My Undercover Life | ✓

Chapter 44

Annemarie is in band with Megan. Best friends with Asher, and Megan. Was the first person Lily befriended at school. Her dad is a forensic scientist whose name is Jim.

Asher  has dyed, silver hair with green eyes. Gay. And is Annemarie and Megan's friend. Crushing on Ian.

Al is another FBI agent. On the same team as Demitri and Skylar. Only mentioned once before when he was suppose to watch out for Bradlee and Lily when they went to the park together. He also chased the 'killer' and saw that the blonde hair was a wig.

Chapter 43 recap: Lily and Al went to Annemarie's house, met Jim, her dad and then found out she's working with the killer.

Looking at Annemarie's dad in the corner of my eye, I made sure he wasn't paying attention to me before grabbing the device, and shoving it in my pocket. Snatching a pad of sticky notes, and a pen from her desk, I walked back to Al and Jim chatting happily about the recipe he was going to write down for him.

    "Here you go," I said, giving Al the sticky notes.

    His eyes made contact with my pocket, before he grinned up at me. "Thanks, Av." He patted my shoulder, before taking the pen from me. He faced Jim. "Did you know the secret to baking amazing oatmeal cookies is—"

    Tuning the rest of the sentence out, my mind wandered off to the message Annemarie got.

This bitch keeps whining about his lost sister. I think we should . . .

My hands clenched together. There's no doubt the killer is referring to Ian. But who exactly is he? And is he actually a he? For all I know, the mastermind behind all of these killings could be a girl who hired some guy to rape the victims. I mean, what guy uses the term, 'bitch' for another guy . . .? Unless he's—My eyes widened. No way . . . could it be? Could it really be Asher? But-but-that can't be right, can it? He's fucking in love with Ian. There's no way he would do that to Ian . . . right? He wouldn't kidnap his sister—the only flesh and blood he has left. Maybe, I'm just overthinking things . . .    but who else would be close enough to actually hear him whine about—

"—Avery?" Al's voice snapped me out of my train of thought. "Avery, it's time to go."

I blinked, looking up at him. "Um . . . sorry." I dipped my head, feeling the heat rushing towards my neck. "I sort of spaced out back there."

"That's okay," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I just finished writing down the recipe for Mr. Rice."

"I already told you, please call me Jim. Mr. Rice makes me sound so old, and I'm already old enough as it is."

"Oh please, you hardly look a day over forty," Al complimented.

Jim chuckled. "You're just saying that."

"Nonsense. I'll have you know—"

"Um, Dad we still have to go to the grocery store," I interrupted, pulling on his sleeve. "Remember that's why we came here in the first place? To ask for directions." I asked, raising my eyebrows. The corner of Al's eyes lowered down.

"Oh yeah!" Jim walked forward, oblivious to our exchange. "You were lost right?"

I nodded. "We couldn't find our way to the nearest grocery store."

"We can't have that now, can we?" he asked, before ripping the top sticky note off. Putting the recipe in his pocket, he took the pen from Al's hand and started explaining. "If you go down the street."—He demonstrated by drawing a line—"and turn left on the nearest intersection, you should see Market Place on your right. Just keep going straight after you turn left, and you should be there in about ten minutes." He finished labeling everything before he handed Al the map he drew.