A Bad Day for Sunshine (Sunshine Vicram #1) - Darynda Jones Page 0,63
a few years ago.”
“I’m so sorry, Cruz. I didn’t know.”
“And I’m sorry about your dad.”
“Thanks,” she said, genuinely appreciating his thoughtfulness.
Cruz tossed a notebook on the bed beside him along with a couple of textbooks and an unopened box of pens.
But it was the notebook she was most interested in. “So, any poetry in there?”
Without even looking at her, he took the notebook and put it on a shelf behind him. “Nope.”
“Can I read some?”
He stopped unpacking his things but still kept his gaze averted. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Why? You’re incredible.”
“I’m a hack. Just like everyone else at Del Sol.”
She held out her hand. “Can I be the judge of that?”
He chewed on his lower lip, then said, “No, but if I ever get to that point, you’ll be the first I tell.”
Disappointment washed over her, but she understood. It took courage to open yourself up to criticism. “Deal.” Then, to lighten the mood, she brought out the homework assignment. “Okay, do you or have you ever stolen a candy bar from a grocery store?”
“No,” he said. “It was gummy bears, and it was at a gas station.”
She laughed, and thus the interviews began.
13
Several callers complained about thongs
hanging from an eighty-five-year-old female’s apple tree.
When questioned, she explained,
“It was either the apple tree or the azalea bush.”
—DEL SOL POLICE BLOTTER
While Price was out collecting the information from the Quick-Mart, Zee brought Sun her macchiato, then went to her desk to study every inch of the footage they had thus far.
Sun studied the letter. Again. Like she didn’t have it memorized. Then she opened the diary and started on page one.
Sybil was so innocent. Too young to prophesy her own death. No wonder she was so shy. So withdrawn. She didn’t know who to trust.
There were entries other than her premonition, as well. She liked a boy named Chase in the fifth grade. She loved The Big Bang Theory and wondered why people couldn’t mention Star Wars and Star Trek in the same sentence without infuriating a certain percentage of the population. And she loved—
Sun looked closer. She loved a girl named Auri like a sister for making her feel seen. In a sea of invisibility, Auri made Sybil feel special.
Sun’s chest swelled.
She went back to Sybil’s accounts of the dream. “Come on, Sybil. Give me something new. Anything.” But the girl had been right. It was just more of the same. The dream never changed. She never saw the guy. Never knew why he took her. She only knew how she would die. And when.
Sun made notes about any changes in the girl’s story, no matter how subtle. But they were mainly expansions in her vocabulary. She began calling it an abduction instead of a kidnapping. And using the word male instead of man. Caucasian instead of white.
A male voice drifted to her from her office door. “Nobody told me you talk to yourself.”
She looked up at U.S. Marshal Vincent Deleon. “Nobody told me you eavesdropped, but here we are.”
He chuckled and stepped inside. “That the diary?”
“You’ve heard about it?”
“Who hasn’t?”
“Great,” she said, wielding sarcasm like she was born to. “It’ll probably be on the news tomorrow.”
“Not necessarily. Your deputies are pros.”
“True. How was your day?”
He gestured toward one of the chairs across from her. “May I?”
“Of course.”
He sat and stretched before answering, “Two possible sightings. One was from a cat lady who swore he was living in her attic.”
“Oh no. Mrs. Fairborn?”
“The one and only. We got excited for all of five minutes until we realized she didn’t have an attic. Her Pueblo-style house had a sparkling new pitched roof, but not enough of a pitch for an attic.”
“And it took you five minutes to realize that?”
“What?” he asked, defensive. “We were desperate.”
“Don’t feel bad. She’s the town sympathizer. Tries to help out where she can. She confesses to everything from shoplifting to murder, because she’s worried the sheriff’s office won’t be able to solve the crimes and she doesn’t want us to look bad.”
“How do you know? You just started.”
“She’s been doing it since I was a kid. I caught on when she claimed to be the hijacker of a Piper pilot’s plane who took off and never came back.”
“What happened with the case?”
“His wife finally hunted him down. He was in Fiji with his girlfriend. But Mrs. Fairborn was bound and determined to take credit for that one. Said she’d gotten into the drug-running business and she forced poor old Larry, the owner