Rattled

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Authors: Lisa Harrington

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RATTLED

a mystery

Lisa Harrington

Copyright © Lisa Harrington 2010

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission from the publisher, or, in the case of photocopying or other reprographic copying, permission from Access Copyright, 1 Yonge Street, Suite 1900, Toronto, Ontario M5E 1E5.

Nimbus Publishing Limited
PO Box 9166
Halifax, NS B3K 5M8
(902) 455-4286
www.nimbus.ca

Printed and bound in Canada

Interior design: Heather Bryan
Front cover: Min Landry
Author photo: Ross Harrington

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Harrington, Lisa
Rattled : a mystery / Lisa Harrington.
ISBN 978-1-55109-783-1
EPUB ISBN 978-1-55109-843-2

I. Title.

PS8615.A7473R38 2010      jC813'.6      C2010-903059-1

We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP) and the Canada Council, and of the Province of Nova Scotia through the Department of Tourism, Culture and Heritage for our publishing activities.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Prologue

T
he blood formed a pool on the floor, surrounded by a kind of circular splatter design. It was like a preschool painting, the ones with the drops of paint squished between a folded piece of paper. There always seemed to be a big glob in the middle. The blood looked just like that.

Flickering through the kitchen, the rotating light from the ambulance made it feel more like a disco than a crime scene. Two officers leaned against the counter talking quietly, taking notes.

The knife had spun, propeller-style, across the floor to rest in front of the fridge. It was now considered evidence.

Outside, pyjama-clad neighbours lined the street, shaking their heads in disbelief. Things like this just didn't happen around here, not in this neighbourhood. At least they didn't before the Swickers moved in.

Chapter 1

F
ive weeks earlier.

It was six days after my fifteenth birthday, and four days into summer vacation. I was bored already. Resting my elbows on the kitchen counter, I watched Mom dice rhubarb as I tried to tune out my sister, Jilly, who was yammering on and on about Robert Pattinson. She'd just come from seeing his movie for the
third
time. I shook my head. Not that I disagree with her—he's totally hot—but she talked about him as though she actually had a chance or something. The fact that she's only a year and a half older than me blew my mind on a daily basis.

“Check the weather, would you, Lydia?” Mom asked.

I flicked on the tiny TV that sat on the top of the fridge, turned to the Weather Network and waited for the local forecast. I used to think it was just
our
family who was obsessed with the weather but now I believe it's all Maritimers. Probably because our weather changed so quickly, we felt the need to be constantly updated.

“Here we go…Halifax 25, humidex 32,” I reported. “But they've got a picture of a sun, a cloud, and raindrops in the little square, so who knows?”

“They just do that to cover their butts,” Jilly said.

I looked out the kitchen window to check for myself. The heat was rising up from the street giving off that kind of wavy, watery look. My boredom seemed to be increasing with the temperature.

The entire summer was stretched out before me and I had nothing to do. All my friends were away at cottages, camps, or paddling clubs. It was depressing beyond belief. Even Jilly had a babysitting job. We had no cottage, Mom wasn't the cottagey type. Too much work, she said. Like taking care of two homes.

Okay, so the cottage thing was out, I actually understood that one. And camp? Well, no great loss there, it really wasn't my thing. My idea of roughing it in the wilderness was a Winnebago without a microwave.

I thought I'd come up with the perfect compromise. I'd begged Mom to join the Waeg, a club in the south end of the city. Three pools, tennis, sailing…it was awesome. I told her there were loads of kids that I already knew who went—
loads
being
two
. And after explaining how I could spend the whole day there, be out of her hair, not hanging around the house, I thought she'd be totally sold. I thought wrong.

Should I give it one more try?
“Don't suppose you changed your mind about the Waeg?” I asked, still staring out the window.

“You supposed right.”

“But Mom, don't you know studies show that teenagers get in trouble fifty percent more often when they're bored?”

“Have you looked in our garage lately? Trust me, I'll make sure you're not bored.”

“Mommm,” I whined.

“Lydia. I already told you, I'm not spending the summer taxiing you back and forth from downtown.”

I spun around and gave Jilly a look. “Well maybe if by some miracle Jilly manages to pass her driving test,
she
could drive. I'd even pay for gas.”

“Hey! I've only failed twice, and the last time wasn't my fault! The test lady was wearing navy blue and brown! Together! At the same time! I mean, seriously, how am I supposed to concentrate with that kind of fashion nightmare sitting beside me?!”

I rolled my eyes. “I'll take the bus,” I pleaded, turning to face Mom so she could see the desperation in my face.

She looked at me and raised her eyebrows. She knew I was lying.

I had this thing about the bus. There's nothing wrong with it or anything like that, it just made me uncomfortable, especially when I was by myself. It felt like people were staring at me. Whenever I got on or off, I could
feel
their eyes following me. They probably weren't. I knew people had better things to do than observe my every move, but my neck would still break out in a nervous rash every time. That sounds paranoid, and I'm so not. Well…maybe just a bit, but only on the bus.

“There's this new thing,” Jilly said. “Maybe you've heard of it? It's called a
job
?

Easy for her to say, sitting there all smug. She'd landed the most coveted summer job in the neighbourhood—babysitting for the Darcys. They paid a bijillion dollars an hour, had the best snacks, and their kids were angels. Jilly could look forward to many hours of texting, painting her nails, and lying in the sun—three of her greatest talents.

Mom wiped her hands on the dishtowel. “We really should look into that, Lydia. There must be something…maybe Dad could use you at the office…”

My shoulders slumped. I wasn't
that
bored. I turned back to the window, willing something to happen. When I was a kid I thought I possessed some kind of telekinetic power—that I could make something happen with my mind if I concentrated hard enough. Okay…I still sort of think it. Like the other night in the car, I was looking at a street light, and
poof
, it burned out. I figure that's got to be
some
kind of power. I mean, what else could it be?

My ears perked up at the sound of squeaking brakes.

“Check it out,” I said.
Maybe I do possess some powers after all.

A beat-up Volkswagen camper van pulled up to the curb in front of the house directly across the street. It was bright orange speckled with a bunch of rust patches.

Apparently Jilly and Mom hadn't heard me. Jilly was trying to convince Mom that in a few years, the age difference between her and Robert wouldn't mean a thing.

“I think someone finally rented the Henleys' house,” I said loudly, over my shoulder.

Mom and Jilly rushed over to join me at the window.

“It's about time,” Mom said. “That sign's been up for months.”

“Well, I hope they have some boys.” Jilly smoothed her hair with her hands.

“Would you give it a rest, Jilly? There's more to life, you know.” She was too annoying for words.

“I don't know what your problem is, Lid, it's not like you've never had a
thing
for a boy, so why don't
you
give it a rest?”

I sucked in my breath. I knew what she was referring to, that momentary lapse in judgment last fall. In my defense, it only lasted four days. My best friend William asked my other best friend Vicki “out.” On a real date! Talk about messing up the trio. I couldn't believe it! If he wanted a girlfriend, why wouldn't he have just picked me? I mean, I probably would have said no, but still, wasn't I the obvious choice? I'd known him for like
ever
. It really bugged me. I sulked for days,
four
days. That's how long it took me to realize they had basically turned bipolar, sickeningly lovey-dovey one minute, paranoid and depressed the next. Not to mention when they were apart, all they did was text each other. It was nauseating. Who needs that?

Jilly whispered, “
Lid and William sitting in a tree…
” into my ear.

I gave her a dirty look and elbowed her in the ribs. I hated when she called me Lid.

“Knock it off, you two,” Mom said.

The three of us pressed our faces closer to the window and waited for the van door to slide open.

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