A/N: The response on the last chapter blew my mind. Unfortunately, this one does not have as much fluff, but again, I advise reading to the end. You’ll like the ending, I’m sure. ;)
I sit on the edge of my bed, staring out at the disheveled mess. I hadn’t even gotten the chance to pack up my things, and here, pictures, drawings, notebooks, were strewn all around my room. None of this makes any sense. Things were messy and moved around, but nothing was broken or stolen. Whoever broke in here, which I strongly believe was Jackson, came here with a purpose.
He was looking for something.
I hear footsteps run up the stairs, and Weston appears in the doorway. “Police are gone. They can’t put a trace on the intruder. Thank god the freak didn’t steal anything, right?”
“It’s Jackson,” I say, and Weston raises his eyebrows.
“What?”
“The person who was walking around in the house. It was Jackson.”
“Addelyn, I know Jackson seems like the father of all evil, but seriously, how can you know that? We didn’t even see the guy. Heck, we could barely make out the shadow.” He says.
“I know it was Jackson.” I say again. “I know by the way he walked. That was a Jackson walk. And for the fact that nothing in the house went missing. He was looking around for something. No normal burglar walks into a house and doesn’t steal, or at least break something.”
Weston didn’t look convinced. “And hypothetically, if the intruder was Jackson, what on earth would he be looking for that would make him do something like this?”
And that’s the part I can’t figure out. My eyes scan the room again. I notice a lot of paper. My drawers are open, my trash can is poured out, and my notebooks are just left on the floor.
Lots and lots of paper.
Paper.
Paper.
“I know what he was looking for.” I say suddenly, jumping up from my spot, and over towards my desk. There, lying beneath the desk and concealed by darkness is a formally wet, but now crumply and fragile piece of paper. The typing is just barely legible and the page is tinted blue from the pool dye. “I never got the chance to see it.”
The first thing my eyes drift to is an account number. It’s a letter sent to the bank. A letter making them aware to transfer all funds in one account to another. Weston leans over my shoulder, reading along with me. I pass the paper to him. “This has to be what Jackson was looking for.”
“When did you get this?” He asks.
“When I was at Jackson’s house. His dad dropped the paper when he was coming inside. I just happened to pocket that one when I saw the logo of his father’s software company on it.” I say.
“Plausible cause for someone to break in.” Weston says. “And it would’ve been great proof of the scam Jackson’s dad is doing.”
“Would’ve?”
“The signature is unreadable.” He says.
“Great. Just great.” I throw my hands up in the air. “So we’re screwed yet again!”
It looks like a light bulb just went off in Weston’s head. “Maybe not. If the intruder really is Jackson, and if he was looking for that specific paper, then that must mean his father is worried we’ll take legal action against us. They’re trying to cover their bases. In other words, they’re scared. And since Jackson didn’t find the paper, he probably went home to give his dad the somber news. They’re probably worried sick that we have evidence against them. They don’t know that our evidence is ruined. So we bluff.”
YOU ARE READING
Strictly Business
Teen Fiction"It's so simple," I say. "All we have to do is pretend we're in love with each other. You know, hold hands, share Eskimo kisses and all that crap. And at the same time, we'll destroy Jackson and Kristina's relationship. Make them think that thei...
