“What makes you say that?”
“I called your name three times, and you didn’t answer.”
“I was just spacing out.” Not exactly a lie.
She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t believe you.”
I run my tongue over my bottom teeth while I contemplate what I should say, and then I decide, fuck it. Why not be truthful with Josie at all times? That’s what I’d want from her. “I was thinking about how I have kind of been fucking around in school and I don’t really have much of any job prospects. These”—I raise my hands—“are about the only tools I have. They’ve been good to me so far, but maybe other people wouldn’t agree.”
“Screw them, then.”
I arch my eyebrows. This isn’t the response I thought I’d be getting from Miss Investigative Journalist. “You’re going to college, I bet.”
“Sure, because newspapers won’t hire someone without a degree, but that doesn’t mean having a degree makes me a better reporter. And you not going to college, if that’s the path you choose, doesn’t make you not a great person.”
“Or a great assistant,” I add because to be honest, the only future I see for myself is one by Josie’s side. Really all I want to be is her assistant. How do I make that happen? Right. Solve this case. Make myself indispensable. I glance around and find the biggest crowd of students.
“Where are you going?” Josie calls, hurrying to catch up with me as I make my way toward her classmates.
“To do my job as your assistant.” I reach the crowd and make my way to the center where five girls are clustered together. Two of them have shiny blond hair caught up in bows. In my school, blondes with bows always were in the know. The correlation doesn’t make sense to me, but it’s the truth. “Who pulled the fire alarm?” I ask bluntly.
The pink-bowed girl whips around, her ponytail nearly smacking Josie across the face. I step in front of Josie and bat the hair down.
“Who areyou?” the girl asks.
Josie peeks out from my side. “He’s a friend of mine, Candace.”
The girl gives me a long once-over to the point that I wonder if she has X-ray vision or some such thing. I back up.
“You’re scaring him,” Josie chides.
“Me?” The girl points at herself. “I’ve barely started. You’re a hottie, stranger. What’s your name?”
Josie’s right. This girl is scaring me. “The fire alarm. Who pulled it?”
“Why would I know?” the girl pouts.
“You look like you know everything that goes on in this school, even the stuff no one wants to have found out.”
“That’s actually what they say about Josie.” The girl leans around to get a glimpse of the body I’m shielding.
“She doesn’t know. We were in class together.”
“You don’t even go here.”
As I said, these bow-wearing girls always know the inside scoop. We stare at each other. Finally, she sighs. “It’s probably someone on the basketball team. The vice principal found something, not sure what. I heard they were whispering about how they needed to get it back before he reported it to the district office. It would ruin their college scholarships.”
“This must be related to Cole being”—Josie cuts herself off—“missing”—and changes the last word. She probably was going to say dead.
“Who’s Cole?” the blonde wants to know.
“A basketball player. He’s been missing for two weeks. Thanks, Candace. You’re a peach.”
Candace, the blonde, lifts a finger to her mouth. “If you want more information from me, you’ll have to pay for it.” There is no missing from her tone she is trying to flirt with me. Hard pass.
I pull Josie out from behind me and step back. A smart man knows when to hide behind his woman’s skirts, and this is one of those times.
Chapter Twelve
