Chapter Nineteen

The bell rang, and Ivy and I raced to our lockers. We had to beat Miles out of school if our plan was going to work. Grabbing our bags, we busted our way through the crowd and out the doors.

Ivy and I huffed and puffed our way down the sidewalk. “I still think we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” she said between gasps. “We need to clear the rest of the team, you could have missed something at Stoverton—”

“Uh, how would you know if we missed anything at Stoverton?” I shot her a sideways glance. “That was some of my finest investigative work, I’ll have you know.”

“I thought you got caught by one of the players.”

“Who I then tricked into giving me information.”

“Okay, fine,” she said. “I’m saying I think we shouldn’t rule out other avenues of investigation. And I don’t want you to be disappointed if this stakeout doesn’t turn up anything.”

We slowed our pace as we drew nearer to Miles’s house. “Oh, it will.”

Our plan was simple: Leyla and Carl were following Miles home, and they were to take the front-yard watch, setting up their post on a park bench across the street. Ivy and I had gone ahead so we could set up in the backyard. There was a hedge of evergreens that would provide us with ample coverage and a clear view of the back of the house. When Miles brought Spartacus outside to do his business, we’d be in business.

“I’m freezing,” Ivy said.

“We just got here.”

“I know.” She blew on her mittens. “My enthusiasm for this plan is plummeting. Do you really want to freeze to death for a stakeout?”

“Wouldn’t be the worst way to go out.”

Ivy cackled and scooted closer to me. “I’m stealing all of your warmth, so you bite it first.”

“Never going to happen,” I said, pulling the corner of my lucky coat out of my sleeve. “You gotta learn to dress in layers. I came prepared.”

My partner snuggled in, tugging part of my terrycloth sleeve over her mitts. She finally sat still. Too still. I could feel the questions pressing against my personal space bubble.

“What?” I looked over at her. “Spill.”

“Do you want it to be Miles?” It came out in a rush, like those weren’t the words she was expecting to say.

“I don’t want it to be anybody,” I said. “I’d like Spartacus to be home safe and for us to be working cases where people actually pay us.”

“No, I mean . . . ,” Ivy stumbled over her next thought, “will you be happy if it’s him and he gets into trouble?”

“Not happy,” I said, digging into the hard ground with the toe of my shoe. Happy definitely wasn’t what I would classify it as. Vindicated?

“It’s complicated,” I said. “Last year was ten pounds of garbage in a five-pound bag. That’s all there is to it. This year, it seemed like we were mostly leaving each other alone. I had you and the agency. Miles and I haven’t run into each other all that much. I didn’t forget, but it was—”

“Easier,” Ivy supplied.

“Yeah.” I nodded at that. “But then this case and now it’s not—easy.”

Ivy made a sympathetic noise that was quickly overpowered by the gurgling of her stomach. “We really need to stop working through lunch,” she said, laughing.

“Crime doesn’t stop for meals,” I shot back.

A rustling noise brought the conversation to a halt. Ivy and I froze as we waited for the intruder to appear.

“You guys hungry?” Miles dragged branches aside and held out a bag full of granola bars.

Ivy grabbed the bag out of his hands. “Oooh, snacks,” she said, digging through the selection.

“What are you doing?” I snatched the bag from Ivy and tossed it back to Miles. Things had gone spectacularly sideways. “Get out of here. You’re not supposed to be—how—”

“How are you supposed to spy on me when I’m right here?” Miles fished out a granola bar and lobbed it over to Ivy.

She wavered a look between me and the food in her hand. “It’s not spying,” she said finally, chucking the bar at Miles’s feet. “It’s a stakeout. Don’t think you get to argue about it after your little show this morning.”

Miles huffed as he reached down to tuck the granola bar back into his bag. “Fine,” he said. “Whatever. What do you want?”

“You got any dogs in there?” She peered over Miles’s shoulder into the backyard.

“I do, actually,” Miles said. “His name is Archer. Want to meet him?”

I scowled at them both. Our covert operation had been blown wide open and they were acting like this was a trip to the dog park.

“Yes,” Ivy said as I shook my head no. She took me aside for a whispered consultation. “Howard, the stakeout’s a bust. Let’s get the answers we need. See if this dog is who Miles says he is.”

“What?” Miles leaned in, not bothering to hide his eavesdropping. “You think it’s Spartacus in a retriever costume?”

Ivy cracked a smile. “You’d have to put him on stilts to make that work.”

“Stop it,” I said. “Both of you.” I turned to Ivy. “This is a serious investigation. Could you please act like it?”

“Don’t yell at her,” Miles said, frowning.

“I can speak for myself,” Ivy said, scrambling out of the bushes. “And I also say, ‘Stop yelling at me.’ ”

Crawling out after her, I stood up and brushed off my coat. “I’m not yelling. I just don’t appreciate you palling around with a suspect.”

Ivy held up a hand. “I’m not ‘palling around’ with anyone,” she said. “You don’t need to jump all over me for a little joke. Especially when it’s clear there’s nothing here. Can we leave now?”

“Not a chance,” I said, turning to Miles. “Show us this dog.”

Miles spun back around and strode over to the back door of his house. “Here, boy!” he called, after opening the door a crack. A golden ball of fluff plowed into him, and Miles stumbled backward, barely getting a hand around its collar. We watched as he got control of the wriggling beast. “Archer, meet Ivy and Howard.” Archer barked once then let his mouth hang open in a giant grin, pink tongue hanging over the edge.

All of my theories danced away, moving farther out of reach. “This doesn’t prove anything,” I said. “How do we know you don’t have Spartacus inside?”

“Howard,” Ivy said softly, and Miles went still.

“Do you want to search my house? Poke around until you find what you’re looking for? Is there a prewritten confession you’d like me to sign? Seems like you’ve already decided how you want this to go,” Miles snapped. Archer whined, and Miles gently nudged him back inside the house. He turned back to us. “Are you done with this fishing expedition?”

Ivy pulled on my sleeve. “We should go.”

“Go then.” I shrugged her off. “It’s what you’ve been doing all this week. I’m trying to solve this case. For some reason, I’m the only one making an effort.”

“Railroading Miles is not solving the case, Howard,” she said. “It’s revenge, and I’m done with it.” Ivy picked up her bag and left.

“Do you really hate me that much, Howard?” Miles asked quietly.

I rubbed at my forehead, unable to untangle the answer to that question.

“What’s it going to take? What can I say to get you to let some of this go?”

“This has nothing to do with you. It’s about the case.”

Miles stared at me and slowly shook his head. “Right.”

I wanted to find Spartacus and be done with this mess. It really wasn’t that much to ask. “It’s called ‘chasing down a lead,’ Miles,” I said. “It’s not personal. Try and get over yourself.”

“I will when you stop lying to yourself. Admit it. You’d have been thrilled to find Spartacus here and get the chance to turn me in.”

I stared him down, not about to admit anything. Any lie could become the truth if you said it enough.

He ran a hand over his face. “Listen, I meant what I said about wanting to help. I’m sorry about this morning. I don’t know what else you want—”

“What I want?” I exploded. “How about standing up for me for once? Why is joining in on the torture your first choice? What’s so hard about saying no?”

Miles shoved his hands into his pockets, refusing to meet my eyes. There was a small thump as Archer pressed his face into the back window, concern for the humans oozing out of every pore. Ivy was right. I should have gotten out of here a long time ago. I turned to leave and almost missed Miles’s soft response.

“Not everyone’s as brave as you.”

“Don’t give me that,” I said. “You don’t get to cop out on this.”

“You’ve got a good friend in Ivy, you know.” He finally looked up and a tiny smile flit across his face. “You should listen to her. Apologize, maybe.”

“Ivy and I are fine,” I said. “Also, pretty sure you’re the last person I should take advice from.”

Miles shrugged, buttoning up his sweater against the wind. “Just trying to help.”

“It’s funny,” I said. “You helping still looks an awful lot like you messing up my life.”

“Fine,” he said. “I’m out. Make sure you tell Carl it wasn’t me. Good luck with the rest of it.” The door slammed behind him, and I could hear Archer barking like crazy at the sound.

Grabbing my bag, I trudged around the side of the house, back out to the sidewalk. Leyla and Carl were waiting.

“We saw Ivy go,” Leyla said. “Did you find Spartacus? Was it Miles? What’s going on?”

I shook my head. “Negative across the board.”

“That’s good,” Carl said, surprising us both with that statement. “I mean, bad you didn’t find Spartacus, but I’m glad—glad it’s not Miles.”

We made plans to meet up again the next day and went our separate ways. I couldn’t find it in my heart to be glad it wasn’t Miles. That particular organ was too full of dread over the fact that we were back to square one—worse than square one. Our leads were crumbling, the trail was growing cold, and I had no idea where my partner had run off to.

Of the three, that last one had me worried the most.