I turned my head to look fully into her eyes, so that even in the soft glow of her flashlight, she could see me clearly. “If you believe nothing else I say, know for certain that I will make sure he pays fully for what he has done.”
She told me that she’d be at her dad’s clearing every other night from then on, then she held my arm more tightly. It reminded me of how Sadie would hug my arm and rest her cheek on my shoulder when she wanted to do something she knew I wouldn’t like. I wondered what Lily wanted from me. I couldn’t imagine we’d ever be actual friends, but I supposed, when it came to my father, we wanted the same thing. That was apparently enough for Lily Patel. For now.
Chapter 5
I knew that I’d eventually have to face Lock and all his questions about why I’d gone running out of the house for no apparent reason. I even thought that I might find him camped out on our front stairs when I came home that night. I hardly expected to see him the next morning sitting between Michael and Freddie at the breakfast table, messing around between bites of porridge like he was just another part of the family.
“Mine next!” Seanie shouted, practically launching himself across the table to shove a spoonful of porridge at Lock’s face. Almost the entire spice cabinet was spread out in front of them to play “Guess What’s in My Porridge,” a game the boys had invented with Mrs. Hudson the last time we were housebound because of the press.
Sherlock had a perfect record, which Sean was desperate to shatter. But Lock didn’t seem all that afraid when he leaned forward to taste from Seanie’s spoon. “Let’s see,” he said, then he sat back thoughtfully, moving the food around his mouth a bit before swallowing. “Currants, nutmeg, and . . .”
Sean’s face lit up like he was about to win a prize at a carnival, but it was short lived.
“Pepper? Did you really put black pepper in this?”
Sean’s hope fizzled, but he still managed to smile. “I was sure I’d get you with that one.”
“You should’ve used the white pepper,” I said, walking to the stove to serve up my own breakfast. “He probably saw it in the bowl.”
Sean looked from his bowl back to Sherlock. “No fair!”
Lock held his hands up. “If you didn’t want me to use my eyes, you should’ve insisted on a blindfold.”
The boys all laughed, and I slid into the chair at the head of the table, choosing to focus intently on my porridge rather than face Lock.
It got strangely quiet for about thirty seconds, and then Lock said, “Last one done has to clean all the breakfast dishes!”
The boys all scraped the bottoms of their bowls into their mouths and ran from the room at record speeds, leaving Lock to gather their dishes. For the briefest of moments I thought he might just wash them in silence—at least let me finish my breakfast. But I was more amused than irritated when he said my name. Lock had no room in that mind of his to worry about other people’s breakfasts.
“Something about last night has me worried.” He rolled up his sleeves and turned on the water to fill the sink, like he had just said something about parliament or the weather.
Right to the point, then. I swallowed my bite of porridge and said, “It was nothing.”
Sherlock shut the water off and turned to face me, leaning back against the sink. “You told Mallory you thought your father had orchestrated the search last night. Why?”
I stared at him for a few seconds, trying to figure out if he was purposefully not asking about why I ran out on him or if he just wasn’t bothered by it. I must have paused too long, however, because he tilted his head a bit and asked, “What?”
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
Lock shrugged, but the corner of his mouth twitched a bit as he turned back to the sink, and then I knew. He chose not to ask. It could have been out of fear of my reaction or response. Or possibly he was waiting for a better time and place than first thing in the morning and in my kitchen. But I suspected that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t ask because he understood why I left without me having to say. That was one of the better aspects of my Lock. He couldn’t be bothered to allow me a peaceful breakfast, but he could give me space to breathe without my having to explain.
I was still smiling into my porridge when he asked, “Why did you think it was your father?”
“Isn’t it obvious? He wants me to go see him for some reason, so he unleashes his police brothers on me and then has Day call thinking I’ll give in just to yell at him. He could have been the one who notified the press as well—start to stir doubts among the public and push suspicion of his crimes onto someone else.”
Sherlock shook his head. “The call from DS Day is what bothers me about the whole thing. It’s not like your father’s never seen you get mad about something before. He’d have to know that you’d hardly relent to a meeting when you’re that angry.”
“There’s also this.” I pulled the letter to Freddie out of the pocket of my uniform skirt and placed it on the table. I still hadn’t opened it. Somehow even me knowing what it said felt like letting my father win.