“Wow,” I whisper. Maybe this sketch wouldn’t hold up for anyone else, but to me, it stands as evidence supporting my fused identity theory.
I pin the picture on the bulletin board and study it. Sometimes when I’m focused like this, I can feel Morgan, like she’s about to whisper in my ear. Today I only get a whiff of that haunting perfume. It happens whenever I think of Lucy Ellis-Frost, and since this isn’t how Morgan smelled, it stands to reason that it could be her mother’s signature scent. As Liv, I don’t remember that, so this must be more Morgan-memory filtering through.
Or hell, maybe I’ve possessed Morgan and am haunted by her mother in retaliation.
Sighing, I open my laptop. With everything that’s happened, I haven’t followed up on Tina Goldsmith. A basic White Pages search online doesn’t turn up anything, so I get out the credit card and input her basic data to one of those background search companies. It’s crazy how much info you can get for $19.95. Five minutes later, I have a PDF including her credit rating, how many traffic tickets she’s had, current residence and phone number, prior addresses, employment history, and more. The Internet has to be a stalker’s best friend, as this package even includes her social media imprint. I immediately choose a popular site and send a friend request. It will probably be a while before she responds.
It’s past midnight, but I’m not tired. Sighing, I wipe my phone entirely. I wouldn’t put it past Creepy Jack to install GPS tracking or spyware apps, so he can watch my every move and read my texts. Tomorrow I’ll ask a tech nerd to make sure the reset cleared any potential problems. If I can’t get a definitive answer, I’ll just chuck it and buy a new one. For now I shut the thing off after the wipe.
Sleep isn’t coming any time soon, so I spend the rest of the night reviewing notes from Bio.
* * *
After a long, lonely weekend, concealer can’t hide the fact that I didn’t rest and I default to an oversized gray fuzzy sweater, black jeans, and ass-kicking boots to hide my minor injuries. Downstairs Mrs. Rhodes has a veggie frittata waiting for my breakfast, and I make sure to thank her. I’d like for this truce to last.
“Your father didn’t come home last night,” she whispers conspiratorially.
I smile. “Okay, I definitely need to swing by the office.”
“It doesn’t bother you?” Her cautious tone says she expects a tantrum of some sort.
“After ten years? Not so much. I’ll be leaving next year anyway, so if they want to get married, at least he won’t be alone.”
She gives me a look. “Yes, completely alone.”
“Sorry. You know what I mean. If you get a better job, you could move on anytime.”
Mrs. Rhodes mumbles, “If I could, do you think I’d still be here?”
This makes me laugh as I down my food in a few gulps. With a wave, I’m off to school.
The halls are clogged with people before first period, and a few girls are trying to copy whatever I had on Friday. This year I must be driving them crazy because my fashion choices are erratic at best.
From what I remember the science crew will be in the lab screwing around before the bell, and that’s who I need to see. In particular I’m looking for Noemi James, a biracial black girl who’s legendary in what she can do with cell phones. Rooting, cracking, cloning … as Liv, she always impressed the hell out of me. But I’ve underestimated the weirdness of Morgan Frost entering the science room. Everyone goes quiet, staring at me wide-eyed.
“Hey, guys.”
Isaiah Emerson glances up. “Did you give up? You can put my notes over there.”
“Wait, what?” Noemi’s curious.
If I want her help, I have to explain that I’m trying to test into the advanced science program, senior year. Now they’re all gaping like an alien has taken over my body. Which is not the most implausible guess. There are so many memories that we shared when I was Liv that if I wanted to freak them out, I could pretty easily. But I want a new life, not for people to think I’m possessed by my dead best friend.
Half of my dead best friend?
Whatever.
A white Physics bro, Arden Fox, is laughing so hard, he can barely stand upright. “If you pass any of those tests, I’ll come to school dressed as Goku from Dragon Ball Z.”
I smile. “Challenge accepted.”
The science club starts placing bets, and most of them are against me. I play it cool while Noemi checks my phone. “What’s wrong with it?”
“My dad might have put some spyware or tracking apps on it. He’s gotten really protective since the accident.” Which was true for the first week, but now he’s defaulted back to hardly knowing I’m alive. That’s what Morgan was used to, based on what she said about how taxing it was to make the annual Europe trip with him.
I’m just not used to spending that much time with my dad, she’d said.
I didn’t realize how true that was. All these years, most of her parenting has come from Liv’s folks. That’s probably why she spent so much time at my place. I can attest, the Frost mansion is depressing and lonely. You could move ten people in and hardly notice them.
“You did a factory reset?”
I nod.
“Okay, then let me check a few things. I should be able to tell you if it’s clean.”
A few minutes later, she hands the phone back. “There was one hidden tracker app that survived the reset, but I’ve deleted and scrubbed it using an app I wrote.”
“Holy shit, you are awesome.” Which is what I’d have said before; it just sort of slips out.
“How much?”
Without hesitation, Noemi names the price and I slide her a couple of bills, more than worth it for peace of mind. “Come back if you get caught again.”
Wincing, I shake my head. “I hope not.”
“I’m starting to understand why Liv was friends with you,” Noemi says.
Isaiah scrutinizes me and Arden seems like he might be worried now. My smirk widens, but I’m on a mission, so I can’t linger. “Thanks. Let me know if I can ever help you out.”
Next stop, the art department. I find Oscar encircled by the rest of the group. I wave to them from the doorway, and it looks like everyone might come over, so I make meaningful eye contact with Oscar and jerk my head in a way Morgan never would. Not subtle or cool.
He separates and threads the desks to draw me a little farther down the hall. “What’s up?”
I take a deep breath and whisper, “First, do you still have those pictures?”
“You said you’d shave my head and leave me to die in the wilderness if I didn’t delete them immediately.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He grins. “Kidding, of course I saved them. You don’t get dirt like that every day. I’d be an idiot to toss away so much leverage.”
“Over me or him?”
Oscar makes an either/or face. “Whichever I need.”
Since he’s kept them secure, I can’t even get mad. Plus, Morgan trusted him enough to make him her conspirator in the first place. “Thank God. I’m ready to pull the trigger.”
He freezes. “Are you serious?”
“Deadly. I was hoping you’d send them two places for me. The gossip site that’s all about catching politicians with their pants down … and the police.”
Morgan was probably waiting to find out more about her mother’s death, but I need Jack Patterson in too much trouble to bother me. Otherwise I won’t have the breathing room to investigate. Every time I leave home I’ll be worried that he’s lurking. And logically, I can’t think of any reason why the police investigating him for sexual misconduct could work against him later being accused of murder, if it comes to that. No, the more I consider the issue, the more I think that tarnishing his public image will make it more likely serious charges will stick later.
And if it turns out he didn’t kill my mother, he still did this terrible shit to Morgan.
Either way, Creepy Jack needs to pay.