Prank Wars (34 page)

“Maybe he’s a spy,” Tory said. She shrugged at my look. Kali giggled.

Lizzie held up a finger. “Let me get this straight? You’re accusing Byron of being a spy…a real spy? Like an operative for a foreign agency or something?”

“Uh, well, that was Tory actually, but he
could
be hiding something. I don’t know what.”

Lizzie laughed. She sounded a little nervous, but to me it was sounding more and more plausible. Maybe Byron wasn’t a spy in the full sense of the word, though it was eerie how well he fit the James Bond mold, complete with an over-abundance of women. He dressed really well too. And what was with never doing his homework and still getting all A’s? I sighed. None of that was good evidence. It just seemed lately that something wasn’t right. “He’s Sandra’s ex,” Lizzie argued. “Don’t you think that’s mixing pleasure with work?”

“It’s his cover?” I gave a ragged laugh, not really knowing what I was saying. Still, my gut nagged at me like I was missing something. I’d hate for him to be caught up in this intrigue with Thanh; he’d be just as much a victim as she was. “Look, I don’t have it figured out yet. He’s got an accent too. Don’t you think that’s suspicious?”

“This is BYU. A lot of people have accents.”

“They don’t pretend
not
to have accents—every guy knows that’s a chick magnet! Besides, everybody has a link in the Mormon world. Someone went on your same mission or someone knows you from your ward back home or someone knows someone who knows you. Where are Byron’s connections? He’s got none. I’ve checked.”

“You’ve checked?”

I had the grace to blush. “Yeah…I took things a little too far before and so…”

“We could stalk him on Facebook,” Kali suggested.

“I did that,” I told her flatly. “This is real now. Are you going to help me figure out what’s going on here or not?” Lizzie looked nervous. Kali just laughed some more. I didn’t have to look for Tory’s reaction. I knew she’d have my back. If I could present it as a game, I’d have Kali. As for Lizzie? I could appeal to her common sense, but I wasn’t sure that would happen with this story. “Okay, pretend we’re just going up against the guys on a simple op.” I paced the room to calm myself down. “Our first goal would be to get Thanh back, right?” They nodded—some more enthusiastically than others. “Let’s look at our assets. The police won’t be any help; Brady and Oliveira won’t listen to us.”

Lizzie crossed her arms. “So you get some evidence to back you up.” I let out a relieved breath. Once Lizzie suspended her disbelief, she was invaluable. “How much evidence do you have?” she asked in a logical voice.

“Some guy broke into Thanh’s,” Tory suggested.

I shook my head. “The cops will blame it on the prank war.” I scrounged through my pocket, digging out the TA note to Byron. Thanh’s cell phone. Gummy worms. How did those get in there? Keys. Byron’s iPhone. I went through his texts; finding terse messages from H—.
“Where are you?” “Call me when you get this.” “Pick up your phone.” “Acknowledge.” “Is everything alright?”
Wait, they were all from H—? Was that Holly? Byron had named her H— on his phone. How unromantic.

“Well then,” Lizzie said. “If we can’t prove something’s going on, then we just make the bad guys prove it for us.”

I nodded, feeling the same energy as before. We were in plotting mode again, except it had a different charge. Things were scarier. Thanh’s life was in danger. I had no idea who she was, but she was a neighbor, a daughter, a friend. She was important to the people who left those worried messages behind. “Those guys want something in this pile.” I shoved the mess left over from my pockets to my roommates—minus the gummy worms. Those had found their way into Tory’s mouth. “We just have to figure out what they want.”

“How?” Lizzie asked.

“We set a trap,” I decided. I picked up Thanh’s pink phone from the pile. “Let’s invite them to play with us.”

“Is that wise?” Lizzie’s eyes were dark and scared.

“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

“And if you’re dealing with Byron?”

I snorted. “Are you kidding? I said he was
involved
, not the mastermind. No, this other guy’s an amateur. He leaves traces of himself everywhere.” I opened my war journal and found where the paper had been ripped out. “Pencil.” I held my hand out to Tory. She thrust a pencil into my hand and I colored over the blank paper on my war journal. It picked up the address the guy had written on the sheet above it. The meeting place was off Bulldog Avenue. “Girls, we’ve got ourselves an address.” I typed it into my cell phone and Denny’s popped up on my GPS. “They’re meeting at Denny’s tomorrow at midnight. That’s how long we have,”—before someone was murdered…or the bad guys got what they wanted. Both were bad. I took a steadying breath and found recent calls on Thanh’s phone. As soon as I found the number behind the threatening calls, the danger tingled under my fingertips. It felt as bad as calling a boy. I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed redial.

Lizzie jumped forward to stop me. Her eyes were big with fear. Not bad for someone who didn’t believe me. “You’re calling him?”

I nodded. Once I heard the familiar voice answer his phone, I steeled myself, pulling from my years of prank war experience. “Hello again,” I said. “Guess what? I know who you are.” The guy was silent on the other end, not falling for my trick to identify himself. “It looks like I have something you want.”

“
It would appear that way.”
He sounded amused.

Amused? It wasn’t any kind of clue, so I tried again. “How about we help each other. You give me what I want and I’ll make a little arrangement?”

“
Are you really in that position?”

My gaze dropped to the pile of evidence on the table and I took a gamble. “I have the keys.” He didn’t argue, but waited for me to continue. “You
do
want the keys?”

“
I’m listening.”

I gave my collection of friends a thumb’s up. Apparently we
were
in the position to bargain. “What are you willing to give me for them?”

“
Let’s decide that when we meet.”

I wanted to make the deal for Thanh, but I wasn’t sure that I wanted to give away my cover of obliviousness yet, not before I put my puzzle pieces together. And there was no way I was meeting up with this guy either. I threw a cocky note into my voice. “We’ll meet tomorrow evening for the trade-off…
Byron
.” I listened to the guy’s heavy breathing on the other end, hoping to throw him off with the wrong name. “You’ll never get the keys back without me, so you’d better do what I say. I’ll tell you where to meet…and I want you to bring Thanh or you won’t get them back.” Lizzie’s eyes never seemed so huge before and I knew I had to make this good. “Yeah, I want to meet your girlfriend. You can’t hide that you’re dating her anymore. Is she with you now?”

“
Yeah.”

“Well, congratulations on a new relationship. I want to talk to her.”

“
No.”

I sighed. He was making this hard. “You’d better bring her tomorrow,
Byron
…or no deal.”

“
When?”

“Expect a call.” This time I got to hang up abruptly. Three pairs of eyes met mine. I sat heavily down on our ugly couch, my legs feeling weak. “I didn’t get much. He wasn’t talking.”

“At least you set the bait.” Lizzie said, forever optimistic.

I sighed, shifting through the keys trying to figure out why they were so important. “And what is the bait?”

“Who cares? It’s not you,” Tory muttered, “...for now.”

I nodded, feeling my nerves quiver at the danger. I’d be safe until my fake meeting tomorrow. The guy on the other line thought I’d dance right into his hands and he wouldn’t have to do a thing. Another phone went off in my room. It didn’t take a genius to guess it was Byron’s. I dove off the couch and went after it. My roommates followed. I scooped it up with one hand.

“
Pull back, Byron. We’re on target. We have the girl.”
It was the same guy I had talked to on Thanh’s cell phone. My heart went hollow at the familiar voice. I listened for more information, but he wasn’t giving me any and there was no use pretending to be Byron—I couldn’t fake his faint accent anyway. I felt sick. My worst fears had been confirmed.
“Hello?”
the guy asked.

I hung up on him. Byron’s iPhone the only thing real in my world. I concentrated on it. It felt hard and big in my palm. I hadn’t really believed it until now. One phone call had stolen my trust. My reality. My friend. He wasn’t just involved...he was in on this. Eventually I became aware of my roommates’ worried faces. “Hey, guess what?” I couldn’t control the pain invading my voice. “You know that guy who wants the keys? He just called Byron to tell him they have the girl—me. They’re working together.” Kali’s eyes got huge. Lizzie’s face changed to disbelief. I wanted to be like that, but the betrayal filled me with rage. I had trusted him, told him my dating woes, gave him permission to weed out the June sixes! That jerk! I ran a shaky hand through my hair, trying to breathe normally. “And Byron said
I
had no social
provocity
! Me?” I shouted. “Well, he’s right. I didn’t see him coming at all. He wasn’t going to be my watchdog. He was watching me to make sure I wasn’t onto him!” I charged through the room, not caring where I went. “Tory!” My hands flailed. It all fit together. “He knew the number of the friend Thanh was staying with!”

Tory shrugged. “Yeah…and the cops talked to her.”

“Did they really? The guy I talked to says
he
has her. Byron always knows what’s going on. Whenever something suspicious happens, he’s just a step away. And now that guy tells him he has me. Like I’m some sort of tool. Oh, Byron is not getting away with this.” I realized I still had Byron’s iPhone. I dialed it.

Kali was fascinated. “What are you doing now?”

“Calling myself. I need his number. Tomorrow, nice and early, I’m giving his iPhone back to him…with flair.”

Lizzie flopped down on our big wing-backed chair, her long hair dancing around her shoulders. She closed her weary eyes. For once, I was more worried than she was. At least she didn’t have the burden of believing a thing I said.

Day 113

0612 hours

“
Every moment built up to this point; every skill I’ve acquired, every pain-filled memory leads me here. Finally, I know what I am made for.”

—Madeleine’s War Journal Entry (Tuesday June 5th).

I found myself shoving the doors open to the gym early the next morning—earlier than was humanly decent—wearing my best cover yet. I was a high-maintenance girl with a pink workout top and matching leggings. Lizzie altered my face with a heavy make-over. And since guys could never separate make-up from the face, Byron would never know it was me…at least not at first glance. Just to make sure of that, I adopted the movie star in hiding look with Sandra’s
Audrey Hepburn
sunglasses.

The smell of sweat and fatigue was overwhelming. To be honest, I was more of a
Smith Fieldhouse
girl, but apparently this was the only place where Byron could get away from me. His daily work-out was at seven am. The information cost Kali dearly. She had promised her whole weekend away for it; she wasn’t too heartbroken since it was with Blake.

Pulling out my cash to get a day pass, I leaned against the counter and swept the area with a nonchalant glance. The gym was filled with serious-minded individuals concentrating on their workouts. Nobody looked at anybody, which made me the odd one out. I thought these places were pick-up joints? I tried to decide where Byron would torture himself first. Weights, treadmill, an aerobics class—they had a sign-up sheet to learn Zumba. I cracked a bitter smile, but of course, it was just a foolish dream…unless he had an ulterior motive with a hot instructor. Yeah, he was back to the player category as far as I was concerned. Throwing my gym bag over my shoulder, I wandered through the muscle-bound men. The TVs blared above me. What was Byron’s connection with Thanh? TA? Study partner? Boyfriend? Kidnapper?

Just as I was beginning to think Blake was a no-good liar and gave us false information, I spied Byron next to the treadmills wearing his ARMY t-shirt. He hadn’t started his work-out yet. His hoody was still on and he was deep in conversation with a youngish looking guy with an indeterminate hair color and the usual workout clothes. Definitely someone who could get lost in a crowd.

I tried not to feel anything when I looked at Byron, but I couldn’t swallow my anger. What was he doing anyway? I wanted him to be the guy I quarreled with, not some shady character who kidnapped poor grad students. Watching him now, he looked tired, but not on the lamb. Either he was innocent of all charges or he was good at what he did. I mentally slapped myself. Seriously? Byron was never innocent. I couldn’t fool myself anymore, even if I desperately wanted him to be what his lies made him out to be. It all seemed ironic now.

I popped in my earplugs, pretending to listen to music as I unrolled a mat from the corner of the room. I sat down on it and listened to Byron talk to nondescript guy, performing a few sit-ups while I was at it. Sure, it wasn’t the most comfortable cover, but I’d do anything to get my guy—especially one who tore out my heart. I listened closely. So far, Byron was shooting the breeze, but it wasn’t about girls. It was about the weather. That was a major tip-off that something wasn’t right. After what felt like a million sit-ups, they started talking freely just like I knew they would. “You’ve been AWOL the last few days?” his friend said.