Barking Up the Wrong Lead - A Gallagher Girls Story

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Writing a report is hard.  Writing a report that MI6 will use to track down your missing mother is harder.  Writing a report that Aunt Bex is definitely going to read?  Well, that might just be the hardest thing anyone has ever asked any human being to do ever. 

I wanted to fill it with car chases and shoot-outs.  I wanted to make something that was worthy of Aunt Bex’s completely awesome eyes.

But I knew that the only way that I’d even have a chance at impressing Aunt Bex was if I was thorough.  Detailed.  If I noticed things.  And so I went to the library and closed my eyes, remembering the night I’d last spoken to my mother.  Remembering what it felt like to hear her voice. Remembering every word she’d said and how she’d said each one.

“Why did Townsend Squared set off a code red?”

The voice tore me from my thoughts, ripping me back into reality once more.  When I opened my eyes, I saw my brother and his best friend sitting across from me.  “How did you know it was Abby and Townsend?”

He threw his thumbs at himself.  “Spy.”

I looked down at the paper in front of me—still blank.  Still worthless. 

“Don’t screw with me, Mags,” he said, his voice far too loud for a library.  “I know you know something.”

I almost told him that it was classified, which would’ve been the truth.  Except when I looked at him, I didn’t see the version of my brother who used to beat me at tag or clipped his toenails in bed.  I saw my brother.  Someone who was just as confused and excluded as I was.  Someone who wasn’t going to stop looking for answers.  “They’ve got a lead,” I told him.

I expected him to jump up like I had.  I expected him to raise his voice—widen his eyes.  Something.  But he didn’t do any of that.  Nothing.  And I was reminded of the fact that Matthew Goode is one day going to make a very good spy.  “On Mom?”

“No, on the Kennedy assassination—yes on Mom, you idiot.”

“There’s no reason for hurtful words, Morgan.”

“Well then there’s no need for stupid questions, Matthew.”

“There’s no need for your stupid face either, but here I am, stuck looking at it—”

“Jesus Christ.”  Thank goodness Scout was there, otherwise Matt and I could’ve gone on for a while.  “It’s unbearable being in the same room with you both, do you know that?”

“Yes,” Matt and I both answered at the same time.  Then Matt turned back to me and asked, “What’s the lead?  Ransom? Dead drop?”

I took a long look at my brother.  He had constructed more theories and hypotheticals to Mom’s disappearance than he could count.  I knew because I had done the same.  I saw the hope in his smile.  The ambition in his eyes.  For a split second, a familiar look crossed his face and I had to blink.  For a split second, I could’ve sworn that I was looking at my mother.

But the look vanished just as quickly as it had come and I was once again staring down my brother who, I knew, was desperate for answers.  “Me.”

Matt Blinked.  “What?”

I took a deep breath in and let the words fall out of my mouth when I exhaled.  “It’s me.  I’m the lead.”

There was a long time when Matt didn’t move and when he finally did, it was the mere squint of his eyes as if by doing so, he could somehow get a better read on me.  As if something I had just said was too hard for him to figure out, which, let me tell you, is pretty hard.  I mean, sure, Matt may be the type of guy that can run into closed glass doors, but he's definitely not someone who lacks logic.  Matt is a puzzle master, so when he couldn’t put this one together, he seemed to enter some minor stage of shock.