Deadly Cool by Gemma Halliday Read Free Book Online Page A

want with them,” he answered, immediately enlarging the images.
    Sam and I leaned forward, squinting at the screen. Around large-scale bits of bumper I could make out a few trees, the garage of the house next door, the front of Josh’s Jeep. In a couple of photos the other cars parked across the street were visible. In another, the tires of Sam’s brother’s SVO Volvo peeked into the frame.
    But unfortunately nothing screamed “murderer” or “smoking gun.”
    I wasn’t entirely sure what I’d hoped to see on the photos, but clearly Chase’s camera hadn’t picked up anything incriminating.
    “I hate to say it, but I don’t really see anything here,” Sam said, voicing my own disappointment.
    “Sorry,” Chase responded, shutting the window. “I told you they were mostly close-ups.”
    “So now what?” I asked.
    Chase pulled a wide-ruled notebook and a pen from a backpack beside his desk. “I think we should make a list of everyone who had issues with Courtney.” He paused. Then gave me a pointed look. “Besides you.”
    I rolled my eyes.
    “Yeah, we thought of that already,” Sam told him. “The problem is, we couldn’t figure out who didn’t have issues with Courtney.” She paused. “You got any guesses?”
    He shook his head. “We didn’t really run in the same social circles. I knew who she was, but she was a year behind me, so I never had much to do with her.”
    Which made Chase a senior and explained why Sam and I had never had much to do with him either. The divide between class years was almost as wide as the gap between the all-black-all-the-time crowd and the perktastic Color Guard girls.
    I watched as Chase pursed his lips, his eyebrows hunkering together. I noticed his eyebrows were a lot darker than Josh’s. Almost bordering on too full, but instead of looking unkempt they gave off a thoughtful vibe. Like he spent a lot of time contemplating the secrets of the universe.
    Or maybe just the secrets of death metal lyrics.
    “Let’s go talk to her friends,” he finally said. “They’d know if Courtney had been having issues with anyone in particular lately.”
    I slipped my cell from my pocket, checking the time. 11:45. Almost lunch. It was as good a time as any to catch the Color Guard girls for a chat.
    Chase grabbed a hoodie from his closet—black with a big purple eagle on the back—and led the way back through the house to the front door.
    There was just one problem.
    Sam and I were sans transportation. And the bus didn’t come by again for another half hour, by which time the Color Guard girls would be safely tucked away in fifth period. If we wanted to question them before the end of the day, we had only one alternative.
    I stared at Chase’s dented Camaro in the driveway.
    “It’s just a scratch. She still runs fine,” he assured us, pulling open the passenger-side door.
    The dented bumper leaned to one side, the muffler tilting precariously close to the ground. If I sneezed, I was pretty sure the tailpipe would fall off.
    “So, some guy hit you from behind?” I asked.
    “Yeah. Total jerk. But it was the guy in front of me that really caused the accident. He stopped suddenly, I braked, and the guy behind me rammed my tail.”
    “Oh.” I felt a little better. Sudden stop slamage could happen to anyone, right? I pushed the front seat forward, climbing over it into the tiny back. “So it wasn’t your fault.”
    Chase shook his head. “Nope. Totally the guy in front of me. I mean, who stops for a yellow light, ya know?”
    Oh no.
    I opened my mouth to protest that maybe the bus wouldn’t be so bad after all, but I didn’t get a chance as Chase slammed the door shut. Sam slid into the front, and I tried to swallow my concern as Chase started the car. But it kinda stuck in my throat as he peeled out of the driveway and took the first corner on two tires.
    “Um, so, how long have you had your license?” I asked, gripping the armrest on the door like a life