I flashed him a smile as he fought to cover his scowl with an apathetic grin of his own.
“I like it when they’re lippy,” Switchblade said, too loud for how close we were, and then gave me the most predatory look I’d ever seen on a boy. “Like to imagine just what those lips could do for me.”
I leaned closer, despite the fact that he smelled of chip grease, smoke, and sweat. I rested my hands on the table to either side of him, then smiled.
He leaned back and said, “What you playing at?” all quiet like, so his mates wouldn’t hear, I slid my hand over his knife and then leaned back just enough to slide it between us, unnoticed.
“You still haven’t apologized.” Now I was the one speaking loud enough for his friends.
“For what? It’s a compliment, see. You bitches just don’t know when to say thank you.” One of his friends snickered, and Sadie stepped closer to me.
“Mori, it’s okay. Let’s just go.”
“You will apologize to my friend now. And then I expect an apology for having to stand so close to your foul stench for the last minute and a half.”
He adjusted his jacket and smirked. “Yeah? And why would I do what you say?”
I let my smile drop, let the rage consume me just long enough to cram the top of the switchblade hilt into his crotch. “Because my finger’s on the button and I’m not a patient girl.”
“Psycho bitch!” He tried to push me off him by my shoulders and scramble away, but I fisted his T-shirt in my hand and shook my head.
“Better not. I’d hate for my thumb to slip. By accident.” I narrowed my eyes and whispered, “Wouldn’t want to give me a reason to hurt you.”
“Sorry,” he whispered, and the sound sent a thrill through me. When I didn’t move, his voice became this whining, blubbering thing that made my smile true. “Sorry, I said sorry.”
“Not to me. To her.” I glanced over my shoulder. “And say it loud enough for your mates to hear.”
“I’m sorry, miss,” he said to Sadie.
I was almost breathless from the pleasure of his submission. It was like a soothing cool had washed over all the rage that had consumed me, making me invincible. I almost giggled when I said, “For what? I didn’t hear that part.”
“For what I said, okay? It was disre—disrepes—”
“I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘disrespectful.’”
“I’m sorry, right? I said it, like you told me.”
I stared him down for about ten more seconds before backing away. The minute I turned, he said, “Give it back.”
I spun in place and flicked the knife open, which made them all flinch and gave me another surge of adrenaline. Sadie called my name, and I started to laugh. “I think I’ll keep it.” I spun it around in my hand, blade still open. “It suits me, don’t you think?”
This time I waited for the pack to run off before I turned away. Sadie studied me with big eyes until I’d clicked shut the knife and pocketed it.
“That’s illegal,” she said quietly.
“I know.”
I started walking, and she didn’t speak again until we were just outside the copse of trees where Patel’s body had been found. I must have stopped walking when I saw it, because Sadie said, “Something a cop’s daughter would definitely know—the legality of weapons in England. If only we had one of them around.”
“If only.” I grinned and walked into the trees, which of course all looked the same. So I backtracked a little until I was standing in front of the large shrub Sherlock and I had hidden behind and tried to orient myself.
“Maybe next time you decide to go all superhero on me, a little warning ahead of time?” When I didn’t answer, she stood in front of me. “Mori, seriously. You were like a different person just now.”
Sadie’s plan to get my attention backfired, but only because she was standing almost exactly where the evidence tech had been dusting the umbrella that night. With that context, the whole scene appeared before me again, like it was that night all over.
“Never mind that, we’re here.” I walked forward until I was standing in front of Patel’s tree. I could even make out a stain in the dark soil and tree roots at its base. I resisted the urge to reach up and run my fingers along the gouge that the short sword had made when it had pierced through him. But it was obvious we’d been right. He’d definitely been stabbed at throat height first.
“Here is where you bring me? To a tree?”
“For starters,” I said, stepping around to the far side and searching the bark for the etching that was mentioned in the police file. It really was clear as day when I found it—a four-leaf clover. This hadn’t been a random meeting place. Patel had met my father here on purpose. The clover was a marker, but I didn’t know for what. I didn’t know why.
“You do understand what ditching school is for, don’t you, Mori?”
I was about to answer when I heard her cry out softly. I turned just in time to catch her hands with mine and keep her from falling.