What Lies in the Darkness (Shadow Cove Book 1) (10 page)

Five minutes later, Ms. Finkleson has the backup footage pulled up and seems greatly appreciative.

“Thank you so much, Makayla.” She looks away from the computer screen and smiles gratefully at me. “I wish I knew about this sooner. I have so many students come in here and make reports on stolen items, and about half the time, the security cameras have gone down, so there’s nothing I can do to help them.”

“That’s so weird. I mean, that so much stuff gets stolen around here.”

“I used to think so, too, but then I realized that over seventy percent of the kids at this school are in the higher-class income, while the other thirty percent are in borderline poverty level.”

“So, you think poor kids are doing all the stealing?” My tone comes out clipped. “And that the rich kids are all just victims of our thievery?”

“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant. I was just …” She shifts in her chair uncomfortably. “You know what? Let’s pull up the footage of your locker before the lunch bell rings.” Looking at the screen, she double-clicks the mouse. “I don’t want you being late for class.”

“Sounds good to me.”

All right, girls, let’s get this show on the road.

Sucking in an inhale, I let out a fake sneeze.

“Bless you,” Ms. Finkleson says automatically, tapping a few keys on the keyboard.

“Em’s on it,” Kennedy’s cheerful tone echoes out of the earpiece.

I rub my nose and smile at Ms. Finkleson. “Thanks.”

She continues to type on the computer until the high-pitched blare of the fire alarm sounds through the school.

Her gaze darts away from the screen to the door. “What on earth? I don’t think there was a drill scheduled.” She shoves her chair away from the desk, rises to her feet, and pushes the intercom button. “Students and faculty, please evacuate the school using the nearest exit and remain outside until further instructions.” She releases the intercom switch and winds around the desk, signaling for me to follow her. “Come on, Makayla; we need to get outside.”

I gather my bag and follow her out the door where students are wandering toward the exit doors in a chaotic manner, which makes it easier to get lost in the crowd. Once I’m sure Ms. Finkleson’s no longer paying attention to me, I whirl around and slip back into the main office.

“Can someone keep an eye on the door?” I ask loudly over the alarm. “And if she comes back, warn me.”

“Already on it,” Kennedy replies. “Oh, and FYI, remind me never to believe a damn word you say ever again. Your lying skills are literally terrifying.”

I chuckle, swinging around the desk and clicking the mouse. “Shit. It already went back to the password screen.” I crack my knuckles and align my fingers on the keys. “Good thing I totally saw when she typed her password in.”

I quickly type in January 15, 1973, gaining access to the home screen. She didn’t shut the security program down, so accessing the videos is fairly easy.

I find the video files for Friday and scroll to the footage taken close to noon, around the time Dixon said he believes his computer was jacked. I click through the different areas the cameras are angled at until I find the footage taken close to his locker. Then I push fast-forward and watch for anything suspicious.

About one minute in, the fire alarm silences, and the air grows quiet.

“Shit, I’m running out of time,” I mutter, double-clicking the arrow to speed up the fast-forward.

On the black and white video, kids zoom back and forth across the screen, hurrying to classes, lollygagging on the way to their lockers, standing around and wasting time.

“Mak, hurry up,” Kennedy warns.

I impatiently drum my fingers against the desk. “Come on, come on, come on.”

“Mak, get your ass out of there
now
.” Urgency rings in Kennedy’s tone. “Ms. Finkleson is heading toward the entrance doors.”

“Just a sec.” I lean forward, squinting at the screen as something catches my eye. I click the rewind button to backtrack a few seconds then let the video play at normal speed. “What in the world—”

“Mak!” Kennedy screeches in my ear. “She’s walking up to the main office door!”

I hurriedly close down the videos, grab my shit, and dash across the office. But right as I move to open the door, it creaks open.

Panic sets in.
I’m so going down!

I’m starting to back up, scanning the office for a place to hide, when I hear Kennedy’s voice on the other side of the door.

“Hey, Ms. Finkleson, can I talk to you for a minute?” Kennedy asks smoothly. “It’s really important.”

“Is everything okay?” Ms. Finkleson asks in concern.

“Well, you see, there was this thing that happened in the girls’ locker room …” She struggles for words. “A fight broke out.”

Tiptoeing over to the door, I peer out of the crack. The two of them are standing about ten feet away with Ms. Finkleson’s back toward me.

When Kennedy spies me peeking out, her eyes briefly widen, and Ms. Finkleson starts to turn around.

Kennedy desperately snags her arm and squeaks, “It was such a bad fight, and now I feel really scared about going in there. It’s so secluded, you know. No teachers are monitoring the area or anything.”

Holding my breath, I open the door wider and inch out into the hallway.

“I’m not really sure what you’re asking,” Ms. Finkleson says. “Do you want me to see if we can get a monitor in the girls’ locker room? Because you’ll probably have to discuss the idea with the principal. But if you’re worried about the fight you saw, I’d suggest maybe talking to the counselor.”

I tiptoe like a madwoman toward the doors that lead outside.

“Thanks, Ms. Finkleson,” Kennedy says with relief. “You’re the best.”

“You’re welcome,” Ms. Finkleson replies, sounding lost. “Now, if there’s nothing else, I really need to ask you to wait outside until I announce that students can come back in.”

“Absolutely,” Kennedy says. “And thanks again—”

I barrel out the doors and haul ass down toward a cluster of trees where the students have accumulated, crossing my fingers that Ms. Finkleson didn’t see me.

LOCATION: MAK’S CAR

TIME: 12:27 PM

DATE: MONDAY, MARCH 22
^ND

“Oh, my word, what just happened?” Kennedy sputters as I dive into the driver’s seat of my car and slam the door.

“I kicked some spy ass; that’s what happened.” I shuck off my backpack, chuck it into the backseat, and let out a shocked laugh. “I can’t believe I just pulled that off. My dad would be so proud.”

Ev’s expression softens at the mention of my dad. “You found out who took the computer, then?”

I give an exaggerated nod. “Oh, yeah, I definitely found out who took it. And not just Dixon’s computer, but some stuff from other people’s lockers, too.”

“Really?” She shuts the laptop. “So, who did it?”

I’m opening my mouth to answer her when Kennedy and Embry come jogging across the parking lot, laughing nervously as they say something to each other. When they reach my car, they slam to a stop, and Kennedy yanks open the door to the backseat. She scooches in, and Embry follows, pulling the car door shut.

Kennedy rests her elbows on the console. “That was so close. You’re lucky I stepped in.”

“I know.” I rotate around in the seat to look at her. “I’m kind of proud of you. That was some awesome quick thinking.”

“Why, thank you.” She beams, but then her smile falters. “Although, I’m kind of worried that we might end up with a monitor in the locker room now.”

Ev slants her head to the side. “What?”

Embry scoots forward, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. “Yeah, please explain what the fuck just happened and why Kennedy looked like she was about to pee her pants when she ran out of the school.”

“I didn’t look like I was about to pee my pants,” Kennedy protests, swatting Embry’s arm. “I was just a little nervous that Ms. Finkleson was going to figure out what we were up to.”

“She seemed a little confused with your locker room story,” I say. “But I think she was pretty clueless about what was going on.”

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Embry begs. “I mean, did it work? Did it not work? Do we know who the thief is?”

“Yep,” I say proudly. “When I got to the right spot on the video, I got a clear shot of the thief breaking into Dixon’s locker and taking off with the computer and doing the same thing to a couple of other lockers next to his.”

“Really?” Kennedy slants forward eagerly. “So, who is it?”

I don’t know whether to smile or frown. While I found out who the thief is, I’m baffled over why this person would steal anything, let alone steal from Dixon.

“It was Liam Stallings,” I announce through my confusion.

Kennedy’s lips part in shock. “Dixon’s best friend stole his computer?”

I nod, my confusion deepening. Not only is Liam Dixon’s best friend, but he also comes from one of the wealthiest families in Shadow Cove. Why he’d need to jack a bunch of computers is beyond me other than maybe he didn’t necessarily want the computers per se, but something on them.

LOCATION: MAK’S CAR

TIME: 3:14 PM

DATE: MONDAY, MARCH 22
^ND

Here’s what I know about Liam Stallings:

Full Name: Liam Stallings

Age: Seventeen.

School Status: A senior at Shadow Cove.

Current GPA: 4.0.

Extracurricular Activities: Football, lacrosse, newspaper, yearbook staff.

Titles: Homecoming king, voted most likely to succeed.

Means of Transportation: When his driver isn’t taxiing him around, he cruises around in a Porsche.

Yeah, the dude’s a total overachiever, and almost everyone in Shadow Cove worships the ground he walks on. Not to mention, he’s gorgeous if you like the whole blond hair, blue eyes, preppy, collared shirt and slacks look, which I don’t. However, a lot of girls do, and Liam spends a lot of time getting his ego stroked by swooning girls.

I try to dig up some dirt up on him during computer class, but his records are perfect, his grades flawless, and he’s clean of any probations or arrests, including breaking and entering, and shoplifting. So either the whole stealing computer thing is a new habit, or he’s good at covering up his klepto habits.

As soon the final bell rings, Kennedy and I meet at my locker then head out to my car to play stakeout and wait for Liam to exit the school so we can tail him. Embry walks out with us but takes off on foot to her part-time job at the Shadow Cove Cornershop Café, located about a mile away. Ev remains in school to give tutoring lessons, something she does three times a week.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t just corner him in the hallway or something?” Kennedy asks with her gaze trained on the shiny silver Porsche parked a few spaces in front of us. “It might be easier.”

I collect a bottle of soda from the cup holder and down a swig. “No way. The last thing we need is to try to have this talk while he’s surrounded by his friends. And Dixon.” I roll down my window as the cab starts to heat up. “He’ll never admit anything in front of Dixon, even if we do bring the video up. Our best bet is to follow him around for a bit until we catch him alone. Then we make our move.”

“We could always just call him. I have his phone number.”

I give her a curious glance. “Why?”

She shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. I probably have, like, half the schools’ phone numbers programmed into my phone. It’s not like I call any of them, though. You, Em, and Ev are probably the only numbers that get used.”

I stick out my hand. “Lemme see your phone.”

“What for?”

“I wanna see who else’s digits you’ve got. It might come in handy later on.”

“Why? You planning on stalking someone else?” She smiles to let me know she’s joking. Then she digs her phone out of her bag and punches in her passcode before handing it over. “And while you’re at it, just call Liam. This stakeout thingy is getting so boring.” She fans her hand in front of her face. “And I’m starting to sweat.”

“I can’t call him. If I do, then he’ll just hang up when I start questioning him. This needs to be done in person.” I gradually scroll through her contacts. “And if you’re hot, roll the window down.”

Sighing, she rolls the window down, letting a warm breeze gust in. “Fine, we’ll do this your way, oh wise one who knows everything.”

“And don’t ever forget it.”

I continue scrolling through her seemingly never-ending contact list, making a mental note that, if I ever need to track a phone number down, Kennedy is my go-to person.

She digs a tube of lip gloss out of her purse. “One final question, though, about this little stakeout party we’re having … What happens if Liam drives straight home?”

“He won’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because he hates his dad.”

Her gaze skates to me, and her lips curve up. “Do I even want to know how you know that?”

I shrug. “Back in, like, ninth grade, we had to do a project together for school. He kept insisting we do all the work at my house, and when I finally asked him why, he told me that he hated being at his house. That his dad is an asshole.”

“Liam told
you
all of that?”

“I think he’d been drinking.”

“That would make much more sense.”

My brow teases up. “What’re you saying? That someone wouldn’t open up to me unless they were wasted?”

“No.” She tosses the lip gloss back into her purse. “I’m saying, Liam Stallings wouldn’t open up to anyone unless he was wasted. The guy is seriously as fake as Bridget Stolerfens’s tatas.”

I gape at her. “Bridget got breast implants?
Really
?”

“Of course she did. She was barely a B cup all through sophomore year. Then, suddenly, she comes back from summer break and her goodies”—she makes a circular motion around her chest—“are bigger than mine. There’s no way she grew that much in just three months.”