Page 31 of The Executioners Three
Without touching the bottle, Freddie crouched down so she could study it, her attention homing in on a strip of masking tape attached to the bottle’s side.
Wed. run, lap 2,it read in handwritten marker. Then below that and written on the bottle directly was faded black marker that read:Fontana.
Dr. Fontana had put this bottle here for his Wednesday run.
Wind burst through the trees, shaking leaves around the bottle—and sloshing the water within. Because it was completely full. Completely untapped. Meaning Dr. Fontana never made it to lap two.
Freddie’s muscles moved yet again with cold detachment, this time aiming her hand for Xena’s lens cap. Her gut was screaming anew, except now with the familiar burn of her Answer Finder self. She was almost certain she was staring at proof that Bob Fontana’s suicide definitely hadn’t been a suicide.
Freddie started snapping pictures.
7
After dropping off Divya at her family’s brick two-story on Maple Street (and forcing Divya to a blood pact of secrecy regarding the stolen archives material), Freddie shoved herself back onto the bike and pedaled home. Everything in her body ached, but she wasso close. And there was still one more thing she needed to finish before she could collapse on her bed: her civic duty.
Yes, a life of crime might call to her with its siren’s song (that sounded a lot like Lance Bass), but at the end of the day, Freddie was an Upright Citizen and liked being one.
She spotted Bowman’s house as soon as she turned onto the street. Bowman lived across from Freddie. Not directly, but two houses over in a white stucco with ivy that covered everything in green—or, at this time of year, in coppery red.
It glowed like the jack-o’-lanterns on everyone’s front porches, and when Freddie coasted to a stop in front, she caught sight of a dented Honda Civic in the driveway. Its taillights were still on, and as Freddie rolled up behind it, the car cut off and the driver’s door swung wide.
A jean-clad leg slid out along with a pair of black Vans. Then a pale head and navy-striped rugby tee followed. Suddenly Theo Porter was standing in Sheriff Bowman’s driveway.
Freddie squeezed her brakes so hard she almost tumbled off. Only a lucky angle let her regain balance—which, thankgod. She did not need to crash her bike in front of Theo Porter.
He blinked at Freddie. She blinked at him. It was weird to see him without his Fortin Prep uniform. Plus, his hair wasn’t so perfectly combed right now, and Freddie had to admit it looked better that way. He had very full, very touchable hair—andugh,why was she even thinking that about the enemy?
“What are you doing here?” He shut the car door.
“I need to see the sheriff.” Freddie slung off her bike. “What areyoudoing here?”
“Uh, the sheriff is my aunt.” He shrugged like this was the most obvious thing in the world.
And with a swoop in her gut, Freddie supposed it was.Wow,what a terrible detective she was. She’d known Bowman’s maiden name was Porter, and she’d known that Bowman had a nephew in high school. Except… she thought he lived in Chicago.
“How come I’ve never seen you in town before?” Her grip tightened on her handlebars. He was walking toward her. Not threatening, but still the enemy. Montagues versus Capulets, basically, on fair Verona Beach.
He paused three paces away. “I hadn’t been arrested before now, that’s why.” He folded his arms over his chest, and his thumb tapped his bicep. “Now, however, I am required to eat dinner with my aunt and uncle every night until I graduate. Thank you for that.”
“You’re welcome,” Freddie said cheerily.
Theo’s thumb tapped faster.
“The researchdoessuggest that eating together as a family leads to better life choices, Mr. Porter.”
His lips twisted—although with amusement or annoyance, she couldn’t say. And now his thumb was really tapping. “My aunt is a terrible cook, Gellar. Like, I’d rather eat glass shards.”
“Good thing for you,” said Sheriff Bowman, walking up behind her nephew, “that tonight we won’t be having either. We’re going to the Quick-Bis.”
Theo’s hand fell to his side, and for half a second, his eyes squeezed shut. Freddie could practically hear him thinking,Crap, crap, crap. But when his eyelids lifted again, it was with the slightest smile. “Well played, Gellar. Well played.” Then he angled toward his aunt and added, “You have Spider-Man stealth, Aunt Rita.”
Bowman grinned. “I do. And Freddie here has a great poker face.” She moved next to Theo. He was half a head taller, but side by side, the family resemblance was unmistakable.
Freddie really couldn’t believe she’d missed it. After all, small town. Talky people.
“Hi, Gellar,” Bowman drawled. “What can I do for ya?”
Freddie toed out her kickstand, and after making sure the bike wouldn’t suddenly topple sideways, she said, “I was hoping to talk to you.Alone.”
