Light of Day by Allison van Diepen Page A

exactly crime central.”
    â€œA lot of people who get kidnapped go with the assailant willingly,” Alistair pointed out. “They accept a ride from astranger, get into a cab—or what they think is a cab.”
    â€œWe could do a séance,” Adriana said. “In case she’s . . .” Once again, she wouldn’t finish the sentence.
    Nobody said anything.
    Caro chewed her bottom lip. “I wish I’d known about this when I saw Miss Lisa.”
    â€œIs she that psychic you were talking about?” Rory asked. “Sounds like the name of a kindergarten teacher.”
    Caro ignored him. “I figure if Miss Lisa knows something, she’ll contact the police. She’s helped with investigations before.”
    â€œBy looking into her crystal ball?” Rory said, crossing his eyes like an idiot.
    Adriana turned on him. “I don’t get you. You believe in zombies, but you don’t believe in psychics? That makes no sense.”
    Rory put up his hands. “Don’t shoot the messenger, baby. The zombie phenomenon is scientific fact. Just google ‘zombie virus’ and you’ll see.”
    As they argued, something inside me stilled. I remembered the words Miss Lisa had said to me as I walked out. Somebody needs your help. I’d assumed that person was Maria. But now I realized it must have been Bree. It made perfect sense, and it explained the intensity of Miss Lisa’s message. If she was legit. The jury was still out on that one.
    Adriana was looking at me. “Did you research telecommunications during a zombie apocalypse?”
    â€œSorry, I didn’t get to it. Should we head?”
    We tossed our lunch bags and went up two floors to our lockers. My locker, formerly right next to JC’s in the cool part of the grad hallway, was now next to Rory’s. A cheerleader named Meagan had gladly switched with me in the first week of school. It was a win-win for her; she’d landed a locker in the cool section, and had spared herself from the funky odor emanating from Rory’s locker.
    We turned a corner and stopped in our tracks. Three cops, one principal, and a German shepherd. A row of lockers was wide open, and the dog was sticking his nose in each one before moving to the next.
    The lockers belonged to JC and his friends.
    A crowd of students had assembled, watching the spectacle. Liam grinned like it was all a joke.
    A drug raid. Although the school admin threatened raids all the time, I’d never seen it happen until now. The timing probably wasn’t a coincidence. The cops must know by now that people had been doing Blings at the party where Bree was last seen. Blings, from what I’d gathered, were a psychedelic drug, kind of like acid, that gave a wicked high, not to mention the occasional wild hallucination.
    JC went pale when the dog barked in front of his locker.We watched as the cops took everything out of it—every book, pencil, item of clothing. Then a cop unceremoniously dumped the contents of JC’s backpack on the floor. JC’s expression turned to disgust as the dog’s wet nose burrowed in his stuff.
    â€œTold you they’re all drug fiends now,” Adriana murmured.
    â€œThey won’t get caught,” Alistair said dismally. “They might be stupid enough to use, but they’re not stupid enough to keep anything incriminating in their lockers.”
    The dog gave a final sniff of JC’s belongings, then bypassed the next locker. Three lockers down, he paused again to nose through Liam’s stuff, his tail wagging madly.
    Liam just laughed. When the dog finally moved on from his locker, he gave an exaggerated “Phewf!” and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
    â€œWhat a shame,” Alistair muttered.
    Thursday afternoon, Olive and I were in the mailroom at WKTU. Unlike the fashionable lobby or lounge, the room was musty and crammed with old flyers and stacks