When something stands out as different, it can be tracked.
—PRINCIPAL BLANKENSHIP
I wait while Victor and Journey close and lock up first the lab and then the classroom. The three of us walk to the parking lot together. I give Journey a tight hug before sending him off with Victor again. They’re driving to Salem to pick up some supplies that are out-of-date for a commercial lab, but perfect for either the camp or the classroom. Victor estimates it’s about $5,000 worth of stuff. So it’s worth the drive. But they won’t be back until late. And Lyman has plans with his mother tonight.
So that means it’s a girl’s night.
Lysa’s driving. We’re planning to grab dinner, then deliver some Bella orders, and after that we’re going to a movie.
I text Rachel to let her know and she texts back telling me to have a good time.
After dinner and ten successful Bella deliveries, we return to the car, but Lysa immediately starts looking around for something. She looks in the console, the backseat, in between the seats. She’s becoming frantic as she even checks the trunk.
“What are you looking for?” I ask.
“What did I do with the leather pouch that I brought Miss P’s shrine stuff in?”
I shake my head. “No clue. I remember seeing it, though.”
“I have to find it,” she says. “It’s my mom’s.”
“We must have left it at school. We’ll look for it tomorrow,” I say.
“You don’t understand,” Lysa gasps. “It’s Givenchy.”
“I promise a night in the storage room won’t turn it into Tar-jay,” Spam says.
I giggle. Whenever Lysa goes on about some designer, Spam brings up her favorite store, Target. Only she pronounces it as if it were a French word.
“It’s just that I borrowed it without asking, which is okay as long as I don’t leave it somewhere. I have to go back and get it,” Lysa says, sounding a little frantic.
“Now?” both Spam and I ask at the same time.
“Yes. Now,” Lysa says. “You guys know my mom. ‘I forgot’ is not an excuse.”
“But how—”
“With these,” Lysa interrupts, holding up her thumb.
“I don’t know.” It seems weird and maybe even a little wrong for us to go into the school buildings at night. “I’m afraid Victor will think we’re taking advantage. Don’t forget, we’re still on probation.”
“We’re not students now or even family members,” she says. “Effective today, we’re employees. Victor said so himself.”
Good point. And I do know how her mom loves to dole out situations to help Lysa remember the rules. She actually calls them “situations” instead of “punishments,” which is what they really are.
“Okay. But we’re just going to go in, get the pouch, and leave,” I say. “No messing around. I can’t do anything to disappoint Victor.”
“Of course,” Lysa says. “What else would we do?”
Spam nudges me. “This is where you say, while we’re there we should sneak into his lab and touch all of his stuff.” She cackles.
“You guys. I’m seriously over it with the lab. I don’t even care about it anymore.”
“Uh huh.” Spam wiggles her eyebrows.
Her teasing is getting on my nerves.
* * *
When we arrive at the school, the parking lot is completely empty. Any car would stand out, but Lysa’s bright red Mustang is practically a beacon.
The campus is dark and deserted too, but we know there’s a security guard who stops by every so often on rounds. It’s a little creepy to be here when it’s so quiet, so we hurry around to the back of A-building and down the cement steps.
Even though it’s going on eight o’clock and still somewhat light outside, the hallway is dark. Pitch-black. Typical basement.
The three of us simultaneously pull out our cell phones and turn on the flashlights, sending out three beams to slice through the darkness. From there, we find our way to the classroom door. My thumb unlocks it.
Spam shines the light up under her chin. “Can I just say how much I love this biometric stuff?” She moves into the classroom ahead of me, feeling along for the wall switch.
“Don’t,” I say. “The light will show through the windows.” I point to the high windows. The dim light that filters in isn’t strong, but with our phone lights it’s enough for us to maneuver around the furniture.
“I thought we agreed that it was technically okay for us to be here,” Lysa says.
“Technically, it probably is. I just don’t want to have to explain to the security guard that we’re here for your mom’s stupid document pouch,” I say.
“Givenchy isn’t stupid,” Lysa says.
I tiptoe toward the storage room. “It’s probably in here.” I stop to shift things out of my right hand and turn off the flashlight and Spam and Lysa run into me.
“Shhh. Ow, that was my toe,” Spam whispers.
“Quiet,” Lysa orders.
“Stop it, you guys. I’m trying to do this. And why are we whispering?” I unlock the storage room door and just as I’m about to walk through, Lysa tugs hard on my sleeve.
“Erin,” she hisses.
“What?” I keep moving forward into the storage room, but she pulls me back.
“Seriously, look,” she says.
Now I’m annoyed. “What?” I say a little louder.
“Shhh.” She shines her phone light across the classroom. First, on Miss P’s shrine. The top is hinged open and some of the contents are scattered across the counter. And then, more importantly, on the door to the crime lab, which is standing open a few inches.
“Is somebody here?” My stomach roils.
“The parking lot was deserted,” Lysa says.
“Call Journey,” Spam says. “Maybe they left it like this … or came back.”
“I walked out with them. They locked everything up. And he just texted me ten minutes ago saying they’re almost to Salem.”
Spam is putting things back into Miss P’s shrine. “The flash drive’s gone,” she announces.
“Maybe it’s on the floor,” Lysa says.
Spam prowls around, shining her phone light into the corners. “Nope. Gone.”
“Who would do something like this?” Lysa says.
“Clay told me that Coach Wilkins has been hanging around down here every day.”
“Why?” Lysa asks.
“Exactly,” I say.
“Did they mess up anything in here?” Spam walks into the lab.
I don’t even follow her, that’s how paranoid I am about getting caught in Victor’s lab. Instead, I stand at the door and hiss at her. “Come out of there.”
“Wait.” Spam glides by the AFIS computer and swipes her finger on the keyboard.
“Don’t touch anything,” I say.
The screen lights up. She jumps a little and then she peers at the screen. “Uh oh.”
Lysa slips into the lab, next to Spam. “What’s uh oh?”
“You guys. Get out of there.” I refuse to set even one foot into the lab. Victor and I have a deal and I can’t … I just can’t.
“Oh wow.” Spam’s moan tells me this is serious.
“Come out, now.”
“She’s coming.” Spam flies out of the lab with Lysa in tow. She grabs my arm as they run past. “Hide.”
“Who’s coming?”
“Blankface.” Spam moves quickly to the storage room. I close the lab door and follow them. We barely get the storage room door closed before I realize my Bella bracelet is lighting up red and vibrating.