Authors: Jennifer Fischetto
"Piper, I hopeâ¦" Dad's tone is gentle, and it makes me want to scream.
I don't listen to whatever stupid excuse he has. I march upstairs and slam my door. I kick off my flip-flops and fall onto my bed. How can they do this? What's going to happen to me and Troy? The paint on my ceiling is chipped.
When the front door shuts and a car takes off, I hold my breath and wait. One, two, threeâ¦
Dad knocks on my door and opens it.
"Knocking only matters if you actually wait for me to say it's okay to enter. Otherwise, it's just rude and an invasion of privacy."
He looks to the door, then me. "I'm sorry. I'll remember that next time."
No, he won't.
I sit up and cross my chest with my arms. "What do you want?"
"To explain."
"What's there to explain? You and the chief have hooked up without any regard to your children. Way to go."
He scratches the side of his chin. "I don't know what hooked up means, but Olivia and I like each other. If you're upset because of your momâ¦"
"This has nothing to do with Mom. She stopped being a significant part of our discussions when she walked out on us."
He stops whatever he was saying mid-sentence. "Your momâ¦"
I grab a pillow and chuck it at my dresser, knocking over my deodorant and the bottle of lavender body spray. "This isn't about Mom," I shout. My heart races, and blood pounds through my veins. She's the last person I want to think or talk about. My life has nothing to do with her.
Dad stares at the pillow. "Piper, what's gotten into you?"
I scoff. "You really need to ask? I walk into my house and find you kissing the mother of the boy I like. How do you think that makes me feel?"
"Aren't I entitled to move on with my life?"
No. "Yes, but why her? Why not someone who doesn't have a son? Like Bridget."
He wrinkles his nose. Okay, so he has good taste, but there are plenty of middle-aged women out there. Pick someone else.
"You have a crush on Troy. It'll past."
Ohmigod. He did not just say that. That expression about seeing red, well, I'm seeing crimson. Is that worse?
"Besides, you're too young to date."
"And you're too old."
He shakes his head. "I'll talk to you when you calm down and act your age." He turns and walks out of my door.
I grab my other pillow and chuck it at him. It hits the closing door and falls to the floor, like my heart. I fall back and sigh. This sucks. No, this is bigger than sucking.
"Ever see the parent trap?" asks a whispery voice from the beyond. Linzy walks into my room from the closet. "Just reverse it to break them up."
She's back. I half-smile, glad she's here. Which is odd, I know. "Where you been?"
She shrugs. "Around. Spying on the neighbors. Mrs. Jackson is boring, and so are the Abbotts."
"I'm surprised you know their names."
She flops onto the bed beside me. "It says it on their mailboxes."
I laugh. She's been living here her whole life and only learned them now.
"What's so funny?"
It's my turn to shrug. "Life."
"And death?" She smirks.
"Yeah."
We lie in silence for a moment.
"Did you try to hurt your mom?" I ask, afraid of the answer.
"Yes."
I gasp. If I do something to piss her off, will she come after me?
"Don't worry. She's fine. I just knocked some dishes off the counter. When she picked them up, she cut her hand, and she panicked. She's such a baby, scared of blood."
"Do you hate her?"
She must not have expected that question because she's silent. Then she sighs. "Sometimes. Do you hate your mom?"
Wow. I definitely didn't expect that. "Sometimes."
We continue to stare at my ceiling.
I take a deep breath and try one more time. "Why won't you tell me who killed you?"
"Because then it'll all be over. I won't have a reason to stay."
I turn my head and stared at her. "What?"
She looks at me. "Being dead sucks. I want my life back. Since I can't have it, I'll settle for hanging around you. You don't mind, right?"
I smile, suddenly feeling happy and wanted. "And if I did?"
She shrugs. "Too bad."
We turn back to the ceiling.
"You should repaint it," Linzy says, pointing to the chipped paint.
I smile.
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The next morning I stay in my room until Dad goes out for breakfast or the paper or maybe for another smooch-fest with the chief. I need to text Troy, to find out what he's thinking. After I calmed down last night, I realized that this thing with our parents only sucks if they get married, making Troy and me brother and sister. Eww! But if they only date, then why can't Troy and I date too? Of course, there's the possibility that he's as skeeved out by all of this as I amâ¦was, and we lost any chance at an "us" because of them.
I head down and grab the last banana and an almost stale bagel. I want to get back to my room before Dad returns. But as I past his office door, I stop. Okay, maybe I'm still pissed. The idea of snooping sounds perfect right now, so I open the door and step inside.
I go around the desk, tossing my food onto it, and grab the drawer with all the files. It's locked. Oh, come on, Dad. I've been so good lately. I haven't tried to get in here in weeks.
I search for his letter opener, under the stack of papers he has scattered along the desk. How does he find anything? The tip pokes out from beneath a gas receipt. I grab it and push the blade between the panels of wood. Only the tip fits in. I tighten my grip on the handle and attempt to jab it in harder, but I stare at the wood. The stupid desk that is Dad's pride and joy, after me and his books. He'd be upset if I marred it. Despite how angry I am now, I don't want to see him sad.
I toss the letter opener back onto the desk and sit in his chair. Maybe he left out something interesting. I lift sheet after sheet, looking for a juicy bit.
Cameron liked to drink a lot of wine. He went out to dinner more than we order take-out, which is crazy. And he had an obsession with black licorice. Gross.
I comb through the rest of the receipts. It's not crime scene photos or autopsy reports, but it gives me some insight into who he was. But I'd kill for a look at Dad's notes. I giggle at my word choice and spot a receipt for over a grand.
Ka-Ching! What's he spending that kind of money on?
Spring Jewelers in New York City.
Listed is a pair of diamond wrist cuffs (How fancy!) and a silver star charm.
The world seems to tilt because suddenly my vision tunnels, and I feel lightheaded. I reread the page five times to make sure I'm seeing things correctly.
Cameron bought that charm for someone. Did he get it for Linzy? Was she secretly seeing a grown man? Is that why she's been so hush-hush?
Oh, I think I'm going to puke. He was at least ten years older than her.
I put the receipt down and stand. I pace the length of Dad's office and back.
This doesn't make sense. Why would she go for him and not the young, hot actors on her show? No, this is wrong. She was into Eli, not Cameron. So then how did Linzy get the charm? Did she break into his place and steal it? I could just ask her, but she probably won't answer me.
I race back to Dad's desk and grab the paper. Cameron purchased the charm in March. He was killed in August. How likely is it that Linzy stole the charm before he gave it to whoever he bought it for? And why would Linzy break into his place?
I remember the binoculars and camera in her nightstand, the money in her closet. Cameron's house is directly behind Linzy's. She had the back bedroom. Like a stack of Lego's, it all starts to fit together.
The same person who killed Cameron also killed Linzy.
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When Dad walks through the garage door, I'm seated on his floor with the receipt and Linzy's file laid out around me. He opens his mouth, but I hold up a finger. Not that one, my index.
"Don't yell. Yes, I know I shouldn't be in here, but for once you're going to love that I'm disobedient." I snatch the receipt and jump up.
I point to the list. "See. This is the charm I found. The one I told you about. I know it."
Dad takes the sheet from me and stares at it. The skin between his brows puckers. He looks at the papers on the floor and walks to them. He picks up the autopsy report and lays a finger on the crime scene photos. "Where did you get these?"
I return to my seat, suddenly wondering if this was the right idea. "You won't tell your girlfriend?"
"Olivia is not my girlfriend."
Yet. I see the smile in his eyes. He'd be a horrible poker player.
"Well?" he asks.
"Troy copied Linzy's file. Please don't get him in trouble. He'll never forgive me." And there will go my chances of becoming his girlfriend.
"I won't say anything. Maybe I should hire him. He's thorough." Dad sits on the floor and reads each of the pages.
I watch his expression change from a raised brow to a squint and back again.
When he's done, he looks up at me. "But you don't know for certain this is the same charm you found that night?"
I shake my head. "No, butâ¦"
"Then all we have is a receipt." He starts to rise.
"No," I shout a bit louder than intended.
He frowns and sits fully back down.
"Look, I know you don't like when I snoop or try to get involved. I really do get it. You're protecting me. And if you didn't, if sneaking in here didn't give me heart palpitations, then I wouldn't love you so much."
He smiles. "But?"
"But being young doesn't mean I'm stupid."
He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. "You're right. I shouldn't dismiss your idea simply because I don't want you involved. And for the record, I never think you're stupid."
It's my turn to smile. "So here's the thing. There's more to this than just what's on the floor."
He raises a brow. "Oh. Like what?"
I open my mouth and hesitate. "Um, how about we make a deal? I tell you all I know about Linzy's death, and you tell me all you know about Cameron's. And together we can see if my theory's correct."
Instead of immediately saying no, he looks down at the papers.
I hold my breath. Is it possible he'll agree? Can pigs suddenly fly? Is Lucifer slipping into ice skates?
He nods. "Okay. Let's do it."
Wait, what? "Seriously?"
He chuckles. "I think the charm may be a coincidence, but you think otherwise, so we should share information. Go ahead and tell me what else you know."
I hesitate for a second, wondering if he'll pull a fast one. Like I'll tell him everything, and then he won't reciprocate. But this is Dad, and he wouldn't do that to me. I hope. I first explain my list of suspects: Shayla, April, Mrs. Quinn, Eli, and Margo, who I never spoke with. I tell Dad that Shayla gave me this hate list, never revealing the news that I can see Linzy. I want him to take me seriously. For some reason, thankfully, he doesn't ask why Shayla would list herself.
I'd transferred all my notes to my new diary (Gotta get use out of it somehow.) and point out each suspect's motives. Then I finish with the binoculars and the money.
Dad runs his fingers through his hair. "So you think she witnessed Cameron's murder and was blackmailing his killer?"
"Yes."
"That would take a very manipulative young girl."
I roll my eyes. "Dad, Linzy wasn't nice. She was spoiled and jealous and vicious." Gosh, I hope she's not listening. Even though it's all true, it's kinda mean to say. Plus, the last thing I need is her coming at me with a blanket.
"I need coffee." Dad gets up with a groan and goes to the coffee maker.
I stay seated but turn to him. "So, it's your turn."
He glances at me from the corner of his eye. If he even considers backing out of our dealâ¦
"Cameron was flashy but private. He bought the diamond cuffs for a charity event he'd been invited too, but there's no mention of what he did with the charm. It definitely sounds like something you'd give to a teen or a child, but as far as I've found, he didn't have children, siblings, or any young children in his immediate family."
Yes! I bite the inside of my cheek so I don't smile and remind Dad how young I am. Well, in his mind. I know I'm perfectly capable of hearing the truth. I get up and sit in one of the chairs facing his desk. "But it's definitely something you'd give a girl not a boy."
Dad nods. "It could've been a present for a child of a friend."
It's too much of a coincidence if he gave it to some obscure person, and then I find one exactly the same the night Linzy disappeared.
"The police believe his accountant killed him because Mr. Nelson was embezzling money from each of his clients. He has no alibi, so he looks good for it." Dad turns and sits at his desk. "But he had no real motive too. According to statements made after Nelson's arrest, Cameron never knew about the embezzling but another client did. I talked to that client, and he confirmed it. He'd found out about it the morning Nelson was arrested. He didn't come forward because he figured Nelson was guilty."
"Nice."
"Exactly." Dad glances at the machine, which has finished brewing, and grabs the giant mug that could pose as a small fish bowl.
"So do you think this other client killed Cameron and then framed the accountant?"
"No. That would mean he'd need to know Nelson was skimming off Cameron's books, too. An easy guess, but if he was wrong, his house of cards would fall down. And he has no motives to want Cameron dead either. From what I can tell, the two never met."
"What about the girlfriend?"
Dad quirks a brow at me. "Obviously I'm getting old and hadn't realized you snooped before today."
"No. I just know how to Google. Come on, Dad. The girlfriend being a suspect was all over the news."
He sips his coffee. "I forget that you think crime hunting is a hobby. Forgive me. The girlfriend was so distraught over Cameron's death, she had a nervous breakdown and was admitted to the hospital."