I Spy Dead People (8 page)

He quirks an eyebrow. "Help with what?"

Damn, I didn't think this through. It's unlike me to not have a plan, but when Troy agreed to come over, my only thoughts were seeing him and what I'd wear. If I tell the truth, Dad will constantly be suspicious every time I leave the house. He won't want me anywhere near Linzy's disappearance. But what else is there to say? I can't use school as an excuse when it's summer vacation.

"My parents want to send me to camp, and Troy's been there, so I was hoping he could help me convince them it's not a good idea," Kinley says.

We all stare at her for a moment. She stays in constant eye contact with Dad. There's no sweat on her upper lip, no twitches. Gosh, she's a great liar.

Dad nods and steps back, allowing Troy to enter. I shut the door, and Dad wags his finger at me. "In the kitchen only."

Heat creeps into my face. I widen my eyes and hope he can mentally read my death glare.
Don't embarrass me
. "I know. Come on, guys."

Once around the table, and after Dad shuts his door, I say to Kinley, "Way to go making up an elaborate lie so quickly."

Kinley shakes her head. "Unfortunately it's not a lie. My parents do want to send me to Camp Greenwood."

Troy frowns. "How'd you know I went there?"

She looks down. "I overheard you telling your friends during lunch in eighth grade."

"She remembers everything," I say with a smile. But it quickly fades when the enormous weight of her words hits me. "Wait, you aren't going to go though, right?"

I can't lose her after just friending her. It would be the worst. I'd have no one then. Yeah, hopefully Troy and I will be unofficially dating soon, but I can't talk clothes and cute boys…other cute boys with him. Just because you're in a relationship doesn't mean you don't notice other people. And you always need your girl friends.

She shrugs. "Not if I can find a way out of it."

"I'll fill you in on it. It wasn't a great experience," Troy says. "But this isn't why you texted me to come over?"

"No," I whisper. "We want to know about Linzy, and since you dated Shayla, and you're the only person in town I know…"

He leans back and nods, all relaxed and chill-like. "I get it. Okay, what do you want to know? And why?"

The what is the easy part. The why is tricky. Do I really want to admit I'm a blood-thirsty, murder buff who wants to play amateur sleuth? He's the Chief of Detective's son. Maybe he and his mom are close and share everything. She'll tell Dad. He'll ground me. That'll stunt my social growth.

"Well…" I look to Kinley for support, but she doesn't come to my rescue this time.

"Do you know more about Linzy's whereabouts?" he asks.

"No, nothing like that. I would never keep that kind of secret." I'm a little hurt he thinks I would.

"Then what?"

"If we know more about her then maybe we can help figure out where she is. The cops are adults, and they don't think like teens. It may be…" I cut my rambling short because I feel like such a fool. He's going to laugh and leave. He's way more sophisticated than me, and this will show him just how young and uncool I am.

A slow smile spreads across his face. "You want to play amateur sleuth?"

Ugh, I'm so obvious. "And you think it's stupid?"

He shakes his head. "Nah. It's actually cool. The girls I know would think it's too messy."

"Great." To diffuse my creepy smile, I jump up and grab a bag of ruffled chips, a container of dip, three waters, and my notebook and pen.

"So tell us everything. What's she like personality-wise?" I rip open the bag while Kinley pops off the top of the dip.

"I didn't spend much time around her. She worked a lot or was with cast members…always out doing her thing. But when she was around, she and Shayla fought all the time. They never said a nice word to each other, and Shayla always talked about how much she hated Linzy, wished she'd never been born. It was freaky."

Interesting considering how hell bent Shayla was at accusing me earlier. At the time, it felt like she was being a protective older sister, but does she want Linzy gone?

"Does she have any hobbies?" Kinley asks.

He untwists his water cap. "Other than acting and prancing around like she's above everyone else? Not that I know of."

Sounds like a fun girl.

"And friends. Who is she close with in town? Does she have a boyfriend?" And if she does, she's lucky as all heck.

"She hangs with April Winston. According to Shayla, Linzy's been into a junior. I don't recall his name, but he always wears a Fedora."

The guy at the river talking to Shayla?

"Eli?" Kinley asks. Her voice sounds surprised, and a look of disbelief or disgust hits her face.

Oh crap. The guy Kinley likes. I give her a sympathetic smile. When Troy leaves, I'll remind her that just because Linzy's into Eli, it doesn't mean he feels the same. That's future best friend talk, right?

Troy shrugs. "Is that his name? I'm not much help after all."

I scribble down what he says and shake my head. "No, this is a great start."

Okay, so I'm exaggerating some. This information is small, but all great detectives have to dig for the truth.

Kinley glances at her watch. "I have to go."

"Already?" The digital clock on the stove hood says seven-fifty-five. Her witching hour.

"Yeah. Walk me out?" She stands and smiles at Troy. "Bye."

"See ya."

When we're at the front door, she looks a bit down. I tell her not to give up hope on Eli. Then she squeezes my hand. "Troy so likes you."

I frown. "How can you tell?"

She wiggles her brows. "I just can. Trust me. Call me when he's gone and tell me all about it."

I giggle at her silliness, agree, and walk back into the kitchen.

Troy's at the back door, peering out. "All the times I've visited Shayla, I never knew Kinley lived on this block too."

"Do you know Kinley from school?"

He shakes his head. "Today was the first day we spoke, but I've seen her around. Unfortunately, I can't say she's memorable. She blends into the background. Which isn't a bad thing."

I press my hands against the door, also looking at the backyard. Our elbows touch. "You're two years ahead of us. I'd be surprised if you knew all the sophomores and freshmen."

He shrugs. "I feel like I should since I work on the paper."

I turn to him and lean on the door with my shoulder. "Is that where you want to work, for a newspaper? Not a TV station?"

"Yeah, I like the actual paper, but they're dying."

"Well there's the TV news and online stuff."

"There's something about holding a paper in your hands. The smell, the ink on your fingers."

I think it sounds awful.

He faces me. "I guess I can't do anything about the failing print publications."

I smile, no longer concentrating on his words. He has the warmest brown eyes I've ever seen. And that dimple…I pray he smiles so I can see it.

"Something wrong?"

His words catch me off guard. I was staring at his mouth. Gosh, why do I keep embarrassing myself? "No, why?"

"You have a goofy look on your face."

"Oh, no reason."

We just stare at each other. I watch his eyes. They travel from mine to my mouth, and I get that tingly feeling in the pit of my stomach.

He leans forward. I know he's going to kiss me, and I almost burst out with laughter. Ohmigod, this is my moment. My first kiss. And not just any kiss but with Troy, an older, super cute boy. I've daydreamed about this a lot in the last couple of years, but part of me figured I'd be in college before a boy noticed me. You know, like the
40-Year-Old Virgin
.

His breath smells of onion dip and greasy chips, but I don't care. Right now, that smells perfect.

I lean forward and shut my eyes.

Dad's office door opens.

I open my eyes and spring back, bumping into a chair. Its legs scrape against the linoleum, and I sink into it, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

Troy runs a hand through his hair and sits across from me. He stuffs a chip with a lump of dip into his mouth. His gaze jumps from me to the food to the floor. He's nervous. He's a smart guy.

Dad walks in and frowns.

Oh God, he knows. He's never going to let Troy come near me again.

"Where's Kinley?"

Speaking around the lump in my throat is difficult. "She had to go home. Her curfew is eight o'clock."

"Wow," Dad and Troy say in unison.

Dad points his finger at me. "And you think I'm strict. I need to run up to Staples. I think I saw one off the highway."

Troy turns in his seat. "Yeah, it's by the movie theatre, in the next town."

"Thanks. But that means it's time for your guest to leave, Piper."

Oh gosh. How medieval. What does he think we'll do?

Troy glances at me and winks before he stands. Oh right. That.

I walk him to the door. "Thanks for your help."

"If you have any more questions, text me. Or call. We can talk about it." He lingers for a second, staring at my face.

Dad's a few feet behind me so there's no way to steal that kiss now. It'll have to wait until another time. We say bye. He waves to my dad and then takes off. It sucks we were interrupted, but it's cool I wasn't imaging things. He really was going to kiss me. That means Kinley was right. I have to call her.

I run into the kitchen, grab my notebook and pen, throw the dip into the fridge, then turn off the light and race upstairs. I jump onto my bed when Dad yells up that he'll only be a bit.

I'm dialing Kinley as the interior garage door shuts.

"What happened?" she whispers into my ear.

I tell her every single detail.

"See, I told you."

I giggle. "Yeah, you were right. Now we just need to find a moment alone."

A car alarm starts beeping down the street. Not only do I hear it through my window, but it sounds through the phone too, like in obnoxious stereo.

"What about tomorrow at the fireworks show?"

"Maybe."

The alarm still blasts. A dog joins in and barks at it.

"Gosh, can't someone turn it off?" Kinley says.

"You'd think they'd be annoyed too." I get up and walk to my window. The sun is setting. It'll be dark soon. I peer out and hope to see flashing lights, but the offending car must be farther down the block because I don't see anything.

Suddenly a loud bang echoes from downstairs.

 

I flinch and call out, "Dad?"

I pull the phone away from my ear to hear if he replies, but the car alarm is too loud. I know he's not home, or at least, I think I heard him leave, and his car was in the garage, so I can't tell from my window.

"Kinley, let me call you back." I click the phone off and toss it onto my bed.

I tiptoe into the hall and listen.

"Dad?"

Silence.

Maybe it was something outside, and it just sounded like it was closer?

I turn to go back to my room, and a door slams downstairs. The floorboards beneath my feet vibrate. I flinch and stare at my phone on my comforter. I need to grab it and call 911, but what if it's just the wind? I couldn't face Troy if I called the cops because Mother Nature shut a door. Not after his being cool with my playing sleuth. He'll think I can't handle it.

With my stomach practically in my throat, I walk down the stairs sideways, my back pressed against the wall so I can watch in front and behind me at the same time. Well, not the exact same time, obviously, but a quick glance in each direction tells me I'm alone. I may be overly paranoid, I may have watched way too many crime dramas and horror movies, but at least I won't be caught off guard by some heinous villain.

At the bottom, I peek around the staircase, down the hall. Dad's office door is shut, but it can't make that sound anyway. The coat closet and garage-slash-basement door are shut too. It doesn't mean they weren't open a minute ago though. I edge forward and open the closet with a wide jerk. Nothing but Dad's and my jackets and a couple of umbrellas. No coats or boots. It's been a few years since we've lived up North, so when the cold comes we'll have to go shopping.

I grab the garage doorknob and turn it. I walk down one step. The empty garage is another step straight ahead, and to my left is the dark flight down to the basement. I reach out to flip the light switch and hesitate. Why bother? I'm not going down there. Never go into a basement or attic. That's the number one rule in horror films. Along with no running through the woods in high heels, and the first people to die are either black or having pre-marital sex. I don't plan on doing the first or last, and the middle one I can't control.

I turn around, slam the door shut, and head to the kitchen. The light above the stove is on, and I stare at the orange, triangular glow on the floor. Once I'm standing in it, I notice one of the table chairs overturned. Maybe that was the first crash? Great, but how'd it happen, and what about the door?

The car alarm still beeps, but at least it's quieter back here.

A cold chill starts at my head and dances around me to my feet. I shiver and glance up at the vent in the wall. There's one beside the doorframe and another at the baseboard by the table. Even if something's blowing though, it would be the heat, and it's definitely getting colder in here.

Something behind me rattles. I twirl around but don't see anything. I take a couple of steps, stand in the doorframe and spot movement from the corner of my eye. It's Dad's office door. It's sliding open at turtle speed.

I have to be seeing things. This is insane. And even crazier is that I haven't bolted out the door and into the road yet. As freaked out as I am though, part of my brain is screaming that there's a logical explanation. And that's why I take a few more tentative steps, until I'm in front of Dad's door. I peek in, but no one is on the other side. How is it doing that on its own? More importantly, what the hell is wrong with this house?

The cold from the kitchen gushes down the hall, straight at me. It blows my hair off my shoulders, takes a right, and passes me into the office. It rustles the papers on Dad's desk, growing stronger and stronger until the curtains blow and a whirlwind circles the room. Papers fly, and something from Dad's bulletin board pulls free and circles, mid-air, like water circling a drain.