Disappointment slithers in, wrapping itself around my chest. I was positive that Genevieve would be able to figure out who sent the video of Professor Rook’s death to Gul. She’s kind of a badass with a computer. One of her hidden talents. But from the sad look Genevieve is giving me, it’s another dead end. Gul is not going to be pleased.
“Thanks anyway for trying.”
I was right. Gul was pissed that I couldn’t figure out who had threatened her. And I felt bad enough that I invited her to my upcoming birthday party, even though I don’t really want her there. She’ll bring Grady, of course, who isn’t so bad. Maybe he’ll act like a sort of buffer between Gul and the rest of my guests.
Putting down my cell phone, I check another item off my list. Good thing the caterers were flexible about me adding to the headcount for my party. Now to figure out who Ricardo saw sneaking down the classroom hallway over Christmas break, the week before the professor was killed.
My fingers rap along the surface of my desk, following a classical tune I’ve known since I was a little girl who watched cartoon reruns on Saturday mornings. Getting back into the surveillance office is going to be tricky, since Ricardo has been banned from being alone in there as a result of the attack. When the police interviewed us about it the next day, I tried to weedle information out of them, but I got nothing. They wouldn’t even tell me if they found any suspicious fingerprints on the bags of dry ice or AC vents. They were unhelpfully taciturn.
The surveillance room is never locked, but it’s also pretty much always occupied. So whoever planted the dry ice had to lie in wait for whoever was on duty to go to the bathroom before they took action. Or be a guard. Plus, whoever it was knew where the cameras were and was able to avoid them. After talking to all of the security personnel on campus, Bodyguard Steve doesn’t think any of them were responsible, but I can’t totally rule out the possibility.
Ricardo and I haven’t been able to watch the surveillance video of the foyer in the hours leading up to the time I found him unconscious, but it was a Saturday so I’m assuming people were in and out for most of the day. Besides, anyone could have brought the ice in the back door and put it in the vent without being caught on camera. It’s another dead end.
I considered trying to track the bad guy by tracing where he or she sourced the dry ice, but it’s available at upwards of ten stores within a five mile radius of the school. Despite my charming telephone voice, none of the store managers I talked to would agree to give me access to their receipts or security footage for last week. Teen detectives on TV make it look much easier than it is in reality.
Seven days after the attack on Ricardo, I’m so frustrated that I’m skirting the edge between rudeness and downright spiteful behavior. Ricardo keeps reeling me back in. Turns out flirty sparring with Ricardo takes my edge off and makes me a lot easier to be around.
Still, the lack of progress is driving me up the wall. Which is why Ricardo and I concocted a plan to visit the surveillance office tonight and try to access the footage he told me about.
“I hope this works,” Ricardo says as we walk casually down the stairs hand in hand.
“It has to work. If it doesn’t, I fear for your safety.”
His eyebrows rise playfully. “My safety?”
“You’ll make an excellent punching bag,” I say with a smirk.
“Hit me with your best shot,” he retorts. “I’ll be ready for you.” He gives my hand a squeeze, and I squeeze back.
“We’ll see.”
Bodyguard Steve keeps pace a step behind us, his body on full alert. When we arrive outside the security office, he stands against the wall with his hands folded over his front.
The security guard on duty gives Ricardo an annoyed look when we walk into the small room and look at the monitors. “What are you doing here? You aren’t supposed to be down here anymore, remember?”
Ricardo gives him a sincere smile. “I’m sorry, Freddie. I really am. How’d your wife take being left home alone on another Saturday night?”
The man rakes a hand through his hair. “She sure wasn’t happy about