a sign that said Women’s Tennis. He raised his eyebrows.
Elbowing open the door, Theo called inside, “Custodial.”
“Creative,” Auggie whispered.
“A little less feedback—”
“Brinks.”
Theo snapped his jaw shut. Auggie just grinned.
When no one responded to a second call of “Custodial,” they went inside. The locker-room funk was even worse—apparently girls were not an exception—and their steps echoed against the tile and the bare cement. A dogleg hallway connected them to the locker room proper, and Theo and Auggie took a few minutes orienting themselves.
“Here,” Auggie called, tapping a locker. The metal rang out under his touch.
Theo joined him. A plaque with a piece of tape held Nia Corey’s name written in Sharpie. A padlock secured the locker.
“Great,” Auggie said. “So much for this.”
“Find something small and hard,” Theo said.
“What?”
“Small and hard. Preferably with a handle.”
Theo moved off to begin his own search, and after a moment, he heard Auggie’s steps moving across the tiles. The first place Theo checked was the locker room door, hoping for a doorstop, but he didn’t have any luck. He backtracked and checked the other lockers, hoping to find one open. No luck there either. He tested the door to the team office, and the handle jiggled slightly, but then it held.
Behind him, Auggie’s sneakers squeaked. “What about this?”
Theo turned around.
“It’s a hammer, right?” Auggie said.
“It’s a reflex hammer. It’s perfect.”
Theo accepted the hammer and move back to Nia’s locker. He worked two fingers into the shackle on the padlock, pulling it tight, and then he turned it so the fixed end of the shackle was facing him. With the hammer, he delivered a series of sharp, quick strikes. The shackle popped open, and the lock turned in his hand.
“Holy shit,” Auggie said. “Holy shit, that was amazing.”
“Regular padlocks, you can knock the pins clear if you try long enough. And if you ever say Brinks again, I’m going to beat your ass with this hammer.”
Auggie grinned and mimed zipping his lips.
Theo worked the lock loose and opened the locker. They did a quick search. There was the usual stuff of course: workout clothes, a racket, a spare racket, athletic tape, a water bottle that looked slightly moldy.
Auggie found the pills.
“What the hell are these?” He pointed to the bag.
Theo shook his head. “Take pictures of all of it. Document everything.” He was about to say more when he saw the paper. He reached, remembered fingerprints, and stopped himself. Auggie had seen his movement, though, and spotted the paper too. He grabbed it before Theo could say anything.
“Stay away from me and my sister,” Auggie read, “or I’ll kill you.”
11
From the hospital waiting room, Auggie sent a direct message to Nia’s Instagram account. It was simple and to the point: Saw the stuff in ur locker let’s talk.
Theo was pacing. The lobby was deserted, which seemed strange for a Saturday afternoon. Somehow the older man kept catching his foot on the tubular metal legs of the chairs, as though he were trying to navigate an unseen crowd. On the next pass, he came to a stop in front of Auggie’s chair, put his hands on his hips, and said, “She’s not going to do this. Not yet. We need more pressure.”
“No, we have pressure. We just need to apply it in person. Why don’t you sit down? You look like your knee is bothering you again.”
Instead, Theo started pacing again.
A text from Fer came through a moment later: Why the fuck are you taking so many Ubers? My credit card alerts are blowing up.
Sorry emergency.
What kind of emergency?
It’s all good now promise. Then, after a moment’s consideration, he added, I’m fine, everybody’s safe, it’s ok.
Call me right fucking now.
Can’t, Auggie messaged back. Later.
What’s this $230 charge from FuelWorld?
Auggie dismissed the message.
As he was putting the phone in his pocket, another message buzzed. He glimpsed it: Don’t you dare put your fucking phone in your fucking pocket. Answer me.
He shoved the phone out of sight and figured he could pretend he hadn’t seen that one.
“Why is your face red?” Theo said.
“I’m hot.” Auggie fanned his coat for emphasis.
“It’s freezing in here.”
“Why don’t you go ask them to call up to her room again?”
Theo’s eyes narrowed, but he left.
Auggie took advantage of the respite to close his eyes. The pounding in his head had intensified, and he blamed it on the smell: someone had puked into a potted plastic fern, and apparently nobody could be troubled to clean it up. They’d picked the seats in the opposite corner of