Chicken Girls

by Brat

  “Well, hello again, Rhyme,” he said, spitting out her name like a curse word. “Where are you off to in such a rush?” Rhyme found her throat sticking, unable to form words, and she just sputtered until Matilda picked up the slack. From Rhyme’s reaction, and the yellow papers that now littered the ground, she had put two and two together.

  “Preparations for the Attaway County Fair next week!” Matilda said brightly. “You should come! What’s this?” She picked up a flyer and feigned ignorance. “Oh no! Are these your kids?”

  “Soon to be,” Fiske said with a sneer, adding under his breath: “And then soon after to be not.” Rhyme glared at him, wishing she had laser vision and could burn one million holes into his shiny suit and greasy face. “You haven’t seen my niece and nephew now, have you?” Matilda said no, and Uncle Fiske’s lips curled into a smirk, his eyes narrowing to slits. “That’s a shame,” he said, looking directly at Rhyme. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” The way he said this made Rhyme feel certain the “anyone” didn’t refer to the twins. He was threatening Rhyme and Matilda, who wished him luck before saying they had to leave. Fiske tidied the fallen papers in his hands and handed one to Matilda. “My number’s at the bottom, if you find anything.” They were already leaving when he added:

  “Like Vinny.”

  Rhyme’s eyes grew wide and she couldn’t help herself from taking the bait and looking back, effectively confirming her involvement with the twins. Fiske knew about Vinny? How? Were there more letters? Matilda grabbed her arm and they hurried off, Rhyme’s mind racing. What did this mean? On the one hand, it meant Fiske was closer on their tail than they’d thought. On the other hand, his asking about it, and his trying so hard to track them down, meant there was truth in the story. They weren’t chasing white rabbits, they were onto something real. Something that had Fiske nervous.

  Rhyme and Matilda took a circuitous route back to her house, ducking into various storefronts and through lawns to make sure Fiske wasn’t tracking them. Finally, they reached Matilda’s block, where it was clear Fiske had already been. They could see yellow papers on windshields, and several people by their mailboxes looking at them curiously. Matilda and Rhyme looked at each other and ran inside.

  “Meg? Conrad?” they shouted, panicking when they didn’t immediately respond. Then, Conrad bolted down the stairs, where Rhyme pulled out the worn flyer and held it outstretched. Conrad took one look at it and the color drained from his face.

  “That’s not all,” Rhyme said. “We ran into Fiske. He asked us about Vinny.” Conrad sat down, and Rhyme was worried he might pass out. “It’s okay, though. Maybe even good news, considering …” He looked at her helplessly. “It confirms we’re on the right path. We’re not just chasing a ghost.”

  “Also,” Matilda said. “It explains what he meant by something ‘very valuable,’ right? He also thinks—or knows—this could mess up his chance at getting Betty’s estate. Which means your shot in the dark might just hit its mark, right?” They stopped, finally, and watched Conrad process the news. He still looked piqued, as if the good news was no news at all.

  “That’s great, I guess,” he said. “But there’s another problem.” He looked up, his eyes wide with worry. “Meg’s gone.”

  CHAPTER 23

  “Gone?” Rhyme said in horror. “Gone where? Her face is plastered over half the town!” Conrad held up his hands and looked at his shoes. “What happened?” Rhyme demanded. She looked to Matilda, who nudged her head in Conrad’s direction.

  “I got on her case about yesterday,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn’t look at Rhyme. “Her getting mad at you and all. But then I let it slip about the secret closet and the trunk of junk … that’s when she really got mad.” Rhyme groaned. She remembered how excited she’d been to share a secret with Conrad at the time.

  “It was right when she found the Purple Heart!” he said to Matilda, as if she were a judge who needed convincing. “And nothing important came out of it—just the idea to check yearbooks. But she wasn’t having it….”

  Rhyme knew without saying that it wasn’t about the items themselves. It was that she felt betrayed by the one person who knew her better than anyone. That she wasn’t the person he’d turned to with something that important. Rhyme had often felt that about T. K. Maybe it was just something with boys.

  “Anyway,” Conrad continued, “she locked herself in Matilda’s sister’s room and I haven’t seen her since. I only realized she was missing about an hour ago.”

  “It had to have been this morning after I left,” Matilda said. “I locked the house last night and made sure every door was locked again when I left this morning. I didn’t give her a key, so she would’ve had to have left a door unlocked so she could get back in.” As if all having the same thought at the same time, they went to the back door. It was unlocked.

  Conrad started to put his shoes on, but Rhyme stopped him. “You can’t go out there. It’s too dangerous,” she said. “We’ll go.” Both girls sprinted out the door before Conrad could say another word. They jumped into Matilda’s car and started driving. First stop: Mrs. Simpson’s, aka Grandma Betty’s house.

  “Rhyme!” Mrs. Simpson said bemusedly when she saw the girls enter the house. “What can I do for you?” She was standing in the entryway and wearing a crisp polo shirt and visor, clearly about to go out for golf. Still catching her breath, Rhyme said, “I just … The flyers, and all—”

  “Oh, yes, I spoke to Fiske again today. Such a sweet man, I know he didn’t want to have to call the police. I do hope he finds his niece and nephew.” So, that meant Meg wasn’t hiding out here.

  “Alright, dearie …” Mrs. Simpson looked at Rhyme with confusion. “Well, I’m running late for nine holes at the Sunset Club,” her neighbor said. “Ta-ta!”

  The girls next stop was the pull off on Windchime Street, a secluded dirt road where they’d stashed the twins’ large and conspicuous station wagon. Meg had the keys and might have gone to the car. She wouldn’t have just left Conrad, would she? But when they got to the hiding place, she saw that Meg had not taken the car anywhere. Because there it was. Empty. Rhyme got out to get a closer look before she realized it was already being looked in on by two police officers. They noticed Rhyme before she had a chance to run away, so she acted casual and walked right up to them.

  “What’s going on?” she said sweetly, putting those innocent brown eyes to work.

  “You don’t know anything about this, do you?” one of the policemen said. Rhyme shook her head and listened to them explain that a couple runaway kids—twins—had been reported, and this was their car. Someone in the neighborhood had called it in, but there was no sign of the missing teens. Rhyme shook her head again, as if to say that was a shame, though she relaxed with the knowledge that Meg had not been found. Rhyme wished them luck with their search and walked away, briskly but not so fast as to arouse suspicion. Rhyme put her head down and broke into a sprint as soon as she was out of eye- and earshot.

  She took a moment in the fresh air before getting back into Matilda’s car. Even in the bright, open outdoors, Rhyme felt like the walls were closing in on her. Where had Meg gone? No matter what, she wouldn’t have abandoned her brother—right? So, maybe they could just wait until Meg came back, Rhyme supposed. But what if someone picked her up on the way home? Rhyme had to find her, fast. There was the diner, the library, her house. Where else had the twins gone? What places did Meg even know in Attaway?

  Meg was so determined to find Vinny. Maybe the most determined. It was part of why Conrad hadn’t wanted to show her the secret room right away. So it made no sense that Meg would’ve run away. No, Meg must have had a destination in mind, something to do with the investigation. Just because her feelings were hurt didn’t mean she would have thrown in the towel. But where was there to go? They’d reached the end of the line. The literal dead end.

  It was then that Rhyme realized where Meg had gone. She was sure of it.


  CHAPTER 24

  Half an hour later, Matilda parked her car while Rhyme scoured the Millwood Cemetery, a grassy hill freckled with tombstones. If creepy, it was also hauntingly beautiful. And old. One of the ashy grey markers dated all the way back to 1810. Large magnolia and sycamore trees, nearly fossilized, shaded much of the rolling hills. Different styles of headstone and sarcophagus littered the ground irregularly, and a cracked mausoleum stood at the center of it all.

  Rhyme searched for a good five minutes. She was about to give up when she heard a stirring, like a bird on a tree limb. Behind a copse of falling-down trees, a narrow headstone stood alone in the tall grass. Sitting against it was Meg. And across the way, on another tombstone, the letters read:

  “Vincent Patterson 1949–1972.”

  “Hey,” Meg said without looking up, as if she had been waiting for Rhyme the whole time. Meg’s eyes looked sad, any trace of anger drained from her voice. Rhyme sat down next to her, and neither one spoke for several moments.

  “So, sorry …” Meg finally said. She gave Rhyme a weak smile.

  “No, I am.” said Rhyme. “We should have told you about the room at Mrs. Simpson’s. And I should have looked more into Vincent. I got your hopes up, and—”

  Meg sighed heavily. “I don’t know what to think anymore. We only had hopes because of you—even if you also dashed them,” she added with a smirk. “I was just upset at the news, and I took it out on you. I do that sometimes.” She picked a dandelion from the ground and began mindlessly shredding it. “And I’m sorry about the insult about the test. We wouldn’t have gotten even half this far if it weren’t for your smarts.” That made Rhyme feel good, even if it did remind her of the looming test. “I’m just stressed out,” Meg finished, lying down in the grass in defeat.

  “We’re going to keep looking,” Rhyme said encouragingly. “This isn’t over.” But she didn’t feel so certain anymore, which is why she didn’t make any more promises about finding somebody who was buried six feet below them.

  “I was just so sure it was him,” Meg said, staring up at the clouds. “He did kind of look like Conrad.” Rhyme nodded. She knew she needed to get Meg out of plain sight, but she let her lay there a few moments longer.

  “I guess we should probably head back, huh?” Meg said, and Rhyme nodded again. “I saw the flyers.”

  “We’re probably safe in Millwood,” Rhyme said. “But just to be extra safe.” She stood up and wiped off her jeans, extending a hand to Meg to help her up.

  Rhyme looked around for Matilda, who was probably wondering where they were. But when she spotted her, not far off, she saw that Matilda wasn’t looking at them—or for them. She was staring at a fixed location, and Rhyme followed her sightline to a large ash tree, where a dark figure was shaded beneath it. A man. And he was looking at them.

  Rhyme gasped, tripping backward, before realizing the man wasn’t Fiske. But he was definitely looking at them. Rhyme nudged Meg, nodding toward the tree and man. When Meg looked over, she saw the whites of the man’s eyes as they widened. He began to retreat, falling into a shaft of sunlight. In that bright spot, they could see he was elderly, with coffee-colored skin, dark eyebrows, and a shock of white hair. And he clearly didn’t want to be seen by Meg, whose face was scrunched in confusion—and with a glimmer of hope.

  Vinny?

  But the man was several hundred meters away, and a few moments later he had disappeared in the back seat of a large black sedan. “There’s a million old people buried here,” Meg said, looking over to Rhyme for confirmation. “It could be anyone. Maybe I’m losing my mind.”

  “You’re not,” Rhyme said. “Or if you are, I am, too.”

  They turned to find Matilda, jangling her keys. Looking out on the vast, eerie cemetery, it was hard not to feel like all hope was lost. Vinny Paterson was dead and gone, and time was running out for the twins.

  CHAPTER 25

  The three girls drove in silence. The plan was to drop Meg with her brother, while Rhyme and Matilda stopped Mrs. Simpson’s to grab books for the Test Test. Try as they might to remain confident, all three girls were privately full of doubt. They seemed to be grasping at straws, chasing down cars and ghosts and old pins. Still, Rhyme kept going through every detail in her mind. The letters, the tree, the hidden closet, Vinny’s death … She still felt—or, at least, she hoped—that something was missing. That it wasn’t all for nothing.

  They crossed the town limits on the way back from Millwood.

  “ATTAWAY—POP. 39,674.” Thirty-nine thousand six hundred seventy-four people, Rhyme thought. Someone had to know about Betty and Vinny. Rhyme’s thoughts drifted to her and T. K. There’s no such thing as a secret in a small town. Still she wondered if, in sixty years, any of her friends would remember that she and T. K. had a thing, a crush, a relationship of any kind. If the Chicken Girls would be able to tell the story of how he’d surprised her after the Spring Fling, only to abandon her immediately after. If their texts were all that remained, “R. M. + T. K.” wouldn’t mean much to anybody. Then again, she wasn’t the saddest person in the car …

  In the back seat, Meg was clearly trying to hide the fact that she was crying. Her face was pressed to the window, but her sniffles were unmistakable.

  Rhyme turned in her seat. “Are you and Conrad going to be okay?” She didn’t know what else to say. She’d never seen Meg look less Meg. Confident, fierce, in control. But now her piercing green eyes were downturned and misty. Her delicate hands were fidgeting in her lap. She looked scared. Meg’s eyes shot up when Rhyme spoke, as if she had been sound asleep. She sat up in her seat, crossed her arms, and looked directly into Rhyme’s big brown eyes. Uh-oh, thought Rhyme. Here we go again.

  “Why do you care?” Meg asked coolly, pretending not to notice or care as a single tear fell down her face.

  Rhyme knew she shouldn’t have asked. She’d finally patched things up with Meg, only to set her off again. “I don’t know,” Rhyme tried to find the words. “My sister and I fight all the time, but I can’t imagine what I’d do if we might be separated. I mean, Harmony’s just in Hollywood, and I miss her like crazy … Not that it’s the same!” She was rambling. Rhyme took a deep breath, “I just know how much this all means to Conrad and how much he cares about you. Maybe if you just explain to him …” Meg lit up.

  “You think I don’t know how much this means to Conrad, Rhyme? He’s my brother. You don’t even know him. If you wanted a reason to flirt with Conrad you could’ve done it without simultaneously screwing up my life. Don’t you already have a boyfriend?”

  “It’s complicated. That’s not why …” Rhyme’s chin started to quiver. Don’t cry, don’t cry, she thought. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to help. Obviously you know your brother better than I do. I’m really sorry….”

  “You already said that,” Meg spat back. Now both girls were in tears.

  And just like that, they were at Matilda’s house. “Here,” Matilda said matter-of-factly, having been quiet until now. “This is your stop.”

  Meg got out and slammed the door, and Matilda zoomed off before either of them could apologize. “Sometimes friends have to give friends a time-out,” she told Rhyme. “And that girl needs a time-out more than Tim Sharpe needs a new haircut.” Both girls burst out laughing. “Besides,” said Matilda, “Meg is spiraling. You’re the one helping them. You should be studying for the Test Test. Without you they’d still be breaking into houses in Attaway searching for some guy they didn’t even know was dead. I know that she’s having a hard time, but still, you can’t just walk around treating people like that.”

  Rhyme did know. She almost reminded Matilda of how she used to behave in the library. Instead, she told Matilda about the time Tim Sharpe had tried to kiss her in the arcade—and she’d spit her soda directly in his face. The girls spent the rest of the drive to Rhyme’s house laughing and reminiscing about Attaway. “You know,” said Matilda, still chuckling, “someone should real
ly write a book about all this.”

  “Maybe it should be you,” laughed Rhyme, as they drew closer to her house.

  Matilda was the first one to see it. Smiling as they pulled up, she turned white as a ghost. Through the windshield, they watched as a purple car peeled out of Mrs. Simpson’s driveway—tires screeching something awful, as it sped down the street. An outstretched hand was pressed against the rear window, a pair of bright green eyes shining from behind. Rhyme heard herself scream, as she opened the door of Matilda’s still-moving car. They stopped, and Rhyme ran as fast as she could after Fiske’s car. But it was no use. The car was gone. Conrad was gone.

  Teary-eyed and out of breath, Rhyme turned around to see Mrs. Simpson running (more like waddling) out of her house yelling, “Rhyme! Rhyme, dear! Rhyme, come quick!” Mrs. Simpson was in a state of confusion. By the time she’d raced back to the house, Matilda had already taken out her reporter’s pad, and was jotting notes while Mrs. Simpson filled in the details.

  “ … and you know the first time he came around, that Fiske man was the picture of class! Such a gentleman. Hardly this time. No, not at all …”

  “But what happened?” Matilda and Rhyme asked at the same time.

  “Well, he pounded on the door and let himself in—if you can even imagine. I was still in my dressing gown! And he had this boy with him. A handsome young man. The greenest eyes you ever saw….”

  “His name is Conrad,” interrupted Rhyme. “What did they want, Mrs. Simpson?”

  “Well, how should I know? They barely said a word to me. I hollered after them, but they just pounded upstairs to my room …”

  Rhyme raced past them and into the house. She could hear Mrs. Simpson calling after her, but she didn’t care. When she got up to the bedroom, it was clear that Fiske had beaten her to it. The secret closet was opened, the trousseau ajar, contents strewn all over the floor. Rhyme took stock of the messy scene. Photos, report cards, recipes, silver dollars, it was all still there. Fiske had obviously gone through everything but taken nothing. Rhyme bit her bottom lip, trying not to cry again. She needed to focus. What was Fiske after? Where was Conrad now? What if he went back for Meg? They needed to find Meg before Fiske did.