The Third Lie's the Charm (8 page)

Before my brain had even processed the fact that there was an actual wolf in Sinclair's house, I saw a flash of gray and white fur leap from the steps. My arms flew over my face, and I braced myself for the impact of claws and teeth on the tender skin of my forearms. Can you die from a wolf attack if you aren't a vampire? Based on Sinclair's blood-stained kitchen floor, I thought yes.

A sharp yelp pierced the air, followed by the dull thump of a body.

“Kate! Are you okay?” Seth stood in the doorway, a stun gun pointed in the space above my head.

“There's a wolf.” Clearly the shock of my near wolf attack had left me with a new superpower for stating obvious facts long after they were relevant. Awesome.

“We've been listening to police radio all night. I just knew something like this was going to happen. Glad I had my taser with me.”

I should have been hugging Seth or at the very least thanking him for saving my life, but the only thing I really took away from his little explanation was the term “we.” Because “we” could only really mean one thing. Or one
person
specifically.

“Jesus, what the hell is going on in here?” Liam pushed Seth aside and only hesitated a second before pulling me to my feet and away from the stairs in one swift movement. He stared at me a second too long, taking in my new hair with sad eyes. His mouth opened to say something, but then closed again as though he'd abruptly remembered that we weren't on good enough terms for him to make a sly comment on my new look. A wave of sadness washed over me when I realized I wanted him to.

“There was a wolf. But I saved her. It's cool.” Seth's face was bright red and he was practically bursting with pride.

Liam looked from the lump of wolf on the ground to me, and I nodded slowly. “He saved my life.” And it was like hearing the words out loud suddenly made them sink in. “You saved my life. Oh my God, Seth.” I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed so tight that I heard his spine crack.

He mumbled something that sounded like “I love you” but could have been “I saved you.” I chose to assume the latter.

“The police want to ask you some questions, Kate.” Bradley entered the foyer and must have caught sight of the unconscious wolf passed out at the bottom of the stairs. “Holy shit, is that the…”

“School mascot? Yeah, pretty sure it is. The markings all match up.” Seth held up a picture of Bondi on his phone that he'd pulled from Pemberly Brown's website as though other random wolves roamed our town just waiting for the opportunity to attack unsuspecting ex-headmasters.

“What the hell? Why would Sinclair do this? I mean, I know he wasn't exactly in a good place after everything that happened, but this is unreal.” Bradley shook his head.

“Right. Well, good luck figuring that out, but do you mind if we squeeze past you real quick? I'd like to get my girlfriend away from the passed-out predator if that's cool.”

“I'm not…” I started.

“…Your girlfriend.” Bradley finished and held out his hand to me. I looked from Bradley's outstretched hand to Liam's face and stuffed my hands into my pockets. Bradley looked disappointed, and Liam looked triumphant. I did my best to ignore them both.

“Let's just talk to the police. Tell them what's going on…”

“No!” Bradley's voice was sharp. “You know who's in charge now, and believe me, they aren't going to give a crap about some ex-Brotherhood members getting hurt.”

Unfortunately, Bradley had a point. Once the Brotherhood had gone under, they lost their foothold not only in our school, but in our entire town. I remembered the moment I'd shown a police detective all of the evidence I'd gathered about Grace's death. I remembered begging him to reopen the case, to put a stop to the societies. But he'd done nothing except to make sure all of the proof I'd gathered was lost forever.

“Look, you guys do whatever you need to do, but I'm not leaving Kate's side until she's back home.” Liam looked at me, eyes cold. “I'll call your parents if I have to.” His eyebrows flicked in challenge. He knew he had me with my parents. They would not be happy to hear that their daughter was in the middle of yet another crime scene.

“Whatever.” I gritted my teeth and tried to ignore the smirk on Liam's face. He'd won this round and he knew it.

“What the hell were you doing in there anyway?” Bradley hissed as we walked back to the family room where the police were waiting.

“Looking for information. And I found it too.” I pulled Bradley out the garage door and showed him the card.

“This is a blatant dare. Another freaking dare. What the hell?” Bradley narrowed his eyes at the new clue.

I shrugged my shoulders and took the card back. “Anni. 1964. Page 17. That's got to refer to the PB Anni, right? The yearbook?”

“Yeah, whoever sent this must have something on Sinclair. That was the year he graduated.” Bradley shook his head.

The yearbook was a clue, and it was pretty much the only one we had at this point. “Listen, you have to take care of the police, okay?” I nodded back toward the house. “Give them a statement. Get them off our backs. Liam's right. If my parents find out I'm here, I'll be grounded until graduation.”

“But I already told them…” Bradley started.

“Well, untell them. You're Bradley-freaking-Farrow.”

Bradley smiled a little at that.

“I'm going to go track down that yearbook.” I looked over my shoulder at Liam and Seth loitering in front of Sinclair's open garage, doing their best to eavesdrop.

“But it will be archived. You won't be able to get to it unless you know someone on staff.”

“Lucky for us, I've got connections.” I jerked my head toward Liam.

“Seriously?” Bradley's mouth straightened into a thin line.

“Just manage things here. I'll text you as soon as I find that yearbook page.” I squeezed Bradley's hand and turned back toward Liam and Seth, my original knights in shining armor.

But Bradley didn't let go. Instead, he spun me back around, pulling my body into his chest where I seemed to click into place. I lifted my chin in surprise, and before I could even consider how I'd landed in his arms, he kissed me. With Seth and Liam as two of the worst witnesses on the planet, Bradley Farrow's warm lips were claiming my own. My hands were on his chest and I meant to push him away, really I did. But it took me a second too long. I guess maybe there was a part of me that still had a thing for him. The last remnants of first-year Kate who couldn't quite let go of her fantasy boyfriend.

When I finally jerked away, I kept my eyes trained on the ground. It seemed like the only safe place to look at the moment.

“Well.” It was the best I could do.

“Some girlfriend,” Bradley whispered and walked back into the house.

I really didn't want to turn around and face Liam and Seth, so instead I just barreled out of the garage toward Liam's Jeep parked in the street.

“I need to see an archived edition of Anni,” I yelled back toward them while I walked. “It's important, and you're the only one I know on staff.” I pulled on the door handle on the passenger side. Locked. Shit.

I finally turned back toward Liam, and he was just a step behind me. A breath away.

He stared at me for what felt like forever. His eyes searched mine, assessing, looking for answers, and then finally he sighed and unlocked his car.

“Fine.”

Seth started to climb in the back of the car, but Liam stopped him.

“Kate will get in back.”

“But…” I always rode shotgun. Seth always rode in the back. Changing the seating arrangements in Liam's car was like trying to change the law of gravity. Impossible.

“You're not my girlfriend anymore. Remember?” He raised his eyebrow at me, and I wanted to sink into the seat and die right then and there.

“Right.” I tried to climb to the back of the car as gracefully as possible under these humiliating circumstances, so naturally the edge of my shirt got caught on the gear shift and I ended up flashing Liam and Seth my gray cotton bra. Icing on the cake.

I heard Seth coughing up front, and I knew he was covering up a laugh. Seth Allen was laughing at me. This was either a whole new low or the end of an era. Probably both.

A loose thread dangled from the middle seat in the back of Liam's jeep, and I pulled on it to spite him. I imagined the whole car splitting down the middle, falling to pieces. But the Jeep lumbered onward to Pemberly Brown, the backs of Liam and Seth's heads preventing me from indulging in a little backseat driving.

“Red, huh?” Liam asked, raising an eyebrow in the rearview mirror.

I twisted a strand around my finger, flipping it up at the end to check on the color.
Yup. Still red.

“Uh, yeah. You know what they say,” I muttered absently, attacking a split end.

“No, actually, I don't.” Liam's voice was clipped. “What do they say?”

Ridiculous stereotypes poured through my brain—blonds have more fun, brunettes are smarter, redheads are bad tempered.

I settled on, “Just that redheads kick ass,” and hid my smile. Seth beamed as we all climbed out of the car and headed up the brick path back toward school.

“Subject has connection to Pemberly Brown, Sinclair, the societies, yearbook, the list goes on. It might take a while to locate the appropriate yearbook. Let's not get discouraged.” Seth spoke softly and evenly, his head turned a bit to the side as we walked. “Subject should have wolf knowledge—food, habitat, a great love of the animal, and perhaps an unhealthy obsession with Mr. Sinclair.” Seth continued speaking, and I noticed he held a Dictaphone that looked like a prop from one of the old-school episodes of
Law
& Order
my grandpa watched as reruns.

Liam patted Seth hard on the back, which caused him to stumble on his feet and press pause on the machine. I dropped a step behind, overwhelmed suddenly by how much I missed them. It caught me off guard and took my breath away a little, this hole that I didn't even realize was there. Going to the archives with the two of them just felt right, and my fingers ran the length of the bronze plaque proclaiming,
Scientia
est
potentia.
Knowledge is power. Wasn't that the truth? I smiled and forgot that Liam and I weren't dating. I forgot that I wasn't supposed to tell Seth anything about the Sisterhood. I forgot that this wasn't supposed to be fun.

The yearbook archives were housed in the stacks in the basement of the Pemberly Brown Library. Despite the fact that books lined the walls and the area was well-lit and, for the most part, not creepy-basement-like, no one really ventured down there alone. Perhaps it was the blue emergency button on the wall or the bookshelves that nearly touched the ceiling and blocked any view between rows that kept girls on their toes, but either way, you told someone if you were going into the stacks and that if you didn't reappear within a few minutes, they should be worried.

“That's 1964, right?” Liam asked, running his fingers over the leather spines.

I referenced the card and nodded my head. “Bradley said it's the year Sinclair graduated. There have to be more clues in there.”

Seth continued to mumble into his Dictaphone as Liam typed into the database. I had to work to focus on the screen instead of the way his hair hung over his eye, the way it needed to be cut, the way he shook his head slightly so he could see.

“Aisle 7, second shelf down,” Liam said. I rushed to the door, grateful for the distraction.

I turned down Aisle 7 and sent a quick prayer up to Grace. If I'd learned anything about investigating at Pemberly Brown, it was that nothing was easy. Let this be easy, I asked Grace. Let this go quickly.

My fingers ran over the leather-bound books, the gold lettering on the spine. 1961, 1962, 1963, and a space. There was a very obvious hole where Pemberly Brown's 1964 yearbook had been. Despite the fact that Liam suggested we look in other rows for the misplaced book, I knew it had been taken. I knew we were too late.

“Let me just check…it might have been signed out.” Liam typed into the database again, referencing the system the staff used to maintain the archives.

And then I remembered the old yearbooks scattered throughout Mr. Sinclair's office.

“Wait, I think I might know where they might be.” I made my way out of the maze of books and up the stairs to Sinclair's office. The kid manning the desk protested as I pushed my way into the office. But it didn't matter. When I opened the door, I knew something was very, very wrong.

It was clean. All the papers were stacked neatly on his desk. The stacks of books that had been scattered across the floor had disappeared. The old coffee cups and napkins had all been cleared away. It looked like a normal office. Not a yearbook in sight.

“Unbelievable.” My hand flew to my mouth. There was no doubt in my mind that someone had been here. Someone had been looking for something. Maybe the yearbook, maybe something else, but whatever it was, it was gone now.

“Don't see any yearbooks lying around.” I hated the quiet note of satisfaction in Liam's voice. Even when he was helping me, it felt like he was silently cheering for me to fail.

“Mrs. ConspiracyLuvR.” Seth spoke the name into his Dictaphone and pressed the stop button loudly for dramatic effect. He nodded silently to Liam and me from the doorway of the office. “She's our only hope.”

The nauseating smell of bacon and broken dreams overwhelmed me at the sound of her name. Oh no. No. No.

“Linda graduated in the class of '64. She'll have the book.”

“But Seth, you have a rule.” ConspiracyLuvR was one of Seth's online buddies who had an extraordinary amount of useless local conspiracy-related knowledge but also a fairly solid understanding of the inner workings of Pemberly Brown. As much as it killed me to admit it, we had depended on someone named ConspiracyLuvR in the past and we would probably have to depend upon him again in the future. The guy's mom? Not so much. Mrs. ConspiracyLuvR was obsessed with Seth, and from what I could recall, it had something to do with his red hair. I shivered as I considered my own newly crimson locks.

“I do have a rule against engaging the Mrs., but what's your rule about breaking rules?” Seth shook his head quickly. “Never mind…you know what I mean. We're going in.”

And we were. I only wished I'd brought a gas mask.

ConspiracyLuvR's house was shockingly close to my own. My mom spent way too much time with that sex offender locator tool on the computer, and I couldn't help but wonder why they didn't have some sort of app to identify houses where grown men still lived in their childhood bedrooms. Might come in handy for women screening potential dates on Match.com.

As usual, there were about fifteen beat-down cars parked in the driveway and on the grass. I hoped to God they weren't having some sort of party, couldn't imagine the delays associated with social hour at the LuvR residence. If there was a way to break in and steal the yearbook without getting caught, I would
so
be on board, despite the fact that a stolen yearbook had gotten us into this mess in the first place.

“In and out, guys,” Seth whispered. “We get the yearbook as quickly as possible.”

He didn't have to tell me.

Movement in one of the cars caught my eye, and despite my better judgment, I peered in. And there, smack dab in the middle of his parents' yard, parked in some god-forsaken car, was none other than ConspiracyLuvR making out with a woman who was clearly in need of the aforementioned boyfriend screening app.

I slapped my hands over my eyes and started screaming. “Ew, ew, ew, ew.”

“Jesus!” Liam said, cracking up. “Who the hell are these people?” He hadn't had the pleasure of a previous visit. We ran the rest of the way up the drive.

The doorbell didn't even have to be pressed. Instead, the door swung open and Mrs. ConspiracyLuvR filled the doorway, permeating the air with her eau de bacon grease.

“I thought that was you!” She spoke in some strange accent—a mixture of faux-British and Southern twang that was probably the result of watching too much reality television. And then she screamed some obscenities in the direction of her lip-locked grown son, who either couldn't hear her or ignored her completely.

Liam widened his eyes at me, his face beet red to stifle his laughter, as Mrs. LuvR yanked Seth into the house. I wasn't sure if I should be thankful or scared that she still concentrated her redhead-loving efforts on Seth. I was a lot of both.

“Just a quick visit, now!” Nervous laugh. “Actually came for a yearbook.” Nervous laugh. “No, no. We already ate.” Nervous laugh. Poor, poor Seth.

Seth continued to focus Mrs. LuvR on the yearbook and refused four tours of her “renovated” master bath, a couple offers to feed some random parrot named Jimmy that squawked in their family room, and two requests to help load her dishwasher. Finally, she led us into the basement. I hesitated at the top of the stairs. I was 99 percent sure that we were walking into a hoarder's den, and I was afraid that if we descended beneath the ground, we might never come back up. I thought about waiting in the kitchen or, better yet, back in Liam's car, but I couldn't let Seth face this particular wolf on his own. We were in this together. Like old times.

“Y'all excuse the mess, now.” Yikes. A mess warning from a woman who reeked of bacon grease was definitely not a good sign. I kept my gaze trained on Mrs. LuvR's yellow muumuu as we wove our way through a maze of junk that included everything from old fax machines to piles of
Playgirl
magazines. She paused for a minute and started digging through a pile of boxes.

“I know it's in here somewhere…” She threw something that looked suspiciously like a dead cat over her shoulder. Seth yelped.

“Ah, yes, here it is. My old memory box. My senior yearbook should be in here somewhere.”

I steeled myself for whatever we might find in that box and prayed she'd return upstairs so we could at least have the freedom to make fun of some of it.

“I'll leave you and this young thang to it.” Mrs. LuvR pointed a long, acrylic nail in Liam's and my direction. “Seth? How about helping me out upstairs?”

Seth looked from the box to Liam, from the box to me, from the box to Mrs. LuvR, and his face fell as though to say, “I quit.” If Seth's loyalty to me and my endless battles could be summed up, it would look a little like the rueful resignation on his face. He patted the box and walked up the stairs with his plus-sized cougar, leaving Liam and me to fight back both laughter and fear for our friend.

We tore through the box with careful precision to avoid things like gray, cotton somethings (we could not bring ourselves to investigate), dried flowers that disintegrated with one touch, chewed pencils, crumpled papers, even a journal, which would have been fascinating to read if we had more time. Finally, at the bottom of the second box, which was full of maternity clothes and yellowed pacifiers, Liam unearthed the old yearbook.

“I need to wash my hands,” he said, handing it over with two fingers.

I pulled the card stock from my blazer and flipped to the page scrawled in the message.

A boy cradled a girl in his lap, her cheek resting on his shoulder, smile stretched wide. The boy's brittle smile and flinty gaze made it easy to identify him as ex-Headmaster Sinclair. I pulled the yearbook closer to my face to get a better look at the girl perched on top of him. Her hair spilled over her shoulders in a pin-straight waterfall. She was pretty, but there was something familiar about the way she looked at the camera, hard eyes beneath lowered lashes.

We gasped at the same time, even though we shouldn't have been surprised.

Ms. D.