Matt refuses to let me drive. Heâs practically vibrating with excitement, and yetâ¦
âJust spill it, would you?â
He swerves onto a side street and hits the gas pedal, the engine whining. He grins, flexing his grip on the steering wheel. At this point, Iâm just along for a ride. And Iâm not sure, with the way heâs driving, Iâm going to survive this ride.
âI got a location,â he finally says.
About time. Itâs been two weeks. Weâre a few days into December, and I was losing my patience.
I lean forward. âHow?â
âGot into the computer. It only connects to one network periodically, otherwise itâs completely shut off.â He grimaces. âBasically, it was a waiting game. Whoever it is, theyâre smart. This must be a device designated for this. I didnât find any personal documents stored on it. No clues. Sorry, man.â
âDid you see any of the videos?â
He shifts. âYeah. They kept two.â
âOf what?â I want to punch Matt at the thought of him watching Margo in her room, even though heâs helping me.
He eyes me. âThereâs no audio. But thereâs one of you sneaking into her room through the windowâhey, man, I stopped it after that. I donât need to see your naked ass fucking your girlfriend.â
I glare at him.
âAnd the other is her and Riley. Iâm not sure whatâs so special about it. They sit on her bed and make a phone call.â
âBut you canât hear what they say?â
âNah, itâs just video. I guess you could figure out what theyâre saying if you were a lip reader. Otherwise? Just two girls making a call.â
âSend them to me.â Maybe thereâs something heâs missing.
âWeâre almost there. Iâll check my laptop and see if itâs active. If it is, chances are good that weâll be able to find Margoâs stalker.â
My blood rushes hot and cold. Itâs trueâshe has a stalker. Someone obsessed with her⦠and her relationship to me.
Matt turns onto a familiar street, then into a parking lot. âThe Wi-Fi comes from that restaurant,â he says, pointing to the diner on the corner.
My stomach drops.
I was just here, talking to my mother.
Matt puts the car in park and reaches into the backseat for his laptop. But I canât wait. My momâs car is in the farthest corner of the lot. I donât even spare him a glance as I climb out and stride across the road, up the concrete steps. Into the diner.
Iâm on autopilot.
My gaze sweeps around, trying to find someone with a laptop, a cell phone, a tablet⦠nothing. The place is filled with old people sipping coffee and young families enjoying brunch. No one notices my abrupt entrance except the hostess, who has frozen by the podium.
âCaleb, what are you doing here?â
I donât spot anyone I know. No Amelieâthe girl is supposedly in France anywayâand no Savannah.
I point at her. âYou know something.â
âWhat?â
The door bangs open behind me, and a hand lands on my shoulder.
âTheyâre not here.â Matt sees who Iâm locked in a staring contest with and coughs. âHoly shit. Mrs. Asher?â
âMatthew,â my mother comments. âDid you boys come for dinner?â
âAh, no, maâam,â Matt says. His face reddens.
Motherâs eyebrow goes up. âThen what are you doing here?â
âDid you deliver my message to Uncle David?â
âAbout your college choice?â She tilts her head, confusion washing over her features. Itâs an actâevery emotion she reveals is an act. Sheâs much more calculating than that. âOf course I did.â
âGreat. Just checking.â I shove Matt out the door ahead of me.
âCaleb, waitâ ââ
I ignore her. All she had to do was tell me about Amber. She knows where she isâIâm growing more certain of it by the day. But she hasnât called me, hasnât shown up at Eliâs house, nothing.
Which means Amber Wolfe is still in town, and she canât admit it.
Once weâre outside, I let out a growl.
âWhat the hell was that?â Matt grabs my arm and stops me. âDude. Why is your mom working at a shitty diner in Beacon? I honestly didnât even know Beacon had shitty diners.â
âThereâs just the one diner.â I yank free. âAnd it beats me.â
He shakes his head, following me back to his car. âThis is so fucked up.â
âYouâre telling me?â
âWell, whoever normally connects there, I guess maybe your mom would know?â He unlocks the car. âDamn. I didnât think this was going to be a wasted trip. I was ready to spring on this stalker⦠I guess we could camp out here, see if anyone you recognize shows up.â
I grunt. âFine.â
We sit and wait. Every person who comes into the diner isnât right. Matt and I get antsy, and eventually we decide to head home.
I try not to take the day personally, but it comes down to one thing: we failed. And somehow Iâll have to go pretend everything is fine with Margo, knowing Unknown is just going to make another attempt to spy on her.
That gets me thinking. Plotting.
She might just be safer with me.
âYou have a gleam in your eye,â Matt comments. âCare to share?â
I donât.
âJust take me back.â
We drive in silence toward Eliâs house. A black car is parked in the driveway, and dread laces through me. Just the person I didnât want to see.
âYou okay?â
âMy uncle.â I climb out and pat the roof. âDonât forget to send me those files.â
âSee ya next week,â Matt says, lifting his hand.
Right. The championship game at Lionâs Head. I only just invited Margo, and it already evaporated from my mind. I guess Uncle David has that effect on me. Now I just have to hope he doesnât drag me back to his house to teach me some lessonâhow to properly inform your family of college choices, perhaps.
My mind is torn in two different directions. I walk into the house and search the first floor for any sign of my uncle, then go down the stairs. Heâs leaning against my dresser, holding the picture I had taken from my house the same night I took Margoâs bracelet.
Itâs the two of us as children, our arms hooked around each otherâs necks. We were young and happy.
But judging from my uncleâs expression, he doesnât care that it was a happy memory. He cares that itâs Margo Wolfe. The destroyer of our families.
Sheâll never win in his eyes.
I used to think the same way. If Margo came back, Iâd make her life a living hell. And for a while, I fed on that energy. She came back to Emery-Rose for senior year. But then she got under my skin, and sheâs stayed there ever since.
It was my uncle who shaped my opinion of Margo. My uncle who poisoned me against her.
I shouldâve known.
Uncle drops the frame to the floor and takes a deliberate step forward. The glass crunches under his heel.
I cringe, but thatâs all that slips out.
âI tried to warn you. But you just. Donât. Listen.â He sighs. I can only imagine what goes through his head in times like these. How much does he want to throttle me, and how much does he care? âPeople are buying your car accident story?â
I jerk my head in some form of a nod, but I donât trust myself to speak just yet.
âGood, good,â he muses. âI received an interesting phone call tonight.â
I raise an eyebrow.
âReceptionist at Hutchinsâ law firm. He cleared out?â He eyes me. âWhy is he running?â
I shake my head. âSomething spooked him.â
âObviously. Who?â
The last person Iâm going to name is Margo. âMaybe my mother?â
He stills. âWhyâs that, Caleb?â
I lift one shoulder. âYouâll have to ask her.â
He stares. Upstairs, the front door slams, and Mr. Blackâs voice calls out for me and Eli. I move out of the way of the stairs, my expression wary. He canât do anything with Mr. Black here, right?
Thereâs a layer of protection embedded in being around adults who would act.
My best friendâs father definitely qualifies.
âIâll see you for dinner next week,â my uncle says.
He straightens his tie and brushes past me, his shoes grinding the bits of broken glass into the carpet. And then heâs gone, without a word to Eliâs father, and I sag against the wall.
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