Page 12 of Don’t Say a Word (Angelhart Investigations #2)

She saw Mrs. Clark and Mr. Parsons talking outside the gym. She didn’t have a lot of time.

Head up, not looking anyone in the eye, she walked straight to the administrative building. All the doors were locked—you needed a key or a pass card to get in, except through the lobby.

She went in through the student entrance.

“I thought I locked the door,” Mrs. Villines, the school secretary, said. “We’re closed.” She already had her large purse over her shoulder.

“I just saw Mrs. Clark at the volleyball game. She said she wanted to talk to me and to wait in her office.”

“She didn’t come in with you?”

“She was talking to Mr. Parsons.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Villines said with a little smile. Yeah, if Mrs. Clark and Mr. Parsons thought that they were being all discreet about their relationship, they were both idiots. Everyone knew. “All right, go ahead.”

“Thanks,” Angie said as Mrs. Villines buzzed her into the main part of the building.

Angie ran down the hall and into Mrs. Clark’s office. She was obviously expecting to return because her door was open, her briefcase on the table, and the computer was still on.

She stared at the perfectly neat desk. Yes, predictable and organized.

A business card was perfectly positioned under her monitor.

A NGELHART I NVESTIGATIONS

M ARGO A NGELHART

Two phone numbers and an email were listed in small print on the bottom of the card. This was easier than she’d thought.

She pulled out her phone to take a photo, but heard a voice so she quickly pocketed the card just as a someone said, “Can I help you?”

It was the principal, Mr. Borel. “Um, hi, Mr. Borel.”

“You’re not supposed to be in here without a teacher,” he said. Angie didn’t think she’d said more than two words to him in the three years she’d been here.

“Um...” She saw an SAT study guide on the table. “I just saw Mrs. Clark at the volleyball game. She told me I could pick up this study guide.” She grabbed it.

He might not believe her, but it wasn’t like she needed to hack in and change her grades or anything. Though she would like to erase all the absences.

Before he could question her, she pushed past him and said, “See you tomorrow!” Without looking back, she headed toward the side door, but heard a jingling of keys and voices just outside.

She didn’t want to explain herself to anyone, so she turned and headed toward the main exit before anyone else could ask her any questions, stuffing the thick SAT book into her already crowded backpack.

Two minutes later, Angie stood on the street outside the school and knew she didn’t want to go home.

Her mother worked until six, and she didn’t want to be alone with Bruce.

When her mother was home, they ignored her.

When she wasn’t, Bruce thought Angie was his personal slave to clean up after him and fetch him beer because he was too lazy to walk ten feet to the fridge.

Besides, she was hungry, and she doubted her mother would have anything good to eat—even though she was a cashier at a grocery store and got a discount on food.

Every night, she brought home frozen pizza or chicken nuggets.

You’d think just once in a while she’d get apples or milk.

So Angie headed toward the Cactus Stop. She’d walked this route many times with Elijah after he started working there last March.

He’d been so thrilled because most places didn’t hire teenagers anymore and the Cactus Stop paid fifteen dollars an hour and he was guaranteed twenty hours a week.

He worked five to nine, Tuesday through Saturday.

Angie would stop by sometimes to chat or pick up snacks.

They always had fruit, even if sometimes it was overripe.

In the summer, Elijah worked longer hours and Angie hadn’t seen him for weeks. When she ran into him the week before school started, he looked miserable and tired. He’d also lost weight.

She’d asked him about it, but he hadn’t talked. She’d pushed; he told her it was nothing.

Was his weight loss about his job? School?

Drugs...

She pushed the thought out of her mind.

Now he was dead and she couldn’t push him, make him tell her what had him so preoccupied.

She had wanted to tell the detective about these changes over the last few weeks, but the cop hadn’t called her back and Angie left three messages .

The detective hadn’t listened, hadn’t cared; Mrs. Clark listened, but couldn’t do anything.

Angie was so frustrated that everything in her life was out of her control that she wanted to scream.

But she didn’t. She focused on trying not to feel so alone and angry.

Angie entered the convenience store. Though the tall, narrow aisles and abundance of merchandise made the place seem crowded, it was clean.

She really didn’t know what she was doing, except she’d spent so much time here talking to Elijah.

Maybe she just wanted to feel close to him.

Maybe she wanted to know if anyone worked with him the day he died.

Walking down the aisle of chips, she grabbed a bag of spicy Doritos and a bottle of water.

She put the cold bottle on the nape of her neck and felt better.

She grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter; it wasn’t bruised, a plus.

She put her items down, then realized she knew the kid behind the counter. “Benny?” she said.

“Hey, Angie! How are you?”

Benny grinned ear to ear and walked around from behind the counter to give her a hug. She hugged him back. It felt so good she didn’t want to let go.

Benny Vallejo was Angie’s ex-boyfriend’s little brother. Not so little—he was six inches taller. But she’d known him since she started dating Chris back when she was a freshman and Chris was a sophomore. The three of them used to do things together all the time before Chris went to college.

Tears burned, but she didn’t let them fall. She missed Chris, but he was in college and she wasn’t. She didn’t want to be needy or use him as a crutch or pressure him to visit or anything. He had his life, she had hers, and that was that.

But she missed him, and she realized she missed Benny too. They didn’t have it any easier than she did—their mom was long gone and their dad was an asshole who smacked them around. But Chris and Benny had always been a unit, a team, and looked out for each other.

And her, when she was Chris’s girl.

“When did you start working here?” she asked, blinking to push back those damn emotions.

“I started on Thursday. Couldn’t believe it, I applied months ago, then they called me up Monday and said they had an opening. Totally sweet. My dad is thrilled, you know? And, well, not being home has its advantages.”

“I hear ya,” Angie said.

He laughed, squeezed her arm because he knew about her screwed-up homelife and she knew about his. There was a camaraderie when you shared something like that. “And I love getting a paycheck. Or I will, when I get my first one on Friday.”

Elijah was killed ten days ago. Benny had filled his spot.

“You okay?” he asked. Then his face fell. “Oh. Oh, God. I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I’m so sorry about Elijah. Did you talk to Chris?”

She shook her head.

“Why not? Jeez, Ange, he would totally have come up. It’s, like, a thirty-minute drive.”

She should have. Chris had also been friends with Elijah.

“I know, but he’s busy and I didn’t want to dump on him.”

Benny frowned and was about to say something when another guy, older by a few years, came out of the storage room and walked behind the counter, giving Benny a scowl.

“Sorry, Tony, Angie’s a friend.”

Benny hurried back around the counter. Angie paid for her items and Benny made change.

She glanced at Tony, who was staring at her. She’d seen him almost every day she came in to chat with Elijah.

“You’re friends with Elijah,” he said.

She nodded. Tony had always watched her, which sort of creeped her out, though he hadn’t made any weird moves on her.

Did he know what happened to Elijah? She wanted to ask him what he knew, but deep down she was scared and realized she was way, way over her head.

Maybe Elijah’s odd behavior these last few weeks had nothing to do with work.

Maybe it was the pressure of school and college applications, like Mrs. Clark suggested.

Maybe he had decided to pop pills. What did she know?

People were rarely what they seemed to be.

But he wouldn’t do drugs, especially hard drugs , she told herself. No one changed that much over one summer. Did they?

She pocketed her change and mumbled thanks. She wanted to ask Tony questions, or maybe just talk about Elijah because she missed him so damn much, but she didn’t. She walked out, feeling as if Tony were watching her the whole time.

Creepy. Definitely creepy.

Benny ran out after her. “Angie, wait up.”

She stopped. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

He put a hand on her shoulder, turned her to face him. “You won’t. What’s wrong?”

She looked up into Benny’s warm brown eyes.

“I’m okay,” she said. “I miss Elijah, and I shouldn’t have come here.”

“You ever want to talk, call me, okay? Seriously. You’re practically my sister.”

He smiled, but that comment made her want to cry even more.

“Okay,” she said and gave him a hug, before turning and speed walking south, toward the school and her apartment beyond.

She was glad that Chris had a whole new life away from his abusive dad. She wanted the best for him, and for Benny. The Vallejo brothers didn’t need to be dragged down by her innate pessimism.

Her cell phone rang. She answered it without looking, regretting it immediately when she heard Bruce’s nasty voice. “Are you in trouble?”

“No. What do you want?”

“There’s a woman looking for you. Interrupted my game.”

Was it the PI? “What was her name?”

“How the hell am I supposed to remember? Did you skip school today? Maybe it was a truant officer.”

She didn’t answer. She heard sirens in the distance, not an unusual sound, but still she walked faster.

“Your ma is on her way home. She got a call from the school. I bet you cut. If you’re cutting school, just quit and get a fucking job and start contributing to the family.”

“You get a fucking job and start contributing!” she snapped and instantly regretted it.

“You little bitch. Don’t you talk to me like that. When your mother gets home, she’ll wash your mouth out with soap!”

She hung up, pocketed her phone, and headed back to the school where she hoped to catch a bus that went anywhere but home.

She stood at the corner about to press the crosswalk button, but stopped. A half dozen police cars were in the parking lot, lights whirling.

She didn’t cross the street. Instead, she headed west, heart thudding, wondering what had happened. She called Gina.

“Yo, Ange! You ran off so fast after the game.”

“There’s something going on at the school. Police cars everywhere.”

“Really? I left, like, thirty minutes ago—it was quiet.”

“I have a bad feeling.”

“Want to come over for dinner? I can pick you up.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.” Gina drove a beat-up car that her dad, a mechanic, kept running.

“You didn’t. I’ll take you home after dinner. Are you at the school now?”

“No. Um, I’m almost to the Starbucks on Dunlap near Nineteenth.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Gina. I mean it.”

Angie glanced over her shoulder and wished she knew what was going on.