“What are you trying to prove, Autumn?” Craig asked.
“That she and Donald were working together to fix the grant.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Meghan scoffed. “You have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”
“And you thought you might actually find evidence here?” Craig’s eyes narrowed as he studied me, as if he was surprised to discover that I’d put some thought into solving this mystery.
“Emails,” I said. “It’s possible.” I lifted my chin. Bay was right to keep me from spilling the whole plot to Meghan or Craig. We needed those photos of the emails on Donald’s computer, and there was no way Meghan would let me walk out of here a free woman knowing the extent of her crimes.
“She admits it, then,” Meghan said, a note of Dolores Umbridge-like triumph in her voice. “Let me call the cops. They’ll arrest her, and we’ll never have to deal with her crap again.”
Craig took a deep breath. “No.”
Meghan recoiled as if she had stepped on a snake. “Whose side are you on?” she snapped. “This woman threatened me. She vandalized my store, and now she broke into my office. Do you honestly expect me to just let her walk away?”
Craig caught her arm in one hand. He lowered his voice, glancing sideways at Allison and José, who were watching their argument like newcomers to a pro-wrestling match. “Listen,” he said, lowering his voice. “It’ll look really bad for you, too, if you have one of the other grant contenders arrested, even if she’s not in the race anymore. And you know Donald won’t want the publicity. Wouldn’t it be better to just let her go? You don’t need to stress yourself out about it because you’ve already won. She’s not in the race anymore.”
Gee, thanks Craig. Bay moved to stand beside me and gave me a quick one-armed squeeze.
Meghan continued to stare at him as if he had suggested she let me pee in her lemonade. “You think letting her keep acting like a complete maniac is in my best interest?”
“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it. If you’re actually worried, why don’t we call Jordan? She’s a cop; she can give Autumn a talking to.”
“I don’t need a ‘talking to,’” I said, peeved. “Look, I’m an adult. I can walk away from this.” I held up my hands, trying to look nonthreatening. “If you don’t call the cops, I swear, I’ll voluntarily stay away from this store until the day I die.” Or until they arrested Meghan and Donald for fraud, anyway—then I would come in and do a Snoopy dance on the ashes of her stupid, overpriced merchandise.
I could feel Bay side-eyeing me. She, at least, could tell when I was being insincere.
But Craig had never been good at reading my mood. He looked at Meghan. “See? It’ll be fine.”
Meghan made a moue of dislike. “Well, call her friend, anyway. I want someone to know what actually happened here. That way Autumn can’t pretend she was an innocent victim the whole time.” She glared at me over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes at Craig, too, her expression contorting into a full-on grimace when he let her go and turned back to face me, his hands held out to me like he was approaching a wild Pokémon.
“Will you let me do that, Autumn? Meghan’s right, she could call the cops. This is more than fair.”
I drop my arms to my side in exasperation. It wasn’t like I could complain, even though it felt like I was five years old and the kindergarten teacher was calling my mom on me. I had broken in, sort of, and I was definitely in the wrong. But if I could get away without an actual arrest record and with the photos we’d taken of the email Donald had sent, we might still be able to prove that Meghan was the criminal, not me. We clearly weren’t going to find anything here, so my promise to stay away wouldn’t hurt our amateur sleuthing, anyway.
“Fine. Whatever. I don’t know what you expect Jordan to do or say, but fine.”
I sent José, Olivia, and Bay home, seeing no need to subject them to whatever lecture Craig thought Jordan would give me. Craig, Meghan, and I stood around on the Chic selling floor, scaring away customers while we waited for Jordan. Meghan didn’t want me in her office. She leaned against the cash register, watching me, until I wandered toward the mall entrance at the back of the store.
Through the windows, I watched a woman in the gift shop peruse the same tacky wooden angels on display that Bay and I had lingered in front of before we made our move. I wished I could trade places with her.
Craig tried once to engage me in conversation, but I refused to participate, staring at my scruffy Converse sneakers until Meghan snapped at him to stop encouraging me.
When Jordan appeared in the doorway in full uniform, I stood stunned, unable to speak or move: rarely did she wear her uniform when I could see her, and she looked like a total badass. I wouldn’t cross her, not for a million dollars. She didn’t look happy to see me, though, and I thought, for the first time, that I was seeing Jordan the way a criminal might. She held a cup of coffee from the café downstairs, and her face was creased with exhaustion. She was fresh off a shift, I guessed, and pissed at being called here before going home.
“What the hell is going on?” she asked without preamble.
“She broke into my store,” Meghan snapped.
“What?” Jordan said, half-laughing.
I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t break in. The store was open. But Bay and I let ourselves into the office—”
“Breaking in if I ever heard of it—”
“—the door was unlocked—”
“—ought to be arrested—”
“Shut up, both of you,” Jordan said. She looked at Craig. “Why did you call me?”
He shrugged, looking as if he had begun to regret this plan. “Meghan wanted to call the cops, but I thought maybe it would be better to call you first, since—”
“Since I’m the only one who can control Autumn. Of course.”
“Hey—” I said, affronted.
Jordan held up her hand, shushing me. I fell silent, oddly ashamed. She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. When she reopened her eyes, she looked at Craig with a forced smile on her face. “Thanks,” she said. “You did the right thing.” She looked at Meghan, no longer smiling, and said, “Thank you for not calling the cops. I appreciate it, and so does Autumn.”
Craig beamed at Jordan, and Meghan’s lips parted like she wanted to say something. Craig took her arm, though. “The whole thing has gotten out of hand,” he said.
“I agree,” Jordan said. She opened the door into the mall and put a hand on my arm. “Come on, Autumn, let’s talk.”
I let her tow me out into the mall. The woman in the gift shop watched us with wide eyes, probably wondering if I was under arrest.
“Good luck,” Meghan called. “She’s a criminal mastermind now.”
I turned to snap a reply, but the door had shut behind us, and Meghan was already rounding on Craig. It looked like she was yelling at him.
“Do you think she’ll make Craig sleep on the couch?” I quipped.
“I have no idea.” Jordan didn’t laugh.
She led me back to Ten Again at full steam. I let us into the closed, locked store, my hand surprisingly steady for someone who was—technically—in the hands of the law. Jordan said nothing, sipping at her coffee in silence and exuding an air of star-destroying rage.
I probably deserved it. I still felt like a five-year-old, but it could have been so much worse. When she pushed me into my office, I bit my tongue and dropped into my chair to listen to my talking to like a good girl.
Jordan closed the door and leaned against it. But she didn’t shout. “Autumn, what the hell were you thinking?” she asked quietly.
“I was trying to help Nick and Paige—”
She cut me off. “You broke into Meghan’s office.”
“It was unlocked! And anyway, it was just to prove that she and Donald were colluding on the grant—did you know Donald is in financial trouble? It looks like he and Meghan fixed
the contest, so she would get the money, and maybe Wes found out—”
Jordan held up a hand. “I don’t want to know!”
“What?”
“I don’t want to hear it! Do you realize how much trouble you could have been in if Craig hadn’t called me? Not just trespassing but also obstruction of justice, and maybe even some kind of restraining order from Meghan. And do you even realize how messed up it is that Craig called me on my cell phone—at work—to come pick you up? It’s ridiculous.”
“Well, he didn’t want me to go to jail. Excuse me if I should have let him call the other number that gets you at work.”
“That is so not the point,” Jordan said, exasperated. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Of course I am.”
“Then pay attention. Your ex-boyfriend called me today because you broke into his fiancée’s store to find evidence that she, what, committed fraud and murder? And he saved your ass! Craig is a creep, and suddenly he’s the one watching your back. Do you realize just how messed up this whole situation is?”
“I—I didn’t think of it like that,” I said.
“You need to drop this whole Nancy Drew act. You are not a private investigator. You are not helping Wes. You are getting yourself into trouble, and it could get a lot worse if you don’t stop while you’re ahead. Detective Keller already thinks you’re hiding something, and believe me, you do not want her going after you!”
“What are you talking about? You actually think this case is being handled well?”
“Don’t do that. Do not accuse us of not taking Wes’s death seriously. You have no idea what has happened behind the scenes, what evidence we have, what our reasoning is. We did not just arbitrarily arrest your friends. A boy died. We are taking this very, very seriously,” Jordan said. “Think about what you’re saying.”
I took a shaky breath, reminded that for Jordan not one bit of this investigation had been a role she was playing. This was her life. “Wow. I’m sorry, Jordan.”
“You should be.”
We stared at each other for a long moment. Our friendship was not one of long coldness or distance: we sailed a placid sea of loving acceptance. Even when we were at different colleges, one of us just had to pick up the phone and call, and it was as if no time had passed. There had never been a need for explanation between us. Whenever one of us got snappish, the anger that followed passed almost as suddenly as it had risen. I waited.
She exhaled. “I’m sorry, too. I’m not your mother. You don’t need me to lecture you. Or you shouldn’t, anyway.” She couldn’t help adding the last wry bit, but I saw her struggle to keep it in.
I gave her my best puppy dog eyes. “Are we okay?”
“Yeah,” she said. “But I’m out completely—even if you don’t drop this, which you should, don’t tell me anything else, don’t ask me for advice, don’t tell me what you found, don’t even speak my name when you’re considering what to do.” I opened my mouth, but she lifted a hand. “And don’t text it or email it or ask for a hypothetical, either.”
“Well, if I can’t text you a hypothetical situation and ask for advice about it, there’s really no point to our friendship,” I said, smiling.
“Don’t joke. You are so not out of the doghouse yet.”
I nodded. “Understood. But—”
“No buts.”
“Well, what if—”
“No what ifs! I’m serious, Autumn!” She stamped her foot.
I held up my hands. “Okay, calm down, don’t shoot me. Police brutality is a serious issue.”
“That is not funny.”
I shrugged. “It was a little funny.”
“Come on,” she said. She put her hand on the doorknob.
“Wait.” I hopped up. “I know you’re out, but I wondered—”
Jordan sighed audibly and turned around. “What?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
I smiled prettily. “Well . . . if you could. Are Paige and Nick still in jail?”
“No. The judge set bail earlier and let them go. They’re at home, by now, but they won’t be going anywhere any time soon.”
I nodded. “Fair enough. Just one more—what was the new evidence you guys found? That led to their arrest?”
“Oh.” She waved a hand. “That will be public record sooner or later—we found the murder weapon.”
“The—what weapon?”
“It was a pen.”
“A pen? Like in that Batman movie?”
Jordan ignored the second question. “Yeah. Poor kid was stabbed twice in the neck with one of those fancy, sharp-tipped pens. There weren’t any prints on it, but we got an anonymous call and found it in Paige’s car. In the trunk.”
“Just like that? You found a fancy pen in her car. And not even, like, on the backseat where this ‘anonymous caller’ could have seen it. In the trunk.”
“It was convenient,” Jordan admitted. “But we’re not just basing this on one thing. You have no idea what else led up to this arrest.”
“Was this caller a man or a woman?”
Jordan rolled her eyes. “Enough, Autumn.” She opened the door. “Let it go. I’m out. Don’t forget that. And now I want to go home and take a freaking shower. Can I trust you to go home and mind your own business without needing a babysitter?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, feigning meekness.
I walked her back to the mall door. She gave me a last, lingering look of mingled affection and disgust before striding back toward the atrium and the elevators. I watched her go, standing idly in the door for a long minute, listening to the faint chatter from the café and people closing their offices on my floor—happier, more successful people who didn’t have murders to solve or stores closed because of brawling customers.
When one of the office owners walked by, side-eyeing me, I sighed and went back inside, though I wasn’t sure why since there wasn’t much to do in a closed store. It was home, though, as much as any place was home, so I wandered through, straightening the knight in shining armor and reordering a messy display of pewter gaming figurines. I went to the front door to check that it was locked and nothing was amiss outside. I opened it briefly, letting the chilly March wind wash over my face.
The memorial for Wes was gone, I saw, all the little figurines and cards vanished. Someone had picked it up, one of my employees or maybe some police officer, taking it for evidence. I wondered where they had put everything.
Something glittering under the streetlights caught my attention. I bent and picked up another Spellcasters card from the step. It was a spell this time, not a creature: Aura’s Folly. It showed a woman at the center of a magical maelstrom, a city blowing to pieces around her. She was on her knees. I knew from memory that she was weeping, but this card had the woman’s face scratched off. Again. The blank white place where her tears should have been stared up at me, hateful and penetrating.
I shuddered.
If I had needed confirmation that Nick and Paige weren’t behind the murder, I knew it now. The killer’s little calling card disgusted and frightened me, but I didn’t know what to do. Call the cops, so they could say I’d done it in a pitiful attempt to make my ridiculous behavior seem justified? Call Jordan back, who would come, I knew, even though she desperately needed me to let her do her job?
The card trembled in my fingers, and I realized I was shaking from head to toe. Whoever had killed Wes had been here, had known I was gone but would return. They knew our games well enough to make threats out of cards that brought people joy. They knew how to get under my skin, to frighten me. Why not just kill me, too, if I was such a threat? What the hell was with the foreplay?
I crumpled the card in my fist. I’d had enough.
17
THE MALL WAS EMPTY—EMPTIER than usual for a Wednesday evening—as I strode through it, my sneakers silent on the granite floors. I did not wait for the elevator but bolted up the stairs two a
t a time, heading for Chic. I didn’t care if the cops came to arrest me for harassing Meghan, if everyone in town thought I was a deranged stalker woman, jilted in high school and unable to forget it. I needed answers, and Meghan could give them to me.
I yanked open the door to the main floor. It banged against the wall of the stairwell with a sound loud as an echoing crash in Moria.
On the other side of the frame, Craig threw his hands up. “Whoa, Autumn, calm down.”
We collided, and I bounced off his chest. I flailed for a moment and then took a step back into the stairwell. He followed me, reaching awkwardly for me and then dropping his arms to his sides. The door slammed shut again.
“Damn it, Craig,” I gasped. “You scared me.”
“I’m sorry.” He laughed. “I was just coming to look for you.”
“Well, you found me.” I glared at him, irritated at myself for letting him get to me and irritated at him just for existing. “What’s up?”
“I wanted to see if you—if you were okay after what happened. I saw Jordan heading for the parking garage, but she didn’t tell me anything.”
I put my hands on my hips. “She’s not my mom. I can speak for myself.”
“I know.”
“Why did you persuade Meghan to let me off?”
“I don’t want to see you in jail for one,” Craig said. “Plus, you know, the grant thing—she’s been bitchy to you the whole time. I can understand what you were thinking, breaking into her office. What were you looking for?”
I ignored the question, refusing to be derailed. “Hey, did she and Donald fix the grant competition? Because it sure looks like they did. Donald needs cash, like, a lot. Did you know that? You’re trying to sell him property, and he has no money.” I paused. “Where the hell is he, anyway? I’d think he’d be here to kick me out of the building for good after today.”
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