Chapter 19 #2
Zara: Thank you, Rick. Always a gentleman…I may or may not have Mr. Waller’s password information for yearbook…I wanted to look around to see if maybe the killer left any clues, or to see if Mr. Waller was maybe involved
Camryn: Mr. Waller doesn’t seem very bloodthirsty. I mean he cries during nature documentaries
Zara: Could be a clever ruse. Anyway, Mr. Waller loves a good paper trail and saves everything, including an email from Allison’s dad asking him to mail some of the stuff that she left behind because, and I quote, “she’ll be finishing out her school year at home”
Landon: Mr. Waller could get in trouble for being so lax about his passwords
Alexis: I don’t want to get Mr. Waller fired. He’s so nice and he always has snacks
Zara: Then we won’t tell anyone where we got it, will we?
Martina nudged Rick with her foot, getting his attention. “What do you think? Why would Allison’s mom lie?”
Rick dropped his head back against the couch and thought it over. “Maybe she didn’t. Couldn’t she be doing college classes at home?”
“That’s a good question,” Martina said, typing out their combined thoughts and putting them into the chat.
Zara: Maybe, but I didn’t get that vibe from her dad’s email
Nika: Maybe we should ask Allison? I gave her mom my contact info, but I haven’t heard anything
Camryn: As we’ve learned it’s harder for people to ignore you in person. We might need to actually go talk to her
Alexis: Maybe her mom was embarrassed? She was always bragging on Allison. Nothing wrong with online school, but I can see her mom being weird about it
Zara: Nika’s right. We need to talk to Allison. I have her dad’s address but can’t go myself. No car, and my parents are presenting a united front. I’m not allowed to go anywhere
Camryn: My parents dragged me into the hardware store to help them do inventory since I’m home. They said “no one’s going to murder you while you’re counting lightbulbs.” They did not appreciate me saying “no, but I’ll want to die”
Martina: Parents. Zero sense of gallows humor
Alexis: Coach decided to use the extra time for practice. I’m headed to the field rn
Landon: I’m not allowed to use the car until I bring my history grade back up
Nika: I’d go, but my dad’s sleeping and if I borrow the car without asking I’ll be grounded for a month
Rick typed so fast, he thought he might sprain something. How much trouble would you be in if you snuck out?
Nika: Is it sneaking out if you leave a note?
Rick: I’ll be there in 30, I just need to figure out how I’m going to sneak out of my house
Nika:
Martina nudged him again with her socked foot, this time putting it directly on the side of his face. “What’s your girlfriend mean with the mustache face?”
“Gross.” Rick shoved her foot away. “And I don’t know. Sneaky spy mission disguise? Also, not my girlfriend.”
He didn’t add yet. That felt too much like he might be jinxing it, but that’s what he wanted to say.
“Yet,” Martina said, continuing to rub her socked foot all over his head.
Rick’s surprised laughter filled the empty house. “Thank you for the vote of confidence, but we are trying to track down the person attempting to kill us, so maybe we should back-burner the romance stuff?”
Martina gave him a final shove with her toes before dropping her foot back down onto the couch.
“Are you kidding? Someone’s trying to kill us, Rick.
I’m not putting off anything good or fun for even a second.
If Camryn showed up at my house and said, ‘You want to make out?’ I would say yes.
In fact, I wouldn’t even answer. Just go right to the making out. I want to die happy.”
Rick didn’t want them to die at all, but he thought maybe Martina had a point. “You are, as usual, right, Teeny.”
Martina sat up, putting her book into her bag. “Of course I am. Which is why I didn’t invite myself on your fact-finding mission. Have fun, Rick. As Papi always says, ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’ ”
“Is that a short list or a long list?” Rick asked.
“Short,” Martina said. “Papi has lived an interesting life. Now go live yours.”
—
Rick peeked through the blinds to see how many reporters were out front. Most of them had left, but there were a few still sitting in their cars.
Martina stood next to him, peering through the small kitchen window above the sink. “Bit of a challenge. As I’ve mentioned before, the Beast isn’t exactly stealthy.”
The problem was the Beast was parked on the street and Rick wasn’t sure how he was going to get by them or how he was going to keep them from following him.
He wasn’t sure if they knew it was his van or not, but he didn’t want them to make the connection if they hadn’t already. He just couldn’t see a way around it.
“Mom said she didn’t think they’re local. I could probably lose them easily if I had a head start.” He just needed to figure out how to get one.
“Remember last summer when we snuck out to go see that band play in Jared Miller’s garage?” Martina asked.
“Yeah,” Rick said, and he did remember, because when they’d made it home, Martina’s dad was up making himself a snack and hadn’t been in much of a hurry about it.
They’d had to coax her grandmother’s little dog outside, dip his paws in mud, and gently shove him through the doggie door.
While her father had been rinsing Sushi’s little paws in the bathroom sink, they’d snuck back up to Martina’s room.
“So what’s going to be our muddy dog this time? ”
Martina tapped her fingers on the kitchen counter, thinking. “Your uncle still have all that Halloween stuff?”
Vic loved Halloween. Threw a party for it every year.
Which meant he had boxes in the garage full of costume stuff and decorations.
Last year he’d stockpiled a bunch of colored smoke bombs for the front yard.
He’d screwed up his order and ended up getting double what he needed, so he’d saved them for this year.
Rick gave her a big, fierce hug and kissed the top of her head. “You’re a genius.”
“I know, I know,” she said, batting him away. “Now let’s go.”
Rick took a backpack into the garage, both of them searching through Vic’s neatly labeled bins for what they needed. When they were done, they left by the back door, looping around the neighbor’s house so that they popped out onto the street around the corner.
The reporters wouldn’t be expecting Rick or Martina to come from that way walking toward the house.
Martina went first, her hair tucked up into a beanie, a scarf wrapped around the lower half of her face to obscure it.
She also carried a tote bag full of what appeared to be groceries but was actually dirty laundry.
He’d kept his disguise minimal—long blond wig tucked under a beanie.
Thick black glasses with no lenses. He’d layered on some sweatshirts under his hoodie and then put a flannel on top of that, making himself look bigger than he was.
Then he put his phone up by his ear, pretending he was talking to someone, and walked down the street like he did it every day.
He didn’t turn to look at the reporters, doing his best to watch them out of the corner of his eye. As he’d hoped, two of them glanced up, took him in, and dismissed him. They wouldn’t ignore him if he went up to the house, but he wasn’t going that far.
He’d parked the Beast on his side of the street, so as soon as he walked behind it, they couldn’t see him anymore.
Fast as he could, Rick ducked down, pulled out his backpack, lit the first smoke bomb, and whipped it under his van toward the other side of the street.
Before the blue smoke even started to pour out, he’d lit another, throwing it the same way, but changing the angle.
He wanted smoke coming from multiple directions.
Pink, yellow, green, orange, purple, blue again—he kept lighting and throwing, the street rapidly filling with a rainbow of thick, weird-smelling smoke.
He heard a few startled exclamations but didn’t wait around to find out what they meant.
Instead, he popped open the passenger door and climbed in, sliding quickly over as Martina slipped in behind him.
He clambered into the van’s front seat, buckled up, and started the engine before driving slowly forward until visibility improved.
Then he stomped on the gas, trailing a rainbow behind him.
Without a word, Martina held out her fist, and he bumped it with his.