“Didn’t that upset you? The ho, ho thing?”
She just shrugged. “Those girls are simple. Probably jealous.”
“Wow. Okay. Maybe. Wait, do you mean uncomplicated simple, or simple as in dumb?”
Her mouth flinched. A nascent smile? “Right,” she said, not really answering my question.
“Well, either way, you were pretty funny. I mean, you were trying to be funny, right?”
“I guess.”
I realized I’d seen no signs of tears since that first day. If she had a problem, would I know it? “You can totally let me know if you ever need to talk. You’re always so quiet.”
“If I’m quiet, it’s because I listen. Unlike you.”
Whoa. Get back. I actually laughed. Was that an insult or an observation? It didn’t piss me off, though. On an island of secrets, I liked her candor. “What do you mean, unlike me? I’m just trying to help. I wasn’t sure if you understood what was going on back there.”
“I grew up in New York. I speak English.” Though the words carried a sting, there’d been no animosity in her voice when she’d said them.
I stopped on the path. “Wait, Mei. Do over. I know you understand English. Jeez. I meant, you’re not used to the Guidons.” I rubbed my temples—the headache was back with a vengeance. “God, I can barely think straight.” Inhaling deeply, I faced her. “All I meant was that those girls would love to kill us—and they will if we’re not careful. They could make your life serious hell.”
I’d lost Amanda, and keeping Mei-Ling safe felt like righting that wrong. Besides, I liked odd ducks, and Mei was shaping up to be pretty massively odd.
“Hey,” I added, trying to lighten the mood. “We’ve gotta watch out for your hands, right?”
She held out one of those hands, studying it. Then her eyes met mine, and she smiled. A real, genuine smile. “Right.”
CHAPTER TEN
Mei and I met up again for lunch, but this time I made it a quick one, claiming I wanted to go for a swim. She believed it, which was obvious proof that she didn’t know me at all.
I jogged south along the coast. I had to find clues to the killer before people began looking too closely at me. I had a small window before Priti’s class and figured there was no time like the present.
Food had done nothing to ease the gnawing in my gut. I was light-headed now, my hands shaking like I hadn’t eaten in days. It looked like my investigation would be just like everything else on this island: performed amidst the worst of circumstances. But I rolled my neck and fisted my fingers, powering through.
I tried to focus on the real issue at hand, namely, that I had no clue how to go about investigating a murder. But I’d seen CSI. It wasn’t rocket science to deduce that, in the absence of a body, one began at the scene of the crime.
I didn’t know about Watcher Angel’s death, but Headmaster had let spill some clues about Trinity’s. He’d said her body was found not far from the cove. That’d be Crispin’s Cove, where I’d weathered so many swim lessons. No wonder they all thought I had something to do with her death—I knew that stupid inlet better than anyone.
I’d since heard that, like Amanda, her body had been dropped, and I decided the jagged bluffs due south to be the likeliest spot. I slowed my pace as I approached. Any worries that I wouldn’t be able to find the murder scene were for naught. Judging by all the footprints crisscrossing the area, the place had been visited more times than Disneyland. Most of the prints were larger versions of my Acari uniform boots. The morbidity of my peers never ceased to amaze me.
I bent, then squatted, then finally lay on my stomach, peering along the rocky dirt, searching for clues. I saw none—just a few dozen sets of footprints. Like a TV detective, I wanted to rail about all the civilians messing with my crime scene.
I stood, brushing myself off. My grand investigation would fail before it even had a chance to begin.
With a sigh, I looked across the rocks and down to the cove, inching as close to the ledge as I dared. I wanted a better look at the site of so many of my cursed swim lessons. It was strange studying it with a bird’s-eye view, yet somehow, just then, it didn’t feel like a bad association. Rather, that cove and Ronan’s steel-jawed persistence were probably what’d kept me alive so far.
He’d taught me so much, and I hated to admit that those damned surfing lessons had already taught me a lot, too. About patience, how to watch and wait. How, when opportunity finally arrived, to seize it with courage. I’d found it nearly impossible not to panic at the first giant wave that’d come crashing toward me. But Ronan had taught me when to act on instinct and when to act on intellect, and intellect had told me the wave couldn’t have been more than three feet high.
He’d shown me how to see what was truly there.
I looked away from the horizon, clearing Ronan from my mind. And it was then that I saw it. A thin smudge of brown along the thick green moss that carpeted the ridge’s outer edge.
I inched closer, then finally just dropped to my hands and knees. Falling off a cliff would really put a damper on my investigation.
Once, I’d had to rely on my basic tracking skills. Ever since, I’d treated it as valuable a skill as combat, keeping a frequent eye to the ground, learning how to read it as I would a story.
And what a story these marks told.