As Ben worked his mobile, I fired my message into cyberspace. It only took a moment.
Hi glanced at his current phone, an older model he'd dug from a desk drawer that morning. His iPhone was still missing, no doubt lining the ocean floor below us. Ten seconds. Then, careful not to alert his mother, he flashed me a thumbs-up behind his back.
Shelton read my text from his pocket. Staring into space, he nodded, seemingly at nothing.
I leaned back, mentally poking and prodding my theory. I needed to be sure.
From now on, I wasn't going to play the fool.
At dinner I danced around Kit's questions. Telling the truth was pointless. He'd never believe it.
"I made a mistake. Got scared."
"A mistake?" Kit's eyes narrowed. "About bones?"
Two-shoulder shrug.
Distracted by his own problems, Kit didn't press. His face looked drawn. Getting chewed out by your boss will do that, I guess.
"We'll discuss this again," Kit promised.
The meal ended in silence.
Safely locked behind my bedroom door, I booted my Mac. Two mouse clicks launched iFollow with a flourish of colors and dance beats.
When the GPS function opened, seven glowing circles dotted the Charleston map. One hovered over Mount Pleasant.
Hel-lo, Jason. How's the water?
I changed my online status to away. No time for sparring with Jason tonight. My island crew had urgent business.
I switched from Bolton Lacrosse to Bunker. We really needed a better group name.
The GPS screen now showed four dots stacked over Morris Island. Even online, our neighborhood looked sadly alone.
Ping. Ping. Ping.
One by one, the gang checked in.
"Go to video," I typed.
My screen split into quarters.
A face filled each square, Brady Bunch style. My own was on the upper right. Embarrassed, I smoothed corkscrew curls gone wild.
"Stop primping, Miss America," said Hi.
"Maybe you should start," joked Shelton.
Hi was top left, wearing Chuck Norris PJ's buttoned to his chin. His bedroom light was off. He was flying under Ruth's radar.
Ben's face hung below mine. He was in his bonus room beside a dilapidated pool table.
Shelton gazed from the final square, backdropped by his bedroom Star Wars posters. His hair was wet and he looked tired.
I cut to the chase. "Someone at the library spied on us."
Shelton's eyes widened. Hi and Ben nodded.
"Makes sense," said Ben.
Hi agreed. "We know about Heaton for one day, and someone snatches her bones? Can't be a fluke."
"How'd the spy know we planned to dig?" Shelton asked. "Or where? We never said that in the library."
Good questions. I had no answers.
"Maybe someone copied our research?" I offered. "They could've shadowed our work in the library."
"The killer," Hi said. "Get that straight. We're talking about the killer. Who else would know about the grave? Whoever followed us probably murdered Katherine Heaton."
That stopped the conversation.
Impressions flashed in my mind. Dark shapes in a very dark forest. Two loud bangs.
"The librarian?" Shelton offered. "He got weird, quick."
"Heaton disappeared in 1969," I said. "Limestone's too young. Besides, my gut says he's too much of a weenie."
But Limestone's behavior bothered me. Filing him away for later consideration, I shared my second theory.
"Karsten was furious today."
"He's always mad," Ben pointed out.
"True," I agreed. "But he was over-the-top out there. Like he was hiding something. And he seemed almost distraught that we brought a cop."
"Karsten has controlled Loggerhead for years." Hi was following my line of thought.
"He keeps everyone out of those woods." So was Shelton.
"The guy's running secret experiments." Ben was catching on.
"Three gold stars," I said. "Think about what he did to Coop. And Karsten has access to monkey bones."
"Who else could move heavy equipment in and out of the woods so fast?" Hi asked.
An uncomfortable silence followed. Shelton broke it.
"So you think Karsten is the killer?"
"He's a prime suspect," I said. "We need evidence."
"This is pointless." Hi ticked points off on his fingers. "We don't know who followed us. We have no evidence against Karsten. And we're in enough trouble as it is." His hands dropped to his desk. "Plus, I'm not looking to get myself shot."
We'd come down to it. The reason I'd called this meeting.
Hi was correct, every single word. But I didn't care. I felt a connection to Katherine Heaton that I couldn't ignore. She needed an advocate. Me.
"I'm not giving up," I said. "Katherine lost her mother, just like I did. Then she lost her father. I won't abandon her."
She was tough like me. She'd never quit. I feel it in my soul.
"I'm in," Ben said. "Heaton was murdered. No one's fighting for her. We should do it."
Simple. To the point. Ben Blue in a nutshell.
"I hate being the non-heroic, practical guy, but we can't just quit." Shelton tugged his earlobe. "The killers may know who we are. We need to nail them before they nail us."