“Though, I have to admit, I don’t feel very good about it,” Brenda said, frowning.
“What do you mean? About cheerleading?”
“About the competition,” she said. “And why our coach thinks we have a chance to win.”
I wasn’t following. “Because you’re better this year?”
“No. I mean, yeah, sure, we are. She’s done some good things with the girls and I’m pleased with Maddie’s progress.” She paused and reached for a chip in the half-empty basket. “But this one team, the Moose River Fusion? They’re a total powerhouse. Just really, really good. But our coach is all pumped up about our chances because the Fusion is going to be at a significant disadvantage. And that doesn’t feel too good to me.”
“Oh wow. That’s not so cool, ” I said, wrinkling my nose. “Is someone hurt on their team? Or did someone quit?”
She took a drink from her water glass and shook her head. “No, not exactly.”
“Not exactly?”
“So they have this girl, right?” Brenda explained. “She’s pretty amazing. We’ve seen her at a couple of competitions. She’s very pretty, she can jump through the roof and she’s a great dancer. She’s the kind of girl every coach would want to build a team around.”
“Sure.”
“And she can tumble,” Brenda said, her eyes widening. “I mean, tumble. I don’t know if she’s a gymnast or what, but this girl is really, really good. Like, you might not know anything about cheer, but if you saw this girl rip off one of her runs, you’d stop and watch and just know that she’s better than everyone else.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“But, apparently, she’s not going to be at regionals,” Brenda said. “She won’t be with their team. And don’t get me wrong; her team is still good. But without her, they won’t be the same. They just won’t.”
“So why won’t she be there?”
“Actually, I’m kind of surprised you don’t already know about this,” she said. “The girl lives in Moose River and goes to Moose River High.”
“Uh, so do a lot of people,” I said, picking up the nearly empty margarita glass. “And in case you haven’t noticed, there are no pom-poms in my house.”
“Yeah, but it’s kind of a big deal,” Brenda said. She leaned across the table, her brown eyes wide. “She’s missing.”
I held the glass to my lips and the hair on my neck stood up. “Missing?”
Brenda nodded. “Missing.”
I set the glass down on the table. “Are you talking about Amanda Pendleton?”
Brenda smiled at me, a satisfied expression settling on her face. “See? You do know her.”
EIGHT
“Brenda have anything interesting to say tonight?” Jake asked, sliding beneath the covers.
We’d finished dinner, picked up the kids and gotten them to bed. I’d been completely preoccupied with what Brenda had told me about Amanda Pendleton and I couldn’t remember a thing that was said on the drive home. I’d hustled them into bed so that I could finally share my news with Jake.
Except now I was reluctant because of how he’d reacted the day before, offering me information on getting my investigator’s license.
“Um, well, yeah,” I said slowly, climbing into bed next to him. The sheets were cold and goosebumps prickled on my skin. “But did Johnny have anything to say?”
He chuckled and slid his arm under me, pulling me close. “Well, he went on a little more about his fear of corn mazes.”
“That was hilarious.”
“I think we should take him there for his birthday.”
“He might have a heart attack.”
“At the very least, a panic attack,” Jake said, still laughing. “And we could get it on video.”
“You’re mean. What if you went in there and saw a clown?”
His laughter died and he stared at me. “Okay, that’s not funny.”
“I’m just saying...”
“Clowns are different. Clowns are bad. Clowns are...evil.”
As much as Johnny may have hated corn mazes, I was willing to be bet money that Jake hated clowns more. A red nose and floppy shoes were enough to cause him to break out in a cold sweat. He’d do anything to avoid them and he, too, would’ve suffered a panic attack if one showed up out of nowhere and tried to hand him a balloon animal or something.
“Anyway,” Jake said, desperate to move off the subject of clowns. “What did Brenda have to say?”
“I may help her get Maddie to cheer next week,” I said.
“Oh, cool.” His tone wasn’t dismissive and he wasn’t just saying it to pretend like he was listening. I thought about Thornton, my ex, and all the times he’d muttered similar phrases during the course of our marriage. And how I’d known, without a doubt, that they had been platitudes, something to say to fill the silence and not an indication of him actually listening.
“And I guess their cheer team is good this year,” I continued. “They have a chance to win the regional competition or something like that.”
“How does one win a cheer competition?” he asked. “Isn’t everyone cheering for everyone else?”
“I have no idea,” I said. I paused for a minute, wondering if I should tell him the rest. Part of me wanted to just keep quiet so he couldn’t tease me about the PI stuff. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t keep quiet about anything. “But guess what?”
“What?”
“The powerhouse team, the defending champions or whatever they are, the team that always wins the regionals? They’re missing their star...cheer person.”
“Uh, okay.” Jake didn’t sound terribly concerned.
“Want to take a guess as to who that star cheer person is?” I asked, propping my chin in my hand and my elbow in his chest.
He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “I have absolutely no idea.”
“Actually, you do.”
“No, I really don’t.”
I twisted into him and threw my arm over his bare chest. “It’s Amanda Pendleton.”
It took a moment for the name to register. “Snow White?”
“The former Snow White,” I corrected. “But, yes.”
“She’s a cheerleader, too?” I couldn’t tell whether he was impressed or confused.
“I guess.”
“Hmm,” he said, pulling me closer to him. I breathed in the lingering scent of his aftershave. “Well, it’s a shame we can’t talk about that.”
“What?”
“I told you. I’m not talking about this stuff with you unless you start pursuing your investigator’s license.”
I tried to push away from him. “Stop it.”
“You stop it, Columbo.”
I wrinkled my nose. “No one even knows who that is anymore.” We were only a year apart and I barely even knew who Columbo was. “How old are you, anyway?”
“Old enough to know television private investigators,” he said. “And cool enough.”
“Whatever,” I said, rolling my eyes. “But seriously – don’t you find all of this kind of weird?”
“No. But seriously, I’m not talking about this with you.”
I smacked him in the chest. “Are you serious? You want me to go get a badge and a gun and fight crime around Moose River?”
“That makes you sound like a superhero,” he said, fighting a smile. “No, I don’t want that. But if you’re going to continue to stick your nose into the goofiness that goes on in this town, I feel like you should get paid for it. And like it or not, Daisy, you’re actually kind of good at it.”
I stared at him. “I am?”
“Let’s see,” he said, cutting his eyes at me. “You solved the mystery of the body in our basement. You solved the mystery of the body in the woods up at Windy Vista. And you figured out what happened to those computers at Prism.” He nodded. “Yeah, I’d say you’re pretty good at it.”
He did have a point. I’d gone three for three with things that had fallen into our lives. I hadn’t intentionally become a detective, but circumstances had sort of forced me into action.