Confessions: The Private School Murders by James Patterson Page A

clutched the post at the end of my bed. Where were those boxes now? Had they been stored in some kind of evidence locker? Or even destroyed?
    Panic gripped my insides, and I reached for my cell phone. I needed to go through the files. I was sure there was something important inside those boxes. A journal, or a letter exchanged by Maud and Rampling agreeing to the separation of their kids.
    Maybe even a letter from James.
    Those boxes held answers, and I’m all about answers.
    That’s one thing about me that hasn’t changed at all.

30
    My mind was revving
like a race car engine as I joined my brothers in the kitchen that morning. I had left Philippe a message at 4:36 am. So far, I hadn’t heard back. I glanced at the clock on the stove. It was now 7:57.
    I reached for the coffee and almost knocked it over. Harry gave me the squinty eye, trying to assess my body language and read my mood. After a couple of minutes of me fidgeting and his eyes getting narrower, he actually took away my coffee, emptied it into the sink, and brought me a glass of milk.
    “What’s with you?” I asked.
    “What’s with
me
? You’re like a zombie on crack.”
    I rolled my eyes and said, “A zombie on crack. What would that look like, Harry?”
    Hugo stuck his arms out in front of him, fixed his eyes on nothing, and took a few speedy laps around the dining table. He was still going at it when Jacob entered.
    “I don’t even want to know,” our guardian said in a lighthearted way.
    Harry and I laughed, and I was glad when Harry didn’t press me on what I’d been obsessing about. At this point, I had nothing more than an idea—a hope. Even if the boxes were safe, I didn’t know where they were, what they might contain, or if I could get my hands on them.
    I drank my milk and ate my oatmeal while Jacob quizzed Hugo on the Spanish-American War.
    Ten minutes later, Jacob stood at the front door and hugged each of us good-bye. I’d never been hugged good-bye in my life, and I started to squirm. I mean, group hugs after arguments are one thing, but this was a tad outside my comfort zone. Jacob, however, wasn’t having it. He gripped my shoulders, looked me in the eye, and said: “Have a good day, Tandy. I’ll be right here when you get home.”
    “Good to know,” I told him. But inside, I did feel a little bit squishy. No one had ever promised me that before, either.
    Hugo and Harry took their hugs and promises like men, and then we hightailed it to the elevator.
    I got through the morning at my desk in the choir loft at All Saints, asked sharp questions, and even stood up to present my opinion of the effects of electronic communication on the teenage brain.
    “Not good, but highly necessary.”
    But the whole time, a huge chunk of my mind was fixated on an image of four cardboard boxes.
    At lunch, I sat on the stone front steps of the school with traffic whizzing by and texted Phil. He was in court with Matthew, of course, but he texted me back half an hour later, while I was in class.
    Call me when you can.
    I texted back.
    Just tell me if u have the boxes
    His text back was almost immediate.
    Call me. Too long for text.
    Ugh. I texted back.
    So leave me a vm!!!!
    By the time the dismissal bell rang, Phil
had
left me a voice mail. I clapped my phone tight against my ear and heard the murmur of crowds moving around him in the courthouse corridor, breaking up his words. I could just barely make out what he said.
    “Sorry we keep missing each other, Tandy, but look. I have the boxes. They belonged to your parents, who weremy clients. Without their express permission, I can’t give them to you. I’m sorry.”
    I gripped the phone. “Sonofa—”
    I called Phil again. His voice mail picked up, of course. I held the phone in front of my lips and shouted. “I want those boxes, Phil! Malcolm and Maud don’t need their old files anymore, and as one of their heirs, I’m entitled to their stuff!”
    Then I took a deep breath and called