Deadly Cool (8 page)

“Mom!” I squirmed out of her grasp. “He didn’t kill Courtney.”

“It could have been you, Hart.”

“It could
not
have been me. Because he didn’t do it.”

“Should I call his parents?” Mom asked, looking at the cordless on the end table.

“His parents have been notified about the situation,” Raley told her. “They’re currently on a cruise in Alaska, but will be flying in as soon as the ship docks at the next port.”

“God, I can’t believe it. I played tennis with Josh’s mom just last month,” Mom said. “And here she was, raising a murderer.”

“Mom!”

“Hartley, we have several witnesses that say you were upset after school yesterday,” Raley said, jumping in.

I narrowed my eyes. “Upset?”

“Angry.”

“Who said?”

“Witnesses.”

“You know teenagers—they tend to be a little overdramatic.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Considering the drama—overdone as it may have been—let’s say Josh knew how upset you were. Knew that you intended to confront Courtney, thought Courtney would come clean to you about their relationship. Let’s say he didn’t want that. Let’s say he decided Courtney needed to be kept quiet.”

I pursed my lips. Since he hadn’t phrased it as a question, I didn’t feel compelled to answer.

“Relationship? What relationship?” Mom asked.

As far as Mom knew,
my
entire relationship with Josh consisted of movies at the mall and holding hands at the school dances. I was pretty sure that she was as acquainted with denial as I was when it came to teen sex.

Which is why when Raley opened his mouth to answer, I jumped in first.

“Science partner! Courtney was working on a science project with him. About reproduction.”

Raley raised an eyebrow at me. But thankfully he let it go.

“Is it safe to send Hartley to school?” Mom asked. “Maybe I should keep her home for a few days.”

“I’m sure it’s safe for her to return to school.”

“But wasn’t she some sort of witness?”

“After the fact.”

“Do witnesses after the fact need witness protection?”

I rolled my eyes.

I could see Raley resisting the urge to do the same.

“I believe she’s safe, Mrs. Featherstone. This feels like an isolated incident.”

“I saw a TV show about this on Lifetime just the other day. The woman went into witness protection, but the killer found her anyway. What if the killer finds her anyway? What guarantee do you have that she’ll be safe?”

“I assure you that we’re doing all we can to find the person who committed this crime, Mrs. Featherstone.”

“You mean Josh.”

But Raley had mastered the art of noncommittal. “I’m sure once we talk to Mr. DuPont, he’ll be able to clear up quite a few things for us.”

You and me both, pal.

SEVEN

ONCE RALEY LEFT, MOM JUMPED RIGHT INTO THE
kitchen, making me comfort food that she insisted I needed after my “harrowing brush with death.” I thought about telling her that rice noodle macaroni with soy cheese was not exactly my idea of comfort, but I figured it was easier to let her cook her anxiety away.

Not that that stopped her from going into overprotective mode with a vengeance when my dad called.

“She may need witness protection!” she yelled into the phone.

“I’m fine, Mom!” I said.

“She said she’s fine,” Mom relayed into the receiver, “but I don’t think she is. She looks pale.”

“I’m right here, you know.”

“I’m worried about her, Brian. I think maybe we should go away for a while. Maybe we should go stay at my mother’s.”

I did an internal shudder. I’d already spent four weeks this summer surrounded by Bengay and Polident. That was more than anyone deserved in one calendar year. “Mom, I’m fine, I swear,” I said, around a bite of mac and faux cheese. I shoveled more noodles into my mouth as if to prove my point. “See? Fine.”

A plate and a half later I finally managed to convince Mom I was duly comforted, not about to be hacked to death by my boyfr—er,
ex-
boyfriend—and fine to attend school tomorrow.

I rinsed my dishes off and hightailed it to my room to escape further coddling.

8:06.

I logged onto MySpace, just in case Josh was early, then hunkered down to wait.

I surfed TMZ and the
L.A. Informer
websites for the latest celebrity news. Harvested some pineapples on Farm Town. Checked what movies were playing downtown this weekend. Watched mudkiplover08’s latest video on YouTube. Took a blog poll about what brand of lip gloss tastes the best.

8:32.

Out of other time wasters, I logged onto the HHH website to check what today’s homework was. Study notes for a history quiz on Monday, sentences to diagram for English, and three pages of equations from Mrs. Blasberg. Fab. I pulled my books out of my backpack and figured I might as well attempt to pass my classes this semester. Unfortunately, I had a hard time concentrating when my entire being was focused on watching for that little “online now” icon to appear next to Josh’s name. I worked with one eye on the clock, one eye on my screen, sending random glances toward my paper as I solved sentences and diagrammed equations. Or maybe it was the other way around. Like I said, I wasn’t really paying that close attention.

8:59

I finished my trig and English and took up vigil at my computer.

9:02

Come on, Josh, where are you?

9:08

I started chanting, “Log on, log on, log on, log on” to the tune of “I’m a Little Teapot.”

9:12

Maybe he didn’t get my message earlier. Maybe he wasn’t watching the MySpace account after all. Maybe he created it and forgot about it. Maybe Raley had nabbed him and he was sitting in a jail cell right now, rotting away, wishing his girlfr—
ex-
girlfriend—had been more vigilant about finding Courtney’s real killer.

Hey.

I let out a sigh of relief so loud I feared Mom would hear it over her Exercise TV On Demand downstairs.

You’re late.

Sorry. Had 2 find a computer.

Where did u find one?

Apple store. I’m “testing” one out. Don’t have much time b4 salesguy catches on.

I couldn’t help a little grin. Very inventive.

What’s up?
he asked.

That was a loaded question. But, considering he had an employee working on commission hovering over his shoulder, I decided to get right to the point.

Did you text Courtney yesterday?

There was a pause on his end. I hoped it meant he was trying to remember and not that his test-drive time had expired.

Why?
he finally typed

Hmm . . . answering a question with a question. Classic evasion tactic. Not that I was falling for it.

Caitlyn said you texted CC after school. True?

This time his answer was immediate.

No.

I felt a sigh of relief escape me.

Really? You didn’t send her a text? Telling her to meet at your house?

NO!

Okay, it didn’t mean the whole condom-in-the-locker and rumor-mill things were total crap, but at least my faith in his innocence wasn’t totally misplaced.

Then who sent the text?

I dunno. Someone is trying to set me up.

And doing a good job of it if the detective stalking me was any indication.

Why?

I don’t know. But I swear I didnt tell Corntey to meet at my house.

I ignored the spelling mistake, instead pursing my lips and digesting this information. Did I believe him? Mostly. Probably. Maybe. He hadn’t racked up a whole lot of points in the trustworthy department lately.

On the other hand, it was pretty convenient how all evidence led straight to Josh. Too convenient. And, as anyone who has ever watched TV knows, when a trail of clues seems too good to be true, it usually is.

Still there?
Josh typed.

I nodded at the screen.

Ya.

Miss u.

I bit my lip. And told myself to ignore the way my stomach suddenly felt warm and squishy. I didn’t care if he missed me. I didn’t care what he felt. He had no feelings as far as I was concerned. Neither did I. This was about finding a killer. Not about missing anyone.

I have to go
, I typed.

W8!

What?

Thnx. ur the best.

I quickly logged off before I could type anything stupid back.

Like, I miss you, too.

EIGHT

“MY PARENTS THREATENED TO SEND ME TO A CONVENT.”
Sam took a bite of her egg salad sandwich, a small glob of mayo hanging on the corner of her mouth. “And we’re not even Catholic!”

I shook my head in sympathy. “Dude.”

After his chat with my mother, Raley had visited Sam’s parents, giving them much the same sort of heart attack he’d given my mom. Only Sam’s parents were already in hyperprotective mode, having seen Courtney’s picture on the ten o’clock news. If my mom was afraid of negative energy, Sam’s parents ate it up like it was fuel. They even had a map posted on their kitchen wall with little pushpins stuck in it where, according to the Megan’s law website, every registered sex offender within ten miles of their house lived. Needless to say, those streets were blocked out in red as routes Sam was not allowed to take to school.

“Did Raley give you the third degree?” I asked, breaking into my Red Delicious apple.

Sam nodded, her tongue whipping out to remove the mayo glob. “And fourth and fifth. God, you’d think I was the one who killed her, the way he grilled me. I was an innocent witness!” she said. Then she paused. “Well, almost innocent. He told my dad that we snuck in Josh’s window.”

I cringed. “Ouch. What did your dad say?”

“That Stanford does not let breakers and enterers into their premed program.” She paused. “I’m paraphrasing here. It was hard to make out the exact words, what with all the shouting.”

“Sucks,” I said.

“No kidding. Did you talk to Josh last night?” Sam asked, reaching into her brown bag for a napkin.

I glanced up. The cafeteria was crowded, but most people were paying more attention to their taco platters than the conversation around them. Still, I leaned in, whispering my answer, lest Raley somehow pry the info out of the masses.

“Yeah.”

“Did you see him?”

I shook my head. “We IM’d.”

“Good. Then you aren’t technically aiding and abetting.”

I raised an eyebrow at her.

“That’s what Raley told my dad last night. That if I knew if you knew where Josh was I had better tell him because it meant I was concealing information about someone aiding and abetting. He seemed pretty serious.”

I blew out a breath, ruffling my hair. “I know. Which is why I had to talk to Josh about the text Courtney got.”

She shoved a straw into a juice box, sipping grape juice into her mouth. “So, what did he say? Did he send it?”

I shook my head, and quickly relayed the conversation with Josh.

“If he didn’t send it, who did?”

I shrugged. “Obviously someone who wanted to make it look like it was from Josh. Someone who heard the rumor that Josh and Courtney were . . . you know.”

“Effing?”

I cringed. “Yeah.”

Sam looked around the room. “I hate to tell you this, Hart, but that doesn’t narrow the field down a whole lot. Pretty much everyone had heard by then.”

I pulled my pride up off the bottom of my shoe. “Thanks. I needed that reminder.”

Sam ignored me, instead tilting her head toward the front of the cafeteria. “Don’t look now, but here comes our ‘partner.’”

Of course I couldn’t help swiveling in my seat to get a better view of the front entrance.

Where Chase was framed in the doorway.

His broad shoulders filled the entryway almost as tightly as anyone on the HHH football team’s would. He was tall, but not in a gangly way, and he had muscles pumped up in all the right places. He was wearing a pair of jeans and was once again doing the black T-shirt thing. He had on a pair of black Docs, a black leather cuff on his right wrist, and his black hair was spiked up from his head in a mussed kind of way. Not crusty straight, but more bedroom tousled.

Not that I had any firsthand knowledge of what bedroom tousled might look like, but I imagined that was it.

Um, wow. Chase was actually kinda hot.

I mean, if you went for that whole bad boy thing. Which I totally didn’t. Bad boys were bad, and I’d had enough bad boyfriend to last me a lifetime, thank you very much.

Chase’s eyes scanned the room and found mine staring back at him.

I blushed. God knows why.

Luckily he didn’t seem to notice and made a beeline toward our table.

“Oh, great. Here he comes,” Sam said, completely oblivious to the heat in my cheeks.

She put her head down, sucking loudly through her straw.

“Hey,” Chase said, planting himself on the bench next to me.

“Hey,” I said back.

“Any luck contacting your boyfriend?” he asked.

“
Ex
-boyfriend,” I emphasized.

“Whatever.” He waved the technicality off. “So? You talk to him?”