“We’re going to figure this out,” he says. “You know that, right?”
I press my forehead into his shoulder. It’s solid, like a wall. He lightly circles his arms around me and pulls me close. His fingers play with the tips of my hair. I breathe out a long, pent-up sigh. I want to say something, but my throat is so tight a pea couldn’t slip through.
“Okay, yeah. Got it. I’ll get back to you in a day or so,” a low male voice promises, but it isn’t Journey. It’s coming from deep in my backyard.
I jump away from Journey and squint into the darkness. There’s a cement patio located behind a flower bed toward the back of our garage. Rachel and I never use this area. In the dim light, I can barely make out Victor sitting at an old table out there, talking into his cell phone. He clicks the phone off, rises, and comes toward us, shuffling through the dried leaves.
I panic but don’t know what to do. It would be obvious if Journey took off running mere seconds before Victor reaches us. Our backyard isn’t that big. There’s no way Victor hasn’t seen him. Instead we both just stand there with blank, guilty expressions.
Victor stops in front of us, looking from me to Journey and back to me.
“I assume this is Journey,” he says.
I avoid making direct eye contact.
Journey thrusts his hand forward. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
“Nice to meet you, too.” Victor takes his hand and they shake. Victor continues to the bottom of the stairs before pausing. “You coming up?”
Journey and I exchange a look. “I better go,” he says. “See you Monday?”
“Yeah. Monday,” I say.
Journey turns and lopes off down the driveway. I head up the stairs even though it feels like he’s taking a part of me with him.
Once inside the kitchen, Victor takes a seat at the table. I head for the refrigerator and pretend to check out the contents. “There’s some leftover pizza, if you’re hungry.”
“I’m good,” Victor says.
I close the door and stand at the table for a few seconds. I don’t want to sit down and discuss what Journey was doing here. I fake a yawn. “Well, I think I’m going up to bed.”
“So early?” Victor asks. He sounds disappointed.
“Yeah, it’s been a pretty long day.”
“Okay.” He studies me for a long minute. “Good night.”
I slowly ascend the stairs until I’m out of his sight, and then I race to my bedroom door. He didn’t say anything about Journey and neither did I. The question is, will he tell Rachel?
25
Life always finds a way.
—MISS PETERS
Saturday is Victor’s first weekend home since I’ve been part of the family, and Rachel has the whole day planned. First, pancakes for breakfast, then a drive through the old neighborhood and lunch at her favorite restaurant.
She invites Sydney to meet us for lunch, which turns out great because the conversation between Victor and Sydney is better than any crime-investigation class ever. Victor goes into great detail about all the amazing equipment he has in his lab at the FBI while Syd grumbles over Chief Culson’s reluctance to bring that same technology to our city.
“It’s the cost,” Victor says. “Setting up a crime lab is expensive.”
This supports what Journey said about Miss Peters’s idea to share a lab with the school and the police department. But Sydney shakes her head.
“Cost isn’t the whole story on him, I’m afraid,” Sydney says. “Charles is your basic gumshoe. He’s all about old-school detective work and truly believes a well-followed hunch is far more valuable than science.” She uses air quotes around the word “science.”
Wow. That’s surprising. What police officer wouldn’t want hard, cold science to support his cases? But I don’t ask the question out loud.
“Chuck only says that because he got stuck here in a Podunk police unit.” Victor sits back and sips his coffee. He waves his cup at Rachel for emphasis. “You remember, back in the day, he and I were going to go to the FBI together.”
There’s a clunk under the table.
“Ow.” Victor casts a wary look at Rachel.
“Sorry,” she mutters. But I know the exact meaning of her pinched expression and the quick side-eye motion she makes in my direction.
She doesn’t want Victor talking about all this in front of me.
The adults veer off into talking about less exciting memories of the past. To make them more comfortable, I slip my headphones on and listen to some music until lunch is over.