He started humming some childish kissing rhyme, and I chased him out into the hall before locking my door and falling back on my bed. Freddie had managed to clear my mind in a way nothing else could, reminding me yet again how much I needed those three brats. And I wouldn’t have them for long—not if our father really did weasel his way out of his cell. They couldn’t be here if he got out of jail—not in London, not in England. It was too dangerous. But they couldn’t leave yet, not while my dad had easy access to the authorities and enough media attention to start an international manhunt.
We needed to keep our passports somewhere easy to grab, and we needed a plan, which meant convincing Alice to leave. If anything were to happen to me or if Alice was to lose custody, she needed to take my brothers to the countryside and then to America as quickly as possible. Even if that meant leaving me behind to ensure that he’d never threaten any of us ever again.
Chapter 11
Lock rushed into my room almost exactly at noon, one hand clutching his tablet, the other holding his mobile to his ear. He immediately started pacing the floor as though I weren’t there at all.
“How long can it physically take to accept a tip on an actual tip hotline?” he asked his reflection in my full-length mirror. Then he spun in place and paced back to my window.
I watched him for three full laps of my tiny room before saying, “I thought I said after school.”
He pointed at me with his tablet hand. “I wasn’t scowling earlier.”
“Liar.”
I could tell he was trying not to smile, but then he was distracted by someone on the line. “Yes, this is about the jewelry store that was robbed last week,” he said. “The thief is a woman.”
His expression went from being pleased with himself to irritated in the blink of an eye. “No, I was not there. I saw a picture from the crime scene that leaked on the Internet and . . . No, this isn’t a prank call. Just listen, because . . .”
He looked at me in exasperation and I mouthed: Who are you talking to?
Police, he mouthed back.
I rolled my eyes, and fell back onto my pillow. He’d seen a picture on the Internet and solved a jewelry heist. Of course he had.
“Yes, I am aware of the penalties for impeding a police investigation. I’m just trying to tell you that there are three too many pearls on the floor for the piece that was stolen, which means the thief broke one of her own pieces of jewelry while trying to leave.” He pointed one finger at the ceiling and said, “A piece she was wearing.”
With his finger still up in the air, he smiled widely at me. He was so impressed with his own cleverness, my Lock, and I surprised myself by returning his smile. Only he would count pearls.
He looked horrified in the next moment and ended the call so quickly I could barely suppress my laughter. I lost it completely after seeing the sad puppy look he wore when he lifted his head.
“Aw, what happened?” I asked.
“They asked for my name.” He came over to sit with me on the bed, completely defeated. I sat up and patted his back. “They want me to come in for questioning.”
I failed again to check my laughter, and Lock frowned. “It’s not funny. He said no one could know that unless they were there.”
I pressed my lips together, which didn’t help at all. “Of course he did.”
“You’re still laughing.”
“It’s still funny.”
Lock waved me off and held his head high. “Doesn’t matter. At least now they know it’s a woman.”
“Or a young teen sleuth calling in false tips to make it seem like a woman did it.” My eyes went wide and I pointed at him accusingly. “Maybe it was you! Why aren’t you wearing your pearls today?”
Lock wanted to laugh so much. I could see it despite his attempt at a glare, which was a giant failure. “I cannot believe you just said that.”
I winked and he lunged at me in revenge. I deflected as much as I could, but somehow in his quest to keep me from bashing his head repeatedly with my pillow, he was able to grab both my wrists and push them behind my back. We looked up at the same time, bringing our faces close. The laughter stopped when our eyes met, leaving us both breathless. I felt his soft huffing breaths on my lips, which made me hyperaware when his gaze dropped down to stare at them.
I turned my head and bit at my bottom lip, which was tingling in an anticipation that only made me feel that much more guilty. ?After a moment Lock freed my hands and whispered, “Sorry,” as we awkwardly disentangled ourselves.
Had he been someone else—if we were a different couple—I wondered if he would have asked me why I kept acting like that, or how long it would take me to forgive him, or if I ever would. He might have pointed out that he’d only done what he needed to do to save my life, and I would have called him a liar, reminding him that involving the police was a calculated decision as was every choice he’d made.
Were we a normal couple, all these missed moments might have ended with arguments or excuses. Or maybe we’d have ended things entirely by now. But we were Lock and Mori, so he gave an apology that he didn’t mean, and I changed the subject, despite the ache in my chest. “You found an address,” I said. I walked over to the mirror to straighten my hair and clothes and tried my best to avoid looking at him in the reflection.
“Yes. For a clinic in the West End. Two of the letters in your collage came from an advertisement on the back of the cover page, where the mailing label was pasted.”