by Vivi Barnes
“Don’t you see?” she asks, her hand brushing my hair back gently. “I can’t just stay in Norfolk hoping that the police eventually figure it out. Every day that I stay there allows whoever is doing this a chance to attack me when I’m at a stoplight, or when I’m walking in between classes at school. And every day is another chance that someone has to finish the job on you. You wouldn’t stay put if our situations were reversed. Why do you assume that I could?”
“At least give me a day or two so I can join you,” I beg her. “Please.”
Sam walks in as I finish speaking. “Easy, cowboy,” she says, laughing lightly. “I think Liv and I are going to handle this one without you. And don’t even try to tell us we can’t because we’re just girls or we’ll kick your ass.”
Even though I’d never say or even think that, I keep my mouth shut. There’s nothing I can do now that they’ve both made up their minds. I squeeze Liv’s hand. “Be careful. And stay together.”
“We’ll be fine.” She leans over to kiss me lightly. “We’ll let you know what we end up with.”
She and Sam leave, already making plans and way too excited about all this. As soon as they’re gone, I call our detective contact, Jim Rush, and leave a voicemail begging him to put surveillance on Frank. Then I close my eyes, hoping he’ll get the message in time before Frank figures out Liv’s here. Regardless, I’m going to be worried constantly about Sam and Liv until they’re back safe.
Chapter Twenty-Three
LIV
“So what first?” Sam asks as soon as I get out of my car at their new house. It’s not as impressive-looking as Monroe Street—more like a big house instead of a lavish castle. I wonder whatever happened to the Monroe Street house.
“I don’t know. Look for this Frank guy? Talk to Jen? Ja—” I catch myself, remembering that no one here except Nancy knows Jack’s real name. “Z says he was following her when he had the accident.”
“Yeah let’s start with Jen,” Sam says. “She should be home from school.”
A thin girl with curly dark hair approaches us as soon as we walk into the house. At first glance I thought she was maybe thirteen or fourteen, but as she gets closer, it’s obvious she’s much older.
“How is he?” she asks Sam in a shaky voice.
It’s the voice that I recognize. Holy crap—this is Maggie? She barely resembles the pretty girl I saw only briefly one day at Monroe Street. The dark circles under her red eyes make her look almost ghoulish. Jack said she was having a hard time transitioning here. Understatement of the year.
She only addresses Sam, not even looking at me, reminding me of the cold treatment Jen gave me when I moved into the Monroe Street home. Another ex-girlfriend with issues.
“Oh, you know,” Sam says, shrugging. “Broken ribs, concussion. An inch from death. The guy’s lucky he didn’t bite it.”
Maggie gasps at that and runs up the stairs, sobbing.
“Jeez, I was just kidding,” Sam mutters. “Come on, let’s go find Jen.”
Jen doesn’t answer her door when Sam knocks.
“Maybe she’s not here,” I whisper.
Sam raps on the door again. “Come on, Jen, we know you’re in there. We’re not here to blame you for anything.”
The door opens then to an angry Jen, her nostrils flaring as she looks at Sam. As with Maggie, she doesn’t even look at me. “Blame me? And what exactly would you blame me for? Z’s accident?”
“Should I?”
I almost elbow Sam hard at that. She’d be terrible in a hostage situation.
“Nobody thinks you’re responsible for his accident,” I tell Jen, but she turns her scowl to me.
“Nobody? Are you considering yourself somebody as it pertains to us? Because let me fill you in on something—you aren’t. You may be the one he’s—”
“Okay, stop right there,” Sam says, holding up a hand. “Are you screwing around with Liv by sending her shit? And do you have anything to do with what’s been going on around here?”
I have to admit, I admire Sam’s frankness. She says it in such a way that allows for no BS-ing. Jen seems kind of shocked, actually.
“No, I’m not. Just because I can’t stand the guy doesn’t mean I’m trying to kill him. And I’m definitely not bothering with you,” she says to me, her nose wrinkling as if I rolled in eau de skunk.
“Then where are you going every day?” Sam asks.
“None of your damn business. That’s where.” Jen folds her arms and nods at me. “Why would you look here for someone who’s stalking you? You lived with us for all of two seconds, and you didn’t impress anyone long enough for us to give a shit about you.”
“Come on,” I tell Sam, tugging at her elbow. “Obviously she’s not going to say anything.” I pull her down the hallway, stopping to look at all the doors. “Um, I don’t know which one’s your room.”
“Right here,” she says, pointing to the room I’m in front of. She pulls the door closed behind us. “I don’t think we should’ve let her off that easily.”
“We’re not. But she’s not going to tell us anything from us just asking. Can’t you remote into her computer?”
“Nope. She locked it down fast. Z tried.” She tilts her head. “You said Z was following her when he got run off the road?”
I nod. “So we wait until she leaves and then follow her.”
“Exactly.”
I pull the door open again and sit in the desk chair to keep an eye on the hallway for when Jen leaves. Sam’s room reminds me of Jack’s—utilitarian for a bedroom. There are no posters of hot guys or pink flowered wallpaper like in Emerson’s bedroom. Just a plain black and white comforter on the double bed and a large Ansel Adams of mountains and a lake on the wall. I’m surprised—I would’ve thought she’d have some funky art print or cool design everywhere.
“Yeah, my room’s pretty boring, isn’t it?” Sam asks as I look around.
“Not boring, just—black and white.”
She shrugs. “I was hoping we’d move back to Monroe Street. You know, like if I made it look too awesome or got too comfortable, we’d end up staying.”
I can understand it. This house is big—really big, by most people’s standards—but it’s not the fairy-tale castle of Monroe Street. “Do you think you’ll go back?”
“I doubt it.” Her face droops as she looks around the small room. “At least I have my own room. Nancy let Z and I have our own. Micah and Cameron do, too. But they’re small like this one.” She sighs loudly. “Really, it shouldn’t matter. I turn eighteen in a couple months and will be ready to move out anyway.”
“What are you going to do when you graduate?” I ask.
She looks at me for a long moment. Then she reaches over to open her desk drawer, pulling out an envelope and handing it to me. The return address in the corner has a James Madison University seal. “College?” I shouldn’t be surprised. Sam is ridiculously smart. It’s just that she’s always looked down on the “regular” academic path, so I guess I thought she’d want to continue hacking when she graduated.
“It’s stupid, I know, but Cameron talked me into it.”
“Cameron?” I say teasingly, grinning.
She groans as her head falls into her hands. “Oh my God. I know.”
“Sam, I think it’s the best thing in the world.”
She peeks through her fingers. “Really?”
“Definitely. You’re ridiculously smart. You’re going to be amazing in college.”
“Thanks.” She lies back on her bed and throws an arm over her eyes. “Sometimes I think I’m just the biggest idiot. I’m going to major in business. Business. After I spent the last few years hacking into them.”
I laugh. “Makes sense, in a way.”
“I guess. But they have this study abroad opportunity there, too. It might be cool.” She gets up on her elbows and winks at me. “I always have my fallback career if this doesn’t work out.”
I ignore that. �
��Is Cameron going there, too?”
“Nope. He’s going to UVA. We can still hang out on the weekends, but I figured I needed to be in a place where no one from here is going. Fresh start kind of thing.”
“What’s he think of that?” Sam shrugs and doesn’t answer, but I know. Cameron is so into her that it probably kills him that she’s going to a different college. Knowing Sam and her need for independence, though, I’m not surprised at all.
“So what about you?” she asks. “With Daddy Warbucks paying your way, I’m guessing Harvard?”
“Princeton.”
She whistles through her teeth, cocking her head at me. “You know, I’m really glad things worked out for you. You never belonged in this life. Or even the foster kid kind of life.”
The way she says that makes me wonder if she thinks she belonged in the foster care life. “Neither did you, Sam. Nobody deserves that.”
“I used to wonder all the time what I’d do if my life were different. Like how I’d end up if I wasn’t here.” She rolls her eyes. “Probably be some dorky cheerleader with a football player boyfriend, like Cameron, if someone had given two shits about him at home.”
I laugh. It’s hard to picture Sam in a uniform of any kind, much less cheering happily with a squad.
She jumps to her feet as we hear a door slam down the hall. We look out her window and soon see Jen walking toward the cars. “Let’s go!”
A couple minutes later, Sam and I are following Jen’s old truck as it pulls out of the driveway. Hopefully, she won’t recognize us since we’re in Emerson’s car.
“Z said he turned on a couple roads before he got hit,” Sam says after about five minutes. “See? There’s the first.”
I make the right turn and stay back as far as I can without losing her. There’s less traffic on this road, but that doesn’t prevent me from looking in my mirrors every five seconds. The road curves a lot, but then I notice the blue truck turning right again.
“Where the hell is she going?” Sam murmurs as we slow down to watch her pull into a high school entrance.
“Does she go to this school?” I ask Sam.
“Nope. Look—school’s letting out. Pull in.”
I turn into the school driveway and wave cheerfully at the security guard. “We’re new students. Going to register.”
He waves us toward the front of the building as I keep an eye on Jen’s truck. We park in the visitors’ lot on the other side of the drive from Jen. A stream of kids heads down the stairs and veers off in various directions. We watch as the number dwindles. Jen gets out of her truck and leans against it, her foot kicked back casually like she’s waiting for someone.
“Maybe she’s dating one of the boys here,” Sam says. “I don’t know why that’s a secret, though. I’m sure everyone in the house would be thrilled that she’s finally— Oh! Holy hell.” Sam starts giggling as we watch a man with light brown hair in a tie approach her, setting down his briefcase to wrap his arms around her. The intense way he kisses her, not to mention the fact that his hands curve along her hips, tells me they’ve probably been at it for a while.
“Well, you go, Jen,” Sam says, still laughing. “Hey, where are you going?”
I slam the car door behind me and lean down to look through her window. “Getting this sorted out. I think we need to know if this is all Jen has on her agenda, or if I should still be looking for knives on my balcony.”
Sam is quick to follow. Jen’s face freezes when she sees us headed her way. She says something to the man, who turns around to look at us. Older guy for sure. He looks like he’s well into his forties.
Jen walks toward us. “What are you two doing here?” she asks, her words coming out more like a hiss.
“Well, well,” Sam drawls. “Seems like now I know why Miss Unsocial is sneaking out all the time. Wonder what Nancy would think of your new, um, boyfriend? Or should I call him Sugar Daddy?”
“Shut up,” she says, scowling, but I can see the worry in her eyes.
“So he’s doing a little extracurricular teaching?”
“He’s not that much older.”
“Not at all. And I’m sure those are laugh lines next to his eyes, right?”
“I’m almost eighteen,” she says weakly.
“But not quite,” Sam adds.
Jen’s face is drawn in anguish as she glances back at the worried-looking teacher. Interesting choice she made—the guy actually looks like Jack might a couple decades from now, though with brown hair.
“Listen, he thinks I’m older. You won’t say anything, right?” she asks Sam.
Sam smiles brightly. “Of course not. But I need to know something, and if you bullshit me, I will ruin you both. Got it? Good. Now, have you sent anything to Liv? Flowers, cards, gifts of any kind? Or visited there yourself?”
Her eyebrows pinch. “Are you kidding me? Why would I send her anything?” She wrinkles her nose at me in disgust. “And I didn’t have anything to do with what’s going on in the house. I know that’s your next question.”
“Do you know who did?”
Jen glares at me but I lift a hand. “Don’t even bother saying Z. It’s not him.”
She glances around nervously. “Look, I don’t know who did it, and I really don’t care anymore. Just don’t tell Nancy about this, okay?”
“Let me see your laptop,” Sam says. Jen argues, but finally goes back to her truck to get it. Jen stands over Sam’s shoulder, watching carefully as Sam checks the computer’s logs.
“Nothing here,” she finally says, and her voice is almost disappointed. Me, too, honestly. I thought for sure it was Jen.
“Now get off my back,” Jen says, taking the laptop back.
“You’ll lay off Z from now on, right?” Sam asks.
I want to hug Sam for having Jack’s back like that. Jen doesn’t answer right away. The man calls to her. “So this guy doesn’t know you’re a minor, huh?” Sam asks casually. She takes a step toward him.
“Fine,” Jen says hastily. “I’ll leave Z alone. I promise.”
“Good.” Sam cocks her head curiously. “Are you going to tell Nancy about this at some point? You know, you kind of suck for making her worry about you always being gone.”
“I will…eventually.” Jen blushes, a first that I’ve seen. “Evan asked me to move in with him over the summer.”
“Well, more power to you. I’m glad you’re finally happy.”
Jen nods and walks away toward the teacher, who takes her in his arms and hugs her, whispering in her ear and making her laugh. Probably something comforting, like Jack would do for me. Sam’s right. If Jen’s finally figured out how to be happy, maybe she can be less of a bitch to the others, especially Jack.
As if she read my mind, Jen turns around, still clasped in the guy’s arms, and looks at me. Her face isn’t as full of anger as it was before. “I stand by what I said,” she calls out to me. “The business is the only thing Z cares about. He’s incapable of anything else.”
I deliberately turn my back on her. “Do you believe her about not being involved?” I ask Sam when we get to the car.
She shrugs. “Well, there was nothing on her laptop, so yeah. I hope she does something other than sit around the house being Evan’s little woman.” Sam feigns gagging on her finger.
“Agreed.” I start the car. “But now we’re back at the beginning.” I glance down at my buzzing phone and open up a text from my grandfather.
The PI traced the phone to a Frank Jones in Richmond and is headed there. I’ll pick you up from school at 3.
“Sam, Frank’s last name is Jones, right?”
“Yep.” She takes my phone to read the text. “Well. So that’s that.” She hands the phone back to me. “No surprise, though. We figured it was him. You know they won’t be able to do anything to him. Not for a while, at least. It takes forever to open a case.”
I nod slowly, my eyes still on the text. “I don’t get it, though. Why would Frank Jone
s use his own phone to text me when it’d be so easily traced?”
Sam shrugs. “Why do some people try hacking into banks from their own server? Because they’re idiots.”
“I guess.” It still doesn’t sound right, though. I don’t know how smart the guy is, but anyone who worked with Bill Sykes in any capacity had to at least know the most basic rule—conceal your identity.
“Are you heading back to Richmond, then?” Sam asks.
“I don’t think so,” I tell her. I text my grandfather my plans to stay after school and catch a ride with Emerson. “We still have to track down the girl he was working with.”
“I still don’t completely believe that it’s not Jen,” Sam says.
“What about Maggie?” I ask. “I notice she didn’t look at me at all when we were at the house earlier.”
“Maggie?” Sam snorts. “Maggie’s afraid of her own shadow.”
“Would she steal money from the house?”
Sam shakes her head. “She wasn’t good at hacking when she first came to Monroe Street. I’m sure she sucks even more now that she hasn’t done it for a while.”
One person I haven’t considered is Sam herself. She wanted Jack to break up with me, thought he wasn’t serious enough with me around. But then, there’d be no reason at all for her to try to stalk me. I’d point the finger at someone from my past if it weren’t for the fact that whoever it is was stealing from the Briarcreek family.
Something about the Frank thing still bugs me. I purse my lips. “Sam, what would anyone get out of sending me hacked-up roses and texting me creepy pictures?”
She shrugs. “Make you panic. Could be money. Like maybe he’s toying with you so he can freak you out, then kidnap you to get a ransom from it. Your grandfather would take him seriously at that point, I think.”
“But he would’ve had plenty of time to kidnap me before my grandfather hired a private investigator. And why would they go after Z, too?” I shake my head. “Whoever did this has something against us both.”
“Well, Frank would make sense, since you guys killed his employer.”
Her words send a chill down my back. “True, and that’s what I thought before. But again, does it make sense for him to text me from his own phone? And who would he be working with? It’s two people we should be looking for. Him and a blond woman.”