don’t actually think I’ve helped myself to your bank account, do you?”
“No, no…of course not.” She runs a hand through her messy bed-head hair, then frowns. “But what about Zach? Do you think he could’ve possibly done something?”
“I don’t see how, Mom. He was in jail for two weeks, and he’s been in rehab since then.”
She nods. “Yes, you’re probably right. It’s just that I can’t figure out where it went. My checking account was a little low, but I shouldn’t have been overdrawn. What worries me most is that my checking is connected to our savings.”
“So do you think your savings has been affected too?”
“It’s possible.”
“Do you have much in there?” I ask.
“It’s not a fortune, but it’s our safety net. Plus I’ve been stashing away what I could for your college tuition.”
This surprises me a little. I had no idea Mom was putting anything aside for my education. She always acts like we barely get by giving me the impression that I’ll have to figure out college for myself or get some kind of magical scholarship.
“Do you think the bank made a mistake?” I ask.
“That’s a possibility. I’ll call them on Monday.”
“And you don’t do any banking online, do you? So it can’t be some kind of Internet fraud?”
“I almost wish that I banked online now. At least I could’ve tracked this more easily. As it is, I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to figure it out.”
“What about identity theft?”
She sighs. “I wondered about that, but I hadn’t used my debit card all week. It was only last night when Steven and I were in the city that I tried to get some cash from an ATM, and it showed insufficient funds.”
“Maybe something was wrong with the machine.”
“That occurred to me too. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. I’ll deal with it first thing in the morning.” She stacks the papers to one side, then looks up at me. “So how was your date last night?”
“It wasn’t a date, Mom.”
“Right…How was your undercover investigation?” She gives me a smirkish sort of smile. “Big drug bust?”
“No…just a bust, period.”
“No arrests then?”
“Not last night. But we’re going to try another prom next Saturday.”
“Well, lucky you. Two proms. Do you get a new dress for the next prom too?”
Just in case she thinks that the Brighton Police Department is wasting precious budget dollars to buy me expensive prom dresses, I explain about the rental place. “But I suppose I could try something different next week,” I say without mentioning that I’m actually considering a wig as well. I’ve decided I should probably go incognito now that it looks like Stewed Oysters will be there. No way do I want to explain to those guys why I’m at another school’s prom with someone who’s not even my boyfriend. This will definitely call for a real disguise.
Later that day, after church and a short hike with Conrad, I drive over to Olivia’s house to take back her pearls and her mother’s beaded bag. My plan is to invite Olivia to go with me to return the rental dress and hopefully pick out another one that I can reserve for next Saturday. But as I’m stopped at a quiet intersection, watting for a woman in black sweats to jog across the street, I suddenly see a flash of light, and my actual vision gets blurred as something else appears in front of me. Instead of the jogger, I see a different person. Also dressed in black, it seems to be a man, and he’s sort of hunched over in a sinister, cartoonish way, like he’s trying not to be seen or sneaking away, or perhaps he’s about to do something wrong.
For a moment I think I could be having a vision of a terrorist, maybe even one of the ones who plan to attack the McKinley High prom, but then he turns and looks directly at me so I can clearly see his face. To my surprise, it’s not a terrorist but my mom’s boyfriend,
Steven Lowery.
Then just like that—poof—the
Learning to Kill: Stories