Sanctuary by Meg Cabot Read Free Book Online

said, with a nod. “Good evening.”
    “Evening,” Rob said, and, letting go of my hand to grab my arm instead, he began pulling. “Sorry. But we were just leaving.”
    “Slow down,” Dr. Krantz said, with a creaky laugh. “Slow down there, young man. I’d like a word with Miss Mastriani, if I may.”
    “Yeah?” Rob said. He was about as fond as scientists in the employ of the U.S. government as he was of cops. “Well, she doesn’t have anything to say to you.”
    “He’s right,” I said, to Dr. Krantz. “I really don’t. Bye.”
    “I see.” Dr. Krantz looked faintly amused. “And I suppose it was only by coincidence that you stumbled across this crime scene?”
    “As a matter of fact,” I said, in some surprise, since for once I was telling the truth, “it was. I was just passing by on my way home from Rob’s.”
    “And the fact that I overheard you tell those gentlemen over there that the victim happens to be your neighbor?”
    I said, “Hey, you’re the government operative, not me. You ought to know more about this than I do. I mean, I’d feel pretty bad if a kid got killed during my watch.”
    Dr. Krantz’s expression did not change. It never does. So I wasn’t sure whether or not my words hit home.
    “Jessica,” Dr. Krantz said. “I want to show you something.”
    We were standing a little ways away from the circle the police officers and sheriff’s deputies had made around the blue tarp covering Nate’s body. But the glare from the floodlight was bright enough that, even though it was nighttime, I could see the details in the photo Cyrus Krantz pulled from inside his coat with perfect clarity.
    It was, I realized, the overpass Mrs. Lippman had been talking about at dinner. The one with the graffiti spray-painted onto it. The graffiti she’d assumed was a gang tag. I myself had never noticed it.
    Looking at it then, in the cold white glow of the floodlight, I saw that the red squiggle—that’s all it looked like to me—seemed vaguely familiar. I had seen it before. Only where? There is not a lot of graffiti in our town. Oh, sure, the occasional
Rick Loves Nancy
out by the quarry. Every once in a while someone with a little too much school spirit painted
Cougars Rule
on the side of our rival high school’s gymnasium. But that was it as far as graffiti went. I couldn’t think where I could possibly have seen that red squiggle before.
    Then, all at once, it hit me.
    On Nate Thompkins’s chest.
    “So it
is
gang related?” I asked, handing the photo back to Cyrus Krantz. The two Thanksgiving suppers I’d eaten weren’t sitting too well in my stomach all of a sudden.
    Dr. Krantz tucked the photo back where he’d found it. “No,” he said, rebuttoning his coat. Dr. Krantz was always very neat and tidy. At our house, he hadn’t left a single crumb on his plate. And my mom’s biscotti is pretty crumbly.
    “This,” he said, tapping the pocket that held the photo, “was a warning. That”—He nodded at the blue tarp—“is just the beginning.”
    “The beginning of what?” I asked. Mrs. Wilkins’s pumpkin pie was definitely on its way back up.
    “That,” Cyrus Krantz said, “is what we’re going to find out, I’m afraid.”
    Then he turned around and started striding from the cornfield, back to his long, warm car.
    Wait
, I wanted to call after him.
What can I do? What can I do to help
?
    But then I remembered that I am not supposed to have my psychic powers anymore. So I couldn’t really offer him my help.
    Besides, what could I do? Nobody was missing.
    Not anymore.
    I didn’t speed the rest of the way home. Not because I was afraid of getting caught, but because I was really afraid of what I was going to find when I pulled onto Lumbley Lane. Even the purr of Rob’s motorcycle behind me—he followed me home—wasn’t very reassuring.
    When we pulled onto my street, I saw the flashing lights right away. The sheriff must have radioed in the information I’d given