Cassidy Jones and the Secret Formula (17 page)

“Riley had a friend in law enforcement run a check on Selma Heart’s social security number and driver’s license. Both are fakes. In fact, according to the federal government, Selma Heart doesn’t exist. It’s a pseudonym. The home address she has listed with Wallingford is a real residence, though. Whether she actually lives there or not is another story.”

I could feel the confusion on my face. Somehow, I had missed something major. “Okay…Selma Heart, the security guard. She was definitely suspicious and horrible, but Detective Conlin said the police checked her out and that she was okay.”

“Which makes one wonder.”

Oh, geez!
“Are you saying Detective Conlin is crooked?”

He shrugged. “I’m open to all possibilities.”

This is too much!
“Maybe Riley’s friend is wrong.”

“He isn’t wrong. He ran the numbers I memorized from Heart’s employment records. Detective Conlin would have had the same results.”

“Well, maybe you memorized them wrong. Wait a second…When did you see her employment records?”

“When I left you in the lab.”

“When you went to the restroom?”

He gave me a patient look.

“Okay, I get it. You didn’t go to the restroom. But you were gone like, what, five minutes tops?”

“It doesn’t take long when you’re familiar with a computer system.”

“You mean you’re a
hacker
?” I asked, astonished.

“I know my way around computer networks.”

“That’s just a nice way of saying hacker.”

He shrugged.

I pressed my fingers to my temples, willing my brain to think. I couldn’t keep up with Emery. “All right,” I said after a moment, staring at the floor. “Let me summarize: When you left the lab, you somehow got access to a university computer and retrieved Selma Heart’s employment records. At which time, you
memorized
the information.” I looked up at him. “All of it?”

He nodded. His expression said,
Of course
.

I gaped. “Do you have a photographic memory?”

His face became impatient. “Time is limited,” he reminded me, not answering my question.

I refocused on the matter at hand. The intricate workings of Emery’s mind would have to be a subject for another time, another day. “So, what now?”

“My friend Mickey has offered to follow Heart when she leaves the university tonight. Hopefully, she’ll go directly home, or better yet, lead Mickey to my mom. He’ll swing by and pick me up late this evening if it appears she’s settled in a location. I’m planting a GPS tracking device on her car.”

“You can do that?” I asked, stunned, and thought of a slew of reasons why he shouldn’t. “But she could catch you, and hurt you, or call the police. You could be
arrested
.”

“I won’t get caught,” Emery said, as if the certainty of this were etched in stone. “This brings us to your original question. I made arrangements to leave today because being here makes the things I need to do that much more difficult. I’m not usually under a watchful parental eye and so restricted. Because of you, my plans have changed, though my mission hasn’t.” He regarded me with an expression beyond his years. “As your dad said he would do everything in his power to find my mom, I will do everything in mine. I’ll find creative ways to get around your parents when I need to. I don’t want to burn bridges, not knowing my future role in your life.” He stopped talking to scrutinize me. What he said next confirmed I looked as bewildered as I felt. “I’m sorry. I can see that last part is more than you presently want to think about. All I ask, for now, is that you help and support my efforts.”

“Of course I’ll help you. We’re partners, right?”

He smiled. “Right.”

“Okay, then,” I said, collecting my thoughts. “Though this secret-agent stuff has me a little freaked, I can see we need to do it, and we’ll just keep our fingers crossed that my parents don’t catch us.”

“Cassidy, I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood,” Emery interrupted ruefully. “You can’t come tonight.”

“But you just agreed—”

“I know, and we are.”

“Here I am, guys,” Chazz called, running down the stairs.

“Then why don’t you want me to come?”

“That isn’t it,” he whispered, glancing at Chazz speeding across the foyer. “We’ll discuss this later.”

“Yeah, we will,” I said, redirecting my gaze to my brother.

Beaming, Chazz bounded into the room, holding
The Marvel Encyclopedia
in both hands. Apparently this had evolved into more than looking at Joker’s mug shot.

“I looked all over, but couldn’t find Batman,” he explained, jumping up on the sofa. “But this book is way cooler. Okay, Emery, you sit here.” He patted the cushion to his right. “Cassidy, you sit on the other side.”

Emery stood up and followed orders, plopping down beside my ecstatic brother.

Sighing, I moved to the sofa. It was hard to resist Chazz’s enthusiasm. For my cutie-pie brother, I pushed the pending conversation with Emery to the back of my mind.

“We’re going to look at the A’s,” he announced, opening the book filling his lap.

“Joker starts with ‘J,’” I pointed out.

Chazz gave me a stunned look. “Batman isn’t in here. He’s DC Comics.”

“Silly me,” I said, consigned to my fate. I figured I might as well learn about comic book characters, since I now closely resembled one.

Emery and I took the better part of two hours reading Chazz’s favorite characters’ bios out loud, with Emery taking text message breaks here and there. I enjoyed myself more than I thought I would. It was nice reading about lives more tragic than my own, though theirs were only fiction. We ended with
X-Men
. I related to Wolverine, not because of the animal thing but because of his power to heal. His bio said that his healing ability stretched out his natural life span, and that he appeared much younger than he actually was. This disturbed me, to say the least.

Finishing up with
Xavier
, Chazz dropped the huge book in Emery’s lap and darted upstairs for comic books.

“Uncanny, isn’t it?” Emery asked, thumbing through the book.

Leaning back in the cushions, I disagreed. “No, I would say
not plausible
.”

After laughing at my indirect eavesdropping confession, he asked, “Who do you relate to?”

I rolled my eyes. “The mutants. Definitely the mutants. And you?”

“Doctor Octopus.”

“The villain?” I asked in surprise.

“No. The scientist with lofty ideas who creates a weapon and releases it on the world.” He smiled wryly. “Oh, wait. That is a villain, isn’t it?”

“Enough about mutants and villains,” I said, and then burst into a fit of giggles at my unintended joke. “Thank you,
Marvel
, for your knowledge and insightfulness.” I flattened my hand against my chest and bowed to the book, playfully giving homage.

Emery looked a little uncomfortable, regretful even.

“Okay, give it to me straight,” I teased, patting his shoulder. “I can take it. Am I or am I not a mutant?”

“I’m not sure how your genes have been affected,” he answered stoically.

The smile fell off my face. “Well, okay,” I said, putting on a brave front. “We’ll just have to wait and see what your mom has to say about all that.” I managed to drum up a half-grin. “So, partner, why are you excluding me from tonight’s activities?”

“It’s not exclusion,” Emery assured me. “I simply have no way of explaining why you would come along.” He shifted so he faced me. “Mickey knows I wouldn’t involve someone who wasn’t somehow beneficial to the mission. A fourteen-year-old girl isn’t normally beneficial.”

“I agree,” I said, maneuvering. “A normal fourteen-year-old girl wouldn’t be beneficial, but I’m presently not normal. Don’t you see how much I could help?”

“You would provide tremendous advantage,” he admitted. “But you’re missing the point. You couldn’t use your abilities with Mickey present, and again, in his eyes there would be no reason for you to be included. If I brought you, his suspicion would be roused, and under that type of scrutiny, you could slip up. My goal is to protect you, not expose you.”

“Thank you,” I said with a small, grateful smile. “That means a lot to me. But I want to help. I want to find your mom, too.”
My life
depends on it.
“Figure out some way to utilize me, okay? Or better yet, give me an assignment.”

A sly grin came on Emery’s face. “Your first assignment, comrade,” he said in a low, confidential voice, “is to get me a front door key.”

The front door opened, and Nate stepped into the foyer. He stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed Emery and me sitting on the sofa. His face became annoyingly suspicious.

“What’s up?” he asked carefully, eyeing Emery.

“Bunch of gossips,” I mumbled. Nate would have needed some assistance coming to
that
conclusion.

Glancing at me, Emery smiled and clarified for Nate, “Chazz has been enlightening us.” He held up the encyclopedia as proof.

That was proof enough for my brother. “Poor you,” he commiserated, walking into the living room.

To add to the proof that all was innocent, Chazz ran into the living room with more comics. Mom followed him in.

“Good, you’re all here,” she said with a smile. “Remember what night it is.”

Sunday’s dinner was what we called “Kid’s Choice.” That meant we kids chose the menu, but we also made it. Dinner usually became breakfast, since that was our favorite meal. We called this “Breakfast for Dinner.”

“Yay, pancakes,” Chazz cheered.

Mom groaned. “We had pancakes this morning.”

Chazz thought for a moment. “Okay, French toast.”

“French toast isn’t anything like pancakes,” Mom joked. “But the menu is up to all of you. Dad and I will be upstairs. Call us down when you’re ready.”

~~~

We had just sat down to a French toast feast when the doorbell rang.

“Huh. I wonder who that could be,” Dad said, getting up from the table.

As Dad left the room, Emery caught my eye, nodding slightly. I understood that he wanted me to listen. Nodding back, I looked down at my plate, tuning in to the foyer, while Emery distracted Mom and Nate with conversation.

Detective Reed was at the door. Inviting him in, Dad asked him to have a seat in the living room. I could hear the surprise and curiosity in Dad’s voice. I don’t think Dad knew the detective beyond casual chatting at police headquarters.

At first, Detective Reed tried to make small talk, but his voice gave away his nervousness.

Dad cut to the chase. “Paul, I can see you’re bothered by something. Please, you can talk to me.”

“Off the record, Drake?”

“You have my word.”

The detective sighed. “This is extremely difficult for me. It involves the Phillips case. There are things going on in the investigation that are questionable, unethical. Protocol hasn’t been properly followed. Evidence has been misplaced. Leads that would normally be followed up on aren’t. When I pointed out these discrepancies, I was told I’d be smart to look the other way.”