Author: Sara Shepard
Category: Young Adult
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/sara-shepard/page,6,37556-the_amateurs.html
Maddox had told Madison, his stepsister, that he swore Catherine had the hots for him – and that he was into her, too. Madison had looked totally grossed out. ‘The most beautiful girl at school is dying to go out with you, Maddox,’ she’d scolded. ‘That’s who you should date, not some skeevy older woman who’s into high-school guys.’
Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure why he ever bothered confiding in Madison about girl stuff.
‘Okay,’ Catherine said, stopping after an easy mile and pulling a stopwatch out of her pocket. ‘Four repeats. Remember your form. Don’t go out too fast. You ready?’
‘I was born ready,’ Maddox said, crouching down.
He took off, flying around the track, his arms pumping and legs churning. Four laps later, as he crossed the line, Catherine called out, ‘4:02:23. I think you weren’t giving it your all.’
Maddox leaned over his thighs. 4:02 was his third-best time ever. He wasn’t even sure he could eke out another mile. But after minimal rest, she was ordering him back to the finish line. ‘Dig deep,’ Catherine told him, looking him square in the eyes. ‘You can do this. We’ve worked really hard. Think of your drills. Think of your posture. Think of your stride.’
She took his hands and squeezed them hard, her fingers lingering among his for a beat too long before pulling away. ‘Think “Iron Man,”’ she said emphatically, referring to how, one day when she’d asked him what his go-to pre-race songs were, he’d admitted he had a thing for classic Ozzy Osbourne. She said she did, too, and they’d spent the next half-hour talking about their favorite Black Sabbath riffs.
‘Go!’ Catherine yelled, and Maddox shot off the line. This time, instead of keeping his mind empty, he let it wander. He flashed on Aerin calling him yesterday, saying she’d changed her mind about his help. When they’d met in the train station parking lot, Aerin had stared. ‘So, Maddy Wright,’ she’d said. ‘What happened to your glasses?’ ‘Contacts,’ Maddox had answered, relishing the appreciative look she gave him when she thought he wasn’t looking. ‘You got tall,’ she’d added. ‘Six two,’ Maddox said proudly. ‘And you have a stepsister now,’ Aerin said. ‘Madison. I know her.’ ‘Actually, I think we have a lot of friends in common,’ Maddox had said, and then rattled off a bunch of names of guys and girls she knew. He hadn’t meant to be a brat – but he was sick of the tone she used when she talked to him. Like he was still a total nerd. They were more alike than she thought.
He screamed through his first lap. On the second, he thought about Seneca and how she’d decided to stay after all. Why had she wanted to leave, anyway? Her decision had seemed so abrupt. Well, it was good she was staying – she was smart. They had a better chance of finding something out with her around.
And then he thought about Brett – he liked having another guy on the team. He’d met him at the Case Not Closed event last September near a weekend track camp on the Rutgers campus. Maddox and the other campers were allowed to leave if they told the counselors where they were going, but he hadn’t known how to explain Case Not Closed, so he’d ended up sneaking out. He’d met Brett the moment he’d walked into the meet-up at Olive Garden, and they’d sat together the whole night, analyzing cell-phone records for a murder case in Texas. After the rest of the group had left, he and Brett had watched a Giants game at the bar, Brett whistling at Maddox’s impressive fake ID. Brett had driven him back to Rutgers in his 7-series Beemer. Maddox couldn’t say quite why, but he’d told Brett his stepdad had the same car, even though he really drove a Subaru.
They’d kept in touch since then, and when Maddox told Brett he was going to respond to Aerin Kelly’s call for help, Brett had asked if he could join in, too. He’d meant to tell Seneca as soon as she’d arrived, but they’d gotten off on such a bad note that he hadn’t felt he could spring anything else on her.
The end of the last lap was coming up. Arms pumping, Maddox lunged across the finish line. Catherine’s head was down, studying the watch. His heart sank. It was a 4:04, 4:05 at least.
But when she looked up, there was an excited smile on her face. ‘3:58:42.’
Maddox’s jaw dropped. ‘Crushed it!’
Catherine leapt toward him and hugged him tight. ‘That’s close to the record, Maddy!’
‘I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you,’ Maddox cried breathlessly, squeezing her arms. Their gazes met, and they fell silent. Maddox smiled. Catherine smiled back. Fuck it, he thought. He leaned in and touched his lips to hers.
Catherine jerked back. ‘Maddy, no, wait.’
Maddox stepped away. ‘Oops.’ He smacked his forehead with his open palm. ‘Lost my mind there for a sec.’
Catherine’s cheeks were pink. ‘It’s okay, really! I mean, it’s not that I don’t find you cute. I do. I’ve thought about us … you know.’ She lowered her eyes. ‘But I’m your coach.’
‘Hey, you don’t have to explain it to me,’ Maddox said, inwardly dying of embarrassment. ‘I was just excited about my time and got carried away. Good thing you weren’t my school coach. Kissing Mr. Masters would be nasty.’ He chuckled, hoping his agony wasn’t obvious.
‘Well, good,’ Catherine said, though he’d swear she sounded a little let down. ‘How about we walk a lap?’
But then Maddox’s cell phone, attached to a band on his arm, let out a loud beep. Maddox pulled it out of the sleeve and looked at the screen. New text from Seneca.
My room caught fire last night, Seneca had written. I’m with Brett now. Might need to take you up on that guest room offer.
Maddox’s mouth dropped open. ‘Holy shit.’
‘Everything all right?’ Catherine peeked at his phone. ‘Who’s Seneca?’
‘I need to go,’ Maddox said faintly, walking backward toward the bleachers.
Catherine’s face fell. ‘But we have two more mile repeats to get through.’
‘We’ll add them to tomorrow’s practice.’ Maddox pulled on his track pants, shoved his phone into his gym bag, and started across the lawn. ‘Same time?’
‘Maddy,’ Catherine called after him in a firm voice. He turned back. She looked deeply weirded out, and the pink splotches were still on her cheeks. ‘You aren’t leaving because of what just happened, are you?’
‘No way,’ he said reassuringly. As if she was the one who needed comforting. ‘We’re totally cool.’ And then he waved and sauntered as slowly as he could away from her. It was only after he was out of her sight line that he started to jog, and then run, and then sprint, hoping that the movement of his arms and legs might erase, at least temporarily, the unrestrained humiliation coursing through his bloodstream like a fever.
It didn’t work.
CHAPTER 9
Brett Grady looked at the faux-aged wooden sign over his head. Le Dexby Patisserie it read, with an arrow pointing to an old schoolhouse door. He smirked at the pretentious name, then turned to Seneca, who was next to him. ‘How come every cool old farmhouse or stable is now a gourmet coffee shop, dog spa, or boutique that sells 500-dollar jeans that only fit girls who don’t have butts?’
Seneca gave him a blank look that Brett chalked up to her still being in shock. He adjusted his baseball cap, pushed inside, and held the door for Seneca. There were chipped Limoges plates hanging on the walls and chicken folk art sculptures next to the counter. The hull of a boat was hanging from the ceiling. The air smelled like freshly baked bread. Three pretty women in cashmere sweaters and glittering diamond earrings chatted at a front table. ‘Oops,’ Brett said to the prettiest one, a tall brunette, chivalrously bending down and picking up her cloth napkin. The woman looked him up and down, then made a little face and lowered her eyes. Brett sighed inwardly. Oh well. She wasn’t his type, anyway.
Aerin was sitting at the back table, but Maddy was still missing. Brett waved and headed toward her, feeling psyched. He’d never joined a group solve – usually he worked cases alone. He wanted to make a good impression on the girls, win them over. These kids were smart. They were
going to figure Helena out. He had a good feeling.
‘Morning,’ Brett said as he took a seat across from Aerin. Seneca sat next to her. Brett assessed the girls side by side. Seneca had bunched her wet hair into a ponytail, and she was wearing a wrinkled plaid dress from the luggage she’d been able to retrieve from her room after the fire had been put out. Aerin, on the other hand, had on a pink sheath that looked brand-new. Her hair was blow-dried, and her make-up was perfectly applied.
Brett pointed to her dress. ‘Hey, is that Diane von Furstenberg?’
Aerin’s mouth dropped open. ‘How do you know Diane von Furstenberg?’
Brett smiled mysteriously. ‘I’m a man of many talents.’
Aerin grinned. ‘Clearly.’
Brett felt a warm sensation in his stomach. He hadn’t flirted with anyone in a long time, and he wasn’t good at it – he could never tell if a girl was serious or just having a laugh. ‘I know the fashion industry a little,’ he admitted. ‘If you ever need a shopping companion, I’ve also been told I’m a good stylist.’
Seneca snorted. ‘Are you going to watch her change through the dressing-room curtain?’
‘Of course not!’ Brett had determined that Seneca seemed to trust no one. Even this morning, when he’d taken her to his new hotel, the Dexby Water’s Edge, so she could shower, she’d been so paranoid he was going to post pictures of her changing on Instagram. ‘Did you tell Aerin about the fire?’ he asked her, deciding to change the subject.
Aerin rolled her eyes. ‘The Restful Inn is a death trap.’
Brett laced his fingers together. ‘Seneca thinks it was set intentionally.’
Seneca scoffed. ‘No, I don’t!’
Brett glanced at Aerin. ‘She heard someone whispering Go home through the door, right before the fire started.’
Aerin’s eyes widened. ‘Someone’s after us?’
‘No,’ Seneca said firmly. ‘I must have imagined it. Besides, look.’ She tapped her phone and showed them a news report. Fire Shuts Down Dexby’s Restful Inn. ‘The police aren’t saying arson.’
‘Yeah, but they aren’t not saying arson, either. They haven’t even investigated it yet,’ Brett argued. It wasn’t that crazy that someone might be after them, was it? Then again, that would mean someone knew they were poking into Helena’s disappearance. He looked around at the smug Dexby patrons around him. Maybe someone here knew more than they were letting on.
A waitress in a floral shift appeared and asked them if they wanted coffee. After they’d ordered and their coffees had arrived, Seneca pointed to the red leather satchel on Aerin’s lap. ‘Do you have the crane?’
‘Shouldn’t we wait for Maddy?’ Brett asked, but the girls ignored him.
Aerin reached into the bag and pulled out the red bird. It was made out of bright, shiny paper that shimmered as it caught the light. As Aerin turned it over, Brett pointed at something written in black pen on its hexagonal-shaped base. ‘What’s that?’
Seneca squinted. ‘HI,’ she read.
Aerin pulled it close. ‘I can’t believe I never noticed that.’
‘Do you think your sister made this?’ Brett asked.
Aerin, who’d ordered her coffee iced, picked out a single cube from her glass and popped it in her mouth. ‘I never saw her make origami. Not once.’
Seneca turned the crane in her hands. ‘We could have it dusted for fingerprints maybe.’
Brett placed his mug on the table. ‘No cops. They just ruin things.’
‘Okaaay,’ Seneca drawled, inspecting him. Brett just shrugged. He wasn’t getting into his reasons right now.
‘How about Becky Reed?’ he said, naming Helena’s best friend – he’d read about her in old interviews. ‘Maybe she’d know who gave it to her.’
Aerin fiddled with her straw. ‘Eh.’
‘My money’s on Kevin Larssen,’ Seneca stated.
Aerin tapped the crane’s head. ‘This just doesn’t scream Kevin to me.’
‘No, I don’t think he give her the crane. I meant as a suspect. I was thinking about it last night. If Helena had a secret boyfriend, a Samurai Knight, wouldn’t the real boyfriend be pissed?’
Aerin wrinkled her nose. ‘Kevin had an alibi. He was at a conference that weekend.’
‘For student government, right?’ Seneca asked. ‘Connecticut Youth?’
‘Yeah. He lived for that club – he got to work with a senator for the summer. I heard about it nonstop whenever he came to dinner at my house – my dad lived vicariously through him. Kevin was like the son he never had.’
A wistful expression crossed Aerin’s face. Brett drummed on his knees. In many ways, these kids knew this world much better than he did. He didn’t know much about Mr. Kelly except that he was as high-powered Wall Street as they came.
Seneca stirred her coffee. ‘Connecticut Youth is a tight-knit group, right?’
‘Yeah, they’re okay,’ Aerin said. ‘They take themselves so seriously, though. Like they’re in a secret society.’
Seneca nodded. ‘Did you know that Kevin was supposed to give some sort of peer leadership speech at that conference, but apparently he didn’t show?’
‘Where’d you see that?’ Brett asked.
‘It was in an article right after Helena vanished. The cops didn’t follow up on it.’
‘They suck.’ Aerin leaned on her elbows. ‘So maybe Kevin wasn’t there.’
‘There isn’t a picture of him at the conference. There are photos of all the other members.’
Aerin twisted her mouth. ‘But they all said they saw him.’
‘Yeah, well, it’s their word against ours,’ Seneca said tightly.
Aerin sighed, then stood. ‘To be continued.’ She strode off to the ladies’ room.
Seneca watched her go until the door shut. It reminded Brett of people who stared at the numbers in elevators so they wouldn’t have to make small talk. He caught Seneca’s eye and smiled, but Seneca just looked down distrustfully.
‘What are you studying at school?’ Brett asked, fully aware it was a lame question.
Seneca shrugged, fiddling with the laminated menu. ‘Core stuff, mostly.’
‘You pick a major?’
‘Nope. Not yet.’
‘You should, you know. The sooner you do, the cooler classes you get to take.’
She gave him an irritated look. ‘I already have an advisor on my ass, thanks very much.’
Brett fiddled with the coffee stirrer. He thought of what he knew about Seneca. He’d been wondering all morning if he should share it. Taking a breath, he decided yes. Keeping it to himself felt insincere. Maybe if she knew that he understood why she was here, it would help. ‘Um, the reason I know fashion?’ His voice cracked. ‘It’s ’cause of my grandma. Maybe you heard of her. Vera Grady? From Greenwich?’
Seneca’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Your grandma is that fashion heiress who was murdered?’
Brett nodded, ducking his head.
Seneca blinked hard. ‘Whoa.’
Brett thought of what she must have seen on the news: rich older woman found hacked with an axe in her backyard. It was the housekeeper who’d found her. Espanoza, Esmerelda – Brett forgot her name. ‘She and I were close. I miss her so much.’
‘Jesus,’ Seneca whispered, clutching the initial necklace she never seemed to be without.
‘I tried to figure out what happened to her by myself,’ Brett confided in a low voice. ‘I couldn’t make head or tail of who would do that to her, but apparently I grilled a witness the police were talking to, and they got really pissed at me and demanded I stay out of their way. They said they were going to arrest me for obstructing justice.’
Seneca frowned. ‘That’s bullshit.’
‘I know that now.’ Brett felt his shoulders heave. ‘It’s why I’m not really into using the cops. It’s why I’m on the boards. To see if there are any theories about her. And to help other people.’ His voice broke. ‘At least I can do that.’
For the first time, Seneca seemed to really look at him. ‘I’m sorry, Brett.’
‘Thanks. I wanted to tell you first.’ His heart pounded. ‘I know it happened to you, too.’
Seneca flinched. Her pupils got very small. ‘Huh?’
‘I googled you,’ Brett said, wishing that didn’t sound so intrusive. ‘I was looking up everyone who was helping out with the case. And … your mom was killed. Collette Frazier.’
Blood drained from Seneca’s face.
He slid forward a little. ‘I’m here if you want to talk. I’ve been through it. I know how hard it is. And, I mean, I’d love to have someone to talk about it with, too.’ He tapped his fingers nervously on the table. ‘Maybe all of us could talk about it. You, me, Aerin …’
Seneca shot up, shoving the chair back so hard it made a piercing scrape. Her eyes were wide. Her mouth made a small, pinched o.
‘We don’t have to include Aerin if you don’t want to,’ Brett whispered hurriedly. ‘I totally get it if you don’t want anyone else to know.’
But then her gaze cut to the left, and a small, torturous sound escaped from her lips. Brett turned his head, too. Aerin had come back from the bathroom and stood at her chair. Maddox had also appeared. Both had stupefied expressions on their faces, as if they’d heard every word.
Shit.
CHAPTER 10
Aerin watched as Seneca’s mug slipped from her fingers to the table. Before anyone could say a word, she whipped around and fled the café. Aerin started after her, then glanced over her shoulder at Brett. ‘Next time you’ve got a secret about someone, ask first if she wants you to spill it.’
Brett looked like he was going to start bawling. ‘I didn’t know you were standing there!’
Aerin believed him – when she’d come back from the bathroom, Brett was leaning toward Seneca across the table, totally oblivious to the world. ‘She obviously didn’t want to talk about it, Dr. Phil,’ she grumbled. Really, what did Brett expect? That they’d all form a band together: Wounded Kids Who Knew Murdered People? They’d sing uplifting songs and hold hands? Yeah, right. She didn’t blame Seneca for bolting.