Uncle Bob, aka knight in shining armor, strode in and flashed his badge in true five-oh fashion. Man, he was good. We couldn’t get the records without some kind of warrant. There were apparently laws against their giving out student information to just any Joe off the street. I was hoping Ubie’s badge would be enough and we wouldn’t need an actual warrant, ’cause I had no idea on what grounds we would get one.
“We need all the transcripts and class rosters on a student who went here about…”
Uncle Bob turned to me. I closed my phone and jumped up. “Oh, right, about twelve years ago.”
The woman eyed Ubie a moment before grabbing a pen and writing down the dates I had. Ubie eyed her back. Sparks flew.
“And the name?” she asked.
Right. The name. Hopefully Uncle Bob wouldn’t remember the man he put away for twenty-five to life. “Um,” I leaned closer, trying to exclude him from the conversation, “Farrow. Reyes Farrow.”
I didn’t have to look at Uncle Bob to know that he stilled beside me. I could feel the tension thicken the air to a tangible mass. Well, crap.
CHAPTER 15
Life isn’t about finding yourself. It’s mostly about chocolate.
“Uncle Bob,” I said, “would you just give me a chance to explain?”
We were standing in the hall outside Ms. Tarpley’s office, where Uncle Bob had dragged me by the arm.
“Reyes Farrow?” he asked, his teeth clamped together. “Do you know who Reyes Farrow is?”
“Do you?” I countered, trying to control the worry in my voice.
“I do.”
“So you two are tight?” I asked hopefully.
He cast me a dubious scowl. “I don’t usually hang with murderers.”
Snob. “I just need to get some information on him.”
“He beat his father to death with a baseball bat then threw him in the trunk of his Chevy and set it on fire. What more do you need to know about a person, Charley?”
I let out a huff of air, stalling for time to come up with a good argument. Where the heck were my lawyers when I needed them? Nobody was better at arguing than a lawyer. When nothing jumped out at me, I decided to let Ubie in a little further. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
“He wouldn’t have done that,” I said in a hushed whisper.
“You weren’t there. You didn’t see—”
“He wouldn’t have had to.” Leaning closer, I said, “He’s … different.”
“Most murderers are.” Ubie wasn’t budging without some earth-shattering bit of evidence.
After taking a deep, deep breath, I said, “It was him. Today. The spinal cord thing? He did it.”
“What?”
Uncle Bob didn’t want to hear me, to listen, but he couldn’t help it. His curiosity always got the better of him. And I knew one surefire way of getting his complete and undivided attention.
I curled my fingers into his blazer and said, “You have to promise not to tell Dad.”
Uncle Bob was suddenly salivating to know more. I explained as quickly as possible how Reyes was more than human. How he looked and moved. How he had been there on the day I was born — at which point, I was sure Ubie went into some bizarre kind of trance brought on by the stress of it all.
I left out the other two spinal taps and, well, the whole nightly seduction thing. He didn’t need to know how deep my feelings for Reyes ran.
“What is he?” he asked at last.
With a shake of my head, I said, “I wish I knew. But he’s going to die in two days if we don’t stop it. And the only way to do that for sure is to find his sister.”
“But, if he’s this … powerful being—”
“In human form,” I corrected. “I don’t know what will happen to him if his body dies.” I knew what would happen to me, though. I didn’t want to live without him. I didn’t know if I could. Not at this point.
Fifteen minutes later, we had printouts of Reyes’s class schedule along with a roster for each course.
“Do you remember him?” I asked Ms. Tarpley.
She ripped her gaze off Uncle Bob to settle it on me. “I’ve only been here ten years,” she said.
“And there are no other Farrows in the system?”
“No. I’m sorry. Perhaps his sister wasn’t in high school yet.”
“That could be. And he only came here three months.” I looked back at the file I had on Reyes. “But this says he graduated from here.”
“Not from this high school,” she said. “Wait.” Her fingernails clicked on the computer keys. “We do have a record of him receiving a diploma, but that’s impossible.”
I leaned over to Uncle Bob. “Not for an expert hacker.” I was beginning to piece together how Reyes put his intelligence and computer skills to work.
“Thank you so much for this, Ms. Tarpley,” Ubie said, taking her hand in his.
She made googly eyes. He made googly eyes. It was all quite romantic, but I had a missing person to find. I elbowed Uncle Bob. “Shall we hit the road?”
After a soft protest, he turned back to her and said his good-byes. Just as we started out the door, I skidded to a halt. “Oh,” I said, bringing forward a note, “I found this in the corner over there. It looked … important.”
“Thank you,” she said, opening it.
As we passed by the front of the building, I looked in her window. She was clutching the note to her breast and crying. It must have been the lily pad thing.
We swung by my office to give the class rosters to Cookie. She’d cross-reference the students Reyes’d had classes with and try to contact a few of them, fishing for a hit on the mysterious sister. Now that I could get into my office again, I grabbed my Glock out of the safe, slid into a shoulder holster, and snapped it in. With my leather jacket, it was hardly noticeable. I’d never actually had to pull it on anyone. I just wanted the feel of it against my body, to know it was there, if only for a little while.
On the drive back to the station, two of my lawyers popped into Uncle Bob’s SUV. I’d been driving earlier, but after a little mishap, Ubie insisted on taking over.
The blond-haired, ruby-lipped Elizabeth Ellery sat behind him. “Hey, Charlotte.”
“Hey, there.” I turned to them. “How are you two doing?”
Jason Barber shrugged his brows. “My mom’s upset.”
“Are you surprised?” I asked, watching Uncle Bob shift uncomfortably in his seat. He never really got used to having them around. It was a situation in which he had zero control. He didn’t like zero control. He didn’t even like zero-calorie soft drinks.
“Well, yeah, kind of.”
“Is your uncle okay?” Elizabeth asked, concern in her blue eyes.
With a dubious grin, I said, “He’s mad at me.”
Uncle Bob straightened. “Are you talking about me?”
“Elizabeth and Barber are here with us. She just asked if you were okay.”
His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel just a tad tighter than was probably necessary. “You are never driving this vehicle again.”
I did my signature rolling of the eyes. “Puh-lease. That sign was totally superfluous. Honestly, Uncle Bob, how many times do we need to be reminded of the speed limit? No one’s gonna miss it.”
He pulled in a deep, soothing breath. “I’m getting too old for this crap.”
“Ah, yes. Impotence, decrepitude. Still, you’ll always have Werther’s Originals.” I watched as Uncle Bob’s
