I knew as soon as I saw it that it would be for Sicily. That color would look perfect on her.
I clicked away hurriedly as she came back into the room. I was Santa, now? Or at least an elf, not ruining the surprise.
“Looks like she was planning a nice breakfast for Christmas morning,” I said.
Sicily’s eyes started to tear.
“Imean,” I said, “I don’t think she was planning to cut and run. She had a casserole planned. People planning a casserole are not about to run away from home.”
“Oh,” Sicily said.
“What bank do you use?”
“Um…”
“Never mind,” I said.
I’d found it already. Internet browsers had a long memory, and a lot of internet users kept the same password for everything, despite it being a very bad idea—
Whoa.
“Is that ourmoney?” Sicily said, coming around to look at the screen over my shoulder. “You’re not going to… rob us, right?”
“You’re asking me if I’m a con again?” I asked, not even looking away from the screen. “Really, kid? I can hop on a train again, real easy.”
“Sorry. No. But what are you looking for?”
“This.” I had pulled up the latest charges on their credit card account. “All transactions. JohnnyCash, here we go. There are charges here still pending, stuff she bought this week. What’s Stone House? Wait, here it is. There’s a pending charge from Wednesday for a parking meter.”
“Oh! Does it say where the meter is? Can we go there?”
“The car is probably in the impound lot by now. We can call and find out. Do you know your mom’s license plate number?”
Sicily drew her phone from her pocket and walked away from me, thumbing a furious message to someone. Her dad, I guessed. “But I’ve been to that street,” she said. “Twice. I didn’t see her car.”
“Were you looking for it, though?”
“I guess not.”
“Also, if there’s a Chicago industry that prides itself on a job thoroughly and quickly done, it’s the towing guys,” I said into the computer screen. I was scrolling Marisa’s transactions: department stores, boutiques, hair salon, restaurants, subscriptions.
A little whoosh noise signaled that Sicily’s message had been sent. “If her car got towed, she could have taken the train. Or a cab?”
“Maybe.”
“If the car isn’t in that lot, does that mean she drove away?”
When I didn’t answer, Sicily looked up from her phone. “What? Did you find something?”
“Nothing,” I said. “I mean…”
“What?”
“It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Just tell me,” Sicily pleaded.
“Was your family going on a vacation anytime soon?”
