze blew across the yard and I hugged myself to keep warm, then turned and hurried inside. I headed straight for my locker, turning things over in my mind.
Was I back on the case?
There was no point in protesting, Trip was relentless. He’d just badger me until I caved. Plus, I could still see the bottom of the girl’s shirt fly up from the wind, revealing the familiar figure-eight shaped birthmark. The sane part of me that valued my safety had put up a good fight, but it was time to give in. Something was going on and it obviously involved me. Come four o’clock, I’d do whatever I could to help Amanda.
“Hey!” Julie came up behind me as I was dialing my locker combo. “You ditched me the entire lunch hour. I ate by myself, thank you very much.”
“Sorry.”
“Who was that guy?” She opened her own locker and pulled out a thick book. “Some cousin I don’t know about?”
“A cousin?” I hadn’t a clue what she was talking about. “You know my parents were only children.”
“Well, you talked to him all through lunch—I watched you through the caf window.” She flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “He’s super hot and I didn’t see you screaming at all. I figured he must be a relative.”
I slammed my locker shut. “Hilarious.”
“So?” She raised her eyebrows. “What gives?”
“Truthfully . . .” I’d just spent the entire lunch period talking to Trip without screaming, stuttering, or feeling nervous at all. How could that be? It’s not like I would even consider flirting with him—he was so not my type—but still. I had to admit, shirt on or off, the guy was hot.
Julie put a hand on her hip. “Spill.”
I reached in my locker, grabbed my books, and my stomach growled again. “I’m hungry.”
It wasn’t the answer she was looking for, but at least it was true. I knew she’d be mad at me for not filling her in, but what I could I say? That I was a mind reader? That the hot guy was an assistant at the police station?
“Gotta run. Don’t want to be late.” I turned away from my best friend, scooted around her, and then ran to class just as the last bell rang.
****
At 3:35 p.m., I paced my room, waiting for Trip to arrive. I’d managed to avoid Julie the rest of the school day, which was no easy feat since our lockers were close together, but then I’d spotted her in the courtyard after school hanging all over Joel. Part of me wondered if that really had to do with Brandon, but it’s not like I could ask or she’d expect me to confide about Trip—and, for Amanda’s sake, I couldn’t do that.
3:38 p.m. Was Trip the type of guy to be early? Late? On time? More importantly, why did I care? After spending the entire lunch period trying not to have anything to do with Trip, now I couldn’t get him off my mind. It was Julie’s fault. She’d pointed out that he was hot. Not that I hadn’t noticed, but now it was in the forefront of my mind and I couldn’t get rid of it.
I turned to the mirror on the back of my door and stared, wondering what a wanna-be-cop looked for in a girl. Jeans. Blue T-shirt. Limp ponytail. Not exactly supermodel material. Maybe he’d go for brains? Or mind reading capabilities?
Let’s see. I eyed myself critically. Round green eyes. Okay, maybe more squinty than round. And well, a little more hazel than green. Dark thick lashes, yeah right—maybe if I applied some dark thick mascara. Button-like Jennifer Aniston nose. I grinned at myself. I’d always been proud of my nose. And my lips were decent. Not collagen filled but definitely kissable.
So with all that going for me, what were the chances Trip would pick me over some other girl at school? I let out my breath. About a gazillion to one. Maybe I’d finally get Julie to give me that makeover.
For this afternoon though, I needed to make do.
I sucked my stomach in, chest out, and threw the mirror a flirty pout. I shuddered. It bore a scary resemblance to Derek’s Blue Steel from Zoolander. My flirting still needed work. Better to focus on my assets instead.
What could I do in four minutes? Hmmm. I pulled out my ponytail holder and ran a brush through the bumpy half circle the rubber band had left behind. This wa
s not going well.
Giving up on my hair, I set the brush on my dresser and searched through the crystal jewelry box for my favorite bracelet that had been my mother’s—it wasn’t there. Weird. I always left it in the exact same place. I’d taken it off Wednesday night, on the offhand theory that the magnetic pull of the earth had connected with the metal in the bracelet and caused me to read minds. It had been a long shot, but not like I had any better answers as to what prompted this weird ability.
There were other trinkets in the jewelry box, but my bracelet was definitely M.I.A. I let out an exasperated breath. It figured. No lucky bracelet when I needed it most.
The front doorbell gave a pathetic sounding ring.
4:00 p.m. The guy was punctual. Impressive.
I shoved my hair back into a knot with the rubber band, pulled a few wisps around my face, and then groaned at the reflection in the mirror. My bland hair, plain face and comfy clothes had never bugged me before but suddenly it all mattered too much.
Trying to push my insecurities out of my mind, I hurried to the front door, checked the peephole, and took a deep breath. He was just a person. I talked to people all the time. Nothing to worry about.
I opened the door. “Hi.”
“Hey.” He stood on my front mat, wearing the same black shirt and pants he’d had on earlier. His hair was different though. He’d combed it back and I had the urge to shake my hands through it to return his tousled look. “Can I come in?”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” I stepped away from the door and he came into our dimly lit living room.
He put his hands in his pockets, then pivoted to face me as I closed the door. “You’re not still mad at me are you?”
No. “Yes.”
“Sorry,” he said, but didn’t look the slightest bit. “Just remember it’s for a good cause. Nobody said protecting the world was easy.”
My brows came together. “Who said I wanted to protect the world?”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“Edmond Dantés does. In The Count of Monte Cristo.” Oh, no. Had I really just said that?
