Sam leaned his head against the window of the school bus as it sped down the Tenth Line. He couldn’t bear the thought of passing the spot where he and Cody had left Javon, so he was sitting on the opposite side of the bus with his eyes shut. Sam hadn’t slept in two nights. His head throbbed and his mind was soupy. He was nearly drifting asleep when the bus hit a large pothole and bounced him awake. Instinctively, he scanned the street.
It was the exact spot.
Sam shuddered, and his stomach lurched. Bitter bile rose at the back of his throat. He fought hard to swallow it. Then his eyes met Walter’s. The creep was sitting five rows up — alone as usual. He had his head turned practically all the way around and was smiling his freaky smile.
Could it be him? Sam wondered. Did Walter send the cryptic message? Sam knew all too well how Walter could skulk around practically unnoticed. Sometimes he even felt as if Walter was following him — everywhere. Did Walter see me leaving the house Saturday night? Did he follow me and see me getting into the car with Cody and Javon? Did he know about Cody’s blog? Does he know about the accident?
Thoughts whirled inside Sam’s mind as the bus hit the brakes, the door flung open, and Cody got on. Swaggering down the aisle to the back of the bus as if it was just another ordinary day, as though he didn’t have a care in the world, he threw himself into the seat beside Sam. AJ got on behind Cody; only this time she sat at the front of the bus.
“What are you doing?” Sam whispered through clenched teeth. “You’re supposed to stay away from me. And what’s with AJ? Why’s she sitting up there?”
Cody grinned. “Chill, Maestro.”
Sam wanted to knock out the guy’s teeth. How could he act this way when they’d just killed his best friend? Sam was having a hard time breathing, and here was Cody all smug and stupid smiles.
Has the whole world gone insane? Sam wondered. Or is it just me?
“Does AJ know? Did you tell her?”
“No way, man. She doesn’t know a thing. We just had a fight, is all. You know how girls are. Everything’s cool. No one knows anything.”
“Oh, yeah?” Sam said. “Check your blog lately?” He fixed Cody with a withering glare. “Someone knows.”
The grin slid from Cody’s lips. “No way. I thought that was you, man.”
Sam lost it. “Why would I write something like that, you idiot!”
“Whoa!” Cody scanned the other riders. “Keep your voice down. Act normal. Stop attracting attention.”
Act normal? Normal? Nothing will ever be normal again.
“Well, it wasn’t me,” Sam whispered. “So, genius, that means someone else knows. We are so going down for this — and it’s all your fault. We should have stayed. We should have called the cops right then and there … told them it was an accident … told them the truth.”
“Relax. There’s no proof of anything. Nothing to link us to the accident.”
“No, of course not,” Sam said. “Nothing at all, except maybe forensics, you moron!”
“Will you kill the insults, dude. We’re in this together, remember?”
How could Sam forget? For the first time he found himself wishing he’d listened to his father and stayed away from Cody. His dad had said that all Ringwood Barnses were no good — how did he know?
“Listen, what’s done is done,” Cody said. “Just stay cool and we’ll ride this out. They must think it’s an accident, anyway.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“No 5-0, Maestro.” Cody was smiling again. “Cops would’ve called me for sure.”
Cody had a point. But that didn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t the police call Cody, even just to see if he knew anything? Maybe the police were toying with them. Maybe they already knew everything. Maybe they had Cody and him under surveillance. Maybe the police were waiting for the right moment. Maybe they were secretly videoing them and hoping to catch them saying something incriminating …
Stop it! Sam ordered himself. Now you’re sounding totally paranoid.
He took a deep breath as the bus halted in front of the elementary school and Miranda exited. She looked back over her shoulder at Sam and grinned.
Sam started wondering about his sister. Miranda had been in his room using his computer. Possibly tracking his Internet moves? Perhaps sending messages? It was possible that she heard him leave the house on Saturday. Then again, it could be Mike. Maybe Mike hadn’t left the roadside. Maybe he’d been hiding there. Maybe he’d seen something. Heard something … Enough! Sam’s mind screamed. Ridiculous! Mike had been home. In his room. He didn’t know anything. He couldn’t know. Sam scrunched his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to clear his head, but visions of legs sticking out from under cars, bikes rolling down hills, cars colliding, and bloody, headless bodies swam in the endless black waters of his conscience.
“Did you get rid of those pictures and the video clip I sent you?” Sam asked Cody, suddenly remembering the photos he’d taken that night.
“Video?” Cody narrowed his eyes. “No, man. No video. You sent me two pictures. That’s it. One of the top of my head and one of a pair of feet. You’re a crappy photographer, man.”
Sam sat bolt upright and searched his memory. Two pictures and a video. He’d sent all three to Cody. He was absolutely certain. And the video had all the incriminating evidence. “I sent you two pictures and a video.”
“No way. Uh-uh.” Cody shook his head. “I only got the pictures.”
“I sent you a video!” Sam insisted. “I remember exactly. I took two pictures and one video. Each time I hit the options key, scrolled down, and … and sent them off.”
“So tell me then, Maestro, if I got the two pictures, who got the video?”
The bus pulled up to the school. A squad car was parked in front of the principal’s office.