Daniel looked down and swept up some broken glass into a pile with his broom.
According to the “official” story, wild dogs had attacked Mr. Day’s granddaughter Jessica and were responsible for the other attacks in town last winter—Maryanne’s mutilation, James’s going missing, and then what happened to Daniel, Jude, and me at the parish—but Mr. Day had been a die-hard believer in the Markham Street Monster ever since.
“Either way, this town is in trouble. I bet I’m just the first of many. Someone—or something—with that much power isn’t going to stop at one store. Mark my words: Rose Crest is going to hell in a handbasket unless somebody can do something.”
The phone rang from the back office. It had a strange, tinny echo. It must have been damaged. “Local paper got ahold of the story.” Mr. Day grumbled. “They keep on calling. Won’t be surprised if we end up with reporters from the city picking through the place like vultures later today. I could be ruined, and they think it makes a great headline. Thought I’d never have to deal with those buzzards again since they got tired of the story about Jessica’s death. Now they’ll want to pick at her dead bones some more with all of this.” He was trying to sound gruff and annoyed, but his voice had a high-pitched catch to it, and I noticed a puffy redness to his eyes.
The phone kept ringing, and Mr. Day stalked toward his office. “You two get on to school,” he said, pointing back at Daniel and me.
“But we can help,” I said.
“You kids got college applications coming up soon. Don’t want you messing up your grades because of this. But I expect you back here after school,” he said to Daniel, then grabbed the receiver of the ringing phone on his desk. “Hello!” he practically shouted into the phone before he shut the office door behind him. Mr. Day really didn’t deserve this—especially after what had happened to Jessica.
“I guess we should head out, then.” Daniel handed his broom to Chris. “I’ll be back right after my last class.”
“We’ll still be here,” Chris said, sounding like he wished he had an excuse to take off, too.
Daniel took my hand and we headed toward the nonexistent door, but after about four steps I noticed something sticking to the bottom of my shoe. I let go of Daniel and reached down and peeled some kind of plastic card from the heel of my boot. I flipped it over. It was a plain white card with a small logo on the front that said THE DEPOT and a magnetic strip on the back. It reminded me of my frequent buyer’s card for the Java Pot that they swiped each time I bought something.
Daniel stopped and looked back at me. “What’ve you got?”
“Looks like a membership card or something. You ever heard of a place called The Depot?”
Daniel shook his head.
I held up the card. “This could be a clue, don’t you think? Maybe the person who did this dropped this card.”
“Hmm, could be, I guess.” Daniel looked like he didn’t put much stock in that idea.
Stacey made a snorting sound from behind me. “You sound like one of those Scooby-Doo kids,” she said. “Don’t get your hopes up, though. Customers drop crap like that in here all the time. We’ve got a whole box of lost-and-found stuff in the office, but hardly anyone ever comes to claim anything. I’d just chuck it in one of the trash piles.”
I flipped the card over again. Rose Crest hosted only a handful of businesses, and none of them were called The Depot. It probably is just trash, I thought, but I tucked it into the pocket of my jacket instead of throwing it away.
Daniel raised his eyebrows at me, but he didn’t say a word.
FIVE MINUTES LATER