Chapter Twenty-One Secret Weapon #2
Grinning openly, I tune her out and open the general email account to check the new messages from the “contact us” form on Maggie’s website. I find nearly a dozen waiting to be answered. Usually we’re lucky to get one. I open the first:
I’m looking into details of the Starling residence belonging to Sarah and Gabriel Thorn. Can you provide me with details…
The next one says:
Can you tell me who owns 1249 Rockridge Way? Searches have proven fruitless. Looking for info so I can discuss usage of the property with the owner…
1249 Rockridge Way. My old address.
Home of the Starling Slayer, dear old dad.
Usage of the property. That means digging up the whole thirty acres, I’m betting.
I’m about to move the emails to the trash folder when I realize I should double-check with my aunt. Just because I hate all these people with the fire of a thousand suns doesn’t mean I’m allowed to delete potential clients.
I wait until she’s off the phone before calling toward her office, “Hey, Maggie, there’s a scary number of messages through the contact form asking about the Thorn house.”
She rises from her desk chair and walks into the main office. “Great. It begins,” she says, heaving a massive sigh.
“What begins?”
“This happens every year on the anniversary of his arrest. I warned you when you first got here, remember? The internet people swarming the town.” She shakes her head unhappily.
“It’ll be even worse this year because he just went and offed himself—” She stops, wincing when she realizes who she’s speaking to.
“I’m sorry, darlin’. I shouldn’t have said that. ”
“I don’t get it. Why do these people care so much? They didn’t know the victims. Or my fa—” I glance hastily at the door. “Or Gabriel Thorn. The case has been solved. So what else is there?”
“A million bucks, for one thing. Although to be honest, I expected the reward to do a lot more damage.”
“Damage?”
“Figured those internet people would be buying up all the shovels at Pete’s hardware store and digging up the entire dang forest. But it’s been fairly quiet.”
She’s right. Even Jasmine seems to have abandoned her “mission.” It’s been days since I’ve seen her researching the case.
And despite Zed’s claim that he’s investigating possible burial sites, he clearly hasn’t found anything either, otherwise it’d be all over his stupid website or featured on his podcast. Yes, I still closely monitor both. I don’t trust that guy. At all.
I leave the office after my shift to find Mar and Ty waiting outside for me.
“Hey, what are you guys doing here?” I ask, happy to see them.
Mar looks up from her phone. “Oh, I was literally just texting you. We’re going for coffee. Want to come with us?”
“Sure. I’m down.”
Mar has her camera with her, and as we head toward the Starbucks, she stops every so often to snap a picture. Ty has his head buried in his phone, nearly tripping over his own feet several times during the walk.
“New girlfriend?” I tease, raising a brow.
Mar snorts. “More like new partner in crime,” she answers for Ty.
I eye him suspiciously. “What does that mean?”
He shrugs. “It’s no big deal. I’m getting in on the body hunt.”
Just like that, my rising spirits plummet. “Don’t tell me you’re after the reward?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?” he counters. “Scholarships are only going to get me so far at Vanderbilt. I need the cash.”
“It’s such a waste of time,” Mar informs him. “The FBI and the police swarmed this town for ages, trying to find those remains. They’re long gone. No one’s ever going to find them.”
“It’s not impossible. Those true-crime guys looking for the bodies don’t have my secret weapon.”
She rolls her eyes. “Kab? Yeah, he’s a regular ace in the hole.”
“Kab?” I echo, confused. “As in my cousin’s teammate Kabir?”
“Yup,” Ty confirms. “We talked about it today after French class. My brains, his brawn. I have a computer program that I think will help, and he can do the heavy lifting. It’s perfect. We’re going to hatch out a plan later tonight.”
I frown. I get that he needs the money, but I thought he and I were on the same page.
Even when the rest of the school was going crazy about my father’s suicide this week, Ty never mentioned it, never bought into the excitement that wanted to turn it into a three-ring circus.
But here he is, joining the rest of the clowns.
Much to my chagrin, I get home later to discover that my dear cousin has also picked up the cause again.
“Did you know about this?” Jasmine demands when I walk into the living room. She and Connor are watching TV.
“Know what?” I drop my bag on the arm of the couch.
“That your weird friend teamed up with Con’s dumb friend to take our money!”
Connor raises a brow. “Our money? Jesus, Jazzy. The world does not revolve around you, you get that, right?”
She ignores him, huffing in displeasure. “They can’t find those bodies before we do! What if they find them first?”
“Finding them requires looking for them, which you haven’t done at all,” Connor says, rolling his eyes.
“Because there aren’t any clues!” she growls at him. “I spent weeks reading about the case. Even the police have no idea where Uncle Psycho dumped the bodies.”
“Exactly! If the cops couldn’t find them, what makes you think you will? Let it go already.” Connor doesn’t lose his patience often, but right now he looks beyond annoyed with his sister. Proving that point, he stands up, phone in hand. “I’m gonna go call Sam and talk to someone normal.”
“Hey,” I joke in protest.
“You’re excluded from that,” he says graciously.
“Thank you.”
Jasmine glares at his retreating back before leveling her determined gaze on me. “We’re back on the case, Ryan. Looks like it’s just you and me.”
Stop looking or you’ll regret it.
My mysterious texter’s warning flashes in my head. I haven’t heard from him or her in weeks, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten the threat.
Remember…I know who you are, Gabrielle Thorn.
Just because they haven’t exposed my real identity doesn’t mean they won’t do it, so the more I can distance myself from this body hunt, the better. Whoever sent those messages might be watching me.
The thought sends a shiver running up my spine. But it’s true. Maybe they’re stalking me. Tracking what I do.
“I’m not part of this,” I remind my cousin.
She smirks at me. “You are now.”