I sigh audibly, to the point that eyebrows are raised. I swish my head around as heat swarms through my neck and face. “Um, that’s fine. I understand,” I say, tapping the counter a couple times before spinning around. “I’ll just, um, go then...”
I force my shoulders back as I walk to the door. But Tommy isn’t done. “You can find him on the green roof.”
I turn around. “What?”
“He said to tell you that, if you came by,” Tommy says. “He’s up there, if you want to see him.”
I nod and smile. I stare at the gray floor and swish my dress around.
“Well,” Raven says, beaming. “What are you waiting around here for? Go on, get.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, face red with the realization that they’re both watching me.
I cross the campus quickly, swiping over damp grass and leaves. When I get to the environmental building, my hands clutch at the metal railings of the twisted staircase. I try to take two steps at a time to the green roof.
Luke squats next to a set of plants in the large area marked off by flimsy yellow police tape.
He doesn’t hear me as I walk over. He rubs his chin, his lips parted as he scrutinizes something. He jots down a note and then shifts his weight and attention to another plant. His pants tighten around his legs as he crouches. His fingers reach out, touching the plants, moving the branches carefully. He is so purposeful and delicate with his movements. Warmth flourishes across my face and chest as I remember how precise and careful his fingers have been with certain parts of me.
I step closer. “Hey,” I say.
He jolts up. His hand swipes his gun, hovering above it like it’s high noon. I make myself look at his face, instead of the gun. He takes me in. His face relaxes, but just for a moment. Then something flickers in his eyes. He’s tense again. “Hey.”
He doesn’t move toward me or invite me behind the yellow line. I put my hands behind my back and look at my shoes to gather myself. Clearly I’m going to have to lead this little chitchat before we get to the point.
“I’m sorry we fought. I’m sorry I’m bugging you while you’re on the job,” I say, nodding to the plants.
He relaxes and steps toward me. “I’m not,” he says, his eyes close to mine, despite the plastic barrier.
My heart thumps and my jaw hurts from closing it so tight. The corners of his lips turn up. He looks down, which is good, because my whole body feels a little flushed. I think of ice cubes as I ramble on. “Anyway, I just needed to talk to you about something. It’s important.”
His head shoots up and his eyes narrow. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?”
I take one of his closed fists and gently open it. “Relax, okay?” I say. His hand goes limp in my palms. I massage it as I go. He can’t get all riled and overprotective on me. Not now.
“It’s Zachary. I think he might be behind this disease. He studies white blood cells and the immune system and stuff. And that means that I think he might have been the expert who talked to Danny the night before he died. But he didn’t tell you about that, did he? Even though it might have helped the investigation.”
Luke looks at his hand as I knead it with my thumbs. I gently let go and cross my arms. Luke stretches his hand and shakes it out, before looking at me. “No, Zachary never came forward to tell me about his research or talking to Danny.”
“So...that means you’ll look into him?” I lean forward, waiting for him to say yes, of course, he’s on it.
Instead he clicks his tongue in thought. “We are looking into possible causes of the disease as there may be a connection to what happened to Danny, but I can’t really talk about that part of the investigation.” Luke coughs and shoots me a look.
“Okay, but, you have to look into Zachary. He told me he went in to the hospital, but Dr. Brown and Peachy told him yesterday he needed to come in. So, he lied to me. And he was one of the first people to get purple eyes.” Luke just nods. I tighten my crossed arms. “You’re already looking into him, aren’t you? And you won’t even tell me what you found out?”
“I said I can’t talk about it.” Luke holds my gaze.
Now I’m the one with clenched fists. “Well, what about Danny’s death? Is there anything you can tell me about that?”
“I don’t have much to go on, but I’ll figure out who killed him.”
“He was murdered.” I run my hands through my hair and look over the edge of the building.
“Yeah,” Luke says, tilting his head as he looks at me. When I don’t say anything, he looks around and then lifts the yellow tape. “Come in here.” I duck my head, his hand briefly covering the back of it, to make sure, what, it doesn’t bang against the yellow tape? I smile at the ground.
He places his hand on the small of my back, his delicate fingertips rubbing along the fabric of my dress, and guides me over to the ledge. “See the broken bushes, and the heels, digging into the dirt.” I nod. “We know these are Danny’s because they match his shoes. He walked backward, hesitatingly, slowly. So probably not a suicide.”
“I never thought it was a suicide,” I say.
“I know.” He presses more firmly into my back.
“So where are the footprints of someone walking toward him, you know, if he’s backing away from someone?”
Luke smiles as he shifts to a bush and squats again. With his knees far apart, his pants tighten around his thighs and his, err, area. I stare for too long and flash a look back up at him. His cheeks bunch into a smile.
“So, you were saying, the footprints...” I squat as well and brush my hair behind my ears more times than it needs to be brushed behind my ears.
He points to a small indentation in the dirt, marked by a little white plastic marker. “Here’s a footprint, just as fresh as Danny’s, but going the other way. However, it’s hard to make out the shoe size. But based on the pressure and the moisture in the dirt, these indents were made by someone between one hundred and twenty and one hundred and sixty pounds.”
I nod. It’s just a little crescent-shaped dent. Then I slap my hands on my thighs and look around, searching for more footprints, but that isn’t what I see. I see, instead, a purple Krizzles box. Zesty mango.
“Oh my God.” I get up and walk toward it. It has a little white marker too. “This, what do you make of this?”
Luke shrugs. “Probably just trash, but you don’t want to take anything for granted.”
I shake my head. “Zachary eats Krizzles all the time. I mean every day. And he ordered that flavor online. They don’t sell zesty mango here.”
Luke’s face expands and he comes over and looks at it. He shakes his head. “No, not around here. But they sell this flavor in a few stores in D.C. I looked into it. There’re too many kids from D.C. to isolate it.”
“They’re Zachary’s, I know it. He was here, and considering it’s just a little damp, it wasn’t long ago,” I say, surprised I can get the words out with the way my throat is closing in.
The wrinkles around Luke’s eyes deepen. He stares out from under his blond eyelashes as the warm light of the descending sun casts shadows that strengthen his features. My throat doesn’t feel so tight. My brain doesn’t feel so wobbly.
But then he says, “You may be right, Quinn, but right now, it’s just coincidental.”
“You can’t bring him in for questioning based on this?” I point and gulp and tilt on my toes so that I don’t fall over.
“I wish I could,” he says.
I bite the inside of my cheek.
He steps toward me. “Quinn, I’m going to work on this, okay? I’ll find whoever killed Danny. If it’s Zachary or someone else. I’ll get them.”
I wish it wasn’t Zachary. I wish I could tell myself it wasn’t him, the guy who actually gets my random Monty Python references and who always gives me a string or two of his string cheese.
But it is him. Which means something even worse.
Someone is going to have to tell Mandy that she’s dating a murderer. Someone is going to have to tell Mandy that she is with a violent man.
Someone is going to have to tell Mandy that she made her mother’s mistake.
And that someone is going to have to be me.