“Why are we here?” Ravi asked when he caught sight of her.
“Shhh,” Pip hissed, grabbing his coat sleeve to pull him behind the tree. She peeked her head out past the trunk, watching the house across the street.
“Shouldn’t you be at school?” he asked.
“I’m ditching, OK?” Pip said. “Don’t make me feel guiltier than I already do.”
“You’ve never played hooky before?”
“Only ever missed four days of school. Ever. And that was because of chicken pox,” she said quietly, her eyes on the large detached house. The bricks speckled from pale yellow to dark russet and were overrun with ivy that climbed up to the roofline. The driveway was empty, and the large white garage door winked the morning sunshine back at them. It was the last house on the street before the road climbed up to the church.
“What are we doing here?” Ravi said, tucking his head around the other side of the tree to look at Pip.
“I’ve been here since just after eight,” she said, hardly pausing to breathe. “Becca’s mom left just as I was arriving. My mom says she works part-time at a nonprofit in Norwalk. And Becca left about twenty minutes ago; she’s interning at the Fairview Mail office. It’s only nine-fifteen now, so they should both be out for a while. And there’s no alarm on the front of the house.”
Her last word slipped into a yawn. She’d hardly slept last night, waking to stare again at the text from Unknown until the words were burned into the underside of her eyelids, haunting her every time she closed her eyes.
“Pip,” Ravi said. “Tell me you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.” He was looking at her in his telling-off way already.
“We’re breaking in,” she said. “We have to find that burner phone.”
He groaned.
“It’s evidence, Ravi. Actual physical evidence. Proof she was dealing drugs with Howie, and maybe the identity of the secret older guy. If we find it, we can phone an anonymous tip in to the police, and they might reopen the investigation and actually find her killer.”
“OK, but quick observation,” Ravi said, holding up his finger. “You’re asking me, the brother of the person everyone thinks murdered Andie Bell, to break into the Bell house? Not to mention the amount of trouble I’d be in anyway as a brown guy breaking into a white family’s house.”
“Shit, Ravi.” Pip stepped back behind the tree, her breath catching in her throat. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
She really hadn’t been thinking; she was so convinced the truth was waiting for them in this house that she hadn’t considered Ravi. Of course he couldn’t help her break in. This town already treated him like a criminal—and how much worse would it be for him if they got caught?
“I’m so sorry,” she said again, angry at herself, her stomach twisting in uncomfortable knots. “I was being stupid. I know you can’t take the same risks I can. I’ll go in alone. Maybe you can keep a lookout?”
He paused. “No,” he said thoughtfully, fingers burrowing through his hair. “If this is how we’re going to clear Sal’s name, I have to be there. That’s worth the risk. I’ll probably regret this, but”—he paused, flashing her a small smile—“we’re partners in crime, after all.”
“You sure?” Pip shifted, and the strap of her bag fell to the crook of her elbow.
“I’m sure,” he said, reaching out and lifting the strap back up to her shoulder.
“OK.” Pip turned to survey the empty house. “If it’s any consolation, I wasn’t planning on us getting caught.”
“So what is the plan?” he said. “Break a window?”
She gaped at him. “No way. I was planning to use a key. We live in Fairview; everyone has a spare key outside somewhere.”
“Oh…right. Let’s go and scope out the target, Sarge.” Ravi looked intently at her, pretending to do a complex sequence of military hand gestures. She flicked him to stop.
Pip went first, walking briskly across the road and over the front lawn. Thank goodness the Bells lived at the very end of a quiet street; there was no one around. She reached the front door, and Ravi darted across, head down, to join her.
They checked under the doormat first, where Pip’s family kept their spare key. No luck. Ravi reached up and felt the frame above the front door. He pulled his hand back empty, fingertips covered in dust and grime.
“OK, you check that bush, I’ll check this one.”
There was no key beneath either, or hidden around the lanterns or behind the thick ivy.
“Oh, no way,” Ravi said, pointing at the chrome wind chime mounted beside the front door. He snaked his hand through the metal tubes, gritting his teeth when two knocked together.
“Ravi,” she said in an urgent whisper, “what are you—”
He pulled something off the small wooden platform that hung in the middle of the chimes and held it up to her: a key with a little nub of old tape attached.
“Aha,” he said. “Student becomes master. I’m coming for your title, Sarge.”
“Sure, Singh.”
Pip lowered her bag and rustled inside it.
“Wh— I don’t even want to ask,” Ravi laughed, shaking his head as Pip removed bright yellow rubber gloves and put them on.
“I’m about to commit a crime,” she said. “I don’t want to leave any fingerprints.” She held out her fluorescent yellow palm and Ravi placed the key onto it. “There’s a pair in here for you too.”
She rummaged through her bag and stood up, handing him a set of purple flower-patterned ones.
“What are these?” he asked.
“My mom’s gardening gloves. Look, I didn’t have a long time to plan this heist, OK?”
“Clearly,” Ravi muttered.
“They’re the bigger pair. Just put them on.”
“Real men wear floral when trespassing,” Ravi said, slipping them on and clapping his gloved hands together.
They were ready.
Pip took a breath, shouldered her bag, and stepped up to the door. Holding her wrist steady with her other hand, she guided the key into the lock and twisted.