Theo slept in snatches, woke in fits, and read tweets and news blurbs about the shooting through bleary eyes. In the morning, he called Auggie.
“The shooting might be connected to Cal’s death,” Theo said. “Cal and Wayne used to coach Nia; I found a short article the Courier published when she signed to play for Wroxall.”
Silence.
“And the shooter might have seen your face,” Theo added.
Auggie groaned. “Hello?”
Theo paced his small bedroom, almost bumping his head several times on the low, sloping ceiling. “The shooter. I think he might’ve seen your face.”
“Oh. Shit.” Another groan. “God damn, my head.”
“Are you ok?”
“Uh huh, yup, great. Morning, Theo.”
In spite of everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, Theo smiled. “Good morning, Auggie.”
“So, I guess we better solve this murder.”
“You don’t have to sound so happy about it.”
“I’m not happy about it. I’m dying. I’m dying right now.”
“I’ll bring you one of those breakfast sandwiches you like.”
“With bacon?” Auggie’s voice was tentative. “And cheese?”
“Get dressed.”
“And a Piggly Wiggly doughnut?”
“Real, adult clothes, Auggie. None of that frat-boy stuff, please.”
Auggie was still swearing as Theo disconnected.
The January day was even colder than the night before; the sky was bluish white behind clouds that look like tissues rubbed too thin. Theo picked up the doughnut from the Piggly Wiggly, and he picked up two breakfast sandwiches at the Wahredua Family Bakery. By the time he got to the Sigma Sigma house, Auggie was waiting for him in the lobby. He had on jeans, a sweater, and a heavy coat. The scrapes on the side of his face looked much better.
“Doughnut?”
While Auggie opened the paper bag, Theo caught his chin and turned his head, examining him. “Did you take that prescription?”
Auggie’s answer came through a mouthful of chocolate long john.
Because Auggie’s Civic was still in the shop, and because they didn’t have time to head back to Theo’s house to get the Malibu, they took an Uber to the hospital. They tried to get in to see Nia, but they were rebuffed by a grim-faced woman at the visiting desk.
“Immediate family only.”
“We are family,” Auggie said.
Theo sighed, covered his eyes, and led Auggie back outside. The cold made Theo’s nose run, and he sniffled as he said, “I am so sick of this weather.”
“We’ll get an Uber.”
Theo shook his head. “No, I don’t—”
“I’ll pay for it.” Before Theo could object, Auggie had his phone out and was tapping rapidly.
They took the Uber to Wayne’s apartment. His BMW was parked in the assigned stall. In the intense brightness of the January sun, the building’s freshly cleaned mortar glowed. They were getting out of the Uber as Wayne came down the stairs from his apartment, crossed the parking lot, and emptied a box into the dumpster.
“Now that’s interesting,” Theo said.
Auggie nodded.
Wayne was halfway across the lot when he saw them, stopped, and then resumed walking jerkily. “Hello,” he said. “Looking for Orlando?”
“Looking for you,” Theo said.
Wayne just grunted and climbed the stairs to the apartment again. Theo and Auggie followed. Inside, the apartment was clearly undergoing a massive cleanout. Cardboard boxes lined one wall, stacked as high as Theo’s head, with flattened, empty boxes piled on the couch. Mounds of clothing covered the floor, divided into piles that had no clear organization to Theo. A black Hefty bag, the flaps pulled back, held shoes: sneakers, boots, cleats, even flip-flops. From where they stood, Theo could see into the kitchen; every cabinet door stood open, and the contents were spread on the counter, the table, and the floor.
Leaning down to speak into Auggie’s ear, Theo said, “Go look in the dumpster.”
Auggie nodded and left.
Wayne had disappeared into one of the bedrooms. When footsteps moved toward the living room, Theo was surprised to see Orlando. Orlando, on the other hand, did not look surprised to see him. Instead, Orlando looked guilty. His shoulders were hunched, and his head hung down, and he barely managed a wave and “Hello, Theo.”
“Orlando, what are you doing here?”
“Just helping.”
“Helping with what?”
“Oh, you know. Stuff.” Orlando’s thick eyebrows drew together. “Where’s Augs?”
“He’ll be up in a minute.” Theo looked around the apartment again. “Is Wayne moving out?”
Heavy steps announced Wayne’s return. He was carrying an enormous cardboard box, which he passed to Orlando, and he said, “Take this one down.” Then, to Theo, he said, “We’re cleaning out Cal’s stuff. Orlando is probably going to move in.”
“Really?” Theo said, trying to catch Orlando’s eye. Orlando wouldn’t look at him, and he shuffled past Theo, using the box to hide his face as he made his way out the door. “Seems pretty fast to be getting rid of Cal’s stuff.”
“Yeah, well, what am I supposed to do?” Wayne squatted, digging through a pile of clothes. “You gotta move on with your life.”
“Where were you last night?”
It wasn’t that the world went silent. Down the hall, a child was shrieking something about Barney. Through the wall, a TV was playing the Jeopardy! theme song. The bathroom fan whirred. But the way Wayne went suddenly and completely still made Theo think the world had pressed mute.
“What?”
“Last night. Where were you?”
Wayne straightened. He turned to face Theo. “What the fuck business is it of yours?”
“Just a question.”
“Me and my family, we’re sick of your questions. You and your twinkie buddy have been nothing but trouble for my family. For some reason, Orlando still thinks you guys are helping us, but the rest of us are sick of this shit.”
“Pretty good speech.”
“Ok, I’ll try again: get the fuck out, and quit bothering my family.” Wayne cleared his throat. “Got it?”
“So you can’t tell me where you were last night?”
The door opened, and Auggie and Orlando entered the apartment. They were in the middle of their own conversation.
“—I’m just saying,” Auggie said, “I was worried when you didn’t answer your phone last night. That’s all. And I was just curious where you were.”
“It didn’t sound like you were worried,” Orlando said. He came to an abrupt stop, crossing his arms, studying Theo and Wayne as though he’d sensed the tension in the air. He shot a sidelong look at Auggie and said, “It sounded like you thought I had something to do with that girl getting shot.”
“I don’t know why you won’t tell me where you were,” Auggie said.
“Augs, just leave it—”
“We were together.” Wayne’s gaze locked with Theo’s. “Out of town. Got back this morning. Right, Orlando?”
Orlando hesitated. Then he nodded. “Right.”
“Where?” Auggie said.
“That’s it, then?” Wayne looked from Theo to Auggie to Orlando. “That’s what you came for? To accuse me and my brother?”
Orlando looked ready to cry. “Augs, did you really think—”
“And you got what you wanted,” Wayne said, pointing at the door. “So it’s time for you to go.”
“Orlando,” Auggie said, “if you’re in trouble, I want to—”
Orlando pulled away. He took two trembling steps and sidled up to Wayne.
“Orlando?” Auggie said.
Theo touched Auggie’s arm and nodded at the door. They left.
In the parking lot, Theo glanced at the dumpster. “Find anything?”
“That was such a nightmare.” Auggie scrubbed one hand through his crew cut. “What? Oh. No, just junk. Old Wroxall College gear, a tennis racket, a bag of bathroom trash. And then some really foul stuff, you know, all the garbage that’s collected over the week. It doesn’t look like it’s been picked up yet.”
“What do you think that was all about?”
“They were lying.”
“I agree, but why?”
Auggie shrugged. “Because they have something to hide.”
Theo considered the apartment, and then he looked Auggie in the eye. “Whoever took that shot last night, he knew the inside of that building better than most people. It used to be the athletic facility, and that exit on the bottom floor is the one that the trainers used to use. And Wayne and Orlando just gave about the worst alibi for each other I’ve ever heard.”
The breeze picked up, and leaves skittered across the asphalt. The air smelled cold and dry. Auggie was touching his temple.
“How is your—”
“I know what you’re saying,” Auggie said, “but why would Orlando or Wayne or both of them want Nia dead? I cornered Orlando at the dumpster and made him confess that he’d known about Genesis. What really happened, I mean. He said his family had tried to keep it a secret from him; that’s why he lied. Maybe there’s something there, a motive, although I can’t imagine Orlando doing any of this.” Frowning, Auggie shook his head. “I don’t understand. I believe you that all this could be connected, but I don’t know how.”
“Let’s see if we can figure it out.”
It only took a few minutes for Auggie to find an address for Cedric and Tonya Corey, Deja and Nia’s parents, on a white-page lookup. Over Theo’s objections, Auggie paid for an Uber again, and this time they headed to a pleasant, middle-class neighborhood of homes that had been built in the 80s and 90s. It was near the center of town.
When they got to the Coreys’ home, though, it was empty. Nobody answered the door, and by the time Auggie and Theo had given up knocking, the Uber was gone. Auggie requested another ride, and while they waited, Theo went around back. He checked the windows to make sure nobody was inside, refusing to answer the door. The curtains were open. He recognized the signs of a family trying to control an uncontrollable grief. The home looked neat at first glance, the furniture all relatively new, everything color coordinated. But patches of darker paint on the walls showed where pictures had been removed. Empty casserole dishes were stacked in the kitchen sink, and a pile of cards—our deepest sympathy, my sincere condolences—lay on the kitchen table. By the time Theo came back to the front of the house, he had made up his mind.
“What took you so long?” Auggie asked.
“Let’s have a look inside.”
Auggie canceled the ride request, and together they went around to the back of the house. A pair of French doors led into the living room, and they were easy for Theo to jimmy. As soon as they opened, though, an alarm sounded.
“Shit,” Theo said. He closed the doors, wiped down the surfaces he had touched, and caught Auggie’s look. “Well, how was I supposed to know?”
Auggie pointed at the sticker on the inside of the French door’s glass. Brinks Home Security.
“You could’ve said something.”
“I just noticed, but I’ll have plenty to say later,” Auggie said, with a tiny smirk. “In fact, I think I’m going to be talking about this for a long time. But right now we should probably skedaddle.”
“Skedaddle,” Theo grumbled. Then he ran.
They ran for half a mile before Theo thought it was safe to try for another ride request; he suggested a visit to Genesis. But Auggie hesitated. Then he said, “You said she’s an athlete.”
“Who? Genesis? Deja?”
“They are too, but I meant Nia. Tennis. Just like her sister. And you said she signed with Wroxall.”
“Like Genesis too,” Theo said.
Auggie frowned. He opened his mouth, seemed to consider what he had been about to say, and shook his head.
“What?”
“I don’t know,” Auggie said. “But you’re right. It’s a strange coincidence. I want to check a few things on campus.”
So they went back to Wroxall instead of the Sigma Sigma house. When the Uber dropped them off, Auggie had his hand pressed to the side of his head.
“Let’s call it a day,” Theo said. “Your head must be killing you.”
“It’s not even noon. And I took my medicine. I’ll be fine.”
“I really think—”
“Brinks Home Security.”
Theo gritted his teeth.
“Every time,” Auggie said. “You’re never going to live it down.”
“God damn it.”
They walked through Eveleigh, but since the old Field House had been transformed into the robotics facility, there wasn’t anything they could link to Nia, Deja, or Genesis. For that matter, there was nothing they could connect to Cal or Wayne—or Orlando, although Theo wasn’t willing to voice that particular suspicion yet.
It was Saturday, but the building still seemed half-full, young men and young women working in the labs, some of them fiddling with what, to Theo, looked like robots—which made sense—while others were busy on computers. In a lounge, several of them sat laughing, drawing equations on a whiteboard they had laid across the back of a sofa, laughing more whenever somebody got something wrong. It all seemed surprisingly good-natured, although Theo couldn’t for the life of him understand what was so funny.
Next, they went to the new athletic center. They swiped in with their student IDs, but when Theo headed for the main area, Auggie jerked his head to the side, and said, “This way.”
“Equipment and locker rooms are this way,” Theo said. “Although how we’re going to get into the girls’ locker room—”
“The team locker rooms are downstairs; Orlando mentioned it last year. Over here. Come on.”
He was right. They went down a long flight of stairs to the basement, which was lit with steadily humming fluorescents. The smell of a heavy-duty cleaner tried to cover up the stink of sweat, mildew, and what Theo imagined was a raging infestation of ringworm. They passed a young guy who was carrying a pair of football pads; he didn’t give them a second look. In an alcove, two very tall girls were holding a volleyball between them, turning it back and forth. One of them explained something about spiking the ball. She was using her hand to demonstrate.
Auggie stopped at a sign that said Women’s Tennis. He raised his eyebrows.
Elbowing open the door, Theo called inside, “Custodial.”
“Creative,” Auggie whispered.
“A little less feedback—”
“Brinks.”
Theo snapped his jaw shut. Auggie just grinned.
When no one responded to a second call of “Custodial,” they went inside. The locker-room funk was even worse—apparently girls were not an exception—and their steps echoed against the tile and the bare cement. A dogleg hallway connected them to the locker room proper, and Theo and Auggie took a few minutes orienting themselves.
“Here,” Auggie called, tapping a locker. The metal rang out under his touch.
Theo joined him. A plaque with a piece of tape held Nia Corey’s name written in Sharpie. A padlock secured the locker.
“Great,” Auggie said. “So much for this.”
“Find something small and hard,” Theo said.
“What?”
“Small and hard. Preferably with a handle.”
Theo moved off to begin his own search, and after a moment, he heard Auggie’s steps moving across the tiles. The first place Theo checked was the locker room door, hoping for a doorstop, but he didn’t have any luck. He backtracked and checked the other lockers, hoping to find one open. No luck there either. He tested the door to the team office, and the handle jiggled slightly, but then it held.
Behind him, Auggie’s sneakers squeaked. “What about this?”
Theo turned around.
“It’s a hammer, right?” Auggie said.
“It’s a reflex hammer. It’s perfect.”
Theo accepted the hammer and move back to Nia’s locker. He worked two fingers into the shackle on the padlock, pulling it tight, and then he turned it so the fixed end of the shackle was facing him. With the hammer, he delivered a series of sharp, quick strikes. The shackle popped open, and the lock turned in his hand.
“Holy shit,” Auggie said. “Holy shit, that was amazing.”
“Regular padlocks, you can knock the pins clear if you try long enough. And if you ever say Brinks again, I’m going to beat your ass with this hammer.”
Auggie grinned and mimed zipping his lips.
Theo worked the lock loose and opened the locker. They did a quick search. There was the usual stuff of course: workout clothes, a racket, a spare racket, athletic tape, a water bottle that looked slightly moldy.
Auggie found the pills.
“What the hell are these?” He pointed to the bag.
Theo shook his head. “Take pictures of all of it. Document everything.” He was about to say more when he saw the paper. He reached, remembered fingerprints, and stopped himself. Auggie had seen his movement, though, and spotted the paper too. He grabbed it before Theo could say anything.
“Stay away from me and my sister,” Auggie read, “or I’ll kill you.”