“I know.” Frankie’s voice cracked. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
My thoughts were whirling. “We have to find out what happened. What really happened.”
“How do we do that? The police—”
“Don’t always get the whole story,” I interrupted. “So we better make sure we do.”
Chapter Ten
ANGEL SINCLAIR
It had been a long time since I wanted to go to school, but the next morning I couldn’t wait to get out of bed and get dressed. The swelling on my forehead had gone down and I was left with a little bump and a purple bruise. Thankfully, I had no headache and no significant aches or pains. To keep things that way, I planned to pop a couple of ibuprofen with breakfast.
Last night after telling Gwen and my mom all I knew about Mr. Matthews’s accident, I’d pretended to be tired and gone to bed early. I wanted time alone to do some hacking, starting with a search of the DC police department. Unfortunately, the police had yet to file an official report—at least not an electronic one. There was a brief mention of a traffic accident involving a female pedestrian, but there were no further details. Since I had the address of the accident, it didn’t take me long to figure out where the closest hospital was located.
Unfortunately, the hospital had a decent IT team, because it took me a lot longer to hack. Once in, I discovered Mr. Matthews was in intensive care being treated for multiple injuries, including internal ones. That was about all I could understand. The rest was all medical jargon that was beyond my understanding.
Gwen had already left for work by the time I got up. Mom was dressed and in the kitchen making french toast. Her white pharmacist’s coat lay over the back of her chair. When she saw me, she gave me a kiss on the cheek and brushed the hair off my forehead, checking my bump.
“It looks better. How do you feel?”
“Great.” I sat down at the table and picked up the glass of orange juice, guzzling it.
“You can stay home today if you want.” She walked to the stove and brought over some french toast, sliding it onto my plate with a spatula. “You could use another day of rest.”
“No, I’m good.” I picked up the syrup and squeezed some on the toast. “Ready to go to school.”
My mom sat down across from me. “Angel, I know you’re worried about Mr. Matthews. But he’s a fighter. I’m sure he’ll pull through. I have friends who work at the hospital where he’s being treated. I’ll ask around about his condition.”
I downed a glass of juice and stabbed at my french toast. I’d lost my appetite. I planned on gathering as much information as I could about the accident, but if my mom wanted to check her sources, too, I wouldn’t turn away information.
“You like Mr. Matthews, don’t you, Mom?”
She reached over to grab my empty glass. “Of course I like him.”
“I mean as more than a friend.”
Mom froze. “Excuse me?”
I could have changed the subject, mumbled something different, but I didn’t. I put my elbows on the table and forged ahead. “I can tell when you talk to him. You play with your hair and your cheeks get pink. You like him.”
As if to confirm my suspicions, she blushed and set my glass carefully on the table. “What do you expect me to say, Angel? That Mr. Matthews is an attractive man? He is. Do we have similar interests? We do. Yes, I’ve noticed sometimes he looks at me little longer than normal. I’ll be honest—I don’t mind. Despite being your mother, I’m also a woman. Sometimes I get lonely. But I’m a married woman, and my heart remains with your father. I assure you my concern for Mr. Matthews is purely platonic.”
“Dad is gone, Mom.” My throat felt tight. “Why don’t you just go for it?”
She stiffened. “Your father is not dead. He’s missing.”
“For fourteen years! If he’s not dead, he might as well be. He’s dead to us—to you. What are you doing?”
I shouldn’t have raised my voice. My mom didn’t deserve that, but I couldn’t help myself.
Mom didn’t respond angrily. Instead, she reached over and touched my forearm. “I feel your frustration. I know it’s not easy growing up without your father. I understand that in the short time he’s been at the school, Mr. Matthews has helped you in ways your father might have done had he been around. Now he’s hurt. It’s painful for you to realize that he, too, might disappear from your life.”
“Mom!” My face heated. “This isn’t about me.”
“Isn’t it?” She pushed the hair off her forehead, her eyes sad. “Angel, you need to know your father isn’t dead to me. He won’t ever be dead to me. Okay? And Mr. Matthews’s accident…it’s all going to work itself out. You can’t worry yourself sick over it.”
I closed my eyes, not knowing how to respond. Not sure if I should. Finally, I spoke. “Mom, I’m sorry I said that about Dad.”
“It’s okay, honey. It’s been a stressful start to the school year for you.” She leaned over and kissed me on the top of my head. “Finish your toast and I’ll drop you off at the bus stop.”
We didn’t say anything else about Dad or Mr. Matthews on the way. Unfortunately, the kids on the bus were as noisy and obnoxious as ever, which didn’t help my mood. Usually I tuned it out, but I was having a hard time doing that today.
I swarmed into school with everyone else, but instead of going to my locker, I went straight to the office. Ms. Eder wasn’t at her desk, so I walked down the corridor, past Mr. Matthews’s dark office and stopped at the headmistress’s door. I raised my hand and knocked.
After a moment, Ms. Eder opened the door. “Angel? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Could I have a moment to speak with Ms. Swanson?”
Ms. Eder looked over her shoulder at the headmistress, who sat behind her desk. Ms. Swanson waved her hand. “Sure, Angel. Come on in and sit down. We’ll talk later, Marge.”
“Of course.” The secretary shut the door behind her when she left.
The headmistress regarded me as I sat and tried not to fidget in the chair. She was pretty, with golden-blond hair that reached to her shoulders and curled a bit on the ends. In my opinion, she was kind of young to be a headmistress—barely thirty, by my best guess. Of course, I’d heard that her grandfather owned the school, which certainly would have aided her in the job department. Still, I don’t think she needed the help. The diploma hanging on the wall indicated that she had a PhD in education. Nepotism aside, she was well qualified. Personally, I liked her. She was a no-nonsense kind of person and, more importantly, fair.
I leaned forward in my chair. “I heard about Mr. Matthews’s accident. Do you know what happened?”
“I’m going to make an announcement today, Angel.”
“I figured you would. But he’s okay, right?”
“He’s stable for the moment. I was there when he pulled through the surgery last night. He isn’t awake yet. I spoke with the medical staff on the phone not ten minutes ago.”
“But he might get worse?”
“I recommend you defer any questions until after morning announcements. I’ll let the students and staff know what I know.”
“The police think the accident is his fault,” I blurted out.
Surprise played across her face. “How do you know that?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“Let me guess. The new girl, Frances Chang?”
I didn’t answer, instead pressing my point. “He didn’t hurt that woman on purpose. You know that.”
A pained expressed crossed her face. She threaded her fingers in front of her, placing them on the desk, probably trying to figure out how much to tell me. “Why do you say that?”
“Because he’s always helping people.”
Her eyes softened. “I know, Angel. But sometimes people have secrets.”
I thought about his foot and how nothing had happened when the heavy bleacher wheel rolled on top of it. Then I thought of the man who had been in his office jus
t hours before the accident warning him he would take care of something. “Did he have problems?”
“I’m afraid that’s none of your concern. It’s not up to us to figure out what happened. That’s the responsibility of the authorities. There are witnesses who saw what happened, professionals who will conduct an accident reconstruction, and mechanics who will examine the car. We will certainly support him in every way we can. But ultimately he has to be responsible for his actions.”
It seemed unfair to me that she was not taking Mr. Matthews’s side. “If he’s guilty, he could lose his job,” I protested. “He could go to jail.”
The headmistress was silent as she rose. She came around the desk and perched on the side, crossing her arms against her chest. “This concludes our discussion. I’m sorry, there’s nothing else I can tell you.”
I swallowed my frustration as I picked up my backpack, slinging it over my shoulder. “I understand. But so we’re clear, I think he’s innocent, and I’m going to prove it.”
Chapter Eleven
ANGEL SINCLAIR
Frankie was waiting for me by my locker. What the heck? Was she stalking me?
Today her hair was in a long braid tied with green and white ribbons—school colors. Her white uniform polo shirt was only half tucked into her skirt. Her knee socks were uneven. She looked like she’d just rolled out of bed, but somehow, she pulled it off.
“How did you know this was my locker?” I spun the combination dial and jerked it open before setting my backpack between my legs and pulling out some books. Crankiness swept through me, despite my effort to squash it.
“I asked Wally. We’re friends now.”
“You are?”
“We are. I hadn’t even been at school for an hour before he signed me up for the homecoming dance committee.”
“Wally is on the homecoming dance committee?”
Frankie nodded. “He said he signed up via the student council to chair the committee in hopes of meeting girls. The problem is that no one else joined, including girls, and now he’s stuck doing it alone. Until I said I’d help him out.”
“Wow. That was really…nice of you.” I was going to say foolish, but stopped myself in the nick of time.
“Good morning, ladies. Are you talking about me again?” Wally sauntered up, carrying too many books in the crook of his arm while adjusting his glasses with his other hand. “I distinctly heard my name. You can always come straight to the source for more information, you know. No need to speculate on what makes me tick. I’d be happy to tell you. The two—or three—of us alone, a bucket of popcorn, a dark room would totally work for me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Give it up, Wally.”
“Never.” He grinned before leaning over and lowering his voice. “Did you hear what happened to Mr. Matthews?”
“Yeah. Frankie was in her office when the police called Headmistress Swanson.”
“The police are saying it’s his fault.” He lowered his voice, speaking in a hushed whisper. “He supposedly pressed on the gas as he approached the stoplight and mowed down a woman. I guess as fast as he was going, it’s a miracle she’s still alive.”
“He didn’t do it,” I protested. “It’s not true.”
To my relief, Wally agreed. “Of course it’s not true.” He shifted his books to his other hand. “This is Mr. Matthews we’re talking about. I’m saying that’s what the witnesses are reporting.”
“How do you know what the witnesses are reporting?”
“I may or may not have seen the police report, if you know what I mean.” He grinned, proud of himself.
“Wait. It’s been filed? It wasn’t in there last night.”
Wally stared at me suspiciously. “How do you know it wasn’t filed last night?”
“I may or may not have taken my own look.” Now it was my turn to grin.
“Whoa.” Frankie held up a hand. “Time out. You both hacked into the police department?”
Tensing, I squeezed Frankie’s shoulder. “Sure, go ahead and announce it to the entire world, why don’t you? Keep it down.”
“Is nothing sacred anymore?” She narrowed her eyes at us.
“Sacred, yes. Private, no.” I shrugged and turned back to Wally. “What else did the report say?”
“Based on an absence of a criminal record for Mr. Matthews, they are focusing on a problem with the car. But it isn’t looking good for him.”
“Why not?”
“The car has no history of malfunction with either the gas or braking system. Before you ask, yes, I checked that out myself. The police report says he’s had the car for four years. Of course, it could be a problem it recently developed. The police ordered a toxicology report to rule out drinking and drugs.”
I personally couldn’t imagine Mr. Matthews drinking or taking drugs. He’d seemed perfectly normal when my mom and I had talked to him after school. No dilated pupils or slurred speech. Nothing was adding up. I needed to look at that police report myself, but unfortunately, I had to go to math class.
I slammed my locker shut, then paused to take a closer look at Wally. I’d been working with him at X-Corp after school and during the summer weeks. He had excellent hacking skills and he’d been nice to me when I came onboard with the internship. Now he seemed genuinely interested in helping Mr. Matthews. As much as I didn’t like asking for help, it might be useful to have Wally available to lend a hacking hand, as well as a set of wheels.
I forced myself to ask. “Hey, Wally, are you in for helping Mr. Matthews?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?” He studied me for a moment. He was probably wondering what I had in mind, considering what I might say.
No sense in beating around the bush. “I have a plan.”
“What kind of plan?”
“I may have some, um, investigation requests for you…if you get my drift.”
Oh, he got it, all right. I was familiar with the gleam in his eyes, the one hackers got when offered a potential challenge.
“May I say that hearing those words from your lips excites me in ways I cannot express in public?”
“Focus, Wally.” I tried not to smile.
He laughed. “Your request is my command, geek girl.” He bowed with an exaggerated arm flourish. “What do you need?”
“You’ve got a car, right?”
“Right.”
“Will you take me to see Mr. Matthews at the hospital after school today? It’s not easily accessible by either bus or metro, and I want to get home in time to have a better look at that police report on my own.”
“Wait. I’m supposed to help by serving as your chauffeur?”
“For now.”
“I thought you wanted me for my mad hacking skills and stellar good looks.”
“Um…mad hacking skills, yes. But first I need a ride, and you have a car.”
He crossed his arms against his chest and tapped a finger on his chin. “Okay, chauffeur duties are accepted, but in return for a favor.”
“Favor?”
“Yes. Join my homecoming dance committee.”
“Are you out of your mind? I don’t do dances or committees. Find someone else.”
“Come on, Angel,” Frankie cut in. “I’m going to put my artist skills to work on posters, name tags, and decorations. It’ll be fun.”
“Fun? You said the same thing about the softball game, and look what happened.”
Wally crossed his arms against his chest. “Sorry, but my offer is nonnegotiable. After you join my committee, we will have three members, including me. Obviously, I need your help. Lucky for me, you need mine. Seems like a match made in heaven.”
“Come on, Wally,” I said. “Can’t it be anything else?”
“Nope. That’s the price for a round-trip visit to the hospital and my assistance on the keyboard as required. Might I add, I truly look forward to joining minds?”
I blew out a frustrated breath. “Fine. I’ll join your committee. But I have condi
tions. No dancing. No speeches. No excessive talking to people. What else can I do for the committee that doesn’t involve any of that?”
His smile widened. “I’ll find something that will suit your skills perfectly. No worries.” He held out a hand, and I shook it. “Despite the tragedy that has brought us together, this is turning into good day. I got two new committee members and I’m going to have a girl in my car.”
“Make that two girls,” Frankie said. “I want to help Mr. Matthews, too.”
Annoyance swept through me. I didn’t need any more people involved in this situation. Two people were already one too many. “Whoa. No, Frankie. This isn’t a party.”
Frankie frowned. “I’m not signing up for a party, although that would be fun. I’m not stupid, Angel. I get that this is important.”
“I didn’t say you were stupid.” My face heated. I was handling this all wrong. “I just don’t need any more help.”
She pressed her lips together and turned away. I’d hurt her feelings. Ugh. Why was talking to people so hard for me?
Wally slung an arm around Frankie’s shoulder, his voice light. “My car, so my vote is Frankie’s on the team.”
Exasperated, I looked at him. “Really?”
“Really.”
I studied his face. He wasn’t backing down, and I needed his help.
“Okay.” I sighed. “Frankie’s on the team.”
A smile crossed Frankie’s face. “Yay!” She gave Wally a high five.
“So, what’s the plan of action, oh fearless leader?” Wally asked.
“Ugh. Don’t call me that. I’m hoping that if Mr. Matthews can talk to us, he’ll give us some insight as to what happened so we can help him clear his name.”
“What if he’s still unconscious?” Frankie asked.
“We have to risk it. It’s important to try.”
Wally studied me for a moment and then shrugged. “Okay.” He slapped me on the shoulder as the bell rang. “Meet both of you in the parking lot after school. See you later.”
White Knights Page 6