The Profile Match Read online

  “Spencer!” Grace ran into the bedroom. “I found a gun.”

  The panic in her voice had scared me half to death. “Kimbal was a cop, Grace, and an undercover agent. Of course he’d have guns in his house.”

  “Oh. Well, I also found this.” She held up a leather journal that was eerily familiar. My journal. “That son-of-a—”

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Is it something important?”

  I got up and took the journal from her. “This is mine.”

  “The one that you lost?” Grace asked.

  I snorted. “The one Kimbal stole, apparently.” I flipped through it, recognized my handwriting—the entries. It didn’t look like any pages were missing.

  Why? Why had Kimbal taken this? It was the proof I needed. That he couldn’t be trusted.

  I handed it to Grace. “Put it back, exactly how you found it.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t want him to know I suspect him of anything. I’ll take a picture of it. I need to start compiling proof against him.” I followed Grace to the living room, and she put my journal on top of the DVD player. I snapped a couple shots on my camera, then pulled a mic and a roll of masking tape from my backpack. I went back into his bedroom and got down on my back, sticking my head under the desk.

  “What are you doing?” Grace asked.

  “Planting a mic.”

  “Won’t he know that?”

  “It’s undetectable,” I said. “It’s leftover from my real estate task last summer.” Unless Kimbal saw it, of course. I taped it to the underside of the desk in the darkest corner I could find. I set up a second mic in the kitchen and a third in the living room. I wouldn’t use these unless I had reason. They didn’t record on their own, which led me to my second task: webcams.

  I set up two. They looked like thumbtacks and were white—matched the spackled paint on the ceiling. I stuck one over the kitchen table, the other over the living room couch.

  Now I’d find out exactly what my uncle was up to.

  “I thought this would be harder,” I said. “For being a secret agent, he doesn’t keep very good security.” I wanted to look some more, but our half hour was up. “We should go.”

  “Don’t I get a kiss?” Grace asked, blinking her dark eyelashes. “For finding your journal.”

  “Yes, you get a kiss.” I grabbed her and kissed her, then dipped her backwards, just for kicks.

  She giggled and clutched my shirt like I might drop her. “Breaking and entering is fun,” she said.

  I pulled her back upright. “You, Grace Thomas, are trouble. I’m going to have to keep a close eye on you.”

  “You’d better.” And she kissed me again.

  ● ● ●

  Friday’s spirit theme was Star Wars, so I planned to dress up like Han Solo, but since I had PE first period, my costume was in my bag. I worked on my smuggler swagger as I crossed the dewy grass to The Barn. Through the janitor’s closet, past the secret door, and down the stairs to the locked door. I pressed the code and let myself in. Grace was already there, sitting with Arianna and Samantha. I sat behind Lukas. It wasn’t long before Mr. S started the class. Today he was talking about interrogation.

  I’d like to interrogate Kimbal as to why he’d stolen my journal. I’d wanted to report it, but to do that, I’d have to confess breaking into his apartment, and something told me Grandma wouldn’t be happy about that. So I’d keep this to myself until I had something more to go on.

  “What do you think is the most effective form of interrogation?” Mr. S asked.

  “Torture,” Lukas said.

  Grace shot him a look of disgust.

  “Drugs,” I said. “Can’t do much to stop yourself blabbing if they dope you up with some truth serum.”

  “It wouldn’t have to be a truth serum,” Grace said. “Any narcotic would leave a victim vulnerable.”

  “You could threaten their family,” Arianna said. “That would be hard to stand against.”

  I thought of how those Alaskan goons had kidnapped Nick’s sister Hope to make him into their monkey boy.

  “Believe it or not,” Mr. S said, “building a rapport with a prisoner and going against their preconceived notions will get an interrogator much more reliable information than torture or threats. Can you guess why?”

  I didn’t buy it. Unless there was a lot of lying going on. So I said as much.

  “What kind of lies, Agent Garmond?” Mr. S asked.

  “I don’t know. Tricky stuff? Like if I was trying to find out where Arianna and Grace went last week, and Arianna wouldn’t say, I could play like I knew more than I did and say, ‘Grace already told me you went to the mall. I just wanted to see if your story was the same.’ And maybe I knew that much already, but I didn’t know where in the mall they’d gone. But by saying I knew they went to the mall, it might trick Arianna into thinking I knew the whole story. She might let something slip, like saying they only went to the mall because Grace insisted on going to Hot Topic.”

  Mr. S smiled and walked slowly across the front of the classroom, the reflection of the fluorescent lights rolling across the thick lenses of his glasses. “That is exactly right, Agent Garmond. Ten points for Alpha Team.”

  Nice.

  Drew offered me a fist bump, which I returned.

  “This technique came to us from Hanns Scharff,” Mr. S said. “Hanns was a Nazi interrogator during World War II. He played off the expectations of his subjects. He knew the men he interrogated would likely talk more if they thought he already had the information. And he was very good at using a little bit of information to spin stories that made it look like he knew intimate details about everything. As he talked with prisoners, he also served them food and drinks. They weren’t prepared for kindness. They would get so comfortable, they’d correct the errors in his stories. And rather than saying, ‘Ha! You just gave me important information,’ he continued his friendly conversation as it he hadn’t just learned something important. This only increased the prisoner’s trust in him. So, how might you stand against this type of interrogation? Agent Rodriguez?”

  Lukas straightened in his chair. “Don’t answer. Just sing, ‘La, la, la’ as loud as you can anytime he starts talking.”

  Drew and El McWilly chuckled.

  “That’s not a bad plan,” Mr. S said. “Or you could remain silent.”

  Mr. S went on to talk about the justice system in the USA, then compared it to foreign countries. There were some countries you did not want to get arrested in.

  After morning League, I walked Grace to the parking lot to wait for Jasmine, who picked her up here each morning and took her to Pilot Point High. As usual, Jasmine was late.

  We claimed a bench out front, and I grabbed Grace’s hand, feeling proud to call this gorgeous girl mine. I was watching a bunch of kids pour out of a bus when my spine started to tingle, and vertigo grabbed hold of me.

  I stand in a cramped, one-room cabin. It’s cold. Someone is trying to start a fire in a cast iron wood stove. A woman is moaning. I turn and find her lying on a bed in the corner, blankets heaped over her mound of a stomach. The baby is coming.

  “What about the truck?” she asks, her voice a gasping whisper.

  “I told you. It’s dead.” This from the man twisting newspaper into rods.

  I came back to find Grace on her feet before me, clutching the sides of my face. “Spencer? Can you hear me?”

  “Her baby is going to die,” I said.

  REPORT NUMBER: 3

  REPORT TITLE: Homecoming, Round Two: Worse than the First

  SUBMITTED BY: Agent-in-Training Spencer Garmond

  LOCATION: Pilot Point Christian School, Pilot Point, California, USA

  DATE AND TIME: Friday, November 2, 3:00 p.m.

  Grace shook my shoulders. “Spencer! You’re scaring me.”

  My eyes met her glassy blues.

  “Whose baby is going to die?” she asked.

  “I don’t know
.” It was an old prophecy. I’d had it lots of times. “Don’t look at me like that, Grace. I’m fine.”

  She pressed her lips into a line. “I don’t like it when that happens.”

  What bothered her more was that I didn’t tell her my visions. Thankfully the bee-beep of Jasmine’s car horn pulled her away before she could pick another fight about it.

  “Text me later,” she said. “I want to hear about that vision.”

  I didn’t answer.

  She gave me a peck on the lips, but I grabbed her around the waist and took my time saying goodbye.

  Jaz honked again, so Grace untangled herself from my arms. I stayed put on the bench until the car left the parking lot and disappeared at the end of the football field.

  I still had ten minutes before school started, so I pulled out my dream journal and logged the glimpse underneath the one I’d had at Kimbal’s yesterday.

  I shuddered, thinking of that one.

  When I finished, I shoved the journal in my backpack and set off for the gym. Since I’d dressed for PE this morning, I didn’t have to change anything but my shoes. I was sitting on the bench in the locker room tying my laces when some of my friends came in. Dan, Mike, and Chaz were all seniors who played basketball. Kip was with them. He hadn’t gone out for the team this year, which had turned out just fine for all of us.

  “Yo, Spencer,” Chaz said, knocking his fist against mine. “Trella just turned down Dan for homecoming. Said she wants to go with you.”

  I met Dan’s gaze, and he shrugged.

  “Sorry man,” I said, though I wasn’t sure it was that big of a loss for the guy. Trella the Troll had never been my favorite person.

  “You bringing Grace?” Dan asked me.

  Kip snorted. “More like she’s bringing him.” He made the sound and motion of cracking a whip.

  “Shut it, Kip,” I said. The guy used to be my best friend, but I’d found out last year that he couldn’t be trusted. And trust, I’d learned the hard way, was important to me in a friend.

  “Oooh,” Kip said. “When did you get so tough?”

  “Since I stopped acting like your mother.”

  “You’re an idiot,” Kip said.

  “I’m sorry, did you see my girlfriend?” This was one of my favorite comebacks. I mean, when your girlfriend looks like Grace Thomas, it’s enough said.

  “Ignore him, Spencer,” Dan said. “He’s just jealous.”

  “Me, jealous of that little girl?” Kip said. “Did you not see the pictures of me and Brittney Holmes?”

  “That was months ago,” Chaz said. “What have you got going on now? Nothing.”

  “I hear Trella is trolling for a date,” I said.

  The guys laughed.

  “Homecoming is for children,” Kip said. “I don’t have time for fluff like that anymore.”

  “If you’re on all the ‘It Lists’ now,” I said, “then why are you still bothering with school? You should do like the stars and get yourself a private tutor.”

  “Maybe I will,” he said, walking away.

  ● ● ●

  After school, I headed to room 401, which was where we met for our mission trip cover. This summer we’d be going somewhere in Venezuela, so right now we were learning Spanish, which was nice, because I was taking Spanish II this year in school.

  I powered on my phone. Mr. Hansen insisted we shut them off in Government class, which I had sixth period. Several texts came through, one after the other.

  Grace: call me at lunch

  Grace: i wanna no what happen

  Grace: in your profesy

  Grace: lurv u

  Grace: *kissy face emoji*

  Grace knew I wasn’t going to tell her about my prophecies, so I don’t know why she kept bugging me about it.

  Lukas: OSU play at Arizona tonight. Wanna come watch?

  Yes. Yes I did, as Grandma still did not own a television.

  Grace: cant com to 401 tday. gotta cheer awy game

  This I knew already.

  Chaz: Hey, put in a good word for me with Trella, will you?

  Was he kidding? Trella and I were not friends.

  I also had a text from my pretend-o-dad, Irving MacCormack.

  You’re likely busy with school, but it sure seems like you’re ignoring me. I’d like to see you sometime, Son. Can you write me back?

  Yeah, I wouldn’t be sending him an answer any time soon. MacCormack might have bailed me out with the best ACL surgeon in the state of California but telling Brittany Holmes to make me fall in love with her had creeped me out. And giving drugs to my friend had led to my arrest. I didn’t need that kind of trouble in my life. No one did. While I wanted to find out what he was up to, I wanted a D1 scholarship more. I sent a quick text to put him off.

  Me: Sorry. Super busy with school and basketball. Senior year is crazy!

  I hunkered down at the Alpha table with my team, and we all worked on el lenguaje de Venezuela.

  This year Alpha Team had four students and Diakonos only had three. Arianna was captain of Diakonos and smart enough to count for three people, so they were ahead just a bit in team points. Besides Arianna, they had Lukas and Samantha on their team. I was captain of Alpha Team this year with Grace, Drew, and El McWilly—aka Luke Williamson. We used to have a guy named Wally, but he dropped out, which hadn’t been all that much of a loss of anything but hand sanitizer. In the spring, we’d get some new recruits. I was actually kind of excited to see what team Mary and Martha Stopplecamp would be on. I couldn’t decide if I wanted Mary on Alpha Team or not.

  Kerri gave me three sheets of paper to pass out to my team and a different one for me to use as the leader. I gave Drew and El McWilly each a sheet and kept the third for myself. “We’re supposed to read this, then I’ve got some questions about it.”

  “José toma la escalera y la recuesta contra el árbol,” Drew said. “Él empieza a—”

  “Read to yourself,” I said.

  “En silencio,” El McWilly added.

  I looked at him, and the grin he was wearing vanished. The table got quiet. When I had finished reading the paragraph and it looked like the guys had too, I read the first question off the leader’s sheet.

  “¿Qué está haciendo José y por qué?” I asked. (What’s José doing and why?)

  “He’s climbing a ladder,” Drew said.

  “En español,” I said. “Por qué?”

  My cell phone buzzed. I ignored it.

  “Porque Maria es muy hermosa,” said El McWilly. (Because Maria is very beautiful.)

  I chuckled. Where did Mr. S get this stuff? “¿Qué hay en el árbol?” (What’s in the tree?)

  “Un gato,” Drew and El Mc Willy said at the same time. (A cat.)

  I asked, “¿A José le gustan los gatos?” (Does Jose like cats?)

  “No,” Drew said, slowly. “José no le gustan los gatos.” (José does not like cats.)

  My cell buzzed again. I picked it up to silence it and saw that Grace had texted a bunch.

  u didnt anser

  u there?

  hello?

  helooooooo?

  Sperner? Were ru?

  whut the hek?

  call me bak.

  i wanna no u r ok

  call me.

  CALL ME NOW!!!!!!!

  *angry face emoji*

  helllllllllllooooooooooowwwwwwwwww?

  “Uh, Drew, take over for a second, will you?” I said.

  “Sí señor,” he said.

  I got up and headed for the door. I heard Drew just before I was out of earshot. “Ahora soy el jefe.” (Now I’m the boss.)

  I smirked and called Grace. She answered on the first ring.

  “Spencer, what’s going on?” she yelled.

  Her tone raised my hackles. “Practicing Spanish with Drew and Luke like I do every day at this time. What’s wrong?”

  “You didn’t call me.”

  Wow. Unbelievable. “Grace, I was busy. Mr. Hansen ma
kes us silence our cell phones.”

  “Well, I was worried.”

  “I told you I was fine. This happens all the time.”

  “What did you see, Spencer?”

  “Grace, don’t.” I said.

  “Why won’t you tell me?” she asked.

  “I can’t do this with you right now. I’m supposed to be leading Alpha Team.” And I hung up.

  Adrenaline pulsed through me. I’d never hung up on Grace before.

  And then I heard her voice. “Hold on.” A car door slammed. “Just wait here! I’ll be right back.”

  There she was, walking toward me from the parking lot, dressed in her away cheer uniform and sneakers. Behind her, a familiar green Hyundai. Eli in the driver’s seat.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “I told you. I was worried about you.”

  “Grace, you can’t just ditch a game,” I said. Her coach was stricter than mine.

  “It was important,” she said. “I’ll just be a little late. Are you mad at me?”

  “I want you to trust me,” I said. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone about the prophecies I have.”

  “You told me before,” she said.

  “That was different,” I said. “That vision was about you. I broke the rules to help you.”

  She grinned shyly, then slid her arms around my waist. It wasn’t fair that she was so cute and smelled so good. “Forgive me for freaking out?” she asked, looking up at me with her eyes all big.

  “Maybe,” I said, wanting to mess with her a bit.

  “Will this help?” She grabbed my neckline and tugged, rising up on her tiptoes. I leaned down to meet her kiss.

  When she pulled away, I said, “That did help, actually.”

  “Thought so.” She hugged me. “See you tomorrow night?”

  “Yeah.” Another Homecoming dance. Whee.

  “We’ll have fun this time, Spencer. I promise.”

  We probably would. Eli wouldn’t be there, after all. I glared at him, sitting in his car, but I don’t think he could tell.