Chasing Xaris (11 page)

“It was okay.”

Winnie eyed me. “Is this all true? Because it looks like you’re lying.”

I blinked.

“Does it have to do with Mr. Whit’s class?” Winnie pres
sed.

“Why would you think that?” I asked.

“I know you took something from his bookshelf.” She lowered her voice even though we were alone. “Just tell me, Chandler. What’s going on? And what’s with the locket?”

My fingers grazed the gold locket. Of course Winnie would notice a new piece of jewelry. The worry in her eyes made me want to spill everything. Would it be so horrible if I did? Winnie was my best friend. But the girl had a serious tendency
to take over, so I didn’t say anything.

“I’m
going to go,” Winnie said, rising.

“Winnie, wait…” I said.

She stopped, eyebrows raised, but I couldn’t manage the words.

“Maybe tomorrow,” I said.

She shrugged and headed out the door without a backward glance.

I leaned back against the soft leather, still fingering the locket. If I’d been a better friend, I would have shared everything with her. But I felt strangely possessive of this investigation—I didn’t trust anyone but myself.

A loud rap hit the front door, and I jumped in surprise.

Had Winnie come back? The door was unlocked. Why wouldn’t she just come in?

Gran and Edie rushed from the kitchen, straight to the door. Gran opened it to a fresh-faced officer in uniform.

My ears began to pound.

I didn’t hear what the cop was saying to Gran. But watching him nod toward me, with his uniform and everything, made it all so horribly real. I had messed up big-time.

“Officer Bailey has to ask you some questions, Chandler,” Gran said, approaching me with the cop.

“Okay,” I said slowly.

And then the questions came. Where were you? Who were you with? Did you do anything illegal? Can I see your arms, your legs? Did you take care of yourself? Did you have anything to eat or drink? Oh, and did you stumble on any lost civilizations or old murder plots while you were out?

The whole thing probably lasted ten minutes. I stuck to the same story I’d told Gran, and the guy was kind enough, mostly curious and concerned. All the same, I felt a huge rush of relief when it was over and the cop and Edie had left.

“Were you with a young man?” Gran asked, shutting the door for the final time. She stood just inside the living room with her long arms folded across her chest.

I swallowed from my spot on the couch.

“Answer the question, Chandler,” Gran said, striding forward. “Was it
Jordan Lane?”

My cheeks flushed. “No,” I said. Why did everyone assume something was up with
Jordan?

“Tell me the truth, Chandler,” Gran said.

“I wasn’t with Jordan.”

“It might seem romantic now, him pursuing you, but that boy is trouble.”

“You don’t even know him,” I said. Where did she get off calling him trouble? Jordan was one of the kindest people I knew.

“So you were with him,” Gran said.

“No. I wasn’t.”

Gran shook her head. “You are more like your mother than I realized. She was reckless, too.”

A red rumble came from my gut, sending a burst of pain through my chest.

“Don’t,” I said.

“Your mother didn’t think of consequences. She never did.”

“Stop it, Gran.”

“I won’t let you ruin your life like she ruined hers.”

“So what? It’s her fault she got killed?” I asked.

Gran’s eyes widened. “I didn’t say that,” she said, her voice shaking. “I never said that.”             

“I’m going to bed,” I said, brushing past Gran. I raced onto the staircase and pounded each step as I climbed.

“We’ll discuss this in the morning.” Gran called after me.

I didn’t reply. I just focused on climbing away from her.

“Chandler,” Gran said softly. Or at least I thought I heard her voice. But I didn’t stop.

In my room, I shut the door behind me and climbed into bed without taking off my clothes. I burrowed deep into the cotton sheets, smooth and light against my skin, and folded my arms across my chest.

I couldn’t take this anymore. What was the deal with my body? It kept acting out—all the pains and throbs and just
problems
. I was so over it. I had to finish this thing before I had a complete breakdown. I needed to find the treasure hunters, but I had no idea how.

They knew about the
Aletheians
,
but that was all I had to go on. I squeezed my eyes shut and flipped through options. Jordan’s report. More specifically, that website he’d found. I needed to talk to the guy who’d made that site.

I turned on my phone and called Jordan.

“I hate you,” Jordan’s voice croaked.

“Jordan?” I asked.

“Who is this?”

“Chandler.”

“For real?” he asked. Sheets rustled in the background. “Are you okay? Winnie called. So did your grandma. I don’t even know how they got my number.”

“Sorry,” I said.

“It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He paused. “So, you’re really okay?”

“Yeah.” I smiled, a little surprised that I could still do that. “Listen, I wanted to talk about the website you used for your
Aletheian report.”

“Seriously?” he asked.

“I need the guy’s info. Do you know his name or anything?”

“It was over a year ago, Chandler. I just remember something was off about him.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“He was totally obsessed with the shark slayers—called them the ‘cherished ones.’”

I froze. The treasure hunters had used the exact phrase around Ari.

“Still there, Miss Bloom?”
Jordan asked.

“I really need to talk to that guy,” I said. “Do you still have your report? Would it have the guy’s info?”

Jordan gave a heavy sigh. “I’ll see if I can find it in the morning, okay?”

“Okay,” I said. That was perfectly reasonable.

“’Night, Miss Bloom. Glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks, Mr. Lane,” I said, and the call ended.

I dropped onto my pillow. I’d done it. I’d actually found my parents’ murderer. I wanted to scream and cry and smash my fists into something rock-hard, all at the same time. I sat up on my knees. I needed to do something besides just waiting to hear from Jordan. There was way too much going on inside of me to sleep.

Maybe I could look at the file Grandpa kept in his studio, the one that contained all his info on the car accident. I had looked through it before, but I could have missed something.

I hurried to the door and listened for a second to make sure Gran was asleep. All was quiet except for the faint sound of rustling wind against the house. Wonderful. I slunk downstairs and into Grandpa’s office. Bookcases lined the walls, and a sprawling mahogany desk sat in front of the double windows on the far wall. His paint-speckled easel was shoved into a windowless corner, like an afterthought.

On my way to the desk, I passed canvases neatly stacked against the wall. I stopped and flipped through them—a crisp white orchid with mint-green leaves, a lush hibiscus, still dripping with dew. I wanted to reach out and feel the wet petals. These were Grandpa’s earlier creations, back when he actually went outside to paint flowers.

I leaned the canvases back against the wall and walked the rest of the way to Grandpa’s desk. I plopped into his oversized chair, pulling on the top desk drawer, where Grandpa kept the file I needed, but the drawer stuck. I yanked harder but it wouldn’t give. With a yawn, I clicked on the lamp and surveyed the drawer in a splash of light. A new combination lock sealed the drawer shut.

Since when had Grandpa turned all secretive? Did he seriously think someone would break into his desk drawer? Well, technically I was. But that didn’t count.

I searched his sprawling desktop and calendar for the lock’s password. No luck. I’d have to guess.

Leaning forward, I spun the lock to match his birthday, then Gran’s, then Mom’s.
Nothing. His wedding anniversary didn’t work either.

I scowled. If I could find an island hidden between space, then I could find this stupid file. I stretched my fingers and cleared my mind. There had to be other combinations I hadn’t tried. One came to mind.

I spun the numbers slowly. When I finished, the lock clicked and the drawer creaked open.

I

blinked and felt a strange squeeze in my middle.

Grandpa had made my birthday the key. That was so… weird. And so unexpected. I had the sudden urge to thank him, but of course, that would mean I’d have to confess to breaking into his desk.

I let my fingers linger on the lock for a moment before pulling the drawer open. Only a few papers covered the black folder marked, “Miranda’s Accident.” I fished the file from the drawer and spread it open on Grandpa’s desk. Behind a few condolence cards, I found what I wanted to read, an article from the local newspaper titled, “Husband and wife killed in
Fort Lauderdale hit-and-run.”

I read on:

“A husband and wife were killed in a hit-and-run collision on southbound Interstate 95 Monday night, according to the Florida Highway Patrol. Around 11:30 p.m., the driver of a black Nissan crossed into oncoming cars and struck a red Honda. The driver and passenger of the Honda were both killed on impact and are identified as husband and wife, Tyler Bloom, 37, and Miranda (Clare) Bloom, 38, of Fort Lauderdale, the FHP said.

“
According to a witness, the driver and passenger of the Nissan fled on foot from the scene. The investigation is ongoing, said the FHP. Anyone with information is asked to call…”

I glossed over the rest of the article and then re-read it. That was when I finally saw the correlation.

Two treasure hunters had approached Dad at the marina.

Two people had been in the car that killed my parents.

Two men had zoomed toward me on a speedboat just before I crossed the misos shield.

A hot sensation spread across my chest. Why hadn’t I seen it before? Why hadn’t I freaked out more about those speedboat men? I’d barely thought about them, and they had to be the treasure hunters—the website guy and his accomplice. And they were totally after me.

I glanced around the dark studio. They probably knew where I lived. I needed to call the cops. But what would I tell them?

“My dad learned about a secret island with magical light, and these two guys murdered him and my mom. Now those guys are after me.”

“Interesting,” Officer Bailey would say. “And are you under the influence of any drugs?”

No, I needed more info before I went to the police.

I sat my hands on the desk and realized they were shaking. I squeezed them together and forced myself to take slow breaths. It wasn’t like I was in immediate danger. The killers must have known where I lived for a long time and they’d never messed with me here. They had just seen me as easy prey when I’d been kayaking alone.

I’d be careful until I told the cops what I knew. But I’d have to explain things without betraying the
Aletheians. My parents had died protecting their secret, and I’d protect it, too.

~~~

My dreams that night were filled with faceless enemies chasing me as I tried to hide in closets, under tables, in showers. I didn’t actually fall asleep until after four o’clock. That was the last time I’d checked the time on my phone.

As soon as I woke up on Sunday morning, I texted Jordan to see if he’d found the report. He didn’t respond, and I knew he was probably surfing. I bolted to my feet, hurried to the bathroom, and changed into my swimsuit—all in about ten seconds.

But as I made my way downstairs, I realized Gran had woken up before me. She had already turned on The Weather Channel in the kitchen and was banging around in the garage. I heard the vacuum click on and cringed. I should have guessed. Gran always cleaned more when tensions rose—she was probably attacking her Lexus with rags and homemade cleaning potions.

Why couldn’t Gran have picked the bathrooms? I was sure the toilets could have benefited from her efforts. But no, she’d chosen the garage—where I kept my board. Had she made the choice intentionally? If so, then she’d shown a whole new level of passive aggression.

I pressed my forehead against the door. I couldn’t face her this morning. I seriously couldn’t. I could always go to the beach without my board, but it wasn’t like Jordan would have the info yet. If I knew him at all, he’d rolled out of bed and immediately grabbed his board. I’d just hide in my room until I could touch base with him.

I turned to the counter to grab a banana and saw that Gran had started a grocery list with “light bulbs” written at the very top of it in all caps. For some reason, the outside lights above the garage kept going out, frustrating her to no end. She’d also started a to-do list and had “prep for gala” on it. Sweet. Gran hadn’t been to an event in weeks, maybe months. But these gala things ran long. Which meant I’d have the house to myself for a while.

I retreated back to my room and checked my phone. Jordan hadn’t replied yet, but Winnie had texted to see if I felt like hanging out. I knew that I should say yes, but I was too exhausted to have some big conversation, and Winnie would totally want to discuss yesterday.

Maybe we could hang out later that night. It might even be nice to take a break from investigating and hang with her while Gran was at the gala.

I replied to Winnie’s text, and sat on my bed, still gripping my phone. Jordan would reply soon. He wouldn’t leave me hanging.

I leaned onto my pillow and closed my eyes. It felt so good resting them…

And then a loud knock woke me.

I blinked. My heart was racing and my face was all sweaty. Another nightmare.

“It’s me, Miss Bloom,” Jordan’s voice said, outside my door.

A wave of warmth washed over me. I didn’t move.
Jordan was here. At my grandparents’ house. That had never, ever happened before.

“Chandler?” he asked.

“One second,” I called, but I still didn’t move. My chest was already throbbing.

With a groan, I forced myself off the bed. I was still wearing my rash guard and bikini bottoms, so I pulled on a pair of jean shorts before opening the door. And there he was. Looking all tan and smelling like fresh air and grinning with his whole face.

“Did you just wake up?” he asked.

My hands went to my hair. “Maybe,” I said, smoothing it down.

“I tried calling, and I decided to bike over when you didn’t answer.” He was holding napkins, a plate filled with ham sandwiches, and two cans of Cherry Coke.

“Lunch?” I asked.

“Gran asked me to bring them up,” Jordan said.

“Oh,” I said.

None of this made sense. Jordan had showed up at my house, and then Gran had let him inside and given him food for me.

“Isn’t it a little early for lunch?” I asked.

Jordan shrugged. “It’s almost noon.”

“Seriously?” I went to my nightstand and grabbed my phone.
Jordan was right.

“So can I come in?”
Jordan said, eyeing my room and already inching inside. “We, um, have to leave the door open. Gran’s orders.”

My stomach fluttered, but it shouldn’t be weird. I didn’t need to make it weird.

“Okay.” I stepped aside to let him in.

Jordan strode right past me, and I caught a whiff of his
familiar smell—sunblock, sand, and saltwater. He surveyed the iron furniture, the framed paintings, and the giant bay windows with ruffle valences.

“Your room is… different,” he said.

“Super different,” I said. My old room had been way smaller, and none of the furniture had matched. The walls had been cluttered with surf posters, pictures of friends and, of course, photos of Mom and Dad. Mostly from family vacations we’d taken in the Keys.

“It’s nice,” Jordan added.

“Thanks,” I said, shifting from foot to foot. I didn’t know where we were supposed to sit. On my bed? We’d hung out on my old bed tons of times, but that was before we’d kissed.

“Here,” Jordan said, pulling up my desk chair to the bed. “You can have the bed.”

“Oh, um, thanks.” I pulled up my duvet cover and sat on the bed across from Jordan.

“So where were you yesterday?”
Jordan asked, sitting.

“I took a day to myself,” I said. “Everyone just overreacted.”

Jordan eyed me. “You had everybody crazy worried,” he said.

“I know. Sorry about all the calls you got.”

Jordan shrugged and laid the plate of sandwiches between us. “So I got that guy’s name,” he said.

“The website guy?”

“Yup. Impressed?”

“Surprised,” I replied. “So what is it?”

Jordan handed me a napkin and a soda. “There wasn’t a real name, only a username. Fellow Lot. His email is [email protected]. Not sure if the address is still any good.”

Fellow Lot.

I clung to that name, expecting to feel some giant rush of anger, but I felt oddly numb. Which made no sense. That guy had murdered my parents, and now I finally had something to call him. He still felt so distant, though. So beyond my reach.

At least I had his email address. But I couldn’t just use it—that could be crazy dangerous. Even if I created a fake email for myself, that guy might still be able to track me down. I’d watched enough shows with Winnie to know what techie people could do.

Maybe the whole technology thing could work to my advantage. The right techie might be able to track down this guy’s real info through his username and email. Winnie knew tons of techie people. I could always ask her—but that would mean bringing her into the investigation.

“What is with you and this
Aletheian stuff?” Jordan said, shaking his head. “I don’t get it.”

“It’s super interesting,” I said.

“It’s more than that—it’s all you want to talk about. And it’s the whole reason you’re hanging out with me again.”

“That’s not true.”

“Why did you come over to my house the other day?” he asked.

I swallowed and studied the plate between us.
Jordan was right. I’d been using him. But he was wrong, too—I’d gone to his house for info
and
to apologize to him. Plus, I’d wanted to surf with him before anything with Ari had happened.

“I’m really sorry, Jordan,” I said. “
Seriously. But I do want to hang out again.”

We just wouldn’t hang out often, not at first. I would hold him off until I wrapped up
this nightmare with my parents’ killers.

“So… you’re asking me out?”
Jordan asked, smiling slyly.

“I’m so not asking you out,” I said.

“That’s what I heard.”

“You heard wrong.”

“I guess I could date you,” Jordan said, picking up a sandwich. “I’ll think about it and let you know.”

“You’re ridiculous.” I shook my head and grabbed a sandwich. As I took a bite, the Italian dressing pricke
d my tongue and just like that I was five years old again, at our white kitchen table eating sandwiches with Mom. At first, it had freaked me out that Gran made ham sandwiches just like Mom had. But then I’d realized that Gran had probably made them for Mom when she was a kid.

“So we’ll hang out,” Jordan said. He was eying me with a determination that made my stomach squirm.

“But we won’t be dating,” I said.

“Not yet,” Jordan said.

I felt fluttery again, so I grabbed another sandwich and took a bite. If I was chewing then I didn’t have to talk.

Jordan opened his Coke and took a long sip. “So why were you M.I.A. all morning?” he asked.

I swallowed and glanced at my bedroom door, still open. “Gran and I got in a major fight last night,” I said quietly. “We’re sort of avoiding each other.”

“What did you fight about?” he asked.

Of course he wouldn’t let me off the hook.

“She basically ragged on Mom,” I said. “You know how much Gran and Grandpa hated my parents’ life.”

Jordan nodded.

“They thought Mom should be more… I don’t know, successful,” I said. “They always looked down on Dad and me. They thought we were all a bunch of beach bums—they seriously hated Dad’s long hair and beard.” My chest throbbed, but I kept talking. It was so easy with
Jordan. “But we were happy. We were kind. Our lives mattered, you know?”

“Of course they mattered,” Jordan said.

I smiled at the defense in his voice. “Remember how we always had someone staying in our guest room?” I asked. “If someone needed a place for a little while, they had one. Maybe my parents didn’t volunteer at societies like Gran, but they helped people, you know?”

They’d started going to church, too. I had forgotten all about that. But a few weeks before they died, they’d fallen in love with a church-on-the-beach thing.

“Your mom totally helped people,” Jordan said.

“She did, right? My grandparents just don’t get it.” Tears fell down my cheek, and I wiped them away. “They don’t get me or even like me. I’m just this responsibility. The spawn of the beach bum who stole their daughter.”

My shoulders shook softly and more tears came. My chest throbbed, but I didn’t try any tricks to stop it. I just cried. Jordan came over and sat beside me. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and held tight, not saying anything. Just holding me.