Eww. “When will you get an ID on the bodies?”
“Not fast enough. There are multiple graves, multiple skeletons. It’s a lab nightmare.”
“Maybe you could narrow the focus? Girls disappear from our neighborhood sometimes. Maybe Lell wasn’t a victim because she was Kyle’s girlfriend. Maybe she was a victim because that’s where he . . . hunted.” It’s hard to say the word knowing it might apply to me right now. I take a ragged breath. “You could compare teeth or something to missing girls’ dental records.”
“I’m working on it.”
“You should also think about who would benefit from pretending Kyle’s still alive.”
“No shit.”
Anger flares through me. “Well, if you’ve got it all figured out, why’re you bothering me?”
“Why indeed.”
“You owe me protection. That was the deal, Carson.” I hate how my voice is sliding into a whine and I can’t seem to stop it. “You haven’t sent any more officers to watch our house.”
“Well, you know how these things go. It’s hard to maintain personal projects in this economic climate. Shame really.” Carson turns to leave and stops. “Remember to stay useful, Wick. Otherwise, what’s the point in keeping you?”
I leave Carson and drive straight to school, swinging my car into the parking lot as everyone else is leaving. I’d rather not be here at all, but I have a history paper due at the end of the week, and if my grades drop, Bren will come snooping.
If sneaking out of the house equals grounding, I can’t imagine what skipping school would require . . . an electronic tracking anklet?
Best not to think about it.
I head for my locker, being careful to avoid any of the teachers whose classes I missed. It’s not terribly difficult. The hallway is still pretty crowded—so crowded I don’t see him until I’m too close to turn around.
Milo.
He grins, looking like something out of a Ralph Lauren ad. The only thing the boy is missing is a wind machine and some half-naked model hanging on him.
“How do you keep getting past security?” I ask.
“It’s public school. They can’t even spell security.”
“You’re feeling better.”
“I’ll heal. I wanted to see you, say thanks.”
“No need.” I concentrate on my locker combination—maybe a little more than necessary—because when he’s this close I swear I can feel the heat from his skin.
The way his lips felt on mine.
“Thought I would repay the favor,” he adds.
“I’m good.”
“Really? Even if it takes care of your Carson problem?”
I jerk my head side to side to see if anyone’s listening. “Could you be a little quieter?”
Milo chokes on his laugh. “Someday you’re going to have to explain to me why you care what anyone here thinks of you.”
“It’s not about what people think of me, it’s about staying out of jail. No one knows about my hobbies, much less about Carson’s and my . . . arrangement.”
“Like when he promised he would turn off the security cameras and didn’t?”
“Seriously? Shut. Up.” I glare at him and it only makes Milo’s smile slide wider. “Not here.”
“Again, who cares? You can’t tell me you don’t want to know all about your detective’s storage unit and all the new compounds I put in there.”
My hands slacken. “Compounds?”
“Yep, specifically, the kind the ATF gets really, really excited about. Lucky for him, I had extra lying around the restaurant. Just wait. Someone will call in a bomb threat. It’ll be epic.”
I gape and Milo grins like he enjoys it.
“Still think I don’t understand you, Wick?” He edges closer, and this time, I don’t move away. “We could be great together if you would just realize the past is dead, but the future is yours for the taking. We can take it together.”
“Why me?”
“What?”
“Why me, Milo?”
“Because when I’m around you . . .” His dark gaze climbs across my face, stroking something nameless inside me. “Around you, I feel like I’ve been smacked awake. You’re everything I could never be.”
“And that is?”
“Powerful. Hackers are meant to rule the world. You could take it all and I want to watch you do it. I like you—for what you are and what you could be.”
I like you too. It blooms under my tongue, but Milo’s attention shifts, tracking something beyond my shoulder.
“Gotta go,” he says, peeling himself off the lockers. “When Carson’s shit hits the fan, call me. I’ll want all the details on how impressed you are with what I can do.”
Milo slips into a crowd of band geeks heading for the exit, and when I turn around, I see why: Griff and Mrs. Lowe, the computer lab teacher, are heading my way.
“Is everything okay, Wicket?” Mrs. Lowe asks, drawing down on me with narrowed eyes.
Unable to breathe, I nod.
“Was that a new student? I don’t recognize him.”