Page 105 of Dead Serious: Case 3 Mr Bruce Reyes
“So you said before,” Sam replies behind me, and I don’t need to see his face to know he’s got that lazy self-confident smirk curving his lips.
“Well, I do feel that I have a firm point,” Danny claps back, the irritation evident in his voice. “This is completely against the law. I am actively aiding and abetting right now.”
Sam hums thoughtfully. “Maybe we should’ve left you in the car.”
Danny scoffs. “Like that’s going to happen. I’m not leaving Tristan on his own.”
“He’s not on his own,” Sam reminds him, eyeing Dusty and Bruce. “He has me and his two sidekicks.”
“Maybe Sam’s right, you should wait in the getaway car,” I say to Danny over my shoulder. “If I get arrested, I might need you to bake a nail file into a cake for me.”
Sam sighs. “You’re not going to get arrested, so quit being dramatic. This is University College London, not the bloody Tower of London, and we’re here for some bones, not the Crown Jewels. Honestly, they probably won’t even notice they’re gone.”
I turn my head toward Danny. All joking aside, this is not a comfortable situation for him.
“Are you sure you’re okay about this, Danny?” I ask seriously. “I know this is difficult for you, but maybe you’re better off not being here. Plausible deniability and all that.”
He stares at me and then shakes his head. “No. Wherever you go, I go.”
“Fucking hell,” Dusty mutters, “you’re not re-enacting Titanic. We’re grabbing some bones, not jumping off the back of a sodding massive ship.”
“Okay I think everyone needs to breathe… just breathe,” I say, although I’m talking to myself more than them. Nerves churn in my belly at the thought of what I’m about to do.
“If it makes you feel better, Danny,” Sam offers, “it’s really not stealing. Those bones belong to Bruce, and he asked us to retrieve them, so it’s more like a repossession.”
“Don’t mention the word possession.” Dusty shakes her head. “We’ve got enough problems already.”
“Sam does have a point though,” Bruce says. “They’re mine, and I need them back.”
I glance over to Bruce, who is leaning against Dusty but looking more alert than he has been. Dusty is back to being, well… Dusty. She’s wearing skinny-heeled patent knee-high boots and a belted raincoat. A chiffon headscarf covers her blonde hair and wraps around her neck before tucking into her coat. Huge Audrey Hepburn sunglasses shield her eyes, and her lips are back to being scandalously red.
“Are you absolutely sure about this, Bruce?” I ask. “If we steal”—Bruce clears his throat at my word choice—“recover your bones, your parents won’t have anything to bury.”
Bruce gives a pained look. “It can’t be helped, trust me. If I’m going to have any hope of stopping Chaos from coming through that portal, I’m going to need my bones to do it.”
“But I don’t understand how–”
“Tris,” Danny interrupts. “As much as it pains me to hurry along this crime in progress, the clock is ticking.”
“Right.” I turn back to the corridor leading to the forensic anthropology department. “Okay.” I release a breath. “I remember one time I came to see Dr O’Hara here for a consult. He was kind enough to take me on a tour of his department. If memory serves, they don’t keep bones in the lab but rather in a specially designed storage area which can only be accessed by certain members of the faculty. I checked their directory, and Professor Tomas Grady should be along soon on his way to one of the lecture rooms. He has access, so all I need to do is steal his security pass. I mean, how hard can it be? They do it all the time in movies.”
“Tris, this is literally the worst idea ever,” Danny replies in exasperation. “You’re not Jason Bourne.”
“Oh my god, there he is! The one in the checked shirt and tweed jacket,” I say, feeling the panic squeezing my insides like a tube of toothpaste. “Oh m’god, oh m’god…”
I feel the warmth of Dusty’s hand on my shoulder and her whispered voice in my ear. “You got this, boo. I saw you chug a mug of Lemsip Max Strength like it was a shot. You’re an animal…”
“Not helping, Dusty,” I hiss.
“Don’t worry, Tristan, I’ve got this.” Sam pats my other shoulder as he passes by and casually strides down the corridor.
Halfway down, he bumps into Professor Grady—barely a nudge, just a slight clip of his shoulder.
“Sorry,” Sam apologises as Professor Grady shakes his head, muttering to himself, but carries on down the corridor and around the corner, disappearing from sight.
Sam stops outside the entrance to the department’s main doors, checking the hallway to make sure it’s now empty of students and faculty. Then he turns to us and grins, lifting his hand, and from his fingers dangles an ID and security pass.
“Come on,” I urge Danny, Dusty, and Bruce, and we hurry down the corridor towards him.