Undercover Badge; Next Generation

Chapter seventeen

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

It was just after three pm on a Wednesday, and, correspondingly, the roads were empty and would fill up soon with high school students.

I was deathly afraid of explaining to my parents what had happened. I'd been gone for two days, effectively having vanished. That thought in my mind, I became enthusiastically suspicious of the entirely calm vibe I felt. Nothing like a kidnapping had ever happened in Blue Grove; I'd anticipated a town-wide depiction of anarchy. But nothing behaved in any manner that was remotely suspicious. Nothing more nefarious than teenagers having sex after prom night ever happened in Blue Grove.

"Do you want us to come in?" Vivi asked when I'd stared at the house for five minutes.

"No." I said quickly. "Its going to be an insane conversation without her thinking you kidnapped me. Thank you, but I'm not going to steal more of your time." I greeted them all with quick hugs an promised I'd call the with the numbers scrawled on a notepad page in my back pocket. I got out of the car, my clean emerald green shirt folded over my arm, and walked toward the side door.

It lead in through the back door. I couldn't help but stare at the structure of the house. The garage on the left, my green hatchback parked in the front, the front door closed on the porch, the upstairs windows facing out over the front lawn- As the Land Rover pulled away, the contents waving at me, I stared at my hatchback. It was parked exactly where it was always parked, and nothing was out of place. wouldn't the police have it? It was evidence. I approached it like a foreign wild animal, and then noticed a glint on top of the back right tire. My keys, sitting on it. Mom and dad would never have left the keys here- even in Blue Grove that wasn't safe.

I took out the keys and opened the car. My bag was sat neatly on the front seat. I dug through it and found my phone. It was dead. My laptop was missing. I pulled out of the car and slammed the door, keys in one hand, phone in the other. Then I walked to the front door, opened it and walked inside.

"Hey, Reena, is that you honey?" I silently walked into the kitchen. My mother grinned at me over her shoulder.

"Did you kids get let out early? Ingrid just dropped you, didn't she? Next time make her come inside, would you? Oh, did you get your phone fixed? A new battery?" she was enthusiastically stirring a pot and talking a mile a minute.

My eloquent response was; "Huh?"

"Your phone." she reiterated, smiling over her shoulder at me quickly again. "You said you were going to get a new battery? Oh, did you girls get the project done? Honey, your hand writing is so beautiful, I haven't read it in such a long time." she used the wooden spoon in her hand and indicated the fridge, where a note was taped. I stumbled two steps over, and in shock I mumbled the words; "That's not my hand righting."

"Ingrid's then? Its absolutely lovely. Oh and is that a new shirt? I always thought green was the perfect color on you. The emerald, the green in your pretty little hazel eyes. Oh, its beautiful." I barely registered her words, looking for the letter.

"Hi mom,

Ingrid and I have a major project to get done so I'll be with her for a few days. We're gonna get someone to fix my phone because its broken. I'm gonna buy a new battery and see if it works. If you need me you can email me, I have my laptop for the project or just call Ingrid's mom."

Underneath it, a phone number was scrawled that was decisively not Ingrid's mother's number. The hand righting was high and arched, but tight and neat. The words were pressed closely together with minimal flair but somehow elegant; entirely different to my curly, loose and flowy script that was half cursive and half print.