21. Iris Crime Scene
Iris Crime Scene
Chloe, Dabney, and I would not be good criminals. For one, the champagne had made us giggly. For two, we hadn’t worked through the details of how we’d actually carry out our breaking-and-entering mission. I’d had, like, six sips of champagne and was breaking into a house. I was a full-on rebel now. It had only taken one night to convert me to a life of crime. But I wasn’t totally sure that breaking into your own house counted as a major crime. Would my mom ground me if she found out? I wasn’t sure. But I knew she would ground me for the champagne.
The sand was damp and cool underneath our bare feet as we walked up the beach, the reflection of the moon on the ocean making it bright enough that we could easily find our way.
“Um, guys,” I said, realizing that, while it was light, it wasn’t quite light enough to see to figure out how to break into the house. “Should we have, like, flashlights or something?”
“Our phones, Iris. Duh,” Chloe said.
“Okay, yeah. But our phone flashlights aren’t that big,” I said.
“Are you trying to get out of a dare?” Dabney asked. “Because that’s what it sounds like to me. I feel like there are ramifications for going against the triple dare.”
Maybe I was trying to get out of it. I could see the house in front of me now, and we turned right to make our way over the sand dune that I knew very, very well. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” I whispered. “We could get in trouble.”
“Just think: Golden Goose. Golden Goose.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“It’s your own house,” Dabney answered. “Plus, we’re only kids. We can’t be tried in a grown-up court of law.” She paused. “Right?” she asked Chloe.
“How on earth would I know? Why don’t you ask the daughter of the prison lord?” Chloe said. Then she gasped and put her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, Iris. I’m drunk. I didn’t mean that.”
I couldn’t be mad at her for saying something true, even if it did kind of sting. My dad was in jail. My house was locked up with crime scene tape around it. “You’re stating the obvious,” I said. “But I don’t actually know either.”
We walked around the perimeter of the pool and up the outdoor steps. I was proud of how super quiet we were being. Well, quiet, that is, until Chloe tripped up the top step and fell into Dabney, who fell into me. Then, somehow, we were all in a pile on the front porch, laughing hysterically. This, I knew, was 10 percent champagne, 90 percent girl giggles that only three best friends really knew how to produce in each other.
“I love you guys,” I said.
“Is that the Veuve talking?” Chloe asked, getting up and taking our hands to pull us up too.
“No,” I said. “Maybe a little.” More honest. “But I really do. You guys could have turned your backs on me and walked away when I was going through a hard time.”
“Turned our backs? On you?” Dabney said. “That’s so 2008.”
We all laughed again.
“For real,” Chloe said. “The actions of some man don’t get to define us anymore—even if that man is, you know, your dad.”
I pulled them both in for a side hug. “Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”
“What now?” Dabney asked. “Do we break a window or something?”
I walked confidently up to the farthest left-hand window in the living room, put my palms flat on the window frame, and pushed with all my might. It slid right up.
“Wow,” Chloe said. She was close enough I could see her eye roll. “I’m glad we really stressed about that.”
“This window never locked right,” I said. “It didn’t matter because it wasn’t like anyone was going to break in.”
“Until now,” Dabney said.
“Until now,” I agreed, grinning at her.
I was about to climb through the window when Chloe said, “Wait!”
I tensed, ready to start running, but then she added, “You know your house could be, like, ransacked, right?”
I raised my eyebrows at her. “What? Why?”
Dabney nodded knowingly. “Oh yeah. Remember how trashed P. Diddy’s house was after that raid?”
I felt a little sick—but it was nice to be prepared.
I climbed through the window and my friends followed me. It was dark, but enough light was shining through the windows that it wasn’t too bad. It also smelled… weird. Not, like, bad necessarily, but just not like cooking and candles and general “we live here” sort of smells. It was kind of hot and damp. I didn’t like it. It made me sad. Still, it was a huge relief to be back in my house. I didn’t want to leave. Ever.
We all flipped our flashlights on. We walked through the living room and dining room, which looked pretty much intact. But that wasn’t surprising. They were mostly furniture. In the kitchen, a few drawers and cabinets were open, and some cleaning stuff was haphazardly on the floor, but my mom was a stickler for organization, so I felt like the lack of mess had less to do with the feds taking care of our house and more to do with the fact that they could see we weren’t hiding anything.
We made our way silently up the stairs, and in my room, out of habit, I clicked the light switch.
“Are you crazy?” Chloe hissed, flipping it back off immediately.
I smacked my hand against my forehead. “Oh my gosh. Sorry. See? What would I do without you guys?”
“Have these people no respect?” Chloe said, her voice almost shaking. The toy box that was still at the end of my bed had been dumped out and my beloved stuffed animals were askew. I hadn’t slept with them in years, but still. I picked up Bunny, my favorite, now one-eared lovey from when I was little, and hugged her to me.
Inside the walk-in closet, I shut the door behind us. Then I turned on the light. “This has to be okay,” I said. “It’s not like anyone can see us in here.”
“It’s pretty much perfect in here,” Dabney said. “They must have gotten bored with your lack of raidable items.”
I nodded in agreement as I walked over to my dresses section and gathered them in my arms, hugging them to me. “My girls. My best friends.”
“Hey!” Chloe protested.
“Shhhh,” Dabney said. “She’s having a moment with her true loves. Don’t interrupt her.”
We all giggled. “Dabs,” I said, “you’re in charge of shoes. Take enough that I can get by but not so many that it looks obvious.”
She saluted me.
“Chlo, as much as I hate to waste prime duffel bag real estate on them, I mostly need uniforms. And you do jeans too. I’ll handle everything else.”
We all started rifling through my things quickly and efficiently. More than once I stopped to smell a piece of my clothing. It smelled so good. It smelled like home. So much so that it overwhelmed me, and I had to sit down on the pink plush carpet.
“You okay?” Dabney asked.
I nodded sulkily.
“We should have brought the rest of the champagne,” Chloe said. “I assume it’s kind of hard to be in your old house trying to grab pieces of the life you left behind—or, I mean, sober, anyway.”
I nodded, tears coming to my eyes.
“But here’s the thing,” Dabney said, “this is just temporary. You’re going to be back here before you know it.”
“How do you know?” I asked, trying not to cry, clearing the lump in my throat.
“We just know,” Chloe said.
I nodded and took a deep breath, trying to be brave, and, for a reason I could not explain, feeling somewhat reassured by her saying that, even though she offered zero explanation. “Okay. It’s funny, you know. I spent half the time I was here wanting to be back in New York, and now I wish I could close my eyes and curl up on my own pillow tonight.”
Chloe smiled and widened her eyes. “But you can!”
“We can’t stay here,” I said.
“No, but we can take your pillow!”
That was a really sweet thought.
“Hey, can I get your Miss Dior from your bathroom?” Dabney asked. “I really miss sharing that with you.” She made air quotes when she said sharing .
“Of course,” I said. “Get anything you want. Anything we can carry, that is.” I paused. “Chlo, can you be in charge of my pillow?”
“Yup.”
“Great.” I was having a thought. Julie had said that we should try to help prove that my dad was innocent. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. No, I wasn’t some total expert in the world of finance, but the premise was pretty easy: we had to find proof that he hadn’t stolen that money. “Hey, guys, I’m going to my dad’s office really quick.”
I opened the door just enough to slip through and closed it behind me, tapping my flashlight icon again. Without Chloe and Dabney, it felt eerie to be here alone in the dark, like a ghost or the boogeyman was going to jump out and grab me at any minute. I took deep breaths and made my way the few steps down the hall into my dad’s home office where he worked at least half the time. At work, Dad’s desk was always piled with papers and notebooks, files and folders. Here, everything was perfectly tidy on top of his large mahogany desk that ordinarily contained a Mac, a wireless keyboard, and nothing else. Behind the desk sat a matching antique credenza with awards on top. To the right was a small closet that, I knew, held Dad’s printer, shelves full of books, and assorted paperwork, perfectly organized. A large leather swivel chair sat behind the desk. My throat gripped when I saw it. Of all the places I could picture my dad, I pictured him here the most. Now the office was basically empty. No computer. But no mess either.
Man, I missed when we all lived here together, when Dad would work from home, when I’d sit on the other side of his desk and do my homework. I picked up a framed photo from Dad’s credenza of the three of us at the Rockefeller Center tree lighting in New York. If I could close my eyes and twitch my nose and go back in time, I would do it in a minute.
I missed the man who had raised me, who always came home for dinner and asked me about my day and helped me with my math homework. I missed sitting with my parents in our den watching movies. I missed every simple thing about our life together, and while, sure, so far that ideal family had only been MIA for less time than when I went to camp in the summers, the idea that I didn’t know when or if I would get it back hurt the most.
I turned to Dad’s credenza and opened the drawers, which were, as I could have predicted, empty. The feds had cleaned out his files, obviously.
I opened my email on my phone and typed in “Dad.” An email he’d written to me popped up. Good luck at your game today. I’ll be there as soon as I can! Love you, kiddo. Tears sprang to my eyes. I knew I had to have this email. I needed to fold it up and put it in my pocket.
I hit the print button. The sound of the printer springing to life made me jump, which was crazy since I was the one who’d started it. I hadn’t really expected it to still be there. But a printer was pretty utilitarian. It wasn’t like it was storing anything. I opened the door to the closet that held the printer—and then I screamed absolutely bloody murder. It was definitely the loudest scream of my life. I heard Chloe yelling “Iris!” as a man in a mask caught my eye, just for a moment. I don’t know how my reflexes were so fast, but, like I had done a bazillion times before, I held my thumb on the picture icon on my phone’s lock screen, it popped open, and I started snapping.
I screamed at the top of my lungs again, knowing I was done for. I had broken the rules, and now I was going to get murdered. The man put his hand up to his eyes and dropped something. Probably to strangle me. But he didn’t strangle me. He grabbed up the papers lying on the floor and ran past me, toward the stairs.
My fight-or-flight must have been broken because I took the time to bend down and pick up a piece of paper he hadn’t grabbed. At a glance I could see that it was a broker statement from one of the mutual funds Dad’s company invested with. Well, to be more specific, it was my broker statement. Totally ordinary. Why would someone steal that? The creepiest feeling washed over me as I realized that those statements were stored in my room, in my desk, which meant that he had been in there. Dad’s office was the closest room to mine, so the robber must have hidden in here when he heard us come in. My whole body turned cold, and I dropped the statement on the desk like I’d been scalded.
Finally, realizing that our lives were in danger, I ran toward my room, calling, “Dabney, Chloe, get out of there! Now!”
My bewildered friends walked toward the hallway. “Come on!” I screamed, panic setting in. “Now!” I sprinted down the stairs and clambered out the window and didn’t even look behind me until we were halfway back to Chloe’s house.
When I finally stopped, Chloe asked, out of breath, “What is going on?”
“A man,” I panted. “In a mask. In Dad’s office closet.”
Four eyes went wide. “We have to tell someone!” Dabney said.
“Tell them what?” I asked haughtily, regaining my senses. “We broke into the house, and we think someone else broke in too?”
“Again, it’s your house,” Chloe said.
I put my head in my hands. Then I pointed at Dabney. “This is your fault,” I said. “You and your stupid triple dares.”
“Hey!” she said, holding up a duffel bag. “I love you so much that, even during the panicking and screaming, I got your shoes.”
I hugged her. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I could have said no.”
“That’s more like it,” she said.
“I even got your pillow,” Chloe said.
“You two are good, good friends,” I said. “The best.”
And here we were, full circle, with me feeling kind of weepy over how much I loved my friends. I pulled my phone out to show them the pictures of the man, zooming in on his features. “I’m pretty good at recognizing people even in masks post-pandemic,” Dabney said. “But I don’t recognize that guy.”
I didn’t either.
“Let’s tell my parents,” Chloe said. “They’ll know what to do and then we don’t have to tell your mom.”
I shook my head. “Nope. Nope. They’ll definitely tell her. I think we just let it go.”
“Iris, someone was in your house!” Dabney said.
“Yeah, but what if it was like some sort of guard or something?”
“A guard, in a mask, in your dad’s home office closet?” Chloe asked in a tone that signified I was an idiot.
Okay. Maybe I was an idiot. I shook my head. “Right. That doesn’t make a lot of sense.” I paused. “But he was taking broker statements, which the feds should have already gotten. Which is why I’m thinking that maybe it was someone with the investigation who left something behind.” I bit my lip. “Just let me think about it for a beat, okay? I’ll let you know what I decide.”
Dabney scrunched her nose. “I mean, maybe Iris is right. We’d be in so much trouble.”
Chloe sighed. My duffel suddenly felt heavy, now that my adrenaline had calmed. I was so relieved to reach Chloe’s door.
“Back at home, safe and sound,” she said.
It was only then that I wondered whether I would ever truly feel safe again.