The Truth About Us
“Would you shut up?” the person hissed.
Abby blinked. Wait. She knew that voice.
Turning, she noticed Kaden chuckling beside her as the carjacker in the back seat leaned forward, their face coming into the light of the streetlamp.
“Cammie? What the heck! You scared the crap out of me. What are you doing here?”
Her raven waves curled around her face beneath her black hoodie. Further accenting her dark features, she wore black lipstick and dark eyeshadow. Even her nails were painted charcoal.
“What’s with the black?” Abby scowled, looking none too pleased.
“I’m incognito. Duh. And you should really lock your doors. You never know who might break into your car.”
“This so isn’t funny.”
Kaden laughed next to her, and Abby threw him a glare.
“At least someone has a sense of humor,” Cammie muttered. “Anyway, I refuse to feel guilty because, hello? It’s Friday, and you have yet to tell me what you two are hiding like you promised. And seeing as how I just heard everything you said, don’t even try denying you aren’t hiding something because I just heard it. So, what exactly is it we’re on our way to find out? And why is Kaden sneaking out of his house when it’s only a little after eight?”
Abby sighed. She hadn’t yet decided how much to tell Cammie or what lie she might give. And she was so not good at improv under pressure. “Um...”
What could she tell her other than the truth? There was no getting rid of her now, and Abby wasn’t about to postpone going to Lawson’s on account of her, which meant she’d be there when they talked to his daughter. Deciding on a partial truth, with minimal explanation, she said, “Okay, you know that journal you saw me with the other day?”
“Yeah. The one with the super depressing passage?”
“That’s the one. Well, like I said, I found it in my grandmother’s things. Turns out, she hired a private investigator to track down the journal’s owner. But he’s dead now. As a way of remembering her, I thought I’d follow through and finish what she never got the chance to do. Tonight, we’re going to talk to the detective’s daughter and see if she might have my grandma’s old files or know what her father might’ve found. That’s it. See, it’s really no biggie.” Abby rolled her eyes like the whole thing was inconsequential.
Cammie narrowed her eyes. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”
“I’m not that good of a lair. Besides, it makes sense, doesn’t it?”
Heck, it made more sense than what they were actually trying to find out. Or it was less complicated at least.
“Fine. But I’m going with you. Then, I’ll know if you’re lying.” Cammie sunk back into the seat.
“Like I thought we were getting rid of you,” Abby muttered.
“I’ll also have you know there’s an awesome party at Craig Martin’s house I’m missing for this. If you two would be normal, we could skip this whole journal thing and go there instead.”
“I’m not into high school parties,” Kaden said.
“Yeah. Me neither.” Abby flashed him a private smile.
“Ugh. I guess this means I’m going to have to watch you two make eyes at each other all night, too.”
Abby’s jaw dropped, but Cammie waved her away. “Oh, don’t try and deny it. Just drive.”
Cheeks on fire, Abby pulled away from the curb to the sound of Kaden’s muted laughter. This was going to be a long night.
LEANNE MCCALLISTER had the cat lady thing down. A calico brushed past Abby’s legs before disappearing into the hallway, only to be replaced by a white and orange tabby.
Kaden turned to her as Leanne motioned them to follow, his eyes wide as he took in their surroundings. With a meaningful look, Abby tipped her head toward the living room Leanne entered with one cat on her heels and two Persians perched on the back of the couch. She mouthed, Come on.
He widened his eyes and shook his head.
Brushing past them, Cammie sauntered into the room without a care in the world. “Nice place,” she said, plopping down on an armchair in front of a large bay window.
Abby bit her knuckles, stifling a laugh. Leave it to Cammie to make herself at home.