When

by Victoria Laurie

  Donny was too busy trying to dial his phone and drive at the same time to notice me. And I didn’t know what to say to him even if he had been paying attention. I’d already mentioned how mean Mr. Chavez had been toward me to both Donny and Mrs. Matsudo, and I hadn’t actually seen Mr. Chavez in that truck sitting idle outside my house—the same one that I was convinced had tried to follow me around the park. But Chavez scared me. There was something dark about him. Something mean. It wasn’t anything I could point out directly other than what I’d already said to Donny and the superintendent, but I did wonder if he was capable of chasing me into the park after dark. And yet he was a respected teacher. Was I was wrong to suspect him?

  Still, I was happy that, for the next few days, I didn’t have to see him.

  “Okay, we’ll be there in ten,” Donny said, nudging me in the arm and pulling my attention back to him. “This could be good news.”

  “What?”

  “Remember I told you I was having someone check something out for me?”

  I thought back. “Vaguely.”

  “Well, that was my private investigator. He found something that he thinks might help us.”

  “What’d he find?”

  Donny smiled sideways at me. “Dunno, kiddo, that’s why we’re going to meet him.”

  We met with the PI at McDonald’s. He was a grungy-looking guy named Greg DeWitt (8-17-2041). He wore a coffee-stained sweatshirt, dirty jeans, and a beard that looked like it still had some of his breakfast in it. Also, his breath could’ve peeled paint. He was so repugnant that I offered to stand in the long line to get us all dinner simply to get some space from him. By the time I returned with the tray of food, DeWitt was gone and Donny was peering into a large manila envelope.

  “Where’d he go?” I asked, setting the tray carefully on the table.

  Donny looked up at me. “Huh? Oh, he had another assignment.”

  “What’s in the envelope?”

  Donny tucked it down at his side protectively. “Nothing I want you looking at.”

  I scowled. “That’s nice.”

  From the tray Donny picked up the burger I’d gotten for him. “It’s not like that. I just don’t want to upset you.”

  “Yeah, because I haven’t been upset by any of this so far.”

  Donny rolled his eyes but grinned. “DeWitt found a case that might help us. I want to take it over to the feds tomorrow, and I’d like you to come with me.”

  “What’s the case?” I asked.

  But Donny shook his head. “You’ll hear about it tomorrow. Tonight, I want you to relax. You’ve been through enough the past couple of days.”

  I frowned hard at him, but he wasn’t budging.

  We ate together in silence. His evasiveness put me right out of the mood for casual conversation. As soon as we finished up, Donny drove me home. “I’ll try to get a morning appointment with Faraday and Wallace, and I’ll call you when I’m on my way. After we talk with them, we’ll see about getting your bike replaced.” I nodded and climbed out of the car, but Donny called me back. “Maddie,” he said, and I could feel a lecture coming on. “Do me a favor, okay? Try and dress up a little tomorrow. No hoodie and jeans combo,” he said, motioning at my outfit. “Try a sweater and a skirt. And do something with your hair. Every time I see you, you’ve got your hair in a ponytail.”

  I clenched my jaw, my cheeks burning. All of a sudden I was acutely aware of my appearance.

  Donny’s features softened. “You’re a pretty girl, Madelyn Fynn,” he said gently. “You’ve got your mom’s cheekbones, your grandma’s nose, and your dad’s eyes—and that’s a killer combo. Your dad always used to kid around that he was gonna have to invest in a bat-making factory to beat off the guys.”

  I opened my mouth, but Donny wasn’t finished. “And today you proved to the superintendent of all Grand Haven schools that you’re also smart as a whip. Meanwhile, you walk around trying not to get noticed…and I get it, I really do. I can’t imagine what it’s like to see what you see, or have people know you can tell them the exact date they’re going to die—but, kiddo, if your dad were alive today, he’d never put up with this shrinking violet act. You’ve been trying to turn invisible for too long. Guess what: you’re not invisible anymore. And like I said back at the school, looking like the gorgeous girl next door can only help us when the feds try to make you out as a villain. So, it’s time to stand up to all these people who want to label you as weird or a psycho or weak or dumb or a witch or whatever, and show them what you’re made of. You’re a Fynn, Maddie. And Fynns don’t hide. We stand up and we stand out. Period.”

  I could feel a retort forming, but Donny didn’t wait for a reply; he offered me a three-finger Scout’s-honor salute and drove off. I watched his flashy car cruise down the street, and had no choice but to consider what he’d said.

  The next morning, Donny called to say that he couldn’t get a meeting with the feds until after three, but he’d be by a little after noon to take me to lunch and pick out a new bike.

  He showed up at twelve thirty, took one look at me, and broke into a sideways grin. “Afternoon, gorgeous,” he said.

  I’d paired my nicest skinny jeans with a camel cashmere hoodie from J. Crew, which Ma had given me last year for Christmas. I’d also blown out my long hair and dabbed on some mascara and lip gloss. Finally, I’d substituted leather booties for my usual sneakers. I figured it was as close to meeting Donny halfway as I was going to get for now.

  We had lunch at a sandwich shop in Grand Haven that Donny liked, then headed to the bike shop. And after much debate, I finally got to pick out a new road bike that was light as air and fast as lightning. I was dying to hop right on and take it for a spin, but we needed to get to our appointment with the feds.

  We arrived at the bureau a little before three, and Agent Wallace came to the lobby to escort us to Faraday’s office. As we entered, Faraday’s back was to us and he was speaking angrily into his cell. “Jenny, if he wants to try out for the team, then I say he can.” There was a pause, then, “You know what? I can’t listen to this right now. He’s got my okay. Sorry you don’t like it, but what else is new? I’ll expect a call from your attorney.”

  Wallace cleared his throat loudly, and Faraday registered our presence. “I gotta go,” he muttered, jabbing at the end button with his thumb. We took our seats, and as we did, I saw Faraday and Wallace exchange a knowing look that seemed to be about the call.

  Wallace pulled his chair in from the glass office behind Faraday, and they adopted identical expressions of Yeah?

  Donny cleared his throat and reached into his briefcase. He extracted the same envelope he’d been so careful to hide from me, and handed it over to the agents. Faraday took it and opened the flap to peer inside. I saw his eyes widen, and then he dumped out the contents on his desk. Even upside down I could tell that the envelope contained some gruesome crime scene photos. My breath caught, and Donny laid a reassuring hand on my arm.

  “What’s this?” Faraday asked, sifting through the contents while Wallace scooted his chair over for a better look.

  “That’s a copy of a police file,” Donny said. “A kid named Robert Carter from Willow Mill went missing last August, and his body was found on the banks of the Waliki River about three and a half miles south of where Payton Wyly’s body was found.”

  I had to swallow the bit of bile that came up when one of the photos that Faraday was spreading out on his desk caught my eye. A close-up of the young man’s face had landed near me, and I could see his deathdate imprinted on his forehead. 8-19-2014.

  “He’d been stabbed, tortured with cigarette butts, and had his throat slashed,” Donny continued. “The MO is exactly the same as the guy who killed Wyly and Tibbolt.”

  “You mean Arnold Schroder,” Wallace said. With a sneer he added, “And your niece.”

  “No,” Donny said, reaching down into his bag to pull up another set of photos and papers. “It couldn’t have been
Stubby or Maddie, because they were both with me in Florida at Disney World at the time. Here are the photos and ticket confirmations to prove it.”

  Donny tossed them onto the desk, and they fanned out with all the other documentation. Faraday pursed his lips and reached for the photos that Donny had tossed while Wallace picked up the Carter file and some of the crime scene photos. After a few seconds of silence as they sorted through the new evidence, Wallace said, “None of this proves that Schroder and your niece didn’t murder Tibbolt and Wyly.”

  My jaw dropped. Was he kidding?

  Donny pointed angrily to the file. “What I’ve just delivered to you is reasonable doubt, gentlemen. You want to take this to trial? I’ll make sure the jury hears all about the similarities between the cases.”

  Wallace glared hard at him, and Faraday lifted the file out of Wallace’s hands and skimmed the pages. “Why the hell didn’t we hear about this?” he muttered to his partner.

  Donny answered for him. “Because Carter was eighteen. He wasn’t a minor, so when he went missing it was handled by the local Willow Mill police department.”

  Wallace waved his hand as if that explained it. “Well. There you go, then,” he said. “Different MOs, Fynn. If Carter was eighteen, then he doesn’t fit the victim profile of the other murders. Your niece and Schroder could’ve heard about Carter’s murder and committed a couple of copycat killings.”

  “Oh, come on, Wallace!” Donny snapped. “The longer you try to pin this on Maddie and Arnold, the more time you waste getting the real killer off the street. Look at Carter, for Christ’s sake. He may have been eighteen, but he was only five foot six and a hundred forty pounds. He didn’t look a day over sixteen, and you know it!”

  But Wallace’s expression clearly implied that he wasn’t buying it. And Faraday set down the file and nodded, too. “Sorry, Fynn,” he said. “This doesn’t prove anything.”

  Wallace began to gather all of the documentation into a neat stack. “But, hey, thanks for bringing all this to our attention, counselor. Maybe we can find a name in Maddie’s little death book that matches up with Carter.”

  My heart started thudding in my chest. I didn’t think there would be a match in my notebook to Carter, but I also didn’t think that made any difference. If there was anything even close to matching either his initials or his deathdate, they’d twist it to say that I’d planned it.

  Next to me Donny was quietly seething. It seemed like this had all been a mistake, but I couldn’t blame him for trying. My gaze drifted to the mug shots on Faraday’s wall of CAPTURED felons. Was my mug shot eventually going to end up there, too?

  And then that idea I’d run by Donny from a few nights before came to me along with Donny’s speech about how I was a Fynn, and Fynns didn’t back down; they stood up and stood out. I got to my feet while I still had the courage. Lifting a felt pen out of Faraday’s pencil holder, I moved to the corner behind his desk. “What’s she doing?” I heard him ask Donny. I knew that I’d probably startled them, but I didn’t care. Swiftly, I began to mark the photos that stood out to me. “Hey!” Faraday snapped. “Cut that out!”

  But I didn’t. I noted six photos out of about twenty in total that could help make my case. I went to those six and quickly and methodically marked the foreheads of each and every one. As I jotted down the last digit, I felt Donny’s hand on my wrist.

  “Maddie!” he whispered harshly. “What the hell are you doing?”

  I handed him the pen. “Proving that I can see what I say I can see. Like yesterday with Mrs. Matsuda.”

  Donny stared at me, his eyes wide, then he looked at the wall of mug shots and his brow went up.

  Over my shoulder I saw Faraday and Wallace both standing with their hands on their hips, and I almost laughed because I could imagine that they were trying to think up a law I might’ve broken. “These are right,” I said to them. “You can double-check if you want.”

  I’d written the deathdate for all six mug shots. Some had died as far back as two years before, and the most recent had been about a week earlier. Donny walked me back to my chair and I sat down, waiting on the two rather stunned agents to say or do something, but for a long time they simply stared at the wall.

  Then Wallace pointed to the most recently deceased felon. “That guy’s not dead,” he said. “I personally sent him to Sing Sing last year, and as far as I know, he’s still alive and well, enjoying a ten-by-ten cell and three squares a day.”

  I turned to Donny. “I’m not wrong.”

  Donny lifted his chin toward Wallace. “Check it out. We’ll wait.”

  Wallace and Faraday exchanged another look, but finally Wallace shrugged and moved to Faraday’s phone. We waited while he was patched through to the warden. “Warden Thomas,” Wallace said, all smiles and confidence. “It’s Kevin Wallace.” There was a pause, then, “I’m good, sir, and you?”

  I tapped my foot with impatience while Wallace exchanged pleasantries. “Listen, the reason I’m calling is to check in on Javier Martinez. I wanted to make sure he’s enjoying his—” Wallace’s voice cut off, and that smug expression he’d worn since picking up the phone fell away like shattered glass. “What?” he said, turning slightly away from us to stare at the mug shot of Martinez. “When?” Faraday leaned forward in his chair, his focus intent on Wallace, who was now asking, “Why wasn’t I informed?”

  I dropped my chin and took a relieved breath. Maybe now they’d listen.

  Wallace hung up, his lips pressed tightly together. “She’s right,” he said. “Martinez was stabbed with a shiv last week. He died a day later, the same date she wrote up there.”

  For a long time no one spoke, but I could practically see Faraday’s wheels turning, and I didn’t like it. “Still doesn’t prove anything,” he said to Donny, with only a fraction less conviction than he’d had at the start of our meeting.

  “You’re kidding, right?” my uncle shot back.

  “Listen, Fynn, both of you have been in this office before.” Waving at the mug shots Faraday added, “How do we know that you two didn’t write down the names of all these bastards and hit the Internet to research them and find out who was dead? If these guys are in the prison system, then anybody with a computer could look up their info. Even Martinez’s information would have been posted online.”

  Donny glared hard at him. “Maddie doesn’t have a computer, remember? You took it.”

  Faraday rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but I’m betting you’ve got a laptop in that briefcase.”

  Donny reached for my hand. “We’re done here,” he said.

  “Thanks again for the file,” Wallace said as we got up and headed toward the door.

  Donny didn’t say a word as we stormed out. At last we reached his car, and he opened my door for me, his anger evident by the set of his jaw. When I hesitated he said, “You getting in?”

  “It’s so unfair,” I started.

  Donny sighed and his expression softened. “It is,” he agreed. “But, Maddie, you have to realize that people like Wallace and Faraday get tunnel vision when it comes to stuff like this. They get so focused on trying to make all the jigsaw puzzle pieces fit that they lose sight of the big picture. With the Robert Carter murder we’ve got a solid case for reasonable doubt, and the district attorney’s bound to realize that. All they’ve got is flimsy circumstantial evidence right now. And there’s nothing to tie you or Stubby directly to the murders.”

  I nodded and reluctantly slid into the car. Still, I didn’t like the lines of worry at the edges of Donny’s eyes. If Wallace and Faraday couldn’t be convinced I was telling the truth after what I’d shown them with the mug shots, then how would a jury ever believe me?

  I COULDN’T GET OUT OF school fast enough on Monday. There’d been big changes waiting for me when I arrived that morning: Principal Harris had been suspended, my American Lit paper had been upgraded to a B, and I was now being escorted from class to class by the teacher assigned to monitor the hallw
ays for that period.

  I should have been glad for all of that, and I was to a degree, but everything that was being done to help me feel safe actually made me feel even more exposed and uncomfortable. There was a kind of tension around me from students and teachers alike, like a bubble of unease and hostility that I couldn’t get away from until I was out of the building.

  So, the second the final bell rang, I bolted for the door. I had to get home and call Donny about Stubby’s pretrial. To my surprise, when I rounded the corner to my street, I saw my uncle sitting in his car parked in the driveway. “Hey!” I said when I came up next to him.

  “Hey,” he replied tiredly. It was then that I noticed he looked like hell.

  I knew immediately the pretrial hadn’t gone well. Tensing, I asked, “What happened?”

  Donny didn’t answer. Instead he rolled up the window and opened the car door. After getting out and locking it, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and said, “Come on. Let’s go inside and I’ll explain.”

  Once we were inside, Donny called out for Ma. She came into the kitchen warily, as if she sensed he was the bearer of bad news. “What’s happened?” she asked.

  Donny motioned for us both to sit down. Ma took ahold of my hand once we were seated, and we waited for Donny to talk. He didn’t sit down. Instead he got himself a drink of water and leaned against the kitchen sink. “I have a lot to tell you. Most of it’s bad. You should brace yourself, Maddie.”

  I swallowed hard and Ma squeezed my hand. I could feel my breath coming quicker. I wanted Donny to blurt it out so that I could begin to process the bad news. “Tell us,” I begged.

  Donny sighed and set his water glass down. “Stubby’s being held over for trial. His bond has been set at five hundred thousand dollars. I’ve talked to his mom and she doesn’t have the fifty grand it would take to secure a loan from a bondsman, so she’s trying to get ahold of his dad in California, but it’s not looking good. Stubby may have to remain in jail until the trial.”