Page 70 of The Executioners Three
And, for the first time since Freddie had arrived, some of his restlessnessseemed to melt away. Like this cellar was a place that made sense to him. Likeherehe could be at ease.
Freddie understood that. She’d felt the same, sitting in Bowman’s car or exploring her way through the tiny police station—or just scouring security footage while hunting for a shoplifter. It was in those moments that Freddie had really felt likeYeah. This is where I’m supposed to be, finding answers.
“I’m impressed, Mr. Porter.” Freddie set down the bag of crickets at the end of the aisle (giving them a solid kick for good measure). “You know your way around this place.”
He bounced a single shoulder. “I was in the journalism program.”
“Was?”
A beat passed. Then he amended, “Amin the journalism program.”
Freddie didn’t buy that cover, but she also didn’t press him on it. Bad Boys were entitled to their secrets. Plus, she didn’t know how much pestering she could get away with before he either revoked her access to this basement or else paid a little too much attention to her duffle bag.
So she opened her arms and declared: “In that case, Mr. Porter, I beg for your journalistic assistance. Please, if you would be so kind, tell me where to find theBerm Sentinelfrom 1975.”
A lilt of his lips. A slight nod. “You got it, Gellar. Follow me.”
15
Theo led Freddie straight to the cabinets for theBerm Sentinel,where tiny labels declared the years and months, and after quickly finding 1975, he flourished his arms and stepped aside.
“The 1975 drawer, my lady.”
“Why, thank you, good sir.” She bent past him, and there it was: her own sense of calm. That hunger in her belly that told her she was doing what she was meant to do. It felt good—so good she scarcely noticed Theo peeking over her shoulder while she flipped through fat green folders.
Labels winked up at her, organized by month. “October,” she mumbled to herself.Flip, flip, flip.“October, October… here.” She grinned and eased the enormous file from the cabinet. Without any concern for Theo, she hurried to the nearest desk.
Inside were all the papers she had combed only yesterday on the microfiche machine. She thumbed through them, untroubled by the black ink left on her fingertips, until finally she reached…
October 21.
And then October 23.
She checked again. “Twenty-one.”Flip.“Twenty-three. What the heck?” She frowned at Theo. Her gut was tickling. “The twenty-second isn’t in here. Just like at the library.”
Now it was his turn to frown. “That’s weird. You’re not allowed to take papers out of the collection.” He pulled the folder in front of him and counted, just under his breath, through every issue. All the way up to Halloween of 1975.
But there was still no October 22. He shook his head. “Maybe someone left it on the copier?”
“Theexactdate I need?” Freddie’s eyebrows lifted incredulously.
“I don’t know.” He backed away from the desk. “I’ll go look. Stay here.” In a swirl of detergent-scented air, he spun away.
And for several seconds, Freddie just stood there—completely and totally trapped within a Grave Moral Problem quite worthy of the philosophical greats. For if ever there was a moment for Freddie to release crickets, then now was it. Theo was away, and whileno,this wasn’t where she was supposed to free them, it might be her only chance to do so.
She crept toward the duffle bag. So innocent. Then she bent around the edge of the rows and squinted to the far end of the cellar. Theo had his back to her.
Now was her moment.
Yet for some stupid,stupidreason, she wasn’t taking it. She was just watching him and chewing her lip. The copier machine banged shut; Theo turned.
And Freddie kicked the duffle.“Stay quiet,”she hissed before scampering right back to the desk. She would just have to hope another opportunity came by.
Freddie next turned her attention to theElmore Gazette,not even bothering to remove its October file from the drawer. She searched it right there, and by the time Theo came jogging back (his cheeks deliciously pink) she had already confirmed. “It’s missing here too.”
“There’s nothing on the copier.” He came to a stop beside her, head shaking. “Check theCounty Weekly,and I’ll look at theBerm Observer.”
They each did exactly that, moving on to every local paper or magazine in print during 1975. And forevery single one,the date of October 22 had been removed.
