by Gwenda Bond
SkepticGirl1: So… you were right about there being a new post. What’s your take on the latest supposed sighting?
The little message popped up that said he was typing. More waiting. I truly was the worst at it.
Devin came in then. I cringed when he flipped on the overhead fluorescents, bathing me in their ghastly glow. I’d been so eager to sign in to chat, I had neglected to let there be light when I got to the office.
“Hey,” Devin said, “time to see what we’ve got.”
SkepticGirl1: BRB—don’t go anywhere, okay? Gotta talk to Devin.
I hope I didn’t miss getting to discuss SmallvilleGuy’s reaction. He’d said he was in a hurry. And the revelation about government agencies being involved in this somehow had made me feel bad that I hadn’t been able to share his concern over the posts from the start.
Devin slid into his chair and tapped the spacebar to bring his computer to life. Then he waved his hands around in a gesture that was half spirit fingers, half preparing to attack the keyboard. “Here comes… hopefully something. Nothing would suck.”
I wheeled my chair out so I could see what he was doing. “What is this, anyway? Did you figure out a way to search?”
His fingers clacked and clicked while he responded, typing a query into a box on a page that had a black background and a single box on it. “I did try querying the property records database by owner, but got nowhere. So then I thought we could try a speedier variation of what you did with the paper records.”
I glanced at my laptop, but this was important. “Which was?”
He stopped working and looked up at me. “I pulled every street address in the zip codes in Suicide Slum out of the mapping data, and then I wrote a program that’s been working all day, checking them against the database.”
I still didn’t quite get it. “But if there’s nothing in the database… ?”
“You IDed an address you knew existed in real life, but which was removed from the database—presumably because Moxie’s the owner. The program has been looking for other addresses in our target zip codes that exist but don’t show up in the database. Seems like we can work under the assumption they’d be Moxie’s too.”
“Devin, you’re a genius,” I said, slapping him on the shoulder.
“Maybe. Let’s find out if it worked.” He hit enter and sent his query and we both watched the monitor. A few seconds later, a list of addresses began to fill the screen.
“Okay, I’m a genius,” he said, grinning. I high-fived him.
“Now I also found out that the city keeps a database of supposedly vacant properties, sans owner listing, to make it more efficient for the police to identify possible trespassing and illegal squats when they get complaints. I should be able to cross-reference these two…” he trailed off, typing again. “And find out which properties Moxie owns that are occupied in the neighborhoods we think are likeliest and we can check them out.”
“I’m impressed.”
“You should be,” Devin said, smiling, but not looking away from his monitor.
Content to let Devin work his tech magic, I returned to my laptop and opened chat with SmallvilleGuy. And frowned. He hadn’t posted a response yet.
I decided to test the waters by wading back in.
SkepticGirl1: Hey, I’m back. Devin thinks he may have figured out a way for us to find some likely spots for the un-findable Ismenios to have holed up. Places we can go check out.
This did get an immediate response.
SmallvilleGuy: That should make Maddy happy, though it sounds dangerous. Potentially.
I ignored the danger comment, and thought back to Maddy’s reaction to my twin bond theory. That seemed way more dangerous at present.
SkepticGirl1: Actually, I think Maddy’s afraid I’m going to betray her and her sister or something. And that I’m not that great a friend.
SmallvilleGuy: Then she doesn’t know you like I do.
My heart liquefied.
SmallvilleGuy: I may not be around later. Bess is better, and I’m close enough to drive to the sighting tonight. That’s my reaction to it. I’m going.
He must have guessed how I’d feel about this plan, because he rushed on before I could respond.
SmallvilleGuy: That way I can get some visual intel to share with you and TheInventor. Maybe we can figure out what’s going on. Who exactly these searching people are.
I frowned at the screen in reflex. My immediate reaction was negative—whether he’d anticipated it or not.
SkepticGirl1: I think this is a bad idea, and I’ll tell you why.
SmallvilleGuy: Listening… But how will we find out anything otherwise about who they are, confirm their motives? It’s what you’d do, isn’t it? If you were me?
Okay, he wasn’t wrong about that. I’d have hopped a bus or bummed a ride. Technically, I could drive, after a couple of lessons in a jeep on base, and while someday I wanted to get a license, at the moment it wasn’t exactly legal—or safe—when I got behind the wheel. But if I had been close enough to get there, I’d definitely go.
But I didn’t tell him that. We were two different people. As far as I knew, he’d never been in trouble a day in his life.
And I was about to behave uncharacteristically for the second time in a day. I was going to tell him to proceed with caution too.
SkepticGirl1: 1) If you can see them, you run the risk of them also seeing you.
This next part was harder to get myself to type, but I had to spell it out. Make it plain enough for him to understand that my concern was real. I wanted to protect him.
SkepticGirl1: 2) You’re always telling me to be careful, but you’re the one who should in this case. I am not asking the who-are-you question. We agreed to table it for now. That agreement stands, like I said last night.
SmallvilleGuy: You know I wish I could tell you. But, Lois, I can’t just not do anything in this situation.
SkepticGirl1: 2 continued) You can’t just not do anything in this situation, but you also can’t tell me…
I paused and thought about how to word what I had to say. The sound of Devin’s fingers clacking at warp speed on his keyboard reached me, and then it became muted as I typed at a warp speed of my own.
SkepticGirl1: . . . you also can’t tell me, who you say that you trust, why that is. If you can’t tell me who you really are and how you could confirm what I saw two years ago, then you should tread lightly until we know more about who it was that cornered QueenofStrange and why. You don’t know who TheInventor even is. You know me.
SmallvilleGuy: I’ll keep it in mind. I’ll be careful.
SmallvilleGuy: And TheInventor has only ever helped us.
I sighed. Using caution was the smart move here, but it wasn’t fair to expect him to behave any differently than I would myself.
I hated it, but I had to cede the point.
SkepticGirl1: Keep your phone with you. Logged in to the app so I can reach you and vice versa. You let me know when you’re out of there, minimum.
SmallvilleGuy: Deal. I won’t be leaving for another hour or so.
I stared at the screen. I probably looked like a confused lab experiment myself. “Girl, dying of worry, trapped in newspaper office,” the notes of that particular mad scientist would say.
“Uh-oh,” Maddy said, “you have that expression.”
She and James had apparently both arrived during my chat, and were at their desks. Devin remained deep in tech mode, eyes fixed on his screen and hard at work on the list. He didn’t look up at our voices.
“What expression is that?” I asked.
James was listening in, and he answered instead of Maddy. “The one that makes us think things are about to get more complicated than we ever thought possible.”
“Oh,” I said, “that expression. Well, yeah. I am w
earing that expression.” I moved to log out of chat and shut my laptop, but he’d posted again.
SmallvilleGuy: Maybe this will make you feel better. Your gift.
I’d forgotten all about it. And I was powerless not to smile at what was on the screen in front of me. It was a photograph of Nellie Bly, devotedly and adorably sucking at a bottle, and cradled in what looked like a strong arm against an equally strong T-shirted torso and chest. His other arm was extended to take the shot.
What I could see of him was nice. Very nice.
If the frame of view was a smidgen bigger, I’d be able to see the face that went with it.
SkepticGirl1: It does. But be careful.
SmallvilleGuy: I will. I’m not you. ;)
SkepticGirl1: Funny. Talk soon.
I closed my laptop just as Devin broke out of his work, raising his hands over his head and cracking his knuckles before again spirit-wiggling his fingers.
“Who’s the king of the newsroom?” he asked. “Ultimate and supreme ruler because he rules?” He put a hand up to his ear, to better hear the response.
“We’re not in Worlds, King Devin,” I countered, getting up to go see what had brought on this burst of self-satisfaction. It must be list-related. “This newsroom is a democracy.”
“So declares newsroom queen Lois,” James said, walking over to Devin’s workstation too. I stuck my tongue out at him.
Dante had called Melody queen of the school. I had no designs on royalty.
“She’s a princess, actually,” Devin said. “Princess Lo. I thought about making her a queen in the game, but I didn’t want to imply something about our relationship.” He winked at me and added, “Not that I wasn’t interested. I was.”
Maddy came over and stopped beside me, crossing her arms. “That was an unmomentous way to make a pretty momentous declaration. Are you two a thing? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her voice trembled with hurt. Oh no.
“Nah,” Devin said, tone light. “I saw early on that there was another guy in the picture. I even gave them a spot to meet in Worlds.”
Maddy’s voice stayed trembly. “Who is this mystery man? Why haven’t you told me about him?”
“It’s um, complicated,” I said. “But I want to.”
She gave me a tight nod.
I had to get better at this friend stuff.
“He’s a mystery, all right,” Devin said, trying to defuse the tension, which I appreciated. “An alien, that’s about all I know. He—”
“Okay, okay, your highness,” I interrupted, “show us what you found. You can gossip about my mysterious love life later.” My cheeks felt hot. How could I explain to them that I didn’t know who he was either? But I did want to tell Maddy. I wanted her advice.
Did I have a love life? Or was I kidding myself? Why was getting what you wanted so much harder in real life than they made it out to be on TV and in the movies?
“So,” Devin said, letting me off the hook. He twisted his chair around to face us, playing to his audience. “After I ran the ghost addresses against the vacant property database, there are still a lot left. All twenty-three, to be exact. It would take us a while to check them all on foot.”
“Why is all Moxie’s real estate vacant?” I said. “I don’t understand why you’re so happy. This is not good news. But give me the list. Foot check it is.” Traipsing around these properties might not be the smartest move, but it was beginning to sound like the only one.
“I’m only half-following this,” Maddy said.
“Same,” James agreed.
Maddy gave him a tiny smile. At least she was still smiling at someone around here.
“It will all make sense and be less dire. Hang in until the end,” Devin said. “And that was not the end.” He waited until we were listening politely enough for him again. “Thank you. So, I thought it was weird that they’d all be unoccupied too. So much so I wasn’t convinced this wasn’t more bad data—the property listings were missing, but they all turned up in this vacant property set? Weird.”
“And?” I asked.
“And it turns out the power company—with all that nice data about what buildings are drawing on the power grid and how much—has really old software and a weak firewall to go with it.”
“That’s not publicly available information,” James said. “The firewall is to keep people out. We’re trying to prove someone didn’t break the law, so it seems like not a good idea to be doing it ourselves.”
James, the stalwart and predictable. This time, for once, I sympathized with his impulse. He really didn’t want to be like his dad.
But maybe not. For a long time, James had assumed his dad was a criminal, and now he might not be. That kind of sudden shift had to be tough to deal with, even if the result was positive.
“We are trying to find a missing mad scientist who was obviously breaking laws,” I said. When James started to interrupt, I went on, “And to figure out who this double guy is so we can prove that your dad didn’t. But point taken.”
“Anyway,” Devin said, “that part’s all done. Tell yourself it required no bending of any code to achieve. I matched the supposedly vacant addresses we believe are owned by Moxie up against the properties the city detects as receiving juice from the power grid. There are three out of the twenty-three that do not appear to be vacant at this time, despite reporting they are. All in Suicide Slum, though different areas.”
Devin reached down and hit a button. The ancient printer we’d inherited from upstairs hummed into action and a sheet of paper rolled forth. I snatched it off. Three neat addresses waited there, none familiar.
“Excellent work,” I murmured, considering them. “I do love a lead.”
“I should come with you,” Maddy said.
“Hmm? Where? I’m not going anywhere,” I said, playing innocent.
Maddy didn’t buy it. “I know you and you’ll be going to those three places. I should come too.”
“Maybe we all should,” James said. “Safety in numbers.”
I wasn’t sure that was the best idea. The last thing I wanted was to put Maddy in harm’s way when her sister already was. And if I was going into enemy territory, James being spotted could put him and his dad in greater danger than they already were. But how to say that without making them angry at me?
But as it turned out, I wouldn’t have to.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt. Hi there.”
The interruption was courtesy of Dante, freshly splattered with paint, who distracted Maddy immediately. She began to blush and develop a serious interest in her shoes. He had to have noticed her reaction, because he gave little indication he knew the rest of us were in the room.
“What are you doing here?” James asked, and it came out brittle. I frowned at him.
“Yes,” I said, upping my niceness level to counteract James’s cool welcome. “What brings you to us? Did you just want to see someone, perhaps?”
Dante smiled at Maddy, and then—finally—looked away from her, to me. “Busted,” he said with a smile that contained the tiniest amount of chagrin. “It could have waited until school tomorrow, but I figured I’d make a trip. I’m collecting some visual references for my mural anyway.”
“What could have waited?” James asked, sounding like he wished it had waited. There was nothing for him to hold against Dante. They’d seemed to get along fine when we’d bonded over breaking and entering.
Dante ignored James’s attitude. “I saw a guy poking around the building across the street. He didn’t belong in the neighborhood. He was peeking into the door, and then when he saw me, he came over. He started asking me questions about the mural. And then about a girl—I’m pretty sure he meant Melody,” he said.
“Why?” Maddy asked, but before he could answer, Melody wobbled in through the Scoop office door. He
r steps were shaky. Maddy flew to her side, Dante with her. I was surprised James didn’t vault over to replace one of them, but he stayed put, brows drawn together.
Dante and Maddy had their arms around Melody and brought her closer to us. Her face was pale, her lips devoid of any hint of the bright pink lipstick she’d had on when I’d seen her at school earlier in the day. She chewed on her lips as she neared, anxious. She looked more like Maddy’s shadow, like some ghostly reflection, than like her more confident twin.
Melody wasn’t getting any better. If anything, she was getting worse. And so fast—this hadn’t been going on long, and we’d barely started investigating.
“Melody, are you all right?” I asked, afraid of the answer.
“No. It happened again.” She sucked in a breath. “I barely got away before my friends saw.”
For her sake, I was going to need to pick up the pace.
CHAPTER 13
I wheeled my desk chair out into the unoccupied center area of the office between our desks so Melody could sit in it. She gratefully sank into the seat, nearly collapsing, with a heavy, dramatic sigh.
“Water?” I asked, and Melody nodded.
Devin got up to fetch Melody a bottle of water from our mini fridge. But James stayed put, standing beside me.
What was up with him? Until today, he’d been all eyes and ears fawning over Melody.
“You did the right thing, coming here,” I said.
Melody looked at me, and then pointedly at Dante. But I’d already done that math.
This entire situation was complicated by the fact that Dante was still something of an unknown quantity to us. (Though an unknown quantity with excellent taste in crushes, in my opinion.) But if Melody didn’t want to spill what she’d seen in front of him, I needed to get whatever else he knew that could help us out of him fast. And then brush him out of here without screwing up the flirtation between him and Maddy.
“Dante,” I said, “the questions the man asked you, what were they?”
