Replication Page 6

  “Neither is my mom. She’s working on her PhD.”

  Abby tore back the foil lid on her juice cup. “In what?”

  “Something about science. Biology, I think.”

  Abby slumped in awe. “That is so cool. I can’t wait to meet her.” Abby’s mom never had an interest in science, except to debate Dad’s ethics.

  Kylee lowered her gaze, and her silky black hair, which usually sat in a bell-like curve above her shoulders, slumped with her. “Like I said, she’s never home.”

  Abby could relate. “You can come over anytime.”

  Kylee sipped her milk and flashed a dimpled smile. “This is such an answer to prayer. I’m so glad you moved here.”

  Abby grinned. Pro number three for Kylee Wallace. “You go to church?”

  “Fishhook Community Church. My brother is the youth pastor there.”

  “You have brothers and sisters?”

  “Just Scott. He’s twenty-six. He and his wife are expecting their first baby in May, which means I’m going to be an aunt.”

  “How fun! I never liked being an only child.”

  “It’s been hard since Scott moved out, but at least he didn’t go far. Dad left when I was seven. He never came back.”

  Abby ate a bite of pasta. Were there no unbroken families left in the world? Maybe Kylee’s brother, his wife, and their child-to-be would fare better. “I’d like to visit your church sometime. I really miss my youth group. We went on a trip to Philly right before—”

  “Hey, friend.” JD slid onto the bench beside Abby and draped a heavy arm around her neck. His overpowering cologne tickled her nose, making her wonder how he was able to keep sneaking up on her.

  She shrugged off his arm. “JD, you know Kylee?”

  He barely glanced across the table. “Sure. Listen, Abby. There’s a basketball game tonight. I don’t play or anything, but it’s fun to watch. You game, friend?”

  If I don’t look at him, his brown eyes and dazzling smile can’t tempt me. She focused on Kylee, who had gone stiff, eyes bulging. “Can’t. Kylee and I are going to hit the books, right, Kylee?”

  Kylee hadn’t managed to avoid JD’s charms. The girl sat straight across from him, staring, lips still pursed around the straw sticking out of her milk container.

  Abby kicked her under the table. “Kylee?”

  Kylee jolted. The straw flicked free from her lips and a few drops of milk dribbled down her chin. “Huh?”

  “We’re going to study at my place tonight, right?”

  Kylee squeaked out, “Calculus.”

  JD’s hand found Abby’s shoulder again, and he massaged it as he stood. “Maybe next time, then. Later, Abby.”

  He strode to the lunch line and cut in where some jocks were standing. Abby blinked away from him to focus on Kylee. The girl still hadn’t cleaned off her chin.

  “Kylee.” Abby offered her napkin and tapped her own chin. “You’ve got some milk…”

  Kylee snatched the napkin and wiped her chin. “Did JD just ask you out?”

  “I guess. I turned him down once. I don’t know why he won’t give up.”

  Kylee snorted then clapped a hand over her mouth. “I am such a dork. Did I actually drool in his presence?”

  “I think you just had a faulty straw.”

  A smile spread across Kylee’s face. “You know, I don’t usually go for white boys—Mom would kill me—but I think I’d face the wrath for JD Kane.”

  Abby wrinkled her nose. “Really? But he’s so cocky. Plus, he tried to kiss me yesterday. Yesterday, Kylee. He’d only known me for twenty-four hours, less if you only count the time we’ve actually talked.” Abby shook her head. “Not that I’m looking, but I want a guy who is my friend first and—”

  Kylee grabbed Abby’s wrist. “Back up, girl. He tried to kiss you?”

  Abby related JD’s near-assault at the trophy case.

  “Wow,” Kylee said. “I’d always imagined he’d be more … romantic than that.”

  “Sorry to kill the dream.”

  “You’re still lucky, even if you don’t like him,” Kylee said. “At least you got asked out by someone—a cute someone. There’s such a shortage of cute guys around here, Danny Chung is starting to look good.”

  AP English Mr. Chung? Abby grimaced, but Kylee was on a roll.

  “And don’t even get me started on the lack of ethnicity. How many other black kids do you see at this school?”

  Abby’s lips parted. Was that a rhetorical question? There wasn’t another person with anything close to the dark chocolate complexion of her friend, but she glanced around the cafeteria and caught sight of Mr. Chung in line at the vending machine. He had kind of a cute, John Cho-Hikaru Sulu thing going on, but it was hard to guess his age.

  “I rest my case,” Kylee said, stabbing her Tater Tots with her fork.

  “Two more years and you and Mr. Chung will be legal. He looks really young.”

  “He’s twenty-six. Graduated with Scott.”

  Abby had been joking, but Kylee’s information took her by surprise. “Really? It must be weird to teach at your own high school.”

  “Danny even played football here. Got a scholarship to Oregon State but wasn’t good enough for pro. When Coach Reimers retired, Fishhook High hired Danny to teach and coach.”

  “So the old coach taught English?”

  “No. Mr. Lester taught English then.”

  “Bio II, Mr. Lester?” Abby could not imagine Mr. Lester talking about the lyrical prose of F. Scott Fitzgerald without tying it to formaldehyde.

  Kylee’s black lashes flicked from side to side, and she lowered her voice. “You really want to hear the soap opera that is Fishhook High?”

  Intrigued, Abby said, “Please.”

  Kylee took a deep breath. “Corrine Markley taught biology quite a few years ago. Mr. Lester wanted the job, but they needed him in the English department. Anyway, Mrs. Markley didn’t show up one day. No one knew where she was, and her husband reported her missing. The cops even questioned him but had to let him go for lack of evidence. Scott and Danny thought Mr. Lester knocked her off for the biology position. And sure enough, next year Mr. Lester was head of the science department.”

  A missing biology teacher. A chill tingled up Abby’s spine. “Did they ever find her?”

  “Nope. She vanished. No body, no crime. Scott had a few of her classes when he was in school, and he was really depressed when the cops gave up on the search. He said it was because she was a great teacher, but I think he had a thing for her. This was way before he married Aliza, of course.”

  “How long ago?”

  “I was in sixth grade when she disappeared, and Scott was just out of college. And I remember Danny was subbing in the valley, looking for a fulltime job. The school hired him that fall to coach and fill Mr. Lester’s English spot.”

  Welcome to CSI: Fishhook. If Abby could find the public library, she could look up the old newspapers, read the official story. The cops probably had done all they could, and the case was pretty old, but still. In a town like this, they probably couldn’t afford the best forensics specialists. Not that Abby had enough training to do any good, but her mind was suffering from lack of academic stimuli. It might be fun to look up the case and build some theories. And possibly find out what really happened to Corrine Markley.

  “In your role as genetic counselors, you’ll investigate an inherited disease and prepare a PowerPoint presentation for a client who has just been diagnosed.”

  Now this was the kind of assignment she got back at George Washington High School, and Mr. Lester was the kind of teacher she was used to. He was wearing a white lab coat. Big pro for Mr. Lester. Abby liked that he took science seriously.

  She really hoped he wasn’t a murderer.

  He draped an arm over the tall cane-like faucet of the sink on his marble desk. “Your presentation should provide medical information to help your client live a long and healthy life. Things like”—he walk
ed to the whiteboard and began to write—”symptoms, causes, diagnosis, treatment, prognosis, and pedigree.” He put down the marker. “I also want to see the impact of the disease on the victim, their family, and society. Make sure you create a Punnett square to predict possible genetic outcomes for the patient’s offspring.”

  Abby’s mind spun through the genetic disease possibilities. Cystic Fibrosis? She’d always been fascinated with little Emmy, who had lived in their apartment building back in DC. A freshman guy in her PE class here had hemophilia. He’d gotten a bloody nose playing volleyball yesterday and an ambulance had taken him to the hospital.

  She snapped out of her thoughts as chairs scraped the floor and students began moving around the room. Mr. Lester must have dismissed them to find a partner. She stood and scanned the classroom for a lone student but saw only pairs.

  “I guess that leaves you and me,” a deep voice said.

  Abby swung around to see JD sitting in the once-vacant seat beside her. Of course. “I’m not working with you.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

  She stammered, “I … There’s no … Just because.”

  He grinned and opened his notebook to a clean sheet of paper. She fell back into her chair and propped her cheek on her fist. He’d better not mess this up.

  She hadn’t bothered to take note of JD’s outfit today, but now she couldn’t help but notice. He wore a blue sweater over a white turtleneck. The colors popped over the black marble tabletop. He pushed the sleeves up over his sculpted forearms and leaned back in his chair, looking like something out of GQ.

  Abby twisted her lips. Too bad he had no IQ.

  She snickered at her private joke then caught a whiff of his cologne. Her snicker morphed into a cough that morphed into, “What do you want to do the project on?”

  JD leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. “How about, how long it will take you to forgive me?”

  “It’s not a statistics project, JD. It’s biology. Biogenetics, technically.” Instead of looking chastised, JD seemed amused. “Look, my grade is important to me. I’m a straight-A student. So if you’re not going to help, you can find yourself another lab partner.”

  His eyebrows rose in innocent protest. “I’m a straight-A student too, remember? Valedictorian?”

  “Right. Well, are you interested in any disease in particular? Because if you’re not, I—”

  “Lupus.”

  “Really?” Abby blinked, surprised how quickly he’d spat out the word. “Do you know someone with lupus?”

  JD frowned. “You think that’ll get us extra credit?”

  “I doubt it, but if we could interview someone—”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know anyone.” He straightened in his chair, scratched his neck, cleared his throat, and fidgeted until he crossed his arms back over his chest.

  O-kay. Talk about your tells. Wonder boy was exhibiting some serious lying symptoms.

  And under her penetrating gaze, JD’s ears pinked. “I don’t really care what we do.”

  “Lupus is fine with me. I don’t know all that much about it.” Which was a major pro. She’d finally have something to focus her energy on.

  He loosened up again and delivered a smile that could thaw the deepest freeze. “Why don’t you come to my house later and we could—”

  She shot him a scowl.

  “—study.” His smile drooped. “Or not.” Then he laughed, the dopiest laugh Abby had ever heard. Much worse than Kylee’s snort.

  Good grief. Jock boy’s geek was showing.

  Abby hung out at the school library for a few hours after school, looking for books on lupus. There weren’t many. They also didn’t keep any newspapers past four years old. She checked out the couple books they did have then took the scenic route home, driving past Jason Farms.

  She pulled her BMW into the parking lot and eased into an empty space between a Lexus and a Land Rover. Nice cars; Jason Farms must pay well. She bit her lip and tapped her gloved fingers on the steering wheel, staring at the dark opening in the barn where one of the big doors was propped open with a mound of snow.

  Maybe they were working on something to do with cloning fruit or vegetables. Something to help the FDA? She turned off the engine and the cab chilled almost instantly without the fan blowing heat in her face. Not exactly ideal weather for growing vegetation. She pulled her hood strings tight around her chin, wrenched open the door, and walked toward the barn.

  Just a quick peek.

  Her breath puffed out in front like exhaust. Her nylon bomber jacket rustled with every swing of her arms or turn of her head. She stepped through the large entry onto a concrete floor and pushed off her hood to get a better look around. The floor was entirely concrete, the barn itself vast and empty except for stacks of mildewed hay bales. A wide, steel vault door stood to her left, a keycard slot perched on the wall beside it.

  High security. Not your everyday barn.

  Further down the wall that held the mysterious vault door were several aluminum storage cabinets. Abby opened one. Oddly enough, they weren’t locked.

  The first revealed nothing but canned cauliflower. Weird. The second cabinet was filled with cartons of dried goods: instant mashed potatoes, boxes of pasta, napkins, and plastic spoons.

  The next held nothing but diapers in all sizes. Lots and lots of diapers.

  Perhaps they had chimps behind that Fort Knox door. Her toes clenched in the bottom of her boots. Had Dad gone from one unethical lab to another? Jason Farms sure looked like it had something to hide.

  The last door was steel, about two-feet wide by three feet high, and opened at waist level. A track ran along the wall on the opposite side, descending underground. She leaned in and peeked down a dark hole, where only a tiny crack of light shone somewhere below. She spotted a switch on the outer wall beside the door and was tempted to flip it. She laughed to herself. Surely there was nothing to be afraid of. It was a dumbwaiter, a shortcut designed to take the food and supplies down below.

  But why did they need so much food and supplies down there? And diapers?

  Did chimps eat cauliflower?

  She exited the barn and circled the perimeter. There couldn’t be more than a ten-foot square room behind that vault door. Not big enough for a lab upstairs.

  Abby huffed, sending a cloud of foggy breath in front of her face. Her nose and cheeks were growing numb. She really wanted to see this underground lab, but Dad would freak if she tried the door and somehow caused a scene. And it was already starting to get dark. The land of the midnight sun wasn’t so sunny in early March.

  Reluctantly, she climbed back into her car and started the engine. Her cheeks tingled as the heat thawed her extremities. She drove home and pulled into her driveway only to find a familiar Ford F–150 sitting in front of her house, the twilight and a plume of exhaust misting its signature cobalt blue.

  JD Kane.

  She slammed her car into park, switched off the headlights, and wrenched up the handbrake. What part of no did JD not understand? They’d made plans to meet in the library tomorrow during lunch to work on their project. But clearly stalker man thought he could do whatever he wanted.

  JD opened his door as she opened hers. Man, he was cute. She shook the wretched thought away as she stepped carefully across the icy driveway.

  “Hi, friend.”

  His deep, smooth voice and movie star looks would not sway her. Abby narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing here? How do you even know where I live?”

  He grinned that all-American smile. “Steph Abrams works in the office fifth period. She gave me your address—she’s got a little crush on me.”

  Little? According to Kylee, 98 percent of the girls at Fishhook High would pawn their iPods to exchange three words with JD Kane. “And the first question?”

  His eyebrows rose up under his shaggy brown hair.

  “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”

  The grin again. �
��I thought you were having a study session.” He opened his truck door and reached inside, pulling out a tousled pile of papers. “I found some pamphlets on lupus I wanted to show you. Plus I have this …” He held out a book titled Genetic Disease.

  Abby feigned disinterest, but the book was like a magnet. She stepped closer, slipped a bit on the ice, but steadied herself, lest he try to “help” her. “Where’d you find that?”

  “Uh … I think it’s from Amazon.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

  He shrugged one shoulder, the leather sleeve of his varsity jacket crackling in the cold. “My dad’s library. He’s into diseases and stuff.”

  Abby studied his expression. He seemed earnest, but she didn’t buy the fact his dad just so happened to collect books on genetic disease. Either JD had improved his lying skills since biology class, or she wasn’t the only one with an eccentric and scientific father.

  Abby met his eyes and her pulse tripped in the awkward silence. What to do? “I’m not letting you into my house without backup.”

  He shot her a confused—and incredibly cute—expression. Wrinkled brow, partial frown … “Backup?”

  I can’t believe I said that out loud. She turned away, pulled her phone out of her pocket, and dialed Kylee.

  “Abby?”

  “Hey … when are you coming over?”

  “Today?”

  “Uh … you know. Calculus?”

  “That was just an excuse to avoid going to the game with JD, right?”

  Abby turned to find JD’s eyes roaming where they shouldn’t and tugged the waistband of her parka lower. She whispered, “JD is at my house, and I don’t feel safe … without … you know, a buffer friend.”

  A squeak came through the phone, followed by heavy breathing. Kylee hyperventilating.

  “Kylee? I need you coherent. Please, stay calm.”

  “I’ll be right over.” She sounded like a nervous prank caller.

  Abby shut the phone and crammed it into her pocket. “Kylee will be joining us shortly.”

  JD crossed his arms and leaned back against his truck. “You don’t trust me.”

  “Nope.”