Samantha Sanderson on the Scene Read online

  “Mild break-in?”

  “Yes. No injuries, no damage to the property, and total stolen items valued at less than five thousand dollars. By police standards, that’s a mild break-in.”

  It sounded logical, but Sam didn’t want to accept that. It didn’t seem right. “But Dad, you’re giving it your attention, right?”

  “Of course I am, Sam. Not just because it’s your school, but because, like you, I’m pretty confident it’s linked directly to the bullying issue. Sure, I’d like to get the computers back and help secure the property, but I’m more concerned with keeping everyone safe.”

  Dad glanced around the blacktop and the cement pillars. “And it looks like it’s pretty easy to access the campus, even if the front is totally secure. That doesn’t make me feel confident in the school’s security to keep you kids safe.”

  He was right. Sam nodded. “I get it.”

  “Come on, I bet Mom’s wondering if we found it.” He led her toward the truck.

  One of the older teenagers leaned against the car parked next to Dad’s truck. “I haven’t seen you around here. This park is for neighborhood residents only.” His shoulder length hair hung in a tangle at the back of his neck. He looked out of place in this upper class subdivision. Probably still lived with his parents.

  Dad pulled out his badge like a ninja boss and flashed the gold. “Little Rock Police.”

  The teen held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, no harm, no foul. Just watching out for the area like a neighborhood watch team member.”

  “No problem. It’s smart to question people you don’t recognize. Especially if kids are around.” Dad pocketed his badge. “But I wonder . . . an observant young man like yourself . . . have you seen anyone going through that area over there?” Dad pointed toward the little path they’d found. “In the last week or so?”

  The guy stared where Dad pointed, then shrugged. “Maybe. Somebody do something wrong?”

  “Just asking for an investigation I’m working.”

  “Somebody bury a body over there or something?” The guy looked more interested than he should.

  Was he serious?

  “No. Nothing that gruesome that I’m aware of.” Dad gave a forced little laugh. “So, have you seen anybody?”

  “Maybe. A kid on a bike.”

  Sam grabbed Dad’s arm and squeezed.

  He patted her hand but remained focused on the teenager. “What’d this kid look like?”

  “Man, is he in some kind of trouble or something?”

  Dad shook his head. “Just want to ask him a few questions. It is a guy?”

  The shaking of Dad’s head, even though he never said no, must have reassured the creepy kid.

  “Dunno. Can’t really tell. I just assumed it was a guy, but now that you mention it, it could be a girl.”

  “You couldn’t tell?”

  “Always wears jeans and a hoodie. Keeps the hood pulled up over his head. That’s why I noticed him. Or her. Who’d be wearing a hoodie when it’s so blazin’ hot out, ya know?”

  “I’d notice that. And by a pool, too,” Dad said.

  “Right, man. That’s what I thought.”

  Sam chewed her bottom lip. She’d never really gotten to see her father question somebody on a case. He was pretty cool. The way he worked this kid — pretty epic.

  “Do you recognize him or her from the neighborhood or something?”

  “Can’t say. With that hood over the head . . . but always wearing a backpack.”

  “Backpack?”

  “Yeah. One of those heavy-duty numbers like hikers use.”

  “What about the bike?” Dad asked.

  “A sweet Schwinn. Model is a couple of years old, but it’s in good condition.”

  “Ah, so you’re into bikes?”

  The teen shrugged. “I work part-time at the Wal-Mart down the road. Sometimes I put the bikes together.”

  “What else can you tell me about the bike? The color? Anything unusual?”

  Sam watched, respect for her father growing with every detail he pulled from the unsuspecting kid. She’d do well to learn his methods. It’d come in handy when interviewing reluctant or nervous people for stories.

  “Paint was chipped, but I think it was green.” He snapped his fingers. “And it had one of those quick-release mesh baskets on the front. The kind old ladies use on their bikes to get some groceries.”

  Sam pressed her lips together to keep her excitement from screaming out. She’d been right. About everything! She did a victory dance inside her head while Dad got the guy’s name and address, then handed him his card and told him to call him immediately if he saw the kid or bike again, or if he thought of anything else.

  But Sam couldn’t be still. It felt like every nerve in her body wanted to jump out of her skin. She’d been right, right, right! She wanted to jump up and down and scream but knew she couldn’t. Instead, she walked back to the truck, careful not to draw any attention to herself.

  She sat on the hood and stared at the people at the pool. She didn’t recognize anyone, but something about the pool itself did look familiar. She didn’t know why — she’d certainly never been swimming there before, but there was something about the pool . . .

  “I called in an update. You’re getting your wish in that a team is coming out tonight.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  Dad jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “The kid knows I’m interested in the area and the kid on the bike. If he knows anything he wasn’t willing to tell me, you can bet him or the kid will be covering tracks tonight.” Dad sighed. “So the team is heading over here now.”

  “Can we stay and watch them work?”

  “Sorry, but no. We only stay until they arrive and take charge of the site.”

  “But Daaadddd . . .”

  “Nope. Sorry. We’d only be in their way while they process the area.”

  She hopped off the hood and kicked a loose rock with her toe. “But we found this clue. Us. Surely we should be able to stay and at least find out if they uncover any evidence.”

  Dad smiled. “They’ll call me as lead detective if they find anything. I can keep you posted.” He smiled wider. “Off the record, of course.”

  She grinned back. “But of course.”

  The night lasted forever.

  Despite her best attempts to sleep, Sam tossed and turned. Flipped and flopped. So much that Chewy finally got off the bed and stared up at her sadly.

  10:40 p.m. She went down the hall to the bathroom. On her way back to her room, she routed herself through the living room where Mom and Dad watched the late show, cuddling together on the couch.

  “Have you heard anything yet?” she asked.

  Dad grinned. “They’ve finished setting up the lighting and closed off the area to non-official people. The unit is starting their initial purview of the path.”

  “Okay. Goodnight.”

  Mom added, “Night, my sweet girl. Maybe we can slip off tomorrow and get mani-pedis. That could be fun, yes?”

  “Can Makayla come?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll text her. Thanks, Mom.”

  “Night, Pumpkin,” Dad said.

  Back in her room, Sam checked her email really quick. Nothing. Checked her cell phone. No messages. She sent a quick text to Mac about getting manicures and pedicures tomorrow. Makayla’s mom wouldn’t let her use her cell after ten, even on weekends, so Sam didn’t expect to hear back until morning.

  She crawled under the covers and stared at the ceiling fan. The moon shone brightly, spilling light into her room from the window. Sam pinched her eyes closed, willing herself to fall asleep.

  11:21 p.m. She kicked off the covers and went to the kitchen, Chewy on her heels. After pouring a glass of milk, Sam drank it in one big gulp. She rinsed out the glass and put it in the dishwasher. Chewy whined at the door. Sam unlocked and opened the door, stepping outside with her afraid-of-the-dark dog.


  Stars twinkled overhead, winking at her. Sure, they could mock her. They could see what was happening over at Chalamont Park.

  Chewy rushed back to her from the corner. “Good girl.” Sam opened the door. The dog darted in through her legs, nearly tripping her.

  Sam locked the kitchen door, then headed down the hallway. Light from the television flickered from the living room.

  Dad sat on the couch, Mom’s sleeping head in his lap. He looked up as Sam stepped into the living room. “Just heard from the unit. They’re shutting it down for the night.”

  Disappointment filled Sam’s chest. “They didn’t find anything?”

  “Oh, they did.” Dad grinned. “They found several sets of tire marks, all on the same back-and-forth path along the side of the baseball diamond until they disappear onto the blacktop behind the school.”

  Nothing in her body could sleep now. “So we were totally right?”

  He smiled and nodded. “Looks like it.”

  “We rock!”

  Dad chuckled. Mom stirred.

  “I’d better get her to bed.” Dad gently rubbed Mom’s shoulder.

  “What’s next?” Sam asked as Mom sat up and wiped her eyes.

  “In the morning, they’ll take casts of the tire tracks and get to talking to a bike expert who might be able to match these tires to a Schwinn like our friend in the park mentioned.”

  “What do we do?” She wanted to run out and do something right now.

  He shook his head and helped Mom to her feet. “We do nothing. I’ll get a team to do a neighborhood canvas to try and find the bike. If we can find the owner, we might be able to bring them in for questioning.”

  “That’s it?” She just expected there to be . . . well, more to a police investigation when a big clue had been uncovered.

  Mom leaned over and planted a kiss on Sam’s forehead. “Goodnight, my sweet girl.” She shuffled sleepily to her bedroom.

  “Night, Mom.”

  Dad gave her arm a squeeze. “We’ll also put out the word about the three stolen computers to local pawn shops. Maybe one of them has the computers, so we can go question them and review their surveillance video. Sometimes those leads are what break a case wide open.”

  Still, Sam thought there would be more.

  Dad kissed her cheek. “Get some rest. There’s nothing else to do or learn tonight.”

  Waiting wasn’t something she embraced. It went too much hand-in-hand with patience. Virtue or not, Sam didn’t like waiting.

  And being patient was highly overrated.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Nail salons had a distinctively gross smell, Sam thought. All of them stank the same. A stench that couldn’t be masked by nail polish or nail polish remover.

  Sam sat in a whirlpool chair between her mother and Makayla.

  Mom laid her head against the massage chair and closed her eyes. “Ahh. This is heavenly.”

  Sam grinned at her best friend. “Dad was going into the office today to see whatever the team turned up.” She’d brought Makayla up to speed on the drive to the nail salon in Chenal Promenade.

  “That is so cool.”

  “Yeah. We hope to get a lead on whoever is behind bullying Nikki and stealing the EAST lab’s computers.”

  “You seem pretty certain it’s the same person.”

  Sam nodded. “It would help if I could find out each of their whereabouts on Tuesday evening, when the email was sent to Nikki.”

  Mom sat up. “Who are your suspects?” Clearly, she’d been eavesdropping, but Sam took no offense. It was a journalism staple.

  “Well, first there’s Felicia Adams. She transferred to our school last month after she got expelled from her private school. She’s bitter about being forced to attend a public school and not being allowed to participate in any extra-curricular activities.” Sam pressed the button to restart the massage chair’s cycle. “Felicia has a crush on Thomas Murphy, who has a crush on Nikki Cole. And Nikki asked him to escort her at the homecoming pep rally.”

  “She has a history of discipline problems. She’s a regular in Mrs. Creegle’s office,” Makayla added. Even Mac felt comfortable enough speaking freely in front of Mom, understanding that her questions were from a reporter’s point of view.

  “Okay. Who’s next?” Mom asked.

  “Billy Costiff. He’s a nerdy-type eighth grader who has a crush on Nikki.” Sam paused, considering the circumstances. “Well, more than a crush, the guy was obsessed with her. Followed her all over campus, pushed letters through her locker slots . . . all kinds of creepy stuff that made her feel uncomfortable.” Sam twitched as the pedicurist ran a brush over the bottom of her foot, then giggled. She was so ticklish on her feet.

  “But a few weeks ago, Nikki talked to Mrs. Trees and Mrs. Creegle about him,” Makayla continued.

  “Nikki said he now glares at her and really unnerves her. Like instead of being good obsessed, he’s stalker-like.”

  Mom chuckled. “There’s a good obsessed?”

  Sam grinned. “You know what I mean, Mom.”

  “I do. Who else?”

  “Melanie Olson,” Makayla volunteered.

  Sam nodded. “Her father was one of the Hewlett Packard plant workers laid off by Nikki’s mother. Because her father lost his job, Melanie’s family had to downsize. They now live in an apartment instead of the big house they were in, and she’s late to school a lot because they haven’t changed the bus route yet.” She rested her head against the chair, letting the kneading option on the massage work between her shoulder blades. “And she’s really mad that Mrs. Cole still has her job and is able to keep living in her pretty house with Nikki and Jefferson.”

  “Yeah, she’s gone out of her way to avoid even looking at Nikki,” Makayla said.

  “I see. Who else?” Mom asked.

  “Well,” Sam sat upright in the chair, her voice vibrating as the chair pounded on her lower back. “I think Aubrey Damas could be involved.”

  “I thought you said she was Nikki’s best friend.” Mom handed the manicurist the nail polish she’d picked out.

  “She is,” Makayla answered.

  “But she doesn’t act like it. She’s so jealous that Nikki got nominated for homecoming court and she didn’t. Nikki says Aubrey hasn’t really talked to her since the announcement.” Sam sat still while the pedicurist drained the water from the whirlpool and dried her feet.

  “But the letter and text were already sent to Nikki before the announcement was made,” Makayla said.

  “I know. That has me stumped because I was watching Nikki and Aubrey when the announcement was made and Aubrey was totally surprised.” Sam shook her head and handed her polish to the pedicurist. “No way is Aubrey a good enough actress to fake the shock I saw on her face.”

  “Then she really isn’t a suspect,” Mom said.

  “Well,” Sam shrugged, “she could be working with someone. I mean, Nikki’s positive no one besides her and Aubrey have the combination to her locker. If that’s true, how’d the diet bars get in there?”

  “A good point to consider,” Mom said. “Anybody else?”

  “That’s all I’ve got.” Sam let out a low breath as the manicurist started on her nails while the pedicurist painted her toes.

  “So you need to find out where they were during the time the email was sent to Nikki?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Makayla answered. “Tuesday evening at 6:44.”

  “I’m assuming neither of you are close enough friends with any of them to just ask?” Mom asked.

  “Not hardly.” Sam had a mental image of her hanging out with Aubrey.

  Makayla shuddered. “Definitely not.”

  “Do you know anybody who is close friends with any of them?”

  Sam had to think about that one. “I don’t think anyone’s close with Felicia. She gives off a snobbish vibe, and she’s new.”

  “I know Melanie Olson okay. Her mom and my mom are in a prayer group together. I could try
to find out where she was on Tuesday night,” Makayla said.

  “Thanks, Mac.” Sam chewed her bottom lip. “I don’t know Billy well, and I don’t know anyone who really does.” She remembered the EAST roster from Mrs. Trees’ computer. “He and Aubrey both have EAST in first period, though.”

  “That doesn’t prove they’re working together to bully Nikki,” Makayla said.

  “No, it doesn’t,” Sam said. “But it proves they do know each other. They share at least one class together.”

  “How do you know Aubrey and Billy’s schedule, Sam?” Mom asked.

  Sam’s face burned, and she swallowed. “I don’t. I just know they both have EAST for first period.”

  “I see.” Mom’s expression said she understood more than Sam would tell her.

  Good thing Mom understood sources and confidential information. A whole lot more than Dad. Otherwise, she’d be in some hot water.

  Boiling hot.

  Maggie Moo’s was nice and cold. Perfect when it was so hot, humid, and miserable outside. Where was fall? Wasn’t the end of September supposed to bring cooler temperatures? The crazy Arkansas weather was fooling them all again.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Sanderson,” Makayla said as the three of them sat at one of the tables.

  “My pleasure. I’ll be honest — I love getting my nails done and having an ice cream. Inviting you two girls gives me an excuse to give in to my guilty pleasure.”

  Sam grinned and shoved a spoon of chocolate fudge ice cream in her mouth. She closed her eyes and savored the creamy goodness as it melted on her tongue. Ice cream just made her happy, plain and simple. People said you couldn’t buy happiness, but Sam suspected if more people bought ice cream, the world would be a happier place.

  “I don’t believe it,” Makayla said.

  Sam opened her eyes to stare at her friend.

  “Look.” Makayla jerked her head toward the front door.

  Trying to look casual, Sam turned in her seat to see what had gotten Makayla’s attention.

  Billy Costiff and Marcus Robertson opened the door and stepped inside.

  “That’s Billy Costiff,” Sam leaned over and whispered to her mother.

  “Oh.” Mom stood. “Sam, I need to run into the Nike store to grab Dad a shirt they had on sale. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Enjoy your ice cream.” She winked at Sam, then left.