Spellbound by Kelley Armstrong Page A

had no idea,” Adam said. “The DMV still has this address.”
    â€œI doubt her parents have told them. Under the circumstances . . .” She chewed her lip. “Well, I don’t think they’d want to talk about it much. It was suicide. She hung herself up there—” She gestured over our heads and I looked up at the tree, but she shook her head. “In our room. I’ve been trying to get a new one ever since, but they say I can’t switch until next term.”
    As Adam talked to the girl, I gazed out at the campus. It was picture-perfect—a small, private Baptist college, which explained why classes were running so late in the term.
    I leaned across the table. “Are you sure Amy died in March?”
    â€œOf course, she’s sure.” Adam faked a whisper. “Someone made a mistake, okay? Case closed.”
    â€œMistake?” the girl said. “What kind of mistake?”
    Adam looked uncomfortable.
    I barreled ahead. “Like we said, we’re private investigators. Amy was the subject of a case we’re working. Only, according to our case”—I set down my picture of the witch-hunter—“Amy here was seen only last month.”
    â€œThat’s not Amy,” the roommate said. “It’s her sister. I mean, cousin. Amy called Roni her sister, because her parents raised her, but she’s really a cousin . . . I think.”
    â€œRoni?”
    â€œVeronica. She went to school here, too. She dropped out after Amy died.”
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    We sat in our rental car outside the Tucker residence. It didn’t look like the home of trained assassins. More like the home of trained preschool teachers. A pretty little suburban ranch with bright blue shutters, a red VW Beetle in the drive, and a swing on the porch. Even had a picket fence, painted yellow.
    â€œClearly the abode of evil,” I said.
    â€œCreeps me out, too,” Adam said. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”
    He was opening his door when my phone sounded. The ring tone was The Doors, like all of mine. In this case, “Take It as It Comes.”
    â€œI thought you confiscated Paige’s cell phone before she left?” Adam said.
    â€œI did.”
    I answered with a cautious “Hello,” wondering—and fearing—who might have broken into our house and stolen Paige’s phone.
    â€œGood, you’re there. Did you get my message?”
    The husky voice was unmistakable. “Paige?”
    â€œUm, yes. Who else would be using my phone? I know, we were due back tomorrow, but we caught an earlier flight. I’d ask why my Prius is missing, and Adam’s Jeep is parked in its place, but I’m a lot more concerned about the fact that his vehicle was obviously in an accident. And your bike isn’t looking any better.”
    â€œI can explain.”
    â€œAre you okay?” Her voice dropped an octave. “That’s what I’m worried about, Savannah. You didn’t seem okay when we talked yesterday morning. That’s why we came home early. Seeing that bike and Jeep, I’m more worried than ever. Are you all right?”
    I swallowed. No, I’m not all right. I wasn’t all right before and now I’m really, really not all right, and I wish I could come home.
    I looked at the Tucker house, then over at Adam. He was sending a text on his phone.
    â€œSavannah?” Paige said.
    â€œI’m here. But you need to get—”
    Adam waved for me to stop. His phone rang—the ring tone for Lucas. He handed it to me and took mine. “Savannah?” I heard Paige saying.
    Adam opened the car door. “Hey, it’s me. Savannah was just about to say you need to get my car fixed. That’s why I took yours. Ransom.”
    I answered Adam’s phone and whispered, “Just a sec.”
    â€œWhoa. No!” Adam said as he climbed out. “That’s not what I meant. Ransom, not