Bad Hair Day (13 page)

I stared him down. The overhead lights glinted off his obnoxiously long eyelashes, and the downy hairs on his cheek glistened like he was a vampire who’d been rolling in a tween’s secret glitter stash. I saw the jumpy tic of a muscle in his jaw, the telltale sign that he was nervous. But he didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure if he was stunned or afraid that I might snap if he told me he was dumping me for Brain-Dead Barbie.

“Aaron!” she barked, waving her cell at him like it was a
mind-control device. “Get on the bus before she goes all psycho on you; I’ll call the cops.” She made a move for the door, but he didn’t budge. “Aaron?”

I’d said what I needed to. I saw no sense in standing around until someone came to take me away to a place where the Happy Pills were plentiful and craft time was mandatory. Because really, I’d rather transplant my own spleen than subject myself to craft time.

I stalked away, or at least I started to. I only made it about five steps before I heard Aaron’s voice, shaky and soft and nearly unrecognizable.

He said, “I really do love you, Kate.”

It was almost enough to make me turn back around, throw myself at his feet, and cry. Almost. But I had a murderer to catch. Besides, anything he had to say was completely irrelevant. The only thing that was going to make this right was if he got rid of Elle for good. And if he couldn’t or wouldn’t, I knew what I had to do. I hated it, but I’d do it.

I went through the rest of the day like a zombie, minus the puking and cannibalistic tendencies. Kiki’s locker was only two down from mine, and sometimes we ran into each other between classes. When she tapped me on the shoulder, it was two minutes until the seventh-period bell rang, and I was staring dully at my Latin book and wondering if it was even worth bringing it to class because no way was I going to register a single word Mrs. Cooperider said.

“Hey, Kate!” Kiki said, turning her lock. “Did you pick up the chairs for the Rockathon tomorrow night?”

I stared at her blankly.

“Please tell me you’re kidding.” Evidently, the look on my face wasn’t too reassuring on that account, because she threw up her hands. “Look, I don’t mind helping you with your event, but this is turning into me running the entire thing! And I’ve got my own stuff to do, you know.”

“I’m sorry.” I shook my head. “I’ve got a lot on my mind. I’ll get them tonight.”

Maybe Rocky would drive me. Or Jonah. Because I certainly wasn’t going to call Aaron. I was waiting for him to make the first move. But why hadn’t he done it already? I kept rushing back to my locker between classes, thinking I’d find a note from him or see him waiting there for me, but it didn’t happen. Was he really going to choose Elle over me? And how could I be obsessing over this when a not-a-werewolf was killing people? My priorities were crap, and knowing that only made me feel worse.

For once, Kiki didn’t seem to notice how upset I was, which was probably a good thing, because I had this aversion to public tears and I was going to cry if anybody asked me what was wrong. All she did was thrust a sheet of paper at me. I shoved it into my backpack without even looking at it.

“It’s Trey Black’s address. His parents are lending us the chairs,” she said. “Just in case you lost it.”

“Thanks,” I said, but it was too late. She’d already flounced off.

*

By the time detention was over, I was ready to go home and bury myself in homework. I felt pulled in so many directions by what other people wanted. What about what I wanted? Was I going to spend my whole life trying to save the world and sacrificing all the things that were important to me in the process? Because I had no doubt that Aaron wouldn’t be avoiding me if I’d been a more attentive girlfriend. If I hadn’t been so sucked up in tracking down murderers and zombies and all kinds of stuff that wasn’t even my job. Maybe I should just leave these things to the “experts.”

My dad picked me up after school, which was a bonus because Kiki wasn’t speaking to me. And he was right on time too. When I walked out to the school parking lot, his Nissan hybrid was parked right in the middle of the fire lane.

Jonah rolled down the passenger-side window to wave at me. “You’re in the back,” he yelled.

I threw my backpack in and myself in after it.

“So,” Dad said, pulling away from the curb, “what are we eating tonight, Kate? Indian? Mexican? Or did you go for one of our old standbys?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Dad.”

He arched his brows at me in the rearview mirror. “You were in charge of making the reservations for Mom’s welcome home dinner. Please don’t tell me you forgot.”

“Fine,” I growled. “I won’t tell you.”

It didn’t take long to find the number for Shalimar, Mom’s
favorite Indian restaurant, on my phone. And it was easy to get a reservation, since it was only Thursday.

“Done.” I snapped my phone closed and stared out the window for the rest of the drive while Dad and Jonah discussed
Mythbusters
episodes in excruciating detail.

The sulking got pretty tough to maintain once we parked in the short-term lot and made our way into the crowded airport terminal. It was impossible not to get excited; I hadn’t seen my mom in six months except for on the computer screen. She’d wanted to come back after the zombie fiasco, but by that time it was all over, and it just didn’t seem to make sense to screw up her sabbatical just so she could come hold my hand.

Now I couldn’t wait to see her.

That explains why I found myself running as soon as she cleared security, like I was an actress in one of those movies where everyone’s dashing into each other’s arms in slo-mo while violins play in the background. She threw her arms around me. I had to lean a little to put my head on her shoulder. That was new.

I didn’t let go until Dad cleared his throat.

“I missed you,” I said, pulling back. I would have let go entirely, but she snagged the sleeve of my coat first. Her eyes were keen beneath thick, slightly smudged glasses.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

This was my chance to vent, and I knew I should take it. It made a lot more sense than huffing around like a drama queen. But this really wasn’t the time or the place for it. Jonah and Dad
were waiting impatiently; they’d missed her too. And besides, I could take care of myself.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Welcome home.”

But I made a mental note to unload as soon as I got the chance. Mom tended to give pretty good advice when you could get her head out of a beaker. Unfortunately, I could barely get a word in edgewise over the next hour, because Jonah had to give her a play-by-play rundown of everything he’d done in the past six months, like we hadn’t been Skyping with her twice a week the entire time she’d been gone. By the time he was done monopolizing her, I was already halfway through my tandoori chicken.

“I wonder what’s in the dessert case today,” Dad said, pushing his chair back from the table.

Jonah stood up. “Wait for me. Man, I hope they have that fig and honey ice cream.”

“I think I’ll follow.” Dad patted Mom’s hand. “Give you two girls a chance to catch up too.”

Mom’s eyes followed them as they crossed the restaurant and started loudly debating the contents of the stuffed dessert case. I noticed wrinkles on her face that I’d never seen before, and her wild curly hair was longer than it had been when she’d left. Somehow, the differences seemed bigger now that I was seeing her in person.

“You’ve been quiet tonight.” She took a sip of her lassi and looked me over.

“I guess I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“I’d been hoping that Aaron would be joining us. I’ve heard so much about him that I feel like I know him already.”

The lump in my throat was very tough to swallow. “I don’t know if that’s going to happen, Mom. Things aren’t going too well with us right now.”

In the background, I could hear my dad interrogating the waitstaff on the differences between Indian and American ice cream in an embarrassingly loud voice.

“Do you ever have a hard time balancing it all?” I blurted out. “Because I suck at it. It feels like the minute I fix one thing, something else has gone to crap. I feel like I must not be trying hard enough.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” she smiled. “But yes, I find it tough to say no to things. Which explains why I took the visiting professorship in Germany. I loved the work, but being away from all of you was miserable.”

“So I just have to deal with it?”

“No, you have to figure out what you’re willing to sacrifice. I’ll never keep the cleanest house. I have a small number of friends, but they’re the ones who really mean a lot to me. I’m terrible at trivia. I don’t watch TV or craft or take up hobbies unless I’m really interested in them. The bulk of my time is reserved for the two things I love the most—my family and my job.”

“It’s that easy, huh?”

“Well,” she said, the corners of her mouth quirking up, “it’s not exactly rocket science.”

“Did someone say ‘rocket science’?” Dad walked back to our table and planted a kiss on Mom’s cheek. “Coincidentally, I happen to be a rocket scientist! Did you know that?”

“Yes, dear.” Mom grinned at me.

I forced a smile. Maybe she was right—all I had to do was prioritize. And repair my relationship, organize a fund-raiser, solve a medical mystery, and catch a murderer.

Easy.

M
om drove me to the morgue on Friday, so I didn’t have to ride the bus. I really needed to talk to Aaron, but I supposed a couple of hours wasn’t really going to make that much of a difference.

I’d woken up with a clear plan, so I felt pretty good as I pushed open the door to the morgue. I’d check to see if either of our two corpses had the skin ants like Bryan. I’d find out if there had been hairs at either of the other crime scenes. And then I’d amaze Aaron with my powers of deduction, and he’d realize I was the only girl for him. There were holes in this plan, but I was willing to improvise.

Dr. Burr was not part of said plan, so when I pushed open the door and saw him washing his hands at the prep sink, I nearly fell over.

“Dr. Burr?” I gasped. “What are you doing here?”

“Working.” He shut off the faucets with his elbows and meticulously dried his hands with a paper towel. “There was another attack behind a restaurant on Wednesday. Apparently, some enterprising soul did a crichoidectomy with a pen cap right in the middle of the parking lot and saved the fellow’s life. The detectives found hair that matched a few strands found at the other scene. They released me last night
and
cleared me to autopsy the bodies. I’m quite motivated to catch this killer, given all the inconvenience he’s caused us.”

It was so good to see him that I was getting a little teary. It seemed silly to get all overemotional over a guy had who mentored me for about fifteen minutes so far, but I couldn’t help myself.

“I’m rather surprised to see you.” But he didn’t look upset; he smiled at me instead. “I figured you would have run for surgery by now.”

“I wanted to see an autopsy.”

“Well, now’s your chance. Sebastian called in sick today. The stress has gotten to him, poor boy. Between this job and his internship over at Nanotech Industries, I think he works too hard.”

“I didn’t realize he worked somewhere else,” I said, but I wasn’t really paying attention, because I was in the process of putting on my very own sterile gown. And nitrile gloves. And a face mask. I looked like a real doctor, and it was every bit as awesome as I’d thought it would be.

For a while, I got lost in a haze of tissue condition and safety
precautions and proper incision techniques. I wasn’t allowed to do any cutting by myself, especially on the murder victims, but Dr. Burr put his hand over mine and guided the scalpel for me. And really, he didn’t have to do much guiding. It was like my hand knew exactly where to go and how much pressure to bear.

We autopsied Herbie first, although Dr. Burr was still calling him John Doe. I wasn’t so sure how he’d react to the news that I was investigating on my own, so I made sure not to let anything slip. And then we did Holly. By the time it was all over, we were staring at each other in complete and utter confusion.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Dr. Burr said for the umpteenth time, throwing up his hands.

“Tell me about it.” I paced back and forth, chewing on the end of my braid. “Okay, let’s talk it out. Maybe we’ll come up with something.” He gestured for me to go on. “Here’s what we know. Both of the deceased were victims of brutal attacks. The police reports note extensive blood loss and open wounds. Their injuries were presumably enough to kill them. But on autopsy, both victims are found to be in perfect health, with no signs of bruising and not a single break of the skin. Not even a shaving nick.”

“Holly supposedly had her appendix out, according to her medical records, but there’s no scar and the appendix is present. I’ll double check with the mother once she arrives later today,” added Dr. Burr. “I’ve seen a few cases in which they’ve grown back, but it’s rare.”

“Right. So either the police were hallucinating, or somehow the injuries healed themselves.…”