Thornbird

Chapter Thirty Partner in Crime

thirty

Partner in Crime

I pause outside the door to homeroom the next morning, my pulse racing because I have no idea what to expect. Whether Chase will bring up the kiss. Whether he’ll mock me about it. I’m ready for anything, but when I walk in, he doesn’t say a word to me.

He’s already in his seat in the back, wearing a gray hoodie and jeans. Arms crossed, watching me with that unreadable look as I make my way to the row ahead of his. His gaze follows me, and when I don’t greet him with so much as a nod, I can’t tell if he’s annoyed or amused, or if he even cares.

I sit down and fumble with my notebook. The silence between us is louder than any words. I chance a glance back at him, and he doesn’t look away. It’s like he’s daring me to break first. And I do. I turn, pretending to ignore the prickling tension in the air.

As I wait for Mr. Morrison to get homeroom going, I absently tap my pen on my notebook, but I’m so distracted that it ends up slipping from my fingers and clattering to the floor.

I lean down to grab it, but Chase’s hand is already there, curling around it. My fingers brush his, and I feel a jolt at the warmth of his skin.

I snatch my hand back, my cheeks flushing. This time when our gazes collide, he’s sporting a tiny smirk.

Homeroom has never felt this long. I almost melt into a puddle of relief when Mr. Morrison finally claps his hands and says, “Let’s get started, everyone.”

My next class doesn’t go any better. It’s Government and Politics with Everett, and even though we’re not together, I feel so guilty about kissing Chase that I avoid him the entire time. This pleases Sofia, of course.

By calculus, I want to hide in a closet and never come out.

Chase walks in, and I swear he looks even better than he did this morning.

He’s removed his hoodie and now wears a snug black T-shirt.

I find myself gawking at his broad shoulders and defined arms, unable to look away.

Until he catches me staring, and then I have no choice but to wrestle my gaze off him.

The rest of the week is more of the same.

Ignoring Chase. Avoiding Everett. I eat lunch in the cafeteria with Mar and Ty, despite Jasmine trying to drag me out into the quad with her and her cheerleading friends.

Even if I wanted to hang out with girls I have nothing in common with, I don’t know how they can stand sitting out there.

Tennessee isn’t as frigid as Allentown, but we’re nearing Thanksgiving and it’s getting colder.

Jasmine loves it, though. She’s a fall person.

All about the cozy flannels and pumpkin spice lattes.

Personally, I think she just wants to ogle Bo as he and Everett throw the football around on the lawn.

She and Bo have been texting up a storm since the night of Everett’s party.

As the week nears its end, there’s a chill in the air, and even the lattes aren’t enough to keep everyone warm.

On Thursday, Jasmine, Connor, and their friends shuffle into the cafeteria for lunch, claiming it’s too cold to eat outside.

I’m at a corner table with my friends, trying to focus on what Mar is saying, but it’s hard to concentrate with the sense of impending doom hanging over my head.

Agent Foster is picking me up after school today for my session with the psychiatrist, and my stomach has been in knots all morning.

Hypnosis.

God. What has my life come to?

I know I need to do this, though. After what happened at the lumberyard, I can’t have Jasmine running around half-cocked looking for dead bodies.

Catching sight of my cousins across the cafeteria, I expect them to find their own spot with the jock crowd, but to my surprise they amble over and join us instead.

Connor pulls out a chair while Kab drops his backpack onto the floor and drags a chair closer to Ty.

“Partner in crime!” he chirps, bumping fists with my friend.

I hide a grin as Ty returns the fist bump. He and Kab are still searching for the bodies too, as far as I know. The last time I asked Ty about it, he said he was “working on a couple of theories.” I assumed that meant they had exactly what the cops have had for the past decade: nothing.

So I’m startled when Kab says, “We still on for tomorrow?”

“Aw, you guys have a romantic date planned?” Connor says with a grin. “Why wasn’t I invited?”

“You were,” Kab says. “That bonfire at the lake tomorrow night. I want Cheng to come so we can scope out the scene.”

Mar gives Ty a suspicious look. “What scene? What are you up to?”

Kab fields the question. “Get this, bros. We figured out where the bodies are.”

My breath hitches.

Across from me, Jasmine lifts her head from her phone, her finger poised mid-scroll. “Bullshit.”

“Nope, we totally did,” Kab says smugly.

“Oh really,” Mar challenges. “Where?”

They both shrug. “The lake,” Ty says, as if it’s perfectly obvious.

My cousin rolls her eyes. “They’re not in the lake. The cops searched it twice and didn’t find a thing.”

Ty waves her off. “They did it wrong.”

“Totally wrong,” Kab pipes up.

“Please, enlighten us.” Mar’s sarcasm is impossible to miss. “How did they search the lake two times and not find six bodies?”

Ty takes a quick sip of his water before elaborating. “Oh, Amaryllis—”

“Don’t call me that,” she growls.

“—there’s a plethora of reasons why they’d miss the bodies, especially the times they searched.

First search was in August, right? A few weeks after Thorn confessed.

So the lake was warmer. Muckier. Water levels can fluctuate a lot in late summer, depending on rain.

And visibility is terrible that time of year; there’s a ton of algae in the lakes around here. ”

“Terrible visibility,” Kab says, as if he has any clue what Ty is talking about.

“So August was a bad choice. But then they search again the following April. The thing is, spring isn’t much better. Especially right after the thaw. Sediment gets stirred up, so visibility’s even worse.”

“Even worse!” echoes Kab.

“And everything shifts. Bodies could get covered over by all that mud and silt,” Ty says, his tone excited in that nerdy way I find kind of endearing. “If there’s even a little trench or thick aquatic plants, divers could miss an entire body.”

“An entire body!” stresses Kab.

“So you think November is the magic month?” Mar asks, skeptical.

Ty nods. “Actually…yes. Now’s ideal because the lake water’s cold but not frozen yet. The cold water settles the sediment. Visibility’s usually better in late fall than any other season. And with the right team, if they go in with fresh eyes, they might find something.”

“The right team?” Mar says, looking between them. “As in, you two? Because I’m confident in saying you are not the people for this job.”

“Agreed,” Connor says.

“Don’t you dare go diving tomorrow,” I warn, glaring at Ty.

He waves a dismissive hand again. “We’re not diving yet.

Just walking around the lake and trying to locate the most likely spots where Thorn would’ve dumped them.

Once we establish that, we’ll dive. But if we’re going to get that reward, we need to search the lake now, before winter.

Before everything freezes over and we miss our chance. ”

The moment the final bell rings, I’m ready to flee Crockett High.

Agent Foster is picking me up in town because we all agreed it might draw attention if he shows up at my school.

I call Maggie on my way outside, balancing the phone against my shoulder as I zip up my coat.

I know she wanted to be the one to take me to the appointment, but she has showings until nine.

“Are you all set?” Her tone is light and chirpy, but it doesn’t fully mask the concern she’s trying to hide.

“I’m good,” I assure her. “It’ll be fine.”

“I really wish I were going with you, darlin’. I didn’t like how that FBI boy spoke to you.”

I hide a smile. FBI boy. Luke Foster is in his twenties, hardly a boy.

“He apologized,” I remind her. “But don’t worry, if he’s a dick again, I can handle it.”

“Language,” she chides.

“If he’s a penis again?” I correct helpfully.

My aunt’s hoot of laughter echoes in my ear. “Well, that just sounds wrong.”

I promise to call her the moment the appointment is over, then bid her goodbye and head for the bus lane in the lot.

I’m supposed to meet Foster outside the diner, but there’s a snag the moment I arrive downtown. Zed’s yellow Jeep is parked directly in front of the diner door. The super-detective himself is sitting in the driver’s seat, scrolling on his phone.

Damn it.

My phone buzzes.

Foster: Be there in two minutes.

I contemplate whether I could sneak into Foster’s car without Zed noticing, but those hopes are dashed when I hear, “Ryan, hey.”

I’ve been spotted.

Stifling a groan, I type out a response to Foster.

Me: Change of plans. Can you grab me from the Starbucks?

Foster: No problem.

I give Zed a half-hearted wave, but it’s not enough to appease him. Before I can escape, he’s hopping out of the Jeep and striding toward me. He’s not wearing his glasses today, and his hair is actually styled rather than disheveled. I realize he’s kind of cute when he makes an effort.

“Hey, Zed. I can’t talk right now,” I tell him. “I’m meeting a friend.”

I start to walk off. He quickly falls into step with me.

“I’ll walk you,” he says. “We can talk while we walk.”

That irritated groan remains lodged in my throat. “I really don’t want to talk about this case anymore—”

“It’s not about the case.”

Wow. Who knew his brain had room for something other than my father?

“We had a yearbook meeting today,” Zed says, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Jazzy mentioned you’re a photographer and that you’re really good.”

I look over in surprise. “Oh.”

“Anyway, we were thinking maybe you could take some pictures for the winter video.”

“The winter video?”

“Yeah, it’s like our midyear recap. We play a highlight video at the Valentine’s Day dance every year, showing, like, fun or important moments that happened first semester, though it’s usually just football nonsense. And then at prom, we show a video recap of the whole year.”

“Okay. What kind of pictures do you need?”

“Just some candid shots around school.”

As we near the Starbucks, I cast a surreptitious look to the street, searching for Foster’s car. He said he’d be in a black SUV.

“Students hanging out in the cafeteria, standing at their lockers, that kind of stuff,” Zed is saying.

I spot the black vehicle parked near the coffee shop. I think that’s Agent Foster in the front seat. Now I just need to get rid of Zed.

“Sure,” I say. “I can do that.”

“Sweet. You can upload any photos to the yearbook account—”

“Can we discuss the details another time? I really have to go.” I edge toward the curb.

He wrinkles his forehead. “Where’s your friend?”

I vaguely gesture down Main Street. “I’m meeting her at the end of the block.”

“Okay.” Zed frowns for a moment, then shrugs. “I’ll get out of your hair, then. See you later.”

Only when he turns back in the direction of the diner and is several yards away do I hurry toward the SUV.

“Sorry,” I say as I slide into the passenger seat. “This guy from school wouldn’t stop talking.”

A glint of humor fills Agent Foster’s eyes. “I recognize the kid. He posts videos about the case online. Seems obsessed with it.”

“Yup. Has a podcast too. Obsessed would be putting it mildly.”

Foster waits for me to buckle my seat belt before pulling away from the curb. “These kids are something else,” he remarks. “Thinking they’re smarter than the hundreds of people who have been living and breathing this case for years.”

“The new theory is that the bodies are in the lake, and the cops just didn’t search it properly.”

Foster snorts under his breath. “Those were some of the most intensive water searches the bureau ever conducted. There’s nothing in that lake.

And while I do appreciate the sustained interest in the case, as any publicity is good for us and can bring new leads, the arrogance is astounding sometimes.

Teenagers, untrained civilians, believing they can find things we didn’t. ”

“And you really believe they can’t?”

“Trust me, all these questions your school friends are asking, you think they haven’t been asked a thousand times before?

That we haven’t followed the same leads?

Interviewed the same persons of interest?

The case is colder than Alaska. The only way it’s getting solved is with new evidence.

And if we can’t find that evidence, a bunch of teens in town sure as hell won’t. ”

“Yet you’re turning to a teen for assistance…” I gesture wryly at myself.

“No, we’re turning to Thorn’s daughter. Of all the people in this town, you’re the only person who might be able to offer that new evidence,” Foster says as he pulls onto the interstate on-ramp. “You know more than you think, Ryan.”

It isn’t long before we arrive in Nashville, where I take in the sights of downtown with a sense of déjà vu.

The scrapbook Gran made me has a couple of photos of my mother and me on a trip to Nashville, standing in front of the redbrick exterior of a music joint with a faded sign.

I peer out the window of Foster’s SUV, wondering if I’ll see it now, until I remember this is Nashville and there are hundreds of music joints lining the streets.

Foster has his window cracked, and the scent of frying fish and sweet barbecue wafts into the car. I inhale deeply, because the smell is so familiar. The Southern air always feels a little thicker, slower, as it rolls over you.

A few minutes later, he parks in front of a three-story medical building and cuts the engine. With a wry smile, he says, “Ready to get hypnotized?”

I exhale in a rush. “No time like the present.”